"You have no idea," she said.
"Fucking crazy woman," I said as I zipped up my pants. "Anyway, I haven't got all night. You got the blow? Better be as good as you say it is."
She was still looking out the back window. I followed her gaze in the rearview mirror and saw three figures step out a red sedan. I couldn’t see their faces but I could tell they were all women. There was a familiarity to the smallest one even though I could barely make out her silhouette in the headlights.
It wasn’t the tied up hair or the long skirt I recognized first. It was the gait, the nervous sense of urgency and the hands clasped together.
“Fay?”
I jumped out the car and saw her beside Bothworth’s girlfriend.
“What the fuck? Aren’t you- You’re supposed to be-“
“Stuck in some piece of shit motel room with a rapist,” Etta spat.
They were storming toward me.
“Just tell me where Lincoln is. Is he here? Is he!”
She pushed me hard in the chest with a strength I didn’t think a thing her size could possess.
“Hey!”
“Where is he!”
A bony hand lay softly on my shoulder. I could smell Phaedra’s floral scent as she crept up behind me. In all the years I’d known her she’d always worn the same perfume.
“Tell her where he is,” she said. “It’s the last thing you have to do.”
I tried to turn but something cold and hard stabbed into my ribs. Looking down, I saw a gun pushed against my side.
“Woah, calm down. We can talk about this.”
“There’s nothing to talk about. I’m not yours anymore.”
I could feel how tight she was holding the pistol, how determined her grasp was as her finger rested on the trigger. I could also sense how angry and unhinged she was.
“I’m going to kill you,” she said.
“You wouldn’t dare.”
“That’s what you think. Just tell her where Lincoln is. You’re going to die anyway so do the right thing.”
She pushed the gun harder.
“Okay! Jesus. He’s in there,” I nodded toward the door.
Etta flew at it and burst her way inside. There was a scream of relief, the sound of sobbing, her feet battering down on the floor as she rushed over to him.
Up the street, the sound of drunken laughter and footsteps echoed across the cobbles as some wayward party goers staggered toward us.
“Get inside,” said the old girl. “Now.”
Chapter Eleven
ETTA
"Oh, my God, Linx!"
I lunged toward him and fell at his feet. He looked like hell was but his eyes were sparkling. I took him in my arms and kissed him as hard as I could, cradling his head and holding him close. If there was a way to have held him closer I would have.
We'd barely been apart but it felt like a lifetime. I only stopped kissing him when my tears made our faces slippery and I leaned back to take a breath.
"How did you get here?" he croaked.
I moved around to his back and saw the rope burns on his wrists. Then, as I faced out toward Phaedra who was marching the judge inside, I caught sight of Berger slumped in the corner.
"I'm getting you out of here," I said as I tried to tear at the ropes with my weakened fingers. "I'll get both of you out of here."
In front of me, Kennedy's feet were shuffling toward me. I looked up and saw his face turn a deep shade of purple.
"You can't do this," he said. "You can't."
He was panicking, his eyes darting wildly around the room like a cornered animal.
"Shut your mouth," sneered Phaedra. "It's over. It all ends now!"
He tried to laugh but it came out as a choked splutter.
"What are you talking about? You've gone crazy. You should really see yourself. A tiny thing like you with a gun. Who do you think you are? Miss Marple?"
He laughed again, miserably.
"I just came to tell you one last thing before I stopped it all," she said. "The children are gone. Safe. Nowhere near you and your friends. It's over. I'm not doing your dirty work anymore."
He tensed up, his eyes widening and his face turning even darker. For a second, I was sure I could even see the shape of his heart beat against his chest.
"You're insane," he said. "You wouldn't do that."
His voice was as uncertain as his hands were shaky.
"Would you?"
"Already done. Rescued. Gone."
He gasped in a lungful of air and stared at the wall in horror, struck by the realization.
"So what now?" he asked. "I suppose you're going to kill me and then all of you are going to drive off into the sunset and live happily ever after."
"They might," said Phaedra as she stepped back and flicked the gun over in our direction. "But there's no happy ending for me."
She began walking around Kennedy in circles, her eyes never leaving his and the barrel of the gun never wavering from the direction of his chest.
I watched the peculiar dance as I held onto Lincoln, my nails digging into his shoulders as I tried to tell myself that I was safe because I was with him. That nothing bad would ever happen again because we were together.
At last, Phaedra stopped dancing and stood beside the judge and took his hand in hers. He looked terrified of her but kept his fingers clenched between hers like a reluctant child's.
"It has ended," she said with tears in her eyes. "You can't control me anymore you son of a bitch."
She gave me a final nod then lifted the gun. I waited for her to point it Kennedy but she remained by his side, the barrel pressing into the side of her own head.
"Wait. Phaedra! What are you doing!"
