by Sibel Hodge
‘No one will ever find you,’ Jessie screeched manically as she straddled my back, her weight pressing me into the floor.
She was strong, too. It looked like she’d had a lot of practice, judging by the gym equipment and the dominatrix paraphernalia. I vowed if I made it through this, I would stop eating junk and exercise regularly. The only exercise I currently did consisted of drinking games and a healthy sex life.
I fought to slide my fingers under the material so I could make a gap between my neck and whatever she was using, and discovered it was a bra.
Omigod. I was going to die. I could imagine what my death certificate would say. ‘Death by D Cups.’
The breath left my body. My face flushed with heat. My head pounded as the circulation got cut off.
Do something, quick!
My police training kicked into gear then, and an adrenaline surge shot through me. I stretched my right arm up along the floor, and pressed the palm of my left hand into the floor, elbow up and bent. Then I rolled onto my right side with all the strength I could muster. The movement was enough for me to dislodge Jessie off my back. She toppled to the side, and I twisted round so I was lying on my back. I kicked her in the side, my boots connecting with her hip.
‘Ow!’ She landed on her side in an awkward position.
I frantically looked round the room for something to use as a weapon. When I flew into the drawers, they’d overturned and spilled their contents onto the carpet.
I spied a heavy-duty black rubber dildo, grabbed it, and hit her over the head with it before I had time to worry about what kind of contamination I’d get.
‘Bitch!’ She clutched her head and rolled around on the floor. I hit her again in the face, just for good measure, and it smashed into her nose.
Jessie howled.
I reached for my handcuffs, which had fallen out of my pocket when she knocked me over, and wrestled with her. I tried to turn her onto her stomach so I could cuff her hands behind her back.
She punched me in the face.
The force sent me toppling backwards, and I landed with a hard thud right on my coccyx, the handcuffs flying onto the floor.
Argh! Flashes of hot white pain shot up my spine. I sat in a crumpled heap on the carpet, dazed for a few seconds.
She grabbed the dildo and smacked me over the head with it. Now my death certificate would read, ‘Death by Dildo’! This was so wrong. I couldn’t die at the hands of a sex-toy-wielding lunatic. It wasn’t supposed to happen like this. When I did eventually snuff it, I would be old and wrinkly, wearing slippers, drinking cocoa, and smothering myself in cold cream and a hairnet before I went to bed. And I’d be with Brad, who was also old and wrinkly, minus the hairnet and cream.
Jessie whacked me over the head again. God knows what the dildo was made of, but it was really hard. My hands flew protectively to my head as the room whirled around me and my vision went funny. That gave Jessie all the time she needed to spring towards me, hands outstretched as if she was going in for a second strangulation.
She knocked me onto my back, and she was on top of me again, hands round my throat as she straddled me. I turned my head to the side, groping on the floor for another weapon. Then I remembered the stun gun in my pocket.
I reached down to the side pocket of my combats and manoeuvred the stun gun out. This was all I needed. One blast of this, and she’d be in night-night land. I held the stun gun on the flimsy material of her shirt just underneath her ribs and pressed the button.
Nothing happened.
She didn’t jerk. Her eyes didn’t roll back in her head. She didn’t pass out from the high voltage. She didn’t even twitch.
I pressed again as Jessie’s fingernails dug into my skin, making me gasp for breath.
Nothing.
Oh, fuckity fuck!
I dropped the stun gun, and my fingertips connected with something else on the floor. Something almost out of reach.
Jessie’s hands locked round my throat, squeezing.
I tried to grab what I could feel. It was a canister of some kind. Maybe hairspray.
The air slipped from my lungs, and my throat burned with pain. My fingertips scrambled for the can, but the more I tried to grab it, the further it rolled out of reach.
Jessie dug her fingers into my throat harder. I teetered on the edge of darkness as she cut off my oxygen supply.
Finally, I stretched my arm out with all my might and got a good grip on the can. Grabbing it, I placed my finger on the nozzle and sprayed what was actually ‘Tingling Pleasure Lubrication Gel’ in her eyes.
‘Argh!’ Jessie screamed, her hands flying to her eyes. ‘You’ve blinded me! It’s burning.’
I gulped in huge breaths of air as she rolled off me and scrambled to her feet. She tried to run out of the room, no doubt to douse her eyes with water.
I picked up my handcuffs and launched myself towards her. I rugby-tackled her to the floor as she blindly stumbled towards the bedroom door. I dug my knees in her back and pressed down on her with all my weight, trying to get hold of her wrists.
She writhed underneath me. ‘You’ve made me blind! I’m going to kill you.’
‘Not if I kill you first,’ I hissed through uneven breaths, cuffing her hands behind her back.
She thrashed around beneath me. Even handcuffed, Jessie was obviously used to dishing out some nasty punishment in her dominatrix sideline, and I wasn’t taking any risks. Through my wobbly vision, I spied a hardback book that had fallen out of the drawer and whacked her hard over the head with Dominatrices through the Ages.
Her body went slack, and she was finally still, unconscious.
