Seductive Truths (Seductive Trilogy)

by Becky Cairns

  Acknowledgements

  First and foremost I’d like to thank my parents, because if it weren’t for their support and encouragement I would not have been able to complete this novel. Thank you for helping me dedicate the time needed.

  My second thank you goes to my sister Charlotte, who in her spare time put her creative and technical skills to use and developed the front cover. It is simple yet stands out. What more could I have asked for?

  Lastly I say thanks

  to Jessica Wood, my best friend, who spent a tedious amount of time proof reading my manuscript. Her valuable contribution has given my work a quality I am very proud of.

  In general I’d like to give a big thank you to all my friends and family. They were the ones that kept me grounded and sane throughout the whole process and the reason why I still retain hair!

  I am blessed to have you all in my life!

  Seductive Truths

  Can you really trust those closest to you?

  Prologue

  I can hear the rain crashing on a metal roof and plastic sheeting flapping with the force of the wind. In the distance a dog barks; its voice lifted above the noise of city life. An emergency vehicle screams its way down the road, off to save some poor soul, or to catch some bugger acting recklessly and placing others in danger.

  I’m haunted by the sounds surrounding me; squealing women filling the atmosphere with their laughter, but their naivety leaves them vulnerable. They become easy prey for the vultures that always lurk in the dark. Heavy footsteps alert me to the men that stalk by looking for their next target, while others are just looking for a warm embrace to fill a lonely heart.

  Soft whispers of courting couples trying to steal a few secret hours drift to me in the darkness. They give me comfort from the hell I find myself in; they let me know there’s good out there and warmth and safety can be found if you look hard enough.

  I know it’s out there, I have felt it many times before, but in this moment that belief is waning. There is an icy dampness beneath my fingers; a chill has started to seep into the fabric of my jeans. My bottom is numb from the mixture of the cold, hard floor and the hours that have passed me by while I remain sitting in this same position.

  I have given up crying out for help, because the piece of cloth bound tight around my mouth is quite efficient at muffling any sound. My lips have become sore from the harsh material digging into my skin and my throat is dry from lack of moisture. My eyes are cast into darkness by a makeshift blindfold. The fabric is so dense and so close to my skin that no light can seep through. I’m surrounded by complete blackness.

  However, as one sense is denied and shuts down, the others are heightened, especially my sense of smell. The foul stench of sewage and the mouth-watering aroma of cheeseburgers and chips float in the air around me. But there’s one scent that overwhelms them all. I feel as if I’m drenched in it it’s that strong. It’s familiar yet not. A musky, seductive cologne so powerful I feel lightheaded and find myself succumbing to the strange power it holds over me. All this mingles with a familiar blend of cigarette smoke and whiskey.

  I feel lost and disorientated; a helpless victim under someone else’s mercy. I’m the doll waiting for a child’s hands to possess me, to give me life. All sense of time has eluded me. Is it eight o’clock in the morning or eight o’clock at night?

  Is this the beginning of something or the end?

  I shiver, but not only due to the cold.

  

  Later.

  Not sure how much later, but I’m jolted from my semi-conscious state at the sound of what I suspect to be a large, metal object hitting another metal object. Its sound rings through the air like a church bell. With my heart pounding and pulse racing I listen for further sound.

  There’s nothing.

  Silence.

  I want to call out; my mind screams for me to run for my life, but I can’t move. I try lifting my head, but even the slightest movement results in the sensation of being repeatedly pounded by stones.

  I hear faint footsteps. Gradually they draw closer; picking up pace with every move.

  Then silence.

  The tension makes me want to scream.

  That exotic, intoxicating aroma assaults me once again. I feel dizzy as the musky cologne seeps through my aching body into my brain. It revives me.

  The footsteps return, pace slow and steady. Whoever is there is in no particular hurry, unlike before. It’s like they’re drinking in my presence, taking every precious moment to observe their trophy.

