by Tracey Jukes
Contents
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Epilogue
Epilogue
Acknowledgments
About the Author
©All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced without written consent from the author, except that of small quotations used in critical reviews and promotions via blogs.
Twisted Fate 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.
Twisted Fate ©2020 Tracey Jukes
Cover design by Sly Fox Cover Designs
Formatting by LJDesigns
Editing by Nikki Groom - The Indie Hub. & Karen Sanders - Karen Sanders Editing
To my husband Rob and daughters Megan and Phillipa. It’s thanks to you three that I managed to finish this novel, and for that I am truly grateful. I love you all more than you know x
Prologue
Screams, then what sounds like a car backfiring, but it’s the sound of gunshots. Jumping from my bed, my feet get tangled in the sheets and I fall to the floor, winding myself. My heart’s racing so fast, I panic at the thought of having a heart attack. Was it a dream? Then the same noise penetrates through my head. I don’t like this. Dread swells within me. I can’t breathe, and my palms feel clammy. More piercing screams echo through the walls, and realization hits me as I learn they belong to my family. This is reality.
Hearing my dad pleading with whoever is out there crushes me.
“Please don’t hurt my family.” Daddy’s voice is tight; my heart thuds while I listen.
“Aww, Daddy can’t protect them, can he?” one of the intruders speaks sarcastically, more shots follow, and then… silence.
I want to scream, but instead, I remain quiet. The deafening sound, I know, means Dad is gone too. Inside, I’m wailing, the pain cutting my insides apart like a blade slicing through fresh skin.The sound of voices coming toward my bedroom panics me. My whole body trembles with fear.
“Check all the rooms.”
What do I do? There’s nowhere to hide in my room. I’ll be dead sooner rather than later. My closet’s tiny, but after scrambling in, I manage to drag my clothes over me for coverage as the voices become even closer. The quivering sounds leaving my mouth will give me away if I can’t get a grip. Slapping my hands over my mouth, I keep hushed for what seems like an eternity, but it’s seconds. Eventually, the voices and padding of their feet become quieter. Thinking they’ve left, I cautiously peer out. I’m met with a glimmer of light casting a shine on my door, and I can see a wrist bearing a snake tattoo. My bedroom door bangs shut, the sound ricocheting off the walls. I daren’t move, in fear they may come back. I’ve watched enough movies to know how this plays out. After waiting for what seems like forever, I emerge from the closet, shuddering fiercely, not knowing who’s where. What greets me is a frightening quiet. Chills course through me like icicles.
In the darkness, I shakily creep toward my door and listen. There’s nothing. No voices, no footsteps, just blackness and an eerie silence. I open my door, but before I’m able to take a calming breath, my wrist is snatched, and I’m dragged forward. I fight against the force holding me, but I’m weak compared to this powerful hold. The snake-printed hand holds a gun to my face and forces me down to the floor.
The intruder straddles me and keeps the gun pointed at me. I’m too scared now to open my eyes. But panic sets in, and I kick and throw my arms around so he restrains them by the wrist. Cool air whispers across my body as he rips open my pajama top. I chant to myself—oh my God, oh my God, please don’t let this happen.
His calloused hands grab at my bare skin from my stomach toward my breasts. They’re rough like sandpaper, and it hurts like he’s scratching me with intent. Sirens sound in the distance, causing the other intruder to yell. “Shit. We have to go. The cops are coming.”
My attacker quickly gets up. “’Til next time, sweetness.”
And then he’s gone.
He didn’t kill me. Why?
I gasp for air but can’t move. Fear has me frozen. By the time I get up, all is still. Unwillingly, I’m dragging myself down the hallway. Terror takes over my thoughts, and what I’m faced with, it’s indescribable. I scream as I run toward my father, who’s lying in a pool of blood, but then more horror greets me. Greetings should be positive, pleasant. This is all but that. My heart shatters into tiny fragments as I take in the scene before me. My mother and brother also surrounded by pools of blood on the floor, gunshots through their heads.
My whole family, taken.
I grab at my chest. The tightness feels like my heart is in a vice and it’s getting tighter and tighter, to the point of combustion. It hurts so, so much. My breathing is fast-paced, and dizziness overwhelms me until my knees buckle, then the blackness takes me.
Chapter One
Fourteen months have passed since the day I lost my family. I’m floating, and I feel like I don’t belong anywhere. The only people I have are my Aunt Beth in England, my best friend, Nyla, and my friend Jase. That one night changed my life in the evilest way possible. How the hell does anyone get over losing their family in such a way? To be told it was a robbery gone wrong, and that we were just victims in this tragedy doesn’t sit well with me.
Another hammer to my heart is that the intruders have never been traced. Where is our justice? I’m the only family member to have survived, so everything they owned has been left to me. But all I really want is them back, not their belongings. I should have died with them.
