Five Alarm Lust

by Elise Whyles

  The crash of the front door smashing inward drew a startled scream as she whirled, hovering in the hall a few steps from the kitchen. A heavy, imposing weight settled on her chest at the figure in the doorway. Dressed in orange coveralls, his face sweat-streaked, Mike glared at her.

  “Figured you’d be stupid or maybe just plain desperate enough to stick around. Never was smart enough to—”

  “Get out.” Gillian backed toward the kitchen. “You don’t belong here, you don’t belong anywhere. Go screw my mother, it’s about all you were good for anyway.”

  “Yeah, well, what can I say, when I wanna fuck I want one that’s good.” Mike shrugged, his hand coming up from his side.

  Gillian’s eyes widened in horror at the black muzzle of a handgun pointed at her. Swallowing in fear, she shook her head. It was happening all over again. Like a grainy old home video, the past had come to life. “You’re insane.”

  “I told you before, bitch, I wasn’t about to let you go. Did you think I was lying? Think I was going to just let you walk away before I was done with you? Now, momma’s been telling me you’ve been warming some bastard’s bed. Where is he? Think he’s going to want you when I get done with you?”

  “Go to hell.” Gillian forced herself not to look at the window. Jack was out there. Maybe, just maybe, she could keep Mike occupied long enough for him to get away. He’d shown her what a man was supposed to be like, and she wasn’t going to sell that off cheap. No, not to the monster in front of her, or her mother’s control. For the first time in her life she was going to stand up for someone. She glared at her ex-boyfriend with narrowed eyes, hatred and loathing swirling around her like a boiling pit of tar. Straightening, she stared at Mike. “So why are you here? If my mother’s such a good fuck, why come to me? I’m hardly my mother. She’s just a used-up whore, a thief with nothing better to do than take, take, take.”

  “See that’s the problem.” Mike covered the distance between them with ease, his longer strides crossing the kitchen in only a few steps. He grabbed her around the throat and slammed her against the fridge. “Mommy dearest forgot she offered me a share of the money. Said it would be easy pickin’s, you wouldn’t complain about her spending it, and she’d give me some of it. All I had to do was stick around. Pity, I should have finished the job years ago. Oh well, water under the bridge.” He licked his lips, his eyes trailing down her body. “And we never did get to finish our last face to face.”

  Her lungs burning, Gillian clawed at his wrist. Inside her head she could hear herself screaming, hear the memories surface as he trailed the barrel of the gun down her temple, over her shoulder to her breast.

  “Finish it on your own time.” Grappling behind her for something, her fingers closed around the handle of the ceramic rolling pin. She heaved it upwards hearing the crunch of stoneware meeting flesh, the crackling of bone as she hit him. She dropped to the ground with a gasp. Her hand at her throat, she sucked in air. She crawled across the floor and reached the patio door just as a brutal hand coiled around her ankle.

  Screaming, kicking, Gillian could hear the sound of bones crunching and smell the blood. Pain ripped through her face as he hit her again and again. Maddened with fear, with loathing, she clawed at the glass door, her feet kicking out, over and over. The crash of a chair hitting the floor barely penetrated the fear.

  She reached for his face and raked her nails across his cheek. The give of flesh beneath her nails raced up her nerves, renewing her frantic struggles as a hard, heavy weight forced itself over her.

  Instead of the cheery little kitchen she shared with Jack, she found herself once again in the dark, dingy little room in an apartment, pleading for mercy. Breaking glass and ripping fabric echoed in her ears, the tickling pain of cuts along flesh, and the cool night air. A blow to her jaw sent waves of searing pain along her face. Desperation fueled her will and she refused to give in. Darkness swam and stars exploded behind her eyes.

  She jerked back to the present. Stale breath blew along her face. Spittle dripped onto her skin. Low, furious curses marked each blow. Clawing, scratching, Gillian bit into the flesh across her mouth, her teeth grinding at it. The acrid taste of blood flooded her mouth, washing over her tongue.

  Pain lanced, crashing into her like a tidal wave and sending her spiraling into the darkness of oblivion. Her mind froze with one thought—Jack would be safe.