  The footsteps stop. I hear the slight shuffling of material adjusting to accommodate its new shape and sense the person crouching down so they are level with my head. They are so very close, if I could move my hands I’m sure I could touch them. Their breath tickles my skin. This sends a shocking tingle down my spine to the tips of my toes. Our heavy breathing starts to mingle.

  In and out.

  Together.

  As one.

  My heart takes control over my body. Where it was once cold, I now find waves of heat coursing through me at an alarming rate. I’m terrified how my body can behave in such a way. Never before have I felt such temperature. I am being scorched with just the whisper of hot air and heady cologne, with a faint smell of cigarette and whisky on their breath.

  The hot air is now against my ear and I flinch. A deep, warm, and husky voice whispers, ‘You will be mine.’

  Chapter One

  A few days before…

  ‘Darling, you’ve got to get up.’ A rough grumble was his only response. ‘I did tell you it was a bad idea to go out on a work night. “I’ll only have two at the most” you said. “Just the two drinks and no more, promise.’’’

  ‘Sod off’ the grumble responded as it pulled the covers over its head. A laugh. A low sexy rumble vibrated through my brain. God it hurt, but it made my heart beat a little bit faster.

  ‘Now up you get. Here, I’ve brought you Paracetamol. I’m going to cook you some breakfast. A nice cold shower should wake you up.’ Then he was up and making his way to the kitchen, chuckling. Why did he have to be such an insufferable morning person?

  Sod.

  ‘Shut up’ I mumbled to his retreating back, although it sounded more like ‘shmmph’.

  

  An hour later I was washed, dressed, with a dab of make-up, hoping to resemble something human. How I managed to achieve that in an hour was beyond me. My feet felt as if they were made out of stone. Every step I took downstairs was accompanied by a sharp twinge in my head.

  It was torture, pure and simple. But that’s what you get when you don’t listen to your own advice but go along with others. Why did I listen to her? Why did I even try to play Zoe’s little game? The three glasses of white wine was fine, but the whole experience went off the rails when Vodka shots were lined up along the bar.

  I vaguely remembered entering a cocktail bar and a man in a darkened corner kept on staring at me from a distance, but never made my acquaintance, and the rest is all a blur.

  The smell of bacon and eggs revitalised my mind to some degree. I was able to complete the process of coming down the stairs in a state closer to that of normality. As I turned the corner and entered the kitchen I saw him, with his back to me, frying an egg. Dressed in his charcoal suit, crisp white shirt, no doubt with the first few buttons undone as usual, and his black polished shoes to finish off. Right in front of me stood the epitome of tall, dark and handsome and he was all mine.

  As I walked towards the island in the middle of our kitchen I croaked out a ‘morning’, the chirpiest I’d sounded so far. He turned around with that heart-stopping smile plastered natur
ally on his handsome face.

  ‘Ah! The zombie has awoken. Ready to feast on my blood?’ he laughed and went back to frying the egg.

  ‘Ha ha. You’re hilarious.’ I plonked myself down onto the stool as elegantly as I could. ‘And it’s vampires that suck blood not zombies.’

  ‘Same thing; you look like the walking dead.’ Once again that sexy laugh made my heart flip.

  ‘Thanks, I love you too,’ I groaned.

  How can a person be so chirpy in the mornings? Even when I’m sober I still love a good moan and a groan before I can become human. I’m officially not a morning person, where as he gets up at six every morning, even at the bloody weekend. Only with certain inducements can I persuade him to have a lie in.

  ‘Here you go. It should soak up some of that alcohol still in your system.’ He kissed my head and went over to the cupboard and then the fridge. ‘And here is some orange juice to wash it down with. Enjoy.’ He gave me a parting kiss and left to go back upstairs.

  In front of me I had a fried egg, two rashers of bacon and a piece of buttered toast cut in half placed neatly on a plate. To the left I had a glass of orange juice. I quickly took a few gulps of it and felt the difference in my throat immediately. The roughness was still there but at least the after taste of the alcohol began to recede. Slowly I took a bite of my egg and then the bacon. The greasiness of the meal eased the thumping pain in my head.