My parents were good, honest people, and they also had rules, no matter your age. I didn’t always agree with them, and this didn’t always go down well, but I did try to honor them most of the time. I’m twenty-six, for crying out loud. I need to act my age and not like a kid, which Nyla would often say to me.
“Es, tell your parents you’re staying at mine and then we’re going to that club, Dilemmas.”
“Nyla, you’re going to get me in trouble one day, but hell, I’m in!”
This would often be the conversation between me and Nyla. Es is her nickname for me. It has been since second grade, and it’s stuck ever since. Nyla and I are best friends and complete opposites, but we clicked straight away. She took me under her wing. Ny is a fiery redhead who loves to dress up. She also doesn’t take any bullshit from anyone. If she wants something, she goes out and gets it. Nothing stops her from trying. I’m more laid back. I like to follow the rules, thanks to my parents, but deep inside, there is a wild side wanting to break free. Being in my jeans, t-shirt, and Converse are when I’m most comfy, but I do love a beautiful dress. My mom would always say I got my looks from her side of the family. I’m five feet six with mousy brown hair and a figure most women would die for. My mom would always remind me of that each time I ate a donut.
I love my parents and always will. They made me who I am. Believing in fairy tales and happily ever afters were always in their stories, and I wanted my own fairy tale with the happy ending. Now I’ve stopped believing in them, because where is t
heir happily ever after? That right was taken away. Their upbringing and over-protection of me has made the young lady I am a very naïve one. They weren’t religious, but they did believe in doing things correctly, like their rules. These included curfews, acting a certain way, and not being a slut, as my dad would so abruptly put it. I like to think I made them proud and was mostly a good girl. I followed their rules, unless it was to have a little fun, and for a woman of my age, who could blame me?
I’d had one previous boyfriend, and they liked him. He was a good guy. He couldn’t do enough for me. I wanted more, though, but he thought he was everything my parents wanted for me, and he was, kind of, until he ruined it and betrayed me. Sleeping with his co-worker in our home was unforgivable.
You’d think living in New York and the noise from it all would drown out my thoughts, the gut-wrenching sorrow, but no. The noise creates other issues. Every car door closing, every loud noise makes me jumpy and fearful of what may come my way. I’m scared and uneasy in the city I grew up in. Guys walking with their hoods up now have me thinking the worst. I shouldn’t be fearful like this. I always knew of robberies and murders, but never did I think it would happen in my own home, to me. It always happens to someone else.
I’ve been staying with Nyla and her boyfriend, Russell, as facing my home holds too many memories. They are mainly happy ones of growing up, but then I think of the horror, and it has me feeling violently sick to my core. I’ve finally decided I’m selling up, and I want to find somewhere to rent. Today, I’m venturing out of the four walls of Nyla’s home. A place that’s been my safety net. I need to begin moving on with my life, but it’s also one without my family. First on my list is to find a property with security—safety is a priority considering what I’ve been through. Plus, thanks to my parents and their savings, I can afford to do just that. Fourteen months seems too soon to be moving on with my life, but I’ve been brought up to be strong. It’s not quite moving on yet, it’s just the start of the stepping stones to rebuilding my life.
Nyla comes apartment hunting with me, because, well, let’s face it, I don’t have a clue what I’m doing. Twenty-six years old, and had the tragedy not happened, I’d still be living at home. It’s true what they say; living in New York City is very expensive.
It’s a glorious sunny Friday afternoon, and we’ve seen three apartments. All had fantastic security and were spacious, which is just what I’m looking for. The one with the gym across the road is keeping my attention, though. The doorman told us there’s no trouble because of the gym. The guys in there look out for the area. This is the one.
“Are you foolish? Look at the area, Es,” Nyla utters.
“Nyla, did you not listen to what the doorman said? I need the security, especially living alone.”
She looks at me with sad eyes because she’s worried about me and she doesn’t want me leaving her place. But for the first time, it’s me making decisions for myself.
Eventually, I persuade my best friend that this apartment is the one for me. It’s in Brooklyn, and near the subway, so commuting will be so much easier. I talk with the agent and sign there and then. No point hanging around—it’s time to start my new beginning. Once done, we go furniture shopping and buy everything I need. I kept a few sentimental items from my parents’ home, but decided that I want a fresh start. The money from the sale of my parents’ house will give me the opportunity to buy my new apartment if I like it there, but for now, I’m leasing it.
The past week seems to have dragged. I’ve been counting the days to moving day, and now it’s here. Nyla and Jase, our friend from work, are helping me, and they’re just as excited as I am.
“Esme, let me place your bedroom things, okay? You know I have an eye for where everything should go,” Jase says, standing with his hands on his hips, grinning at me.
“No. You can help Nyla with the sitting area. The bedroom is off limits.”
He huffs at me but agrees.
