It has been two months since my beautiful fiancée brought Melissa into the world. That little girl is my pride and joy; I will do anything for her.
Every time I look into those deep green eyes, identical to mine, I know I can’t feel more whole and complete than I do. Every time she feeds from Abigail, my admiration for the woman grows, my love for her multiplies.
It has become a kind of ritual for me to finish work a little early, leaving the restaurant around five rather than half six, picking my beautiful lady something up to make her feel good, sometimes flowers, sometimes a nice bottle of wine, sometimes chocolates.
I am packing my things away for the day, pissed off that I had ran over how long I intended to stay. I had already received a text from Abigail a few minutes before saying;
Hurry up daddy, I miss you.
Xxx
I can’t wait to get home and cuddle my perfect little girl. To kiss my lady's perfect lips and spend the evening with them both.
Melissa has settled into a nice routine, sleeping for a continual nine hours every night without waking. She is so good, I am blessed to have her as my child. The time during the evening is left for Abigail and I to spend together. We are always with each other; I will be in her tight little pussy all night long, fucking her hard and deep. I can’t get enough of her. If I had ever thought giving birth would ruin her I was completely mistaken, she is still just as luscious and hot as she ever was.
God my dick is like an iron rod at the thought of burying myself within her heat. I need to leave and soon.
A knock at my office door stops me as I am turning my MacBook off. “Come in,” I shout to the person on the other side.
Stacy, one of my waitresses for the restaurant enters. “Tom’s free if you need him now?” she tells me, fiddling with her apron.
“Awesome, tell him to come here when he can.” I re-open my laptop and set up the program I know he will need to complete the job allocated.
A few minutes later a little knock sounds at the door and then Thomas enters through it. I know he can get me what I need and want, he is amazing at his real job, the job I truly employ him for. All of my men have cover-ups, it is essential if I am to get away with what I really do.
My obsession with finding every little thing out about the prick, Phillip, who has assaulted my wife and hurt my family, is out of control. It is like a hunger, an uncontrollable thirst within me. Between Thomas and I, we have found out every detail about Phillip, and his men, from their properties, to their women, their children, their financial accounts and businesses. Now, the last thing I want is to hack into the CCTV footage at his first and main place of work, to get a good glimpse as to why the fucker has been on the down low and so quiet lately.
“Hey, boss, what do you need me for?” Thomas asks me as he stands across the desk.
“I need you for what I pay you for you fuck,” I reply sarcastically, smiling at him.
“Alright smart arse, details?” he inquires, keen to help. He is like a brother to my beautiful fiancée and I love the guy for it. He wants to make her safe and secure as much as I do so he is more than happy to work his arse off until she is without fear.
“Need you to tap into the CCTV at cocksucker’s warehouse; I want to see what he’s up to. He has been suspiciously quiet and it isn’t right.” He knows how to do it. I will give him about two minutes before we are looking at dickhead's footage from the last year.
“How far back do we want?” Tom asks me, typing away at my computer.
“Six months. They’ve been quiet since Ant’s shooting.” I tell him.
“That’s doable. Right, there we go.” He clicks a key once and then the projector on my wall illuminates with dozens of screens. Thirty in total, one for each day of the month.
“Well that makes it a little easier. Cheers mate.” I clap him on the back as he sets the video footage on to fast forward. At times three speed I can see everything clearly, without having to wait around.
We go through the first three months of footage, mainly Phillip sitting on his arse doing nothing, sometimes him fucking some dumb bitch that has fallen for his slimy bullshit.
I scan the thirty screens on the fourth month, trying to find any sign of a plot or scheme, so far we have come up dry and it seems to be a waste of time.
“Wait, skip back on that one,” I say as something catches my eye. I’m not sure what pulls me to the small screen but it must be something interesting.
“There we go,” Tom says as he rewinds the clip and then plays it from the beginning again. “Is that?” Tom doesn’t finish his question because I answer for him.
“WHAT THE FUCK?” I say angrily as I focus my eyes on the stomach that at that point had held my daughter. Currently, that moment in time, MY Abigail was on her knees, that cunt's cock in her mouth.
Thomas switches the screen off and it pisses me off more. “FUCKING turn it back on NOW! Enlarge that one video link! And then fuck off!” I shout at him. I feel bad for the guy because all he is trying to do is help.
The screen flickers back on, the footage now covering the entire surface of the projector screen.
“FUCK!” I shout again, my blood boiling within my veins as they constrict tightly in my body. My suspicions are completely confirmed as I hear her talking about Antonio and me.