  By the end of my breakfast, even though still slightly groggy, I felt just about ready for work. I dumped the cutlery into the sink and went to join my fiancé upstairs.

  ‘Will,’ I said as I walked into the bedroom to see him bent over his briefcase. ‘Are you going to be working late again tonight?’

  ‘Hmmm,’ he carried on shuffling through his folders. ‘I’m not sure. It all depends on how well it goes at the meeting we are having late morning.’ He threw something into the bin. ‘We are having a few problems trying to strike a deal at the moment.’

  ‘Just give me a ring to let me know. I might pop round to see Maggie and Bethany after work.’

  Will stopped what he was doing and looked at me with pain flickering in his eyes. ‘How were they when you last saw them?’

  ‘Still grieving. Sometimes I wonder if Maggie will ever get over the pain. Bethany’s young, she doesn’t quite understand what’s going on, but she’s kind of realised that she won’t see her father again. It’s Maggie I’m mainly concerned for. Every time I see her she’s only a ghost of her former self. I guess over time it will get easier but…who knows.’ A tear was brought to my eye burning my skin as it slid down my cheek. ‘I still can’t believe my baby brother is gone! My sweet, caring Thomas. I expect to hear his voice telling me some exciting story about work or how Bethany did this or did that. I…I…’ the barriers broke and tears flowed freely.

  ‘Come here sweetheart.’

  The next minute I was engulfed in Will’s warm embrace. He provided the love and comfort I needed and gave me purpose to get through the day. Ever since I lost my brother to that hit and run driver just over six months ago, he had been my rock; the support I very much needed. Not just to me but to my sister-in-law Maggie and to my beautiful niece, Bethany. I think we’d be lost without him.

  Thomas was my best friend as well as my overprotective younger brother. He had a heart of gold and was willing to share it with anyone he cared about, always the first to lend a hand to strangers. Not one to say ‘no’, always eager to please. He was a true gentleman, selfless through and through. The best husband, the best father and the best brother, plus a fine private investigator, can’t forget that. Thomas was a man that used his actual brain rather than the part which most men use as a substitute brain to dominate their actions.

  I just wished I could have seen his face one last time before we buried him. But then again, William, he volunteered to ID the body, said he was rather disfigured. For my our own peace of mind, it was probably best not to see him in such a state, but instead to remember Thomas as the happy go lucky chap we all loved. God I miss him.

  William rubbed my back and placed little kisses along my forehead. He soothed me back to normal. Well, as normal as my hung over state allowed.

  ‘That’s it sweetheart.’ He lifted my chin up with his index finger and looked straight into my eyes. ‘You feel better?’ I sniffled and nodded my head slightly. ‘That’s my girl.’ He pecked my lips. ‘Just think Alex, in a month’s time you will bear the name of Brown no longer and become a Jones.’ He smiled. ‘Alex Jones. Mrs Alex Jones. The love of my life,’ and he sealed that statement with a kiss. ‘If I keep kissing you I’ll never get to work. Come on soon to be Mrs Jones,’ and he cheekily slapped my bum. ‘We’d better get a shift on if we plan to get to work on time.’

  I was reaching for my keys when he carried on with, ‘And before you even think about picking those up, I’m going to drive you into work today. You’re in no fit state to drive yourself. Not after your little escapade last night.’ He looked at my face and ever so slightly a small smirk appeared. The tiniest quirk of the lips, but it was there. ‘I think you’d better touch up your face my little panda bear.’ I gasped then rushed to the bathroom and slammed the door shut, blocking out Will’s laughter.

  

  ‘Maggie.’

  ‘Alex! It’s lovely to see you!’ And with that, Maggie fell straight into my arms and hugged me. ‘Do come in. Beth will be so glad to see you.’