I jumped up but it was too late. Shocked and deafened by the gunfire I was blinded for a fleeting second and stumbled. By the time I reached her, not one but two bodies were lifeless on the ground. The bullet having escaped her head and entered his.
All I could do was look in horror as my ears rang with the echo of the bullet and the blood seeped into my shoes.
Their blood mingled together. Without knowing who they were, you'd be forgiven for thinking they were an innocent old couple who were joined together in a sea of crimson.
Lying side by side, they seemed so powerless, so frail.
When my hearing returned and my legs regained their strength, I stood up, staggering like a newborn fawn.
"Etta. I thought I'd never see you again," said Lincoln. "I've been thinking about you this whole time."
"You're all I've been thinking about too. I thought you were dead," I cried.
Untying the last of the knots around his arms, I let them drop into the puddle of blood that was surrounding us. Finally, after all this time I could feel his arms around me.
It was heaven. Pure comfort despite what was beside us.
"Etta, how did you get here?" he asked, smothering my face in kisses and holding me tight.
I cried harder, my tears soaking the front of his shirt. He took my face in his hand and looked deep into my eyes.
"How did you get here?" he asked again.
With my whole body shaking, I opened my mouth and felt the saltwater drench my lips.
"I killed a man."
Dark Diary
Jewels And Panties Series
Book Seven
Brooke Kinsley
© 2017 All Rights Reserved
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other non-commercial uses per law
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or
actual events is purely coincidental.
"Erotica is literature designed to be read with one hand...”-Brooke Kinsley
Description
ETTA
We’re together at last with nothing to worry about and no one to get in our way.
Finally, I can lie in his arms and know we’re safe.
When he suggests we get away from everything and go on vacation to Italy, I’m so happy I think I’ll explode.
We can finally relax and have fun just like a normal couple!
With his private jet online minutes away, I can barely contain my excitement.
But then something catches his eye on the way to the airport and it looks like we’re about to make an unscheduled stop.
One that takes us right back to where we started.
LINCOLN
All I’ve ever wanted was to make her happy.
I’m going to take her to Venice, the most beautiful city in the world!
We’ll dine beneath the stars and make love until the sun rises.
With my private jet waiting for us and nothing to get in our way, I’ve never been happier.
But then an offer comes my way and I find I can’t say no, especially when it can help me put all my wrongs to right.
Then I discover Phaedra’s mysterious diaries and find something I wasn’t expecting: a familiar name, an evil request, evidence I can’t ignore.
Chapter One
ETTA
It was the first time I hadn't seen Broadwood in the rain. The sky was a vast stretch of pristine blue sky with only a few wisps of pearlescent cloud floating overhead.
I kept my gaze skyward to stop myself looking at the faces in front of me.
"Are you okay?" Lincoln whispered in my ear.
"Fine," I lied.
He placed a hand on the small of my back, a silent symbol that he was there for me.
"It'll be okay," he said.
"It doesn't feel like it."
I finally looked down and took his hand in mine. Where his wrist met the cuff of his shirt, I could make out the faint, purple line of scar tissue from where the rope burned into him. It was healing well but I didn't know if his mind was.
Since being captured, there had been an immediate change in him. He had to relinquish his power. Something that I could tell hurt him to his core.
But there was something else too. Since then there had been a haunted look in his eyes. Even now, as he gazed over my shoulder at the congregation in front of us, it looked as though he wasn't really here. He was disappearing inside himself. I just hoped I could bring him back out. Save him. Share the pain with him.
I squeezed his hand tighter and he kissed my cheek as we looked at the back of people's heads as they looked down at the open grave.
Phaedra's white coffin was being lowered into it. It looked so small. Almost like a child's.
Glancing around at all the unfamiliar faces, I was surprised by how many people had turned up to say goodbye. Despite the rumors, she was central to the neighborhood and at some point in time, she had genuinely helped girls get back on their feet.
One person I did recognize by the crimson hair was Katy. Now, in her black dress and sensible shoes, she looked ten years older than the last time I saw her. She wiped a tear from her cheek and looked up. Our eyes met and I glanced away.
I didn't want to be noticed. I just wanted to fade away.
The truth was I didn't even want to be here but some part of us thought we had to say goodbye. Even if that part of us was also raging mad.
Somewhere beyond the crowd, a priest mumbled his prayers and condolences but I didn't want to listen. Instead, I studied the faces of everyone around us. Across the grave, an old woman with stylishly blow dried silver hair and a black veil pulled across her face dabbed at her eyes. I couldn't help but notice that no matter how many times she pressed the tissue to her face her makeup was immaculate.
She didn't look like someone who once lived in the house and her clothes, her demeanor, her sense of superiority told me that she wasn't a cop or a social worker either.
"Do you think she's family?" asked Lincoln.
I tensed up.
