Lose Control (Firebacks Book 3)

by Linda Verji

  LOSE CONTROL

  Firebacks Book Three

  Linda Verji

  Other Books In This Series

  Daddy’s Home (Book #1)

  Not Broken (Book #2)

  Copyright ©2014 by Linda Verji

  All Rights Reserved. No Part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means without prior written consent of the author, excepting brief quotes in reviews.

  This is an original work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Contains explicit sex & language that is suitable for a mature audience 18+

  For Dr. H; a strong woman, an inspiring role model and the ultimate fount of information. With friends like these, who needs a thesaurus?

  As usual thank you Allison. What would I do without you continuously looking over my shoulder to make sure I’m writing and not bingeing on TV?

  PROLOGUE

  It’s a party out here

  I need to see you out here

  We gonna stay up late

  And maybe mate

  Welcome to our wild wild night

  The music was loud; so loud she could feel its every note straining through her ears and ripping into her skull even through the closed door. The wood vibrated threateningly with every beat, as if it too was tired of the rhythmic riot going on in the room next door.

  Their mother was at it again.

  It’d started at seven p.m. the previous day and if the bedside clock was correct, it meant that it’d been going on for eight full hours. But it wasn’t the music that forced Chryssa Williams from her sleep. It wasn’t even her mother’s screechy voice accompanying the smoother tones of the mechanical singer that got her eyes to snap open. That was something she was used to.

  Everyone was used to it.

  Every year around this time, the sickness came for Betty Williams and with it a craving for Luther Vandross, Stevie Wonder, Lionel Richie or whichever celebrity could sing the loudest and bust a few ear-drums. The neighbors didn’t bother pounding on their walls anymore yelling at them to ‘shut up or keep it moving’.

  The hand shaking Chryssa’s shoulder yanked her from her slumber as a small voice whispered in her ear, “Chrys. Chrys. Chrys.”

  Her eyes snapped open to Mickey’s face looming above hers, illuminated by the shards of light that cut into their room from above and beneath the door.

  There was a sleepy curtness to her voice when she finally answered him. “Yeah! I’m awake.”

  “I gotta pee.” Even in the shadows, the fear in the seven year old eyes was palpable. Unlike Chryssa, he wasn’t yet used to their mother’s condition. No seven year old should have to deal with nights like these. No one should. It was the only reason Chryssa had even allowed him into her bed.

  “Okay.” Chryssa pushed the covers away from both their bodies and slid her feet onto the cold floor.

  Not even bothering to search out her slippers, she pattered to the closet where she kept the pee-bucket.

  She hated that bucket. The hatred was so passionate that every time she touched it, she feared she would retch. That bucket reminded her of everything that was wrong with their family. It reminded her of the whispers that followed her at school because everybody knew her mother wasn’t ‘right’. It reminded her that she and Mickey were so frightened of Betty they couldn’t even come out of the room to go to the toilet.

  As if hearing Chryssa’s thoughts, Betty rushed out of her own room into the living room. Her voice penetrated the wooden door as she yelled to the music, “…we gonna stay up late and maybe mate…”.

  If they opened the door, Chryssa knew they would find Betty dancing along to her singing. Maybe she’d even be in the kitchen removing all the utensils from the cupboards just so she could rearrange them. The doctors said that the loud music and the sporadic movements were her way of keeping herself from sleeping.

  Focusing on her reason for being up at this hour, Chryssa removed the pee-bucket from the closet, setting it at the corner of the bed. Mickey was still on his hunches atop the bed just looking at her. She beckoned to him, “What are you waiting for? Come an’ pee.”

  “I’m scared.”

  “Scared of what?” Chryssa kissed her teeth. She couldn’t help feeling a bit frustrated with him. It was hard enough dealing with their mother’s antics in the middle of the night knowing that tomorrow was both a school day and a work day. She didn’t need Mickey keeping her awake too. Reminding herself that he was just boy, she softened her tone, “I’ve locked the door. I promise she won’t come in.”

  “Check,” Mickey’s scared voice insisted.

