Five Alarm Lust Elise Whyles (most life changing books .txt) 📖

Gillian’s eyes widened in horror at the black muzzle of a handgun pointed at her. Swallowing in fear, she shook her head. It was happening all over again. Like a grainy old home video, the past had come to life. “You’re insane.”

“I told you before, bitch, I wasn’t about to let you go. Did you think I was lying? Think I was going to just let you walk away before I was done with you? Now, momma’s been telling me you’ve been warming some bastard’s bed. Where is he? Think he’s going to want you when I get done with you?”

“Go to hell.” Gillian forced herself not to look at the window. Jack was out there. Maybe, just maybe, she could keep Mike occupied long enough for him to get away. He’d shown her what a man was supposed to be like, and she wasn’t going to sell that off cheap. No, not to the monster in front of her, or her mother’s control. For the first time in her life she was going to stand up for someone. She glared at her ex-boyfriend with narrowed eyes, hatred and loathing swirling around her like a boiling pit of tar. Straightening, she stared at Mike. “So why are you here? If my mother’s such a good fuck, why come to me? I’m hardly my mother. She’s just a used-up whore, a thief with nothing better to do than take, take, take.”

“See that’s the problem.” Mike covered the distance between them with ease, his longer strides crossing the kitchen in only a few steps. He grabbed her around the throat and slammed her against the fridge. “Mommy dearest forgot she offered me a share of the money. Said it would be easy pickin’s, you wouldn’t complain about her spending it, and she’d give me some of it. All I had to do was stick around. Pity, I should have finished the job years ago. Oh well, water under the bridge.” He licked his lips, his eyes trailing down her body. “And we never did get to finish our last face to face.”

Her lungs burning, Gillian clawed at his wrist. Inside her head she could hear herself screaming, hear the memories surface as he trailed the barrel of the gun down her temple, over her shoulder to her breast.

“Finish it on your own time.” Grappling behind her for something, her fingers closed around the handle of the ceramic rolling pin. She heaved it upwards hearing the crunch of stoneware meeting flesh, the crackling of bone as she hit him. She dropped to the ground with a gasp. Her hand at her throat, she sucked in air. She crawled across the floor and reached the patio door just as a brutal hand coiled around her ankle.

Screaming, kicking, Gillian could hear the sound of bones crunching and smell the blood. Pain ripped through her face as he hit her again and again. Maddened with fear, with loathing, she clawed at the glass door, her feet kicking out, over and over. The crash of a chair hitting the floor barely penetrated the fear.

She reached for his face and raked her nails across his cheek. The give of flesh beneath her nails raced up her nerves, renewing her frantic struggles as a hard, heavy weight forced itself over her.

Instead of the cheery little kitchen she shared with Jack, she found herself once again in the dark, dingy little room in an apartment, pleading for mercy. Breaking glass and ripping fabric echoed in her ears, the tickling pain of cuts along flesh, and the cool night air. A blow to her jaw sent waves of searing pain along her face. Desperation fueled her will and she refused to give in. Darkness swam and stars exploded behind her eyes.

She jerked back to the present. Stale breath blew along her face. Spittle dripped onto her skin. Low, furious curses marked each blow. Clawing, scratching, Gillian bit into the flesh across her mouth, her teeth grinding at it. The acrid taste of blood flooded her mouth, washing over her tongue.

Pain lanced, crashing into her like a tidal wave and sending her spiraling into the darkness of oblivion. Her mind froze with one thought—Jack would be safe.

* * * *

“I told you to get rid of her.” The grating fury of her mother’s voice filled her head as she lay curled into a ball. Stale air filled her nostrils. Mildew and sweat mixed with the dull heat of a small space, settling low in her throat.

“In my own time. I told you to find out when the money would be released.”

“Does it matter? With her death, they have to release the funds. Now, do as I told you to and get rid of her.”

“And I told you I had someone ready to do it.”

“If she wakes up, we’re both going to suffer. Get rid of her, Michael, baby. If you don’t, you know as well as I do what’s going to happen.”

Gillian choked back the bile at the seductive tone in her mother’s voice and moved. Her wrists were bound, the ties cutting into the flesh. A chain wrapped around her ankles, the tether short, tight. Obviously they didn’t want her to escape.

Her head throbbing, she opened her eyes a crack. Betrayal, pain, fury ripped through her muscles at the familiar painting on the wall of her mother’s riverside cottage. Blinking, she glanced at the blurred shadow of what she could only assume was the partially opened doorway. The shadow of a male spread across the floor, but the elegant figure of her mother reflected in the floor-to-ceiling mirror.

Prickles of pain lanced through her throat as she swallowed and squirmed on the soft cover beneath her. A sigh of relief escaped at the lack of noise from the bed beneath her. She lifted the ties to her lips, her teeth biting into the pliant plastic. Her racing heartbeat echoed in her ears with each