  I followed Maggie into the living room. It was still the same as ever with family pictures all over the place, that crack in the wall Thomas was meant to have filled in ages ago. He never would now.

  Just as I had sat down I was wrestled to the back of the sofa by this big bundle of energy. ‘Auntie Lex! Auntie Lex!’

  I wrapped my arms around my niece. ‘Hello Bethy Bee. You’re a little firework aren’t you?’ I pulled her back to arm’s length to get a good look at her.

  Her dark locks cascaded down the side of her face. Always in a mess yet so pretty and innocent with eyes so inquisitive, it was no wonder she got herself into trouble on a regular basis. Not bad, just, adorable trouble. That cheeky, shining smile was the clincher; always got her off the hook. She definitely got that from her father. He used to have a smile to die for; quite like my Will. I guess it’s no wonder Beth and Will get on so well. Occasionally, when Will and I took Beth on outings, people used to mistake her for being our daughter and they’d always remark on what a perfect family we made.

  ‘So how has my little angel been?’

  ‘Fan-fan-fanchasic!’ she cried.

  ‘Fantastic, remember Bethany. Fantastic.’ Her mother emphasised the “T” on both occasions.

  Bethany looked back towards her mother, taking everything in, then with that hundred-watt smile, faced me once again. ‘Oh. Fantastic!’

  Next minute she had bounced off my lap and had ran back upstairs. I couldn’t help but laugh at her spirit. She reminded me so much of how Thomas used to be at that age.

  

  ‘Truly Maggie, how is everything?’ I asked when she came back into the living room with two cups of tea and a plate full of biscuits.

  ‘Honestly Alex,’ she looked up from staring into the depths of her tea, ‘it hasn’t been that bad. Of course I still feel the pain of losing him, but that will never go away. The ache will always remain in my heart, but time will soften its blow.’ Maggie went back to gazing at her tea, her mind dwelling on the past. ‘At times I hear his voice or remember a silly comment he’d always make. Sometimes I lie in bed thinking that life will never feel right again; that I’ll always feel as if a part of me is missing. I’m still young.’ She looked at me and smiled. ‘Well, youngish I suppose and I’m worried that I won’t find anyone. I know I have Bethany, you, Will and of course my mum and dad and sister, but it’s not the same. I’m afraid I won’t find someone who can provide the security and physical contact I need, the comfort at night; the special kisses reserved only for me; the sex.’ I cou
ldn’t help but chuckle at the last.

  She gave me that knowing look and said as a matter of fact, ‘What? I’m only human after all.’

  ‘Whenever I’m feeling down or agitated, Will generally pours me a small glass of whisky and when he hands it over to me he says, “Get that down your neck, you’ll feel warm and giddy in no time.” It just so happens that the whisky is followed by a night of hot, passionate sex. He’s always right. I am left feeling warm and giddy, but it has absolutely nothing to do with the whiskey.’ With that, the laughter barrier broke.

  Like my mother used to say, “There is nothing like laughter to give temporary relief to a broken soul.”

  Chapter Two

  Monday morning. The sun was shining, already high in the sky, the weather warm with the occasional breeze to keep me cool. Traffic jams, road works and people rushing around to get their morning coffee. To me it was just another regular day. How was I to know that this was the day which would change my life forever?

  

  ‘So?’ I slyly asked Zoe as I sat down at my desk, placing my bag amongst my cluttered work then onto the floor.

  ‘“So” what?’ she coyly replied, avoiding eye contact by pretending to write.

  ‘Don’t “what” me missy, I know that smile. You did it, didn’t you?’

  ‘Did what? I don’t have the faintest idea what you’re going on about?’

  She tried to hide the piece of paper but with lightning speed I snatched it from under her hand. ‘I knew it!’

  ‘Give that back!’ Zoe tried wrenching it away with little success. ‘Alex, give that piece of paper to me.’

  Briefly looking away I caught the disapproving gaze of a fellow colleague. I quickly turned back to focus on the white sheet, immediately subduing the disruptiveness.