“Come on. Let’s go grab more boxes from the van. The quicker we’re done, the quicker I can settle.”
During the unloading, some movement outside the gym catches my eye. Nyla and Jase realize I’m not picking up boxes and stop to see what has my attention.
“What you looking at?” says Nyla, then cranes her head outside the van to see.
There are a couple of guys talking, and like they know I’m watching, they look across to me and stare. I swiftly turn away, but as I glance back, one of them smiles at me. He’s well built, about six feet two, and God, he’s handsome.
I turn away, grab some boxes, and head back inside. The unpacking won’t do itself, and I’m due back at work a week from Monday. That gives me just over a week to get my shit sorted.
So, after Nyla and Jase have left, I spend the night settling in. While putting away some kitchenware, I drop a cup. It smashes, and it happens…
It’s dark, and I hear my dad but can’t do anything. I’m scared. I know something is wrong, but I’m so frightened.
Gunshots, screams.
There’s a pop and I realize I’m no longer there, I’m in my apartment. It was just another flashback. The pop was nothing more than a car backfiring outside. I touch my fingers to my cheeks, which are wet with tears. These flashbacks have started to happen on and off, and I feel like they’re trying to tell me something, but I don’t know what that something is.
I wake to a glorious Saturday morning and look around my apartment. I know this will be good for me, although I’m still full of fear of the unknown and being alone. It’s time Esme Lewis grew up and stood on her own two feet. Starting by making the apartment my own and putting pictures on the walls. It has two bedrooms, and then there’s an open space which combines a living and kitchen area. It’s cozy, but big enough for me. My favorite is the window bench, which I absolutely love, and I can just sit there watching the world go by.
I glance out of the window and see the guys from outside the gym yesterday. The guy who smiled at me disappears inside my building.
My phone is constantly buzzing. I know it’s Nyla, harassing me about going to some new club that’s opening next week. She saw it advertised and hasn’t stopped going on about it.
“Hey, what’s up?” I say, chuckling down the phone to her.
“We’re going out next weekend. It’s been too long. I promise I will look after you, okay? Plus, it’s opening night and there will be freebies, and you know how we love freebies. So, get your best dress on. We are going out.”
I agree, just to stop her nagging me, but the thought terrifies me.
I decide to spend the morning shopping for something new to wear and ask Jase to come with me as we haven’t spent much time together lately.
“So, what are your specifics for this outfit, Esme?”
“Oh, erm, let me think. Right, I know, something that doesn’t scream ‘preacher’s daughter,’ Does that help?”
My parents never really liked my dress sense. They always complained my dresses were too short, or my tops didn’t cover enough. I mean, they weren’t always that bad, but sometimes I wanted to say, ‘Please just say I look nice for a change, instead of criticizing me.’
While walking around, we come across a boutique that’s off the main street, hidden away. I’m really curious. This isn’t the type of store I would normally go in. I’m your typical bargain shopper, your jeans and t-shirt girl. We’re browsing through a rack of dresses when something catches my eye. It’s a beautiful dress, but not over the top. Lined with a lace top, a mixture of creams and black, and a tight skirt, with the material ending above the knee. It’s a lot shorter than I usually go for, but it’s perfect.
“Get your ass in there and let me see you in it, lady.”
“Okay, then.”
It fits beautifully, and when I look at the price tag, I’m floored. I would have considered paying full price for it as I love it so much, but it’s been reduced twice, which means the dress is going to be mine.
Chapter Two
I’ve barely been in the apartment for ten minutes, and the phone’s ringing. I answer to Lance the doorman saying there’s a young lady to see me but needs to be on my approved list to be let up automatically. It’s Nyla, so I explain who she is and to add her.
“You aren’t kidding about the security, Es,” she says as I open the door to her. “It’s a pain, but you’re safe here.”
I’m pleased she finally understands my choice now. I will always be on my guard and will probably never feel one hundred percent safe, but hopefully, over time, the fear and panic will pass.
We decide to go for a late afternoon drink and try the coffee shop across from my building. It’s a chance for me to get out and see my surroundings. I say hi to Lance on the way out and introduce him to Nyla.
“Hey, Lance, this is Nyla.”
“Miss Lewis. Yes, we met when she arrived. I’ve now added her to your list as requested.”
“How silly of me. Of course, you met when she arrived.” I try to make a little joke of it, but I think I’m failing. Damn, I’m lame at this sort of thing.
“Lance, please forgive my friend. She’s still in the learning stages of what we call banter.” They both share a chuckle, and I feel like I’ve missed the joke, but I grab Nyla by the arm and drag her out of the building.
“You are a terrible friend, Nyla Stewart!”
“Es, come on. It was a bit of mockery, and he knew you were making a joke. Stop over-thinking and let’s get coffee and watch the eye candy, okay?”