  Chryssa walked to the door, rattled the doorknob and tagged at it to reassure him that it was locked. Sure that he was safe from their mother, Mickey clambered off the bed and walked towards the pee-bucket. “Close your eyes.”

  “Boy, please,” Chryssa protested but she put her hands over her ears anyway to cut out the sound of his pee hitting the bucket. Once he was done, she put the lid on the bucket and pushed it back into the closet.

  In the morning she would have to empty it right before she went over to Mr. Jackson’s house. The old man was the only one who could convince Betty that it was time to go to hospital. Not that it was going to be an easy fete. Drama was Betty’s trademark.

  She would try to kick Chryssa out of the house first claiming that Chryssa was spreading nasty rumors about her. Sometimes it was just words, sometimes it got physical, but it always hurt. Sometimes the pain got so bad, Chryssa was tempted to simply pack hers and Mickey’s bags and run away.

  It took everything for her to wipe away the tears each time it happened. She had to remind herself that it was the sickness talking, not Betty. It was her responsibility to make sure that Betty was safe. Maybe it was too much responsibility for a fifteen year old, but who else was supposed to do it? Betty had no one but Mickey and Chryssa.

  Once they were back in bed, Mickey huddled closer to Chryssa, his body warming hers. He started when Betty’s footsteps rushed again past their door, but settled down when she didn’t stop or bang in it like she sometimes did. Soon his breathing evened out, his small frame relaxing in sleep, confident that Chryssa would protect him from their sick mother. With sleep refusing her solace, Chryssa stared at the ceiling and waited for morning to come. At least she had Betty’s music to keep her company until then.

  CHAPTER 1

  15 Years Later

  This is not how she pictured her life.

  At thirty she was supposed to have retired with boatloads of money from breaking up unhappy marriages. She was supposed to be on a beach somewhere in nothing but a bikini that was just spaghetti-like strings and three patches of fabric. She was supposed to be ogling ripped college boys on Spring Break and receiving awards as America’s Next Cougar. She was certainly not supposed to be participating in the bad parody of Jerry Springer.

  The tension thrumming in the boardroom was palpable. They’d been here for almost three hours now trying to split up their property and this horse and pony show was getting no where. On one side Chryssa and the firm’s newest client, Annalise Whitmore sat. On the other, Annalise’s soon to be ex-husband Pete and his lawyer, Sandra, sat. Couples like these Whitmore’s were Chryssa’s bread and butter; couples that married too young or too fast. Pete and Sandra were like the golden goose of divorce. Too young and too fast!

  “I want the TV,” Pete announced to no one in particular. Even his lawyer, Sandra didn’t look very interested in the announcement. Pete continued, “It was a wedding gift from my
Aunt Nancy and you’ve watched it too much anyway.”

  “Are you saying that I’m fat?” Annalise screeched.

  How Annalise had jumped to that conclusion from Pete’s words was a mystery. However Pete’s smirk as he looked at her, across the large table dividing Chryssa and her client from them, didn’t ease the heavy tension between the two. “If the shoe fits-”

  “You-”Annalise started to yell but stopped herself before Chryssa could intervene. “You know what. You can keep the TV.”

  “Why?” Pete asked, peering at his wife suspiciously. Obviously what he saw on her face wasn’t satisfactory because he promptly declared, “No I don’t want it. You can keep it.”

  Unbelievable! Pete had been fighting for that 19 inch TV for the last thirty minutes. 19 fucking inches! If this was a normal situation Chryssa would’ve reached across the table and slapped the crap out of him. Instead, she took a breath, reminded herself that she was a lady in the boardroom, but a freak on the streets and then asked sweetly, “So you’re saying that Annalise can have the TV?”

  “I don’t want it anymore,” Annalise also decided. She sat back in her seat and folded her arms over her chest, saying, “The asshole can have it.”

  “I’ll take it on one condition,” Pete answered smugly. “That I get Snookie too.”