“Don’t be stupid about this boss, think it through,” Thomas encourages me, also trying to calm my evident rage.
“GET THE FUCK OUT NOW TOM!” I shout once more, not wanting to hurt him, because at this moment in time I am about ready to rip someone’s head off or put a bullet in their skull.
“Okay, I’m going. If you need me Leigh, call me. I don’t want you doing something stupid. Okay?” He leaves the room quietly, closing the door behind him.
I sit back in my chair and watch the clip from start to finish. From the moment she enters, to dropping on her knees, to being fucked on his desk with pure bliss on her face, to his knife slicing her baby filled tummy to her leaving like the filthy whore she is.
I pick my laptop up from the desk in a fit of rage and sling it at the projector, smashing the thing into pieces.
“ARGGHHH!” I bellow, trying but failing to calm myself. I can’t control the thoughts flooding my mind. They are dangerous and violent. I want to end one of them; I need to, just to grasp some semblance of control again. This is not okay, for either of them, and both of them will learn one way or the other what happens when you fuck with a Lock, especially the Lock that owns his father’s company, the father that was one of the most feared assassins in the UK before his death. You betray me, or my family, and you are gone. Simple. I have had enough disloyalty to last a life time, and I don’t take it anymore, not from anyone.
I walk to my safe, fitted into the wall. I turn the dial until it clicks open. Inside, my beautiful glock sits, ready and waiting, and the malicious smile that spreads on my face as I load it and slip it into my waist band, should show just how little people clearly know me.
I don’t give mercy to anyone who back stabs me, even if it is the slutty, cheating, skank whore that has mothered my child. If Melissa didn’t look the spitting image of me I would now doubt if she was even mine.
I slam my safe closed and collect my keys. I walk from my office and leave the restaurant through the back exit.
“Bring it the fuck on!” I say aloud as I climb into my seat and rip out of the car park.
As I drive through the alley towards the darkened street, I have one decision, one very dangerous and deadly thought.
Who will I go to first?
Phillip or Abigail?
To be continued
Shannon is a twenty something, crazy, bubbly girl from Essex in the UK. Essex has been her home for her entire life, living in the same house from birth. She loves ink, piercings and being individual and unique. She loves to go bowling, watch movies and playing Dungeons and Dragons is one of her favourite pasti
mes.
She began writing in 2013 with her debut novel released in march 2014. She has been a creative writer since a child, writing poems, short stories and books from the young age of 3.
She has four brother, one who has passed, and one sister, who is her best friend.
She has the most supportive father and a mother who was a massive fan of her writing. Shannon lost her mum in March 2016.
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One-Dustin
The pitter-patter of the rain against the high-rise windows soothed me. The intermittent flashes of electric bolts in the sky grounded me and the booming crashes of the thunder bought me a sense of peace I couldn’t and wouldn’t find anywhere else. It bought me back to solid ground.
I stood by my floor-to-ceiling window, one hand in my trouser’s pocket, the other clutching a crystal tumbler as though it were my salvation. It rested against my chest, the scent of the whiskey strong and overpowering. I allowed it to infiltrate my body and bring me to reason.
I could see my reflection as I stared out in to the darkened night. My dark brown wayward hair was brushed backwards from my hands continuously running through it. My eyes, normally a midnight blue, appeared nearly black, empty and hollow against my crinkled face; the stress from the previous day showing evidently in every line, wrinkle and crease. My shirt and trousers clung tightly to my body, my jacket strewn carelessly against the back of the sofa. My tie lies loosely around my neck, my top button undone and showering the tiniest smattering of chest hair.
At thirty-two years old, I was worth a fair bit of money but I had worked hard for every penny and pound of my wealth, strived to create a successful business that helped save lives and council those who desperately needed it.
I had worked my arse off at university for over six years, finally earning the title Dr Reynolds. I was a doctor of psychology, but I no longer practised my acquired profession, instead I used my abilities to start up retreats for abused people, guiding other psychologists and support workers to make people’s lives better.
My job demanded a lot of my time and attention, I shouldn't have this amount of heartache and stress on me. I couldn’t handle worrying about anything unnecessary.
If it were for my own emotional welfare and sanity the answer would be simple; it would be a straight forward, no-way-in-hell, no. But I didn’t just have myself to think of anymore, there was a child involved and I couldn’t and didn’t want to be known as the part-time father who couldn’t be bothered with his own son or daughter.
