Jewels and Panties (Book, Eight): Romance Suspense

by Brooke Kinsley

  Table of Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Book Nine

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Romance Suspense

  Jewels And Panties Series

  Book Eight

  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

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  Contents

  Description

  Chapter One LINCOLN

  Chapter Two ETTA

  Chapter Three LINCOLN

  Chapter Four CHRISSIE

  Chapter Five ETTA

  Chapter Six LINCOLN

  Chapter Seven CHRISSIE

  Chapter Eight LINCOLN

  About The Author

  Description

  Lincoln

  Etta has vanished leaving nothing but her necklace on the ground and a series of questions.

  All clues are leading to her ex-boyfriend, Craig, a mad man who’s capable of anything when he’s heartbroken.

  There’s only one person who can know where he is.

  An addict who’s hell bent on getting me into trouble.

  And she’d do anything to get her way…

  Chrissie

  It’s not every day a billionaire lands on your doorstep and claims your boyfriend has kidnapped the love of his life.

  The poor guy would do anything to find her, but what if he didn’t?

  I gotta make sure he’s as far away from her as possible.

  What if he had me instead?

  Chapter One

  LINCOLN

  I was gripping the necklace so tight it was digging into my hand. A small speck of blood was released from my palm and I pulled my fingers apart. It was all I had of her. But where had she gone?

  Looking up and down the street, I looked for any sign of her, a glimpse of her lustrous hair, the perfect swing of her walk, the sound of her voice as she called my name. There was nothing but the wind.

  Frantic and terrified, I pulled out my phone. I needed the cops but as soon as my finger rested on the number nine, I knew I could never call them. The bridges between me and them were officially burned.

  With a shaking hand, I thrust my phone back into my pocket and walked. I didn't know where I was going. I just needed to walk, to get my thoughts straight. Maybe something hadn't happened to her. Maybe she'd just dropped the necklace and was now on her way back to the house with her usual smile spread across her face and her arms open and waiting for me.

  Walking back toward the house, I almost didn't notice the small convenience store that was tucked into the remnants of an old crumbling tenement block. The only thing that revealed itself was its flashing green light but even that flickered as abandoned and broken as everything else in this neck of the woods.

  Pushing my way inside, I was confronted with an angry, old woman behind the till. She frowned as I entered, her eyes magnified and exaggerated by the thickness of her milk bottle glasses.

  "Can I help you?" she asked, knowing full well I wasn't in her store to buy anything.

  I was the most obvious outsider and she regarded me with a suspicious gaze as though she was only moments away from shrieking at me to leave. A broom lay perilously close to the counter but by the look of the floor, it hadn't done any cleaning in a long time. I imagined her brandishing it at me like a battle axe and took a step back.

  "I'm looking for a girl," I said.

  She laughed with a peculiar, arrogant tilt of her head as she shifted her weight onto one hip.

  "Aren't you all," she said.

  "I mean, I'm looking for my girlfriend. Petite, brown hair, real pretty. She was wearing a black coat and-"

  "Not seen her," she said.

  "Are you sure?"

  "I'm sure."

  She stared at me, willing me to leave. Unless I was putting money in her till she wasn't interested.

  "Thanks anyway," I grumbled and walked out.

  Making my way back down the street, I was almost at the house when a group of girls rounded the corner, the smell of their perfume wafting down the sidewalk. They noticed me too and their dour, teenage expressions morphed into something more seductive.

  "Hey, you're that billionaire!"

  "What you doing here, mister?"

  "You wanna come party?"

  I crossed the street and tried to divert my eyes from their revealing outfits and fluttering eyelashes.

  Pulling up a picture of Etta on my phone, I thrust it in their faces.

  "Have you seen her?"

  "Why? She your girl?" asked one of them through lipstick so thick it looked as though she'd been covered in syrup.

  "Yeah. Have you seen her?"

  She shook her head and pouted.

  "Nope."

  "Anyone?" I asked and scanned the rest of their faces. "She was supposed to be right there at the coffee shop." I pointed down toward it. Suddenly, something felt different. There was a change in the energy, the looks on all their faces dropping.

  "I haven't seen her," said a small voice that piped up from the back of the group. "But I was here earlier. My dad lives up there," she pointed to an apartment above the coffee shop. "There was... something..."

  All the girls turned to face her. Now they were as riveted as I was.

  "Did you see her?" I begged to know.