  The thought of losing Snookie, one of her seven cats, was really too much for Annalise. One minute she was seated next to Chryssa, the next moment she’d launched herself across the table towards Pete, “You pig…”

  “Hold up.” Chryssa was the first to reach. She yanked Annalise away from Pete by the waist as she yelled, “Time out. Time out.”

  Ignoring the fact that Annalise had snatched Pete’s toupee when she’d attacked him, Chryssa managed to drag her out of the boardroom and to her office. A couple of minutes later they went back to the boardroom, but the same thing happened and once again Annalise had to be dragged out. By the time they’d left three hours later, the Great Conflict of the 19 Inch TV hadn’t been resolved yet and Chryssa could feel a massive headache coming on.

  “Water?” Someone waved a bottle of mineral water in front of her face. Chryssa lifted her head coming face to face with her smiling assistant, Aaron Montgomery. She hadn’t even noticed him push open the door as she wallowed.

  “How do you always know what I need?” Chryssa asked as she took the bottle and drank almost half the contents in one gulp.

  “I’m a mind reader,” Aaron answered cheerfully as he placed a file in front of her.

  Normally Chryssa would never have hired a cheerleader type like Aaron. He was as slender as a reed, had hair that was so blonde it looked silverish especially when contrasted against his tan skin, and a sense of fashion that only a man confident in his sexuality could pull off. Today he’d accompanied his black loafers and beige chinos with a pink shirt, black bow-tie and oversized glasses with pink rims. At first glance he came off as a fluffy-head with too much time on his hands. Chryssa knew better.

  “What’s this?” Chryssa asked as she flipped through the file. Within its folds were several pictures of well-built men with their body stats as well as their high school GPA scores. Each picture had the Adonis Escorts logo plastered on it.

  “Replacements for King. He’s been gone almost two weeks now. So I took the liberty of asking his agency to send you a replacement man,” Aaron replied with a completely straight face.

  Chryssa almost dropped the water she still held in her hand. It’s not that she was ashamed that she had to buy sex. In fact given her situation it was the sensible thing to do. She didn’t do relationships – but that didn’t mean she wanted every Tom, Dick and Larry having a field day on her lady parts.

  With King she could have the benefits of monogamy yet avoid the risks of a real relationship. Unlike other men he came with a guarantee for pleasure (at the ridiculous price they were charging her he should) which meant no faking an orgasm. Unlike a vibrator, he had a good body to accompany the dick.

  Unlike many men, she could pre-select his IQ which meant he could hold a decent conversation without it disintegrating to the latest music video by some teenage musician with more fabric on his pants than brains. She had someone to take her to stand-up shows at The Apollo, someone to cuddle with on cold nights and someone to dick her down on horny nights.

  And best of all, it was all just business!

  There were no emotions getting tangled, men going down on one knee ending in her spread eagle in the labor ward popping children with her genes.

  No! Shame was definitely not the problem. Her shock came from the fact that Aaron knew about King. She asked, “How did you know about King?”

  “I told you. I’m a mind-reader.” More like an incurably nosy-parker. Aaron’s father was a private investigator – apparently the genes ran in the family. He pointed to a bulky Latino with the name Marcelle splashed across his picture. “I like him. Think he’s gay?”

  Chryssa snatched the file away. “Bitch go away.”

  Laughing, Aaron picked up a few documents from Chryssa’s outbox then started to walk to the door. Mid-stride, he paused, “Oh! Michael called. He said that you should call him as soon as you are done with your meetings.”

  Message delivered, Aaron shut the door behind leaving Chryssa alone in the large office. She knew exactly why Mickey was calling her and she really didn’t want to talk about it. She was tempted to pretend she hadn’t received that message. But Mickey knew how efficient Aaron was at his job.

  Sighing deeply, Chryssa pulled her cell-phone from her handbag and dialed his number. He picked on the first ring, “Chrys. Dad says no one went to pick him up. Why didn’t you?”