I climbed off her, collapsing onto the floor and leaning back against the bed as I gulped in huge gasps of breath. My head was killing me from the whacks I’d taken with the dildo and smacking it on the drawers. Who knew a dildo could be a lethal weapon? My throat was on fire. I clutched my head in my hands, willing the throbbing pain to stop and moaning to myself.
Somewhere in the distance, I heard a door smash open downstairs and Romeo’s voice calling out to me. ‘Amber! Are you OK?’
I tried to call out, ‘I’m here,’ but it came out as, ‘Flah!’
Flah? What did that mean?
Ouch. Stop thinking. It hurts to think.
Heavy footsteps ran up the stairs. The bedroom door opened. Romeo rushed in.
He took one glance at Jessie on the floor and crouched down to me, hands on my shoulders, looking into my eyes.
Except I didn’t know which Romeo to look at. Three Romeos swam before my eyes.
All three faces peered closer to mine.
‘Are you OK, Amber?’
‘Clappity flump flapper.’
‘What?’ The first Romeo said, or maybe it was the second one.
‘Iffing pumple scoop.’
The third Romeo pulled something out of his pocket that I couldn’t focus on.
And for the second time that day, I passed out.
Chapter 18
I heard a beeping sound as I drifted in and out of consciousness. I was sure the beeping was talking to me, but I couldn’t make out what it was saying. Or maybe my muzzy brain imagined it.
My head felt all light and floaty, but at the same time, my body felt heavy. Like I was pinned down and something was crushing me.
Voices said things like ‘vital signs’, ‘severe concussion’, ‘stable’.
Was I in a stable?
I tried to move my fingers, but nothing happened. I didn’t want to die in a stable. It would smell of horse poo. If I was going to die, I wanted it to be with Brad.
Something touched my hand and squeezed it.
‘Amber? Are you awake?’ It was Romeo’s voice.
You know those dreams where you’re screaming but nothing’s coming out? It was like that. I tried to talk but nothing happened, and the beeping sound faded into oblivion again.
The next time I can remember anything was when I was aware of a
feather stroking my face. It felt good. Soft and, well, feathery. I turned my cheek towards the sensation.
Maybe this was it. Maybe I was dying, and angel wing feathers were stroking me. They were coming to take me away somewhere peaceful and happy. Somewhere you could eat cake all day long and never put weight on.
‘Mmm,’ my croaky voice mumbled.
‘Amber?’ Brad’s voice said urgently.
My eyelids fluttered open. Everything seemed hazy around the edges, like I had a severe case of myopia and needed double-barrel glasses. The room slipped in and out of focus, my lids like lead. Things moved in front of my eyes. I still had a burning in my throat and crushing pain in my head. My body felt bone-numbingly tired, like I’d been whizzing through an industrial food processor for weeks.
‘You’re OK,’ Brad said. ‘You’re safe.’
A weight next to me on the bed. A hand squeezed mine.
‘Talk to me,’ Brad said.
I turned my head towards him, the room slowly coming into focus.
He rested his fingertips on my cheek. ‘Can you see me? It’s Brad.’
I lifted a heavy arm and touched his hand. ‘Brad? Am I dead? Did the angels get me? Is there junk food in heaven?’
He gave a slight laugh of relief. ‘No. You’re very much alive. Thank God.’
‘My head hurts,’ I croaked.
‘I’m not surprised. You took a good whack to it.’
‘My throat hurts, too. And…’ My whole body started aching then as my consciousness returned bit by bit. ‘My ribs and my back.’
Slowly, it all started coming back to me. Finding the evidence in Jessie’s house. The fight with her. Slipping into a pool of darkness.
‘You’ve been out of it for almost twenty-four hours. Your mum and dad were here earlier, but they just left to grab some sleep.’
‘It was Jessie,’ I croaked. It felt like I’d swallowed a cheese grater. ‘She nearly strangled me with a bra.’
He brushed his lips against my ear. ‘I know. I’m so glad you’re safe.’
I thought about how close I’d come to losing Brad and being killed again. Tears stung my eyes. ‘I think we’re jinxed. Maybe we shouldn’t get married. Maybe something bad will happen if we do.’
His eyes crinkled at the corners as his lips curled in a loving smile. ‘We are definitely getting married.’ He kissed me softly on the lips before pulling back abruptly. ‘But I think we’ll need to postpone the Vegas wedding. The flight is in three days, and I don’t want to risk your health. How are you feeling?’
I didn’t know which bits hurt more. ‘Sore, but I’m alive, which I guess is the main thing.’
‘The doctor said you had a severe concussion, but you should be OK with lots of rest. I’m going to spoil you rotten.’ He winked.
A grin snaked up the corners of my lips. ‘Ooh, sounds nice.’ My eyelids grew heavy, and I closed my eyes.
‘Are you OK?’ Brad’s voice rose with urgency.
‘Uh-huh. I will be,’ I said, eyes still closed. ‘When did they let you out?’
‘Last night. The police lab is still analyzing the glitter and chocolate stains from Jessie’s house, but they’re sure it’s going to be a match.’
‘I’m surprised they let you out, then. Romeo seemed pretty hell bent on keeping you inside.’