  * * * *

  “I told you to get rid of her.” The grating fury of her mother’s voice filled her head as she lay curled into a ball. Stale air filled her nostrils. Mildew and sweat mixed with the dull heat of a small space, settling low in her throat.

  “In my own time. I told you to find out when the money would be released.”

  “Does it matter? With her death, they have to release the funds. Now, do as I told you to and get rid of her.”

  “And I told you I had someone ready to do it.”

  “If she wakes up, we’re both going to suffer. Get rid of her, Michael, baby. If you don’t, you know as well as I do what’s going to happen.”

  Gillian choked back the bile at the seductive tone in her mother’s voice and moved. Her wrists were bound, the ties cutting into the flesh. A chain wrapped around her ankles, the tether short, tight. Obviously they didn’t want her to escape.

  Her head throbbing, she opened her eyes a crack. Betrayal, pain, fury ripped through her muscles at the familiar painting on the wall of her mother’s riverside cottage. Blinking, she glanced at the blurred shadow of what she could only assume was the partially opened doorway. The shadow of a male spread across the floor, but the elegant figure of her mother reflected in the floor-to-ceiling mirror.

  Prickles of pain lanced through her throat as she swallowed and squirmed on the soft cover beneath her. A sigh of relief escaped at the lack of noise from the bed beneath her. She lifted the ties to her lips, her teeth biting into the pliant plastic. Her racing heartbeat echoed in her ears with each whisper of sound from the hallway.

  She froze at the low, mean tone of Mike’s voice. “Should have let me get—”

  “Jack Payle’s a bit beyond your reach at the moment.” Iron traced through the iciness of her mother’s voice. “Now, if you’re smart, you’ll kill her. I have to go. I have a meeting with my divorce lawyer. Make it happen, Michael, or you’re going to find yourself back in a prison cell with a very unpleasant cell mate.”

  “Don’t threaten me, Barbara. You forget, I know just as much as you do.”

  “I’m merely reminding you, lover, of what could happen. Do not think of it as a threat.” The wet smack of a kiss filtered through the door and Gillian swallowed harshly. God, why wouldn’t they just go away and leave her in peace?

  Every muscle tensed at the slam of the front door. Silence descended, sending shards of terror and rage through her blood. The door creaked slightly as it swung inward, and Gillian stared at the cold, impersonal monster of her nightmares.

  “Well, well, well. Mommy’s gone. What you say we have a bit of fun?”

  She inhaled, breath catching in her throat as he pulled a long thin object from behind him. The sun glinted off the blade and she screamed.

  * * * *

  “Gilli?” Fear tightened his voice as he inched the door open and eased into the tiled kitchen. Behind him he could hear his friends, hear Rick dialing his phone, but it didn’t ease the fear. His heart shuddered as he froze in the patio door. Blood smeared across the marble surface to drip on the floor. The heavy rolling pin he’d left on the counter lay on the tile covered in blood.

  Racing through the house, Jack eyed the shattered lock on his front door. Fear clogged his throat as he glanced behind him. Rick and Dean looked equally uneasy. He nudged the door with his toe and hovered in the silence of his foyer.

  “No. Please.” Jack jerked on his arm as Rick grabbed hold. “I have to—”

  “Let me do my job.” Covered in grass clippings and mud, Rick stepped in front of him, his cell pressed to his e
ar. “This is Constable Feller. I need all available units to four-four-seven Blancher Terrace. Possible abduction.”

  “Mister Jack?” Panting, sweat dripping from his scraggy mop, Todd darted into the kitchen. His eyes widened, the color bleaching from his face as he stared at the red streaks.

  Jack bit back a sharp retort. He had no time for the youth. Not as long as Gilli was missing. “Todd, how in the world? No, don’t answer, I know. Sally. I don’t have—”

  “He took Miss Hilliard.”

  “Who?”

  “A guy in an orange jumpsuit. I saw him drag her out.” Todd pointed at the broken door. He leaned against the wall, his breathing ragged, harsh, as he shook his head. “I followed him on my bike.”

  “Where’d he go?” Rick brushed past Jack as the faint scream of sirens filled the house. He shot Jack a harsh look when he moved forward.

