Hell's Hilltop

by J. A. Dennam

  Hell's Hilltop

  Captive Series Book 3

  by

  J. A. Dennam

  Copyright © 2014 by J. A. Dennam

  Cover design by Julie Rice

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights. Purchase only authorized editions.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Novels by J. A. Dennam

  TRUTH AND HUMILITY - Captive Series book 1

  BETWEEN FAITH AND FEAR - Captive Series book 2

  CRYSTAL MAC - Captive Series book 2.5

  FLESH OF ANGELS – Flesh Series book 1

  FLESH OF THE FATHER – Flesh Series book 2

  Connect with J. A. Dennam:

  www.JADennam.com

  jadennamauthor@yahoo.com

  Facebook: facebook.com/jadennamauthor

  Twitter: @JADennam

  CHAPTER 1

  Hot water hissed from the tap, clouding the vanity mirror with steam. Rena brought a hand up, swiped a clear path in which to look through. Two orbs of sapphire blue gazed back at her in puzzled wonderment. Wrapped in a thirsty towel, she finished brushing her wet, jet-black hair and simply breathed. Though she had no recollection of where she was, it was a safe place. She could feel it. Friendly territory. And, despite the haziness of the past few hours, that place in the back of her head always knew.

  With a satisfied nod, she opened the bathroom door… and immediately tripped over a pile of clothing. Gray fabric stained with old blood brought back a horrific scene from a not-too-distant past. This was the pantsuit she’d worn when she killed her mother.

  Goosebumps immediately bathed her freshly scrubbed skin.

  The sound of a gunshot reverberated through her memory, causing her to wince. The weapon she’d used against her mother was a knife, not a firearm. It was something she could live with since Sophie Hellberg had been a diabolical, heartless bitch who needed to die. But that gunshot had taken something from her… something, or someone, valuable.

  Don’t think about it.

  Rena put her hands to her temples, forced the thoughts away. No bad thoughts were allowed right now. It could fracture the rare, peaceful balance she felt in her gut.

  With a determined set to her mouth, she stepped over the bloody clothing, and entered a dark, unfamiliar bedroom. An alcove of windows, which were covered in thick squares of black fabric, barely outlined the shape of a wrought iron headboard but offered no light in which to truly see. Since the window above the shower offered some, Rena wedged the bathroom door open and used that light, which streaked across a wooden floor to a charcoal veneer dresser along the bedroom wall.

  Hyper-focused on the task of finding clothes, she pulled open some drawers, sifted through the folded clothes inside. One drawer contained boxers and thick pairs of socks. Another yielded extra-large T-shirts. She unfolded one, held it up to the light. A large decal on the back stood out in bold yellow.

  FIRE

  She blinked.

  “Not that one,” said a gravelly voice behind her. “It’s my favorite.”

  A yelp escaped as she spun around. Someone had been there the whole time, watching her. How could she have missed that? Squinting, heart pounding, she noticed the outline of long legs and a narrow waist beneath the white bed sheet. Above that, however, was the very naked V-shaped torso of a man. His arms were stretched overhead allowing an impressive muscular structure to pop in a way that blindsided her for a moment.

  Rena opened her mouth, stuttered, “What… what’s going on?”

  His hands moved and for the first time she realized they were bound to the headboard with ropes. “That seems to be the question of the goddamned century,” he growled, his voice clearer, more familiar this time.

  Horror of the worst kind had her diving for the alcove of windows. When the curtain was thrown back, mid-morning light washed over the bed and she was able to make a positive identification.

  Denim-blue eyes squinted from the sun’s assault. Their color accented the dark and defined lashes surrounding them, but the rest of him was golden in every way. From the short crop of messy blond hair down to a slightly darker layer of chest hair. His torso was bare with the exception of a shimmering line of fuzz blazing a trail down a tanned belly. And, if the squared chin and charming mouth weren’t enough to convince her, the burst of color from the flame tattoo on his left arm was what really hammered it home.

  Ty Ferguson: hero fireman, bulging and beautiful with enough animal magnetism to sucker any woman out of her clothes; at least any woman who hadn’t seen the arrogant, infuriating, backstabbing son-of-a-bitch that lurked inside.

  Remembering she was, indeed, out of her clothes, Rena clutched the towel tighter above her breasts. “How did you find me?” she snarled.

  His answer mocked. “You found me, remember?”

  “No!” Despair propelled her backwards. “Get out of here!”

  The floor-length curtain hooked on a pair of rubber boots, allowing the light to remain. Ty glared at the ceiling, his nostrils flared in anger. “Criminently, woman, you’re a fucking piece of work.”

  “What?”

  “This is my place.”

  But it couldn’t be. It was a safe place… or so her subconscious had told her. “You’re lying.”

  He lit her up with an incredulous glare. “Rena, look around.”

  She did. Black painted walls were fully adorned with firefighter paraphernalia. Shelves lined with small tin fire trucks, a selection of scuffed helmets in place of framed art. Even the bedside lamp was a modified oxygen tank topped with a plain shade.

  This was definitely the home of a fireman… a sort of rugged, kidlike bachelor pad.