  Chrys started to defend herself, “Mickey-”

  “Michael,” he corrected, his deep baritone vibrating over the phone. Ever since he’d grown out of his batman boxers, he’d decided he didn’t like being called Mickey. Add in the flourishing football up in LA as Michael ‘Angel’ Williams and it was an uphill task for Chryssa to keep him stuck in her little brother box.

  “Mickey,” She insisted. “I told you I wasn’t going to. You already made me chip in for the rent. What more do you want?”

  “It’s not about the money.”

  “Uh…yeah it is,” she corrected. “I don’t just dish out my money to anyone.”

  She could hear his heavy sigh even across the several states that divided them. He capped it with “Chryssa, He just walked out of twenty years in the pen. The least you could do is show you’re happy about it.”

  “I’m not and I don’t see the need to pretend that I am.” As far as Chryssa was concerned Carter Williams could go on getting his GED in prison till Kingdom come or whatever it is they did there. He’d chosen that life.

  “You need to let go.”

  “You let go,” Chryssa returned petulantly.

  “I’ll call you in the evening so we can talk about it,” Mickey said putting on his grown-up voice. Puh-lease. He paused before growling, “You better pick up that damn phone this time.”

  “Boy, you ain’t my Daddy.” She snapped before cutting the phone-call. She loved Mickey to death but sometimes he could be so…so…so irritating. He knew perfectly well the reason she wasn’t interested in mending fences with Carter, but as usual he had to go do the whole peacemaker thing. Most times she was susceptible to him and ended up doing what he wanted-of course after a great deal of complaining. This time however it wasn’t going to work.

  She was paying Carter’s rent. Period. Any compassion he needed he could go get from somewhere else.

  Fours hours later after finishing up on a few case files, she packed up for the day. It was a bit earlier than she’d usually leave, but she’d promised Zain, one of her best friends that she’d see her before the day was over. There was a slight build up of traffic on the freeway, but it didn’t take her long to get to Chesley Memorial Hospital where Zain worked. After parking her silver BMW next to a red mini-coupe she made her way into the h
ospital.

  There was nothing more Chryssa hated than the sounds, smells and sights of the hospital. The sight of patients milling around the long corridor and waiting room was enough to clog her throat as she imagined them never leaving here alive. The blood in her veins slowed to a crawl every time she brushed past one of them She could practically smell the medication seeping out of their pores like sickness and death calling her name. But over the years, she’d learnt to mask her discomfort.

  Smiling at the nurse manning the enquiries desk she asked, “Hi, I’d like to see Dr. Zain Ford.”

  “She’s in surgery,” the nurse said, “but if you want you can wait for just a few minutes…”

  A few minutes? A few minutes in this hell-hole.

  She hoped her anxiety didn’t show as she smiled and thanked the nurse. She settled next to a middle-aged man who sat with his head propped against the wall. Chryssa started when he coughed. It took everything in her not to take off screaming. Instead she offered him her handkerchief.

  “Thank you,” he said before launching into another fit of coughs.

  Oh God! I’m going to die. The panic swirling in her nerves screamed. No, you’re not. Her brain soothed. What she needed was a distraction. Her eyes searched the hallway furtively as she searched for anything to concentrate on that would take her mind off all the sickness around her.

  And that’s when she saw him. Exactly what she needed to distract her!

  Eli Stone.

  ***

  Chryssa Williams.

  Just what he needed to ruin a good day!

  Eli barely held back his groan of irritation as his eyes met Chryssa’s. For Pete’s sake, he had to see the woman every time he went to the Ford’s house. Did she also have to stalk him in his workplace?

  How such a blood-sucking viper could look so good was beyond Eli. But she did. Even seated, Home-Breaker Williams (as he’d dubbed her in his head) was a sight to behold. From the hair pulled into a sexy teacher’s chignon to the pencil skirt that skimmed over her curves erotically.

  His body screamed for him to turn tail and run, but his brain reminded him that he still had to find out his clinic hours for the week and that he was no coward. With barely a pause in his step he yanked his gaze away from hers and strode towards the enquiries desk with every intention of ignoring her, getting his information and getting out of there as fast as he could.