  Terror choking him, Jack pushed against Rick’s firm grasp. “Todd, where’d he go?”

  “To a fancy cabin. I can—”

  “Constable Feller?” Firm, professional, the masculine shout drew their attention as two uniformed officers raced into the house, guns drawn. From beyond the door, the sharp, furious bark of a dog reverberated through the house.

  “We have the K-9 with us.”

  Jack ignored the police officer and grabbed Todd’s shoulder. “Can you take me there?”

  “Yes.” Todd’s head bobbed wildly. “I know exactly—”

  “Fine, you can take us.” Rick glared pointedly at Jack before turning to the other police officers. “This is our eye witness. He knows where the man who broke in is. Todd, right? You can ride with me and Jack. Do you know who the man was?”

  “No, but I recognized the clothes he wore. When Mom went to see Dad, I saw Dad in some just like them. He was at the prison.”

  “We’ll follow you over.”

  Jack slammed the car door and leaned back against the sun-warmed seat. He had no doubt who the man was, and when he got his hands on the bastard, he was going to beat him to a pulp.

  “Let us do our job.” Rick’s low warning barely penetrated the fog in his head as he glanced at his friend before staring straight ahead. He’d let them do their job, right after he spent a few private moments with the prick who’d taken Gillian.

  * * * *

  Wailing sirens filled the air as Jack ripped the car door open and ran toward the front door of a small, elegant cottage. The sound of Gilli’s scream ripped at his control, and he lunged at the door. Wood and glass splintered as it hit the wall, the thud of a body hitting the wall enough for Jack to see red.

  With Rick hot on his heels, he darted down the short hallway, the sounds of a struggle echoing in his ears as Rick shoved past him and lunged into the room. His blood ran cold as he saw a butcher knife skitter across the floor to lodge in the wall. Heart in his throat, he dived around the two men grappling on the floor, his eyes sweeping the room to see Gillian curled in the corner, her hair a tangled mass of curls around her bruised face. He glanced down at the crunch beneath his feet and sighed before hurrying over to where she huddled, soft sobs shaking her shoulders.

  “Shh, it’s okay, baby,” Jack soothed, his arms wrapped tight around her shoulders. He glanced at Rick who lifted the tall, thin figure from the floor. Rage, disgust, and a twisted glee stared back at him as Michael Kilpatrick was led from the room. Listening to Gillian’s sobs, Jack wondered if Rick would notice if he beat the bastard. “Shh, I’ve got you now, baby, and you’re safe.”

  * * * *

  Gillian heard the front door click shut and sighed, glad to be back at Jack’s, even if she was freezing. It seemed like hours since the police and paramedics had arrived. She’d withstood their poking and their prodding in silence. A shadow fell over the kitchen table, and she glanced up to meet Jack’s gaze before looking away.

  “Constable Feller’s going to ensure a cruiser is parked in plain sight.” Jack edged around the table, dropping to his knees in front of Gillian. “You and I have to talk.”

  “Nothing to say,” Gillian rubbed her arms to chase away the chill. Go away, go away, go away. She bit her lip to stop the tears threatening, her silent mantra going unheeded as Jack pulled her hands off her lap and into his.

  “Gillian, I want you to listen to me. If after, you want to leave,” he croaked, “well I’ll try to respect your wishes. It’ll hurt like hell but I’ll try.”

  Her heart in her throat, Gillian stared at him. It was almost funny really. She’d always known deep inside there wasn’t any hope, not for her. She’d been alone all her life. What was one more heartache? Seeing the naked longing, the hope in Jack’s eyes, she swallowed, trying to ignore the faint whisper of hope within her heart. Maybe, maybe she’d been wrong—please, let me be wrong.

  “I’ve tried to give you space, tried to show you I’m not just after a quick roll in the hay.” Jack pressed a kiss to her knuckles. “But I don’t think that’s the problem. Is it, Gilli?”

  Gillian shook her head, her eyes burning. How could she explain the problem?

  “All this time I thought we were gaining ground, I guess I never thought, never wanted to think, you were scared of me. I’m sorry for that. Scaring you, making you uncomfortable, making you think you weren’t worthy was never my intention. I just wanted to get to know you better. Wanted to be sure what I was feeling was real before we jumped back into bed together.”