  As Rena processed her surroundings, her head began to swim. “What… what happened? Did you bring me here?”

  “All I can guess is you followed me.” His voice dropped to a low grumble. “Which pretty much made my nightmare a living one.”

  “Why would I….” she stopped, put a hand to her head. It was all a complete blank. “My God, this can’t be happening.”

  “I’ve been chanting that very thing for the last four hours.”

  The troubled nature of his statement seemed genuine. A horrifying thought entered Rena’s brain and she gaped at him. “Did I tie you up?”

  “Yes.” Now he was angry. “And now that you seem to be lucid, you mind untying me?”

  A raw sensation between her legs began to pulse as if offering her another sliver of missing information. A pair of boxers pooled on the floor further taunted her growing fears. Suddenly her shoulders felt as if they weighed a thousand pounds and she sank down onto the mattress. “One more question,” she whispered.

  “Is there a choice in this,” he sniped behind her, “or am I out of luck there, too?”

  She slowly found his gaze over her shoulder. “Why are we both naked?”

  He thought about the question with lowered brows, then his head plopped against the pillow. “That look on your face tells me you don’t want to know.”

  Her eyes closed with dread. “Did we….”

  His answer came with sarcastic fire. “Yes. Oh, yes, we certainly did. Or should I say you did.”

  “What do you mean me?”

  “You invaded my home. Ambushed me in my sleep. Paced for twenty agonizing minutes at the foot of my bed with a butcher knife in your
hand. Next thing I know, I’m getting laid like there’s no tomorrow!”

  No! It couldn’t be true! “No-no-no-no-no, this can’t be happening….”

  While Rena panicked, he continued his conversation with the ceiling. “Something told me you weren’t quite yourself.”

  “Why didn’t you stop me?”

  Ty yanked on the ropes in satirical disbelief. “Seriously?”

  Rena shot off the bed, picked up the T-shirt she’d dropped earlier and swiped a pair of boxers from the top drawer. Ty shouted as the bathroom door closed behind her.

  “Dammit, Rena, turn me loose!”

  With sloppy haste, she dressed and sat on the side of the tub for a good meditative moment. She just needed to breathe, to relax. To keep the precious thread of sanity as long as possible.

  Ty Ferguson. Of all men…. Those were his toiletries she’d helped herself to in this deceivingly comfortable little bathroom.

  Don't think about it. Just breathe.

  Toenails pranced on a bare floor close by, accompanied by a high-pitched whimper. Ugh. If this were Ty’s house, that meant Chewie was close by. That damned dog had been nothing but a nuisance since she’d been busted out of prison.

  “Rena!” Ty shouted beyond the door. “Chewie’s crossing his legs! If you won’t untie me, at least let him out!”

  Then again, the black shepherd mix possessed a lot more positive qualities than the bastard who owned him.

  Head held high, she exited the bathroom and opened the bedroom door. Chewie barreled inside, bounced off the bed and zoomed past her again. Down an iron spiral staircase and to the ground floor. All fours were prancing as he waited for her to catch up and let him out the back door.

  But first, she pushed the curtain aside and peered out the window while his tail thumped against her leg. A small grassy area with a picnic table was fenced off from the other brick townhomes situated in tight order. No one was around. She struggled with the lock, turned the handle. Chewie slithered through the door, sprinted to a fence post and immediately hiked a leg.

  Guilt added to the bad vibes already causing her hands to shake. Rena lowered herself to a bar stool and buried her face in her arms, further processed her situation. What the hell had she done? Sex. Sex with Ty. Did they use protection?

  “Rena, you crazy bitch,” she whimpered out loud.

  There was no birth control in the psych ward. His little “swimmers” were probably burrowing into one of her damaged eggs that very moment. Pregnancy and a body full of whatever drugs she’d been on for the last two years spelled impending disaster.

  But why the hell not? How could she possibly make things worse? Being an escaped prisoner was by far rock bottom, wasn’t it? How long could she really outrun her demons before she was caught again? This house certainly wasn’t friendly ground and if Ty knew what was good for him, he’d turn her in before she killed the rat prick.

  Though, she had to admit, Ty Ferguson lived pretty well. It was an old home, aged brick throughout with a kitchen and great room open to the two-story vaulted ceiling above. The slate countertops beneath her elbows kept to the rugged theme along with stainless steel accents. It was all wrapped up in a cozy package, made warm by plenty of sunlight from high windows. Since there were none on one side, she assumed it was a townhouse like the ones she saw out back, sharing space with a close neighbor. Something tall and shiny caught her attention by the expansive brick wall separating his lofty bedroom from the rest of the house.

  A fireman’s pole? Really? There was a set of perfectly good stairs right there.

  Somehow, she felt as if she were getting to know Ty on a base level. His tastes in large colorful art, clean orderly living space, comfort in plush throw rugs and a generous amount of furniture pillows. What was that beneath his bedroom?

  She rose from the stool, padded over to the set of double doors and peered inside. The lights were off and the shade pulled, so she flipped the light switch. What could have been utilized as another bedroom or den was instead a large office. More firemen-related toys shared the glass shelves with clusters of books, adding a playful disparity to the professional workplace. More toys in their original packaging were stacked beside a card table with packing peanuts and shipping supplies.