"You've been staring right at her," he whispered. "I have to admit she's a bit conspicuous, ain't she? I think she took acting lessons before she turned up."
I watched her for a moment longer and realized there were no tears. Only the intact white tissue held between her manicured fingers.
"She better get a refund from her acting coach," I replied, looking down at the ground. "Her waterworks aren't fooling anyone."
"Shhh!"
A woman in front turned round and pressed her finger to her lips. I mumbled an apology and remained silent.
After the priest said his final prayer, people began to walk up to her grave one by one. Some people said a final farewell and shed a last tear while others merely nodded and murmured before hurrying away.
We waited until everyone had left before venturing up to the graveside.
Looking down into the hole, it was hard to believe that she was in there. The last time I saw her she was a living, breathing, ferocious woman who was hellbent on revenge. The last time I saw her she had eyes that were ablaze and a gun in her hand. Now I was just looking at a white box with flowers and trinkets scattered on top.
There were roses, prayer cards, mementos from some of the girls; cuddly toys and a piece of jewelry.
"What's the custom?" I asked. "Do I pick up a handful of mud and throw it down like they do in the movies?"
Lincoln shrugged.
"I never was good at these things."
We just stared at the coffin some more.
"At least there are no reporters are here," observed Lincoln.
I scanned my eyes through the trees and couldn't see anyone but the old woman with the veil. She had ceased crying and was now watching us from a safe distance.
"We have company," I said.
Lincoln looked up.
"Shit, she's coming over."
Although she was much older than Phaedra, she was fit and nimble and made light work of the distance between us.
"I saw you earlier," she said as she approached, her voice clipped and without any noticeable accent.
She thrust her hand into mine and shook it until I could feel her bony knuckles protrude into my palm.
"I'm Stephanie," she said.
"Nice to meet you, Stephanie," I said. "This is my boyfriend Lincoln."
He gave her a polite nod.
"Have we met before?” he asked.“There's something familiar about you."
There was something familiar about her. A look in her eyes perhaps or the way she carried herself. She coughed and pressed the tissue to her lips.
"Oh, no," she spluttered. "We've not met before. Although I assume you both knew my sister."
She nodded to the grave beside us.
"You're... You're Phaedra's sister?"
She pursed her lips and blinked as if to suggest she was on the brink of crying, but like before, there were no tears.
“Yes. Although I dare say we weren’t exactly close at the end.”
Her eyes stared off into the distance, focused only on a memory.
“Were you close to her?” she asked, still watching the leaves rustle in the faraway trees.
“Knew her for many years,” said Lincoln, his head lowered with a look of something I couldn’t quite identify. Shame? Regret?
It was then the old woman’s face changed from one of false grief to a look of girlish giddiness.
“Ooh, you must be Dr. Bosworth!” she cooed with stars in her eyes. “I’m so sorry I didn’t notice you earlier. As you can imagine I’ve been preoccupied.”
“That’s quite alright. I like to keep a low profile at the best of times.”
Her eyes were dewy and glistening, not with tears, but the thrill of meeting him. It was the same look I gave him every morning.
“Phaedra spoke a lot about you,” she
gushed. “Told me wonderful things!”
“She did?”
“Said you were a great asset to the house and how the girls adored you.”
Stephanie took Lincoln’s hand in hers and stared up doe eyed.
“You know, I used to take my grandchildren over there when they were small. They loved the house with all its nooks and mysteries.”
“It certainly was a house of mysteries,” he replied.
“Most mysterious!” she laughed. “There was always a new thing to find. Is it still the same?”
Lincoln and I shared an awkward glance and looked away.
“It’s, erm, still a busy place,” he said at last and pulled his hand away. “Anyway, I’m sure you’re eager to get back to your family.”
The old lady stayed put.
We both stared at her, willing her to leave so we could step away from the graveside and get on with our lives.
For a second, she jerked as though she was about to turn on her heel but then jolted to a stop and furrowed her brow.
“Tell me, does she still… I mean did she still keep all of her diaries? When we were teenagers she used to have volumes of them all lining the walls. It was a peculiar habit of hers, don’t you think? She just loved to write stuff down.”
“She took notes of everything,” I said.
Her frown deepened so that the thick layer of powder across her skin began to crease. Her lipstick feathering as she pulled her lips into a grimace.
“How… sweet,” she said with no trace of sweetness in her voice. “Anyway, it was a pleasure to meet you. I’m sorry it was under such miserable circumstances.”
She pecked us both on the cheek, the bristles of her facial hair scratching my face. Then she slipped away into the trees.
“Weird woman,” I said.
“The weirdest,” replied Lincoln.
I reached out to hold his hand and saw the hairs on his arm were sticking up on end.
Chapter Two
LINCOLN
Jewels And Panties: (Book 1-15) Billionaire Romance Series Page 32