  She offered a gentle smile and cupped his jaw. “I understand. I, um, I won’t be a problem. I’m going to go home. Can’t compete with—”

  “Baby, there isn’t any competition.” Jack heaved a breath. “I love you. I think I always have, I just was too much of an idiot to accept, to, well to recognize it. Nearly losing you made things clear for me. I’m not asking you to love me back. I’m asking, no I’m begging, Gillian, just give me a chance to show you loving me isn’t wrong.”

  Something shifted, settled in her chest, like a broken bone set properly. Gasping, she pressed her fingers to his lips. Could she trust him? Could she reveal the deepest, darkest shadow of her life? The earnest, pleading look in his eyes told her yes.

  “Just a second.” She pushed the chair back. It scraped across the floor as she hurried down the hallway to the bedroom. She opened the closet and pulled out the small, blue plastic container that somehow managed to hang on like a plague. She clung to it and turned to see Jack in the doorway.

  “Before I answer you…” Gillian licked at her suddenly dry lips, “…here. Have a look in here, and after, if you have any questions, I’ll answer them, but I can’t sit here and look with you at what’s in this box. I’ll understand if you want to change your mind.”

  Gillian left him in the doorway with the box and headed for the bathroom. She’d have a shower and then decide what she was going to do. When he saw what was in her box of shame, she’d bet he’d want her gone, and really it was best to be prepared.

  Chapter 26

  Jack stared in horror at the pictures spread out over his bed. Medical reports, police reports lay open, the pages stained with age but legible. His stomach twisted as he stared at Gillian’s past. The ugly gashes which had turned into the scars, the bruises, the extent of her nightmares all displayed for the world to see.

  He set the pictures aside and pulled out the manila envelopes filled with papers. Dates were recorded in red ink on the upper corner of each in cold, concise script. He opened each one carefully and pulled out the documents.

  Aggravated assault, unlawful confinement, battery with a weapon. Jack tossed yet another down before picking up the most recent. His hands trembled as he stared at the top of the page for a few moments. His heart in his throat, he swallowed harshly. Rape, unlawful confinement, attempted murder. Skimming the pages, he pressed his hand to his mouth as he read the details Gillian had kept hidden. Miss Hilliard was thrown through a double-paned glass window on the third floor. She suffered multiple lacerations to her back, legs, and left side as a result of the broke
n glass. Broken pelvis, shattered ribs, and massive internal injuries. Bruising on her throat and shoulders indicated possible strangulation before going through the window.

  Was this what she was hiding? Was she trying to protect him from the brutality of her past? Sickened by the knowledge of what she’d endured, he rubbed a hand over his face and stared out the window. Did this mean anything to him? No, he felt bad for what she’d survived, but it didn’t affect how he felt for her. If anything it made him love her more. Gillian was far stronger than anyone he’d ever met, and he admired her.

  With the utmost care, he stacked the photos back and closed the lid. The sound of running water drew his attention. Shedding his jeans and T-shirt, he padded into the bathroom.

  Steam rolled up over the shower door, the scent of flowers swirling around him. Already he could feel his cock swelling, hardening. The low throb of lust in his blood fired as he opened the shower door and stepped inside.

  “What?” Gillian whirled, a confused look on her face.

  “Uh-uh, no peeking.” Jack pressed his lips against her shoulder. His hands slid around her waist, up over wet skin to cup her breasts. He toyed with her nipples, his lips whispering over her flesh. “Just think, you get to do everything to me that I’m gonna do to you.”

  “Jack.”

  “You were worried I’d think less of you.” Jack licked her shoulder. “That I’d think like they did, but I don’t. I’m gonna show you what I think of you.” He traced his hands down her arms, pinning hers against the wall. His fingers trailed over her arms, down her sides. He smiled at the shiver racing over her, the faint but distinct moan of pleasure an almost physical caress.

  Hot water pulsed against his back as he worked his way down her back pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses along the pale flesh. He paused at the top of her scars, his tongue swirling across the flesh, drawing a shuddery moan.