  So, he sold toys? Something she would have never guessed. Rena hugged her torso, tamping down the quiver she felt inside. Ty was a pig. Far from trustworthy. So why did his T-shirt and underwear feel so incredibly comfortable? Why did all of this feel so… comfortable?

  “Because you’re a moron,” she murmured to herself.

  “Rena!” It came out a plea from above.

  “What?” she yelled back.

  “I have to pee, too!”

  A grown man in his own home, begging permission to use the bathroom. More guilt sliced through her… until she remembered what Ty had done.

  No. Not yet. She fought the images that forced their way into her brain, but in no time they consumed her.

  Black cloth billowing from the deadly impact of a bullet. A man stumbling back, caramel-brown eyes widened in shock. His name bursting from her mouth as he began to fall to the laboratory floor.

  “Derek!”

  Blood. So much blood as the man who broke her out of prison lay dying from a mortal chest wound.

  Derek. The only person in the world she trusted. The man who’d cared enough to rescue her from a life sentence of drug-induced hell. Her friend, her confidant, her savior… was gone.

  The ugly truth could no longer be repressed, but it was so… hard… to accept. Derek Bennett had been such a force to be reckoned with. He’d faced so many odds in order to free them both from her mother and the secret organization that controlled them, yet he’d conquered every one… until Sophie had aimed her gun and fired the bullet that ended his life.

  It wasn’t supposed to fire. It wasn’t even a real bullet; at least not the one Rena gave her. It was supposed to be a hermetically sealed capsule containing a rare substance Sophie had been after for sixteen years. But, Sophie didn’t trust her, and had tested the bullet’s authenticity the quickest way possible… on the man who had caused her so much angst.

  Now, the only one who could have switched the bullets was upstairs, anxiously awaiting her revenge with wrist bonds and a full bladder.

  Revenge! It had to be what drove her here. It was Ty’s fault Derek was dead. There was just something about him that always raised her suspicion. He’d been a friend of Derek’s, was trusted with way too much, which was probably why she didn’t trust him. When you put all your faith in one person, you opened the door for the worst kind of betrayal. The kind you never saw coming.

  So why did you fuck him?

  The answer to that question was the same one she’d battled since childhood: because she was clinically insane. Despite the medication Derek had administered in order to bring her back, she was still slipping into momentary bouts of insanity. With that thought came the realization she was not without blame when it came to Derek’s death. If she hadn’t stolen that “magic bullet” from her father sixteen years ago, none of this would have ever happened.

  Now that her memory was returning, the only question that begged an answer was… why didn’t she kill Ty? As long as she was lucid, he was in no danger. She wasn’t a killer, as the very thought of taking someone’s life turned her stomach.

  But when the darkness came, Rena Hellberg was capable of anything.

  CHAPTER 2

  Chewie barked just outside the door. Rena let him in and the dog made several burning laps through the house before prancing to a stop and shaking out his long, silky black fur. It was obvious he considered her a non-threat, probably because they’d spent so much time together after her escape three days prior.

  Which was just perfect, Rena thought with a smile.

  “Rena, come on, I’m about to explode!”

  She crossed over to the refrigerator and flung open its double doors. Ugh. Nothing but health food. Rena chos
e a lemon-lime sports drink, uncapped it and took a long pull on her way up the spiral staircase. Back in the bedroom, Ty continued to work the ropes at his wrists. The sheet had been kicked off and he was now fully bared to her roaming eyes… and Rena couldn’t help but stare. Maybe it was morning wood backed by a full bladder. Maybe the man was just well endowed. Whatever it was, he had a legitimate reason to be proud.

  Keeping that annoying thought to herself, Rena said with deadpan calm, “Wow, you must really have to go.” Then she turned the bottle over her lips once again. Yellow liquid sloshed into her mouth.

  Ty reacted with the desired effect, groaning, eyes squeezed shut. “Oh, come on!” he seethed through clenched teeth. “You’re killing me, here!”

  “Isn’t it funny,” she purred, “I mean, really funny how you aren’t dead yet?”

  “Maybe it’s because you don’t really want to kill me.”

  Her shoulder moved as she swirled the contents of the bottle. “Maybe my goal is to humiliate you first. Kind of like how you humiliated me.”

  While he stewed over that one, his ears grew pink. “How I humiliated you?”

  Chewie crunched loudly out of his bowl in the kitchen below her. Rena closed the door so they wouldn’t be disturbed and slowly advanced toward the bed. “You made me believe you were actually a man of your word. Convinced me I’d been wrong about you. But, of course, that was just another ploy to lure me into my mother’s sick game.”

  “Rena, we talked about this,” Ty argued calmly.

  She cocked her head. “Did we?”

  “Okay, I did all the talking.” The next came out a mumble. “You were a non-participant.”

  “Did it occur to you that maybe it wasn’t a good time to talk?”

  “I was trying to get through to you!” Ty yanked on his wrists again in obvious distress. “I really need to go. I know you’re lucid now, so please untie me.”