‘They found the bracelet Aleesha was wearing the night she died at Jessie’s house, so they knew only the killer could’ve had access to it. The bracelet was actually Jessie’s. Jessie had left it at Steve’s house, and Aleesha stole it for a keepsake after she’d slept with him. Kind of like a notch on the bedpost. When Jessie was confronted with the evidence you found, she broke down and confessed.’
‘And she used the chocolate knickers stalker as a cover.’
‘Yes. Apparently, when you spoke to Jessie the first time and told her about the threats Aleesha was getting, Jessie thought she could get away with killing her and blaming it on the stalker.’
‘So she planted the sleeping drugs in Nathan’s tea, but how could she know that both of you would drink it on that night?’
‘It was just luck on her part. In fact, she said she didn’t even know I was staying at the house. Jessie knew when both Aleesha and Nathan would be on the set of Real Women. She also knew Nathan always drank a cup of the herbal tea while Aleesha was filming the show, and one before bedtime. So she slipped into the studio when they were on air, on the premise of seeing Steve, and put the ground-up drugs in Nathan’s stash of tea after he’d had his lunchtime cup. All she had to do was wait until he drank it that night, and he’d be out like a light. Then she could sneak in and kill Aleesha. It was just unlucky that I drank it, too and got drugged in the process. Jessie said when she broke in and saw me unconscious at the kitchen table with an empty tea cup, she thought I was Aleesha’s new boyfriend. She thought she’d try and frame me in the process by putting the glitter and chocolate stains on my hands.’
‘How did she get into the house without leaving a trace? Did she already have a copy of Aleesha’s key cut in preparation to get revenge on her?’
‘No. It turns out that she’s very handy with a lock-picking tool. Something about dominatrix dungeons, handcuffs, and kinky role-playing.’
I scrunched up my face. ‘Don’t say any more. I’m getting a really horrible picture in my head. How did she know the alarm code, though?’
‘Aleesha must’ve had a hard time remembering it because it was changed so often. She stored it under her contacts on her mobile phone. Before Jessie confronted Steve about him and Aleesha, she was suspicious they were having an affair. So Jessie went through Aleesha’s phone one day when it was lying around on set, looking for texts between the two of them. She stumbled across Aleesha’s alarm code and memorized it before she planned how she was going to get her back for ruining her career and her love life.’
They say a mobile phone could save your life one day, but I bet they don’t say it can kill you, too. ‘If Aleesha stored the code under a fake number in her phone, how did Jessie guess it was the alarm code?’
‘That’s just it. Aleesha had the code listed under “Alarm”.’ Brad shook his head.
Well, don’t try that at home, folks!
He took my hand in his. ‘Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned.’
I squeezed Brad’s hand. He squeezed it back.
‘Shh, don’t talk now. You need to get some rest,’ he said.
‘What about Vegas?’ I said softly, feeling myself drifting off.
‘The doctor says you can’t travel for a while, but Vegas will still be waiting for us as soon as you’re better. We’ll just change the flights.’
‘At this rate Tia and Hacker will get married before us.’ I slipped into la-la land, dreaming Brad was standing at the end of the aisle as Elvis belted out ‘Love me Tender’. I dreamed of the vows I’d written for the wedding, the sexy Fandango dress clinging to me, the softness of Brad’s lips on mine and the hardness of his body pressed into me as we rolled around in our bed on the wedding night.
Nope. I was definitely not nun material.
Next stop, Vegas!
About the author
Sibel Hodge is the author of bestselling romantic comedy Fourteen Days Later. She has 8 cats and 1 husband. In her spare time, she’s Wonder Woman! When she’s not out saving the world from dastardly demons, she writes books for adults and children.
Her work has been shortlisted for the Harry Bowling Prize 2008, Highly Commended by the Yeovil Literary Prize 2009, Runner up in the Chapter One Promotions Novel Comp 2009, nominated Best Novel with Romantic Elements in 2010 by The Romance Reviews, and Winner of Best Children’s Book by eFestival of Words 2013. Her novella Trafficked: The Diary of a Sex Slave has been listed as one of the Top 40 Books About Human Rights by Accredited Online Colleges.
For more information, please visit http://www.sibelhodge.com/
Also by Sibel Hodge
Fiction:
Fashion, Li
es, and Murder (Amber Fox Mystery No 1)
Money, Lies, and Murder (Amber Fox Mystery No 2)
Voodoo, Lies, and Murder (Amber Fox Mystery No 3)
Santa Claus, Lies, and Murder (Amber Fox Mystery No 4.5)
Murder and Mai Tais (Danger Cove Cocktail Mystery)
Look Behind You
Fourteen Days Later
My Perfect Wedding
The Baby Trap
The See-Through Leopard
It’s a Catastrophe
Trafficked: The Diary of a Sex Slave
Non Fiction:
A Gluten Free Taste of Turkey
A Gluten Free Soup Opera
Healing Meditations for Surviving Grief and Loss
Chocolate, Lies, and Murder
Sibel Hodge
Copyright © Sibel Hodge 2013
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