  She shook her head and looked down at the ground.

  "I heard a scream," she said. "And a car speeding away."

  My stomach flipped.

  "You heard a scream?"

  "My dad said not to call the cops or nothing. He said it was none of our business."

  My face blanched. Something had happened. I gripped the necklace tighter.

  "Sorry," she muttered.

  I ignored them all and walked away, her words drifting through my mind over and over. She
heard a scream... But was it Etta's?

  I was beginning not to think straight again. My head was pounding as much as my heart. The Waters' House seemed to loom up in front of me without me remembering how I got there. Jason was standing in the parking lot looking down toward the cellar steps with his trusted sledgehammer in his hand. He glanced up when he heard me.

  "Woah, dude you okay?"

  I blinked as I tried to clear my mind.

  "Where's Etta?" I asked.

  "She... went to get coffee, remember?"

  "She didn't come back here?"

  His eyes narrowed with concern.

  "No. She's not here," he said, dropping the sledgehammer and making his way over to me. "Everything okay? This hasn’t got anything to do with that jerk who was here earlier, has it?”

  “What jerk?”

  “I dunno. Scrawny, crazy looking fella. The two of them were arguing. Think I overheard her call him Craig.”

  I held my breath in an attempt to slow my breathing and began backing up toward my car.

  "Jason, I'm gonna be out of town for a while. I assume you'll be fine here on your own."

  "Sure, boss. Hey, what's going on? You don't look so well?"

  "I'm fine," I said as I climbed into my car.

  "Are you sure? Has something happened? Do I need to call someone? The cops?"

  I couldn't bear his constant questions and slammed the door closed.

  "Don't call the cops!" I yelled as I revved the engine and took off.

  His figure looked back at me from the rearview mirror. He had the look of someone who had just witnessed the ramblings of a mad man. Not that I cared. I needed to find Etta. Something had happened. I could feel it in only the way a person who aches for their lover can. I could sense the danger, sense her fear.

  There was only one place I could go, only one person who would know how to help. Kicking the accelerator, I left a stream of angry drivers behind me as I sped down the highway, cutting up every car I passed as I watched the speedometer reach the ninety mark.

  The Cardiospan lab. That's where I needed to be. It had irked me that I hadn't set foot in the building for almost a month. It almost hurt to think that I had abandoned my business, my pride and joy. But I knew it could function well without me. I pumped enough money into the place to ensure it.

  As private as my own house, the cube shaped building, pristine white and always gleaming, was nestled into the forest thirty miles south of Normont. No one would know it existed, not unless you noticed the small, paved winding path that veered off from the main road.

  The tires squealed beneath me as I took a hard left. Through the leaves, the building revealed itself with the large red Cardiospan logo of the cybernetic heart. Run by a skeleton staff, the building was only ever home to five people at the very most. Through a series of security measures, it was impenetrable unless your body had been calibrated to give you exclusive access.

  I stood at the front door and pressed my hand into the scanner before letting the lazer drift over my eye. A second later, the door glided open and I was inside. It smelled just like the hospital; clean, sterile, perfect. In here, there was no dirt, no crime, not a single person who went against the grain. Everything worked smoothly in harmony. Unlike everything else in my life.

  Stepping into the elevator, I knew there was only one person I needed to speak to. Lee Dawking, computer genius and young prodigy and creator of all the algorithms the lab relied on, was situated on the top floor. If anyone could help me, it would be him.

  I heard his music playing as soon as I stepped out the elevator. Screaming vocals and heavy guitar riffs ricocheted off the walls as I approached his room. Lingering outside his door for a second, I looked through the small porthole window and caught sight of him, not looking at the work on his computer screen, but staring down at a video on his phone. With all the lights off, his baby faced features were illuminated by the faint electric glow of his phone.

  I knocked and he jumped in his seat.

  "Quit jerkin' off!" I said as I entered his room.

  He flinched and panicked, tossed his phone onto his desk and switched off the music.

  "Dr. Bosworth!"

  He jumped up to shake my hand. It was then, as I looked down at his phone screen that I noticed he wasn't even watching porn, but anime cartoons instead. Bless him, I thought. The kid couldn't be any more of a nerd if he tried.

  "I'm sorry. I didn't know you were going to be here today," he said with a sheepish glance around the pigsty of his office.

  There was an unspoken tension in the air, a look on his face that asked a hundred questions. He must have heard the rumors about me too but I wasn't interested in any of that right now.