Lilian had been a sneaky, conniving bitch, but she now held my baby inside her body and there was no way on this earth I was losing rights to my child. I would fight her tooth and nail for parental rights. The only problem was, I didn’t want joint custody; seeing my child on weekends or when I was allowed. I wanted to be there for my child every moment I could.
I had the money to give my baby the best life imaginable. A proper upbringing, an amazing education and opportunities in life I hadn’t had. My parents were brilliant but they weren’t rich. I had grown up in an average house, on an average street with average neighbours. I couldn’t fault my mum and dad for anything, they loved me unconditionally and would still, to this very day -even as they approach seventy years old- do anything for me. They would be over the moon about becoming grandparents to my child and I knew their love for this baby would outweigh its own mothers by miles.
Lilian wanted me, that’s all she wanted from this. The child was just a means to an end with her. When she approached me four months after I had laid eyes on her, she had dropped a sonogram on my desk and told me the jelly-bean shaped greyness was mine.
Staring at the foetus had brought me a sense of pride and happiness I had never felt before. Earning my first million, buying my first home and graduating college hadn’t compared to the elation seeing my own child had brought.
At that point I had no intentions of being with her, no intentions of having more contact than necessary, she was a one night stand for heaven’s sake, but she had been brutal and there wasn’t a hope in hell, no magic lamp with a three-wish genie, that could get me out this mess.
‘You are going to marry me, Dustin, you are going to marry me or I will terminate this… thing and I will tell everyone, the press, the paparazzi, every news station I can contact, that you forced me in to having the abortion.’ A lump, the size of Great Britain, had formed in my throat that very second, clogging my airways and making the bile in the pit of my stomach rise.
How? How could a person be so heartless and despicable? I didn’t care if she lied and said I forced her to abort the child, but there was no way I would let her terminate this pregnancy and destroy the first life I had created. When the child was born, then I would take legal action and gain full custody of my baby.
The lights illuminating the skyline drowned me in tranquillity, I felt a thousand feet tall in my tower, watching down as small lights from the passing cars were barely visible. Nobody down below could see me, knowing I was watching them, but I could see them.
I’ve always craved a little control, demanded respect and admiration from those around me. Unless it was my mother, that woman had me under the thumb. I would do anything she asked or ordered. Mainly out of respect, sorry I mean fear.
You didn’t disrespect Carol Reynolds, not if you wanted to live. You disrespect my mother and my father will have you hanging from a tenth story window by your ankles, quicker than you can say sorry. His age didn’t stop him, nor did the bad back he had acquired from too much hard labour over his life-time.
Just thinking about my folks brought a smile to my face, even as my current circumstances dampened my usual happy mood. My staff liked me, or so I liked to think. I was a good boss, my employees had great benefits, a support network that was thorough and would apply any means necessary to make sure every single member was happy. I didn’t care if someone was the photocopy boy or the management of a retreat, they were offered the same level of care.
Lilian had ruined a place I found comforting. Entering my office yesterday and slapping me with the news of impending fatherhood had made me joyful, until she ruined it with her vile threat.
I was somewhat excited to visit my parents tomorrow, to give them a copy of the sonogram I had taken from Lilian. I could already picture the smile in my mother’s turquoise green eyes. My father would hug me, slapping my back as he laughed with happiness. My brother, Donovan, would be over the moon. With two children of his own, I knew how much my mother and father enjoyed doting on children. He would hand me a cigar, a cheap one, but with such pride that I would smoke the damn thing anyway.
I had offered all of my family financial assistance when I became wealthy, but all declined, stating it was my money and they were happy with their lives. My mother and father had no idea I paid their mortgage repayments every month and that the money they put towards the repayments was deterred to a savings account. I would present them with it on their fiftieth wedding anniversary. They deserved a break, deserved the around-the-world trip they had both always wanted.
Donovan, older than I by six years, worked as an electrician. His sixty grand a year job made him happy and content. His beautiful wife and two daughters were safe and healthy and that was all any of them could ask for.
I was happy as long as they were.
Savings accounts were set up for all my family, without their knowledge, but I would give them the money they deserved when the time was right. I would pay every last damn penny I had, to make sure their lives ran smooth and safe.
Clutching my now-empty glass, I sighed. I needed to get my head together and grasp whatever control I had left.
I walked away from the window, placing the crystal tumbl
er on the kitchen unit, before retreating to my room. I stripped out of my suit, brushed my teeth and climbed in to bed.
Switching the bedroom light off, I stared at the ceiling in the darkness.
At three in the morning I finally allowed sleep to consume me.
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Deliverance (The LockDown Series Book 1) Page 33