  "I need your help," I said. "Right now."

  "Anything, doctor," he said and slammed his hand onto the light switch.

  Sitting erect at his desk, he slid his phone into a drawer and gazed up, waiting for orders.

  "I need you to help me find someone," I said.

  "Sure. Just a regular people search? Wanna find their address, something like that? Won't take me a minute."

  Before I could answer, he was furiously typing.

  "No," I said and held his arm still. "This is something different..."

  Chapter Two

  ETTA

  Nausea. It was the feeling that eclipsed all others. I swallowed down the urge to vomit and rolled over onto my back. Pins and needles tingled their way through my limbs as I tried to wiggle my fingers and toes. Everything was slowed right down. It was hard to focus. I blinked a few times and looked up at the ceiling. It looked familiar but I couldn't figure out why.

  It was something about the way the paint streaked around the light fixture. I was sure I'd seen it before even though it was bland and sleek like all other light fixtures. Still, there was the feeling that I'd looked up and seen it a thousand times already.

  Nausea swept through me again and I shivered. Instinctively, I reached down to pull up a blanket that wasn't there. Shivering harder, I began to cry. What was happening? Where was I?

  "Oh, good. You're awake," I heard a voice say from the doorway.

  The voice was familiar too but with an edge that didn't feel right. I tried to move to look down but was filled with the intense feeling that I was going to be sick, my head throbbing with pain.

  "Wh-where am I?" I asked, my voice sounding as though it wasn't part of my body but floating away from me. "Hello?"

  A laugh sounded from the bottom of the bed, like something from a nightmare. Squinting and looking down in between my fingers that were doing a meager job of shielding me from the light, I saw the vague outline of a figure. There was a sour smell in the air like whoever it was hadn't washed in weeks.

  Reaching up to rest on my elbows, I tried to balance and focus but it was useless, the deep feeling of sickness washed over me again and I fell back against the bare mattress. It was so cold with my whole body trembling.

  "Lie back, sweetheart," said the voice. "Don't want you to get tired."

  Footsteps padded alongside me. It was then, as I looked down and saw how close the scruffy pair of sneakers were to me, that I realized I wasn't even on a bed, but a soiled mattress placed on scratched floorboards.

  "You look so pretty when you sleep," said the man.

  He crouched down beside me, his fingers stroking the side of my face. His smell was now stronger, his breath rancid as it fell across my face.

  "Get away from me!" I tried to scream but couldn't manage more than a panicked croak.

  "Shhhh..."

  His face was closer to me now, his lips almost against mine.

  "Get away!"

  I reached an arm out to push him but it was like trying to fight underwater. Nothing seemed to happen and my arm simply fell back by my side.

  He laughed in what sounded to me like a witch's cackle making its way through a crackling phone line. Moving his head to the side, I could just about make out the shape of his
nose and mouth with the indent of his perfect Cupid’s bow moving as he spoke.

  "So beautiful," he said. "Hey... Hey... Don't struggle."

  I'd seen those lips before. I’d kissed them once thinking they'd be the last lips I'd ever kiss.

  "Craig!"

  Tears were in my eyes and I was powerless to stop them falling. They rolled down the side of my face and trailed into my hairline, hot and salty.

  "Craig! Get away from me!"

  He laughed again and rolled over onto the mattress so that he was pressed up against me, his leather jacket squeaking and smelling like stale cigarettes.

  "There, there. That's no way to talk to the love of your life."

  I wanted to scream and cry, to push him away and tell him all the things I thought about him but my sedated body wouldn't allow it. Instead, I opened my mouth and the words tumbled out in a long slur.

  He laughed as he listened to me struggle to talk then leaned further forward, the heat of his breath tickling my face.

  "No point in struggling," he said. "The chloroform is still working its magic."

  The feeling of dread intensified and my stomach lurched once more.

  "Please..." I managed to say. "Don't hurt me."

  He laughed harder.

  Then his fingers were on my face again, his harsh calloused hands working their way down my throat, playing with me, torturing me as I tried to guess what he was going to do next.

  I closed my eyes and whimpered as he pulled apart my shirt and worked his fingers inside my bra. When I opened my eyes again, I was awake with anger and in a moment of clarity, I realized where we were.

  He'd brought me back to our old house! Now foreclosed and empty, it was just a shell of the home we once shared. I screamed as he gripped me and he reeled back, offended.