Jewels And Panties: (Book 1-15) Billionaire Romance Series

by Brooke Kinsley

  Kennedy laughed again with a nervous shudder of his voice.

  "I'd like to see you try," he said and took a step back.

  As he walked into the shadows, I could see his hands were shaking.

  Chapter Five

  ETTA

  "Thanks for getting me outta there. Is he always like that?"

  My savior sipped his coffee and looked back over at the room.

  "First night working with him," he explained. "Probably the last too."

  We were sat on the edge of the curb looking over the parking lot. In the distance, we could just about make out Gary's silhouette in the window as he looked out from the curtain. He was looking for us. I worried that any second now he'd be rampaging out here to finish what he started but until then, I was grateful for the few minutes’ respite I had.

  "I'm Nathan by the way," he said. "I probably shouldn't have told you that."

  "Don't worry. I'm not going to tell anyone."

  "I could really get into a lot of trouble for this. I was supposed to keep you in there," he pointed over to the room. "But I suppose there were... exceptional circumstances."

  I raised the paper coffee cup to my lips and tasted the bitter blackness. It was by far the worst cup of coffee I'd ever had and it was the worst night of my life too.

  "Where have they taken Lincoln?"

  "I don't know."

  For most of the night, the shock was the only thing stopping the tears from falling. Now, it all seemed to hit me like a truck. I was exhausted by the stress and overcome by the situation.

  "Tell me. Will I ever see him again?"

  He looked over and pressed his lips together into a tight line.

  "Look, I don't know anything about what's going on," he explained. "I was just ordered to keep an eye on you."

  Burying my head in my hands, I felt too exhausted to cope anymore but was too wired with fear to let myself relax and sleep.

  "How long are you going to hold me here?"

  He pulled his scarf back up over his lips and shivered.

  "Even I don't know that."

  "What do you know?"

  All I could see were his eyes but I could tell his mind was working overtime.

  "Nothing," he replied. "Nothing at all."

  I didn't believe him but what could I do?

  "You got children?" I asked.

  "Sure! Two girls."

  I thought about the girl we'd seen led out from the basement of the Waters House and wondered what he'd do if he knew what was really going on with his own chief? With the judge and all the other scumbags in town who operated under a mask of respectability.

  "You got any pictures?"

  He reached into his back pocket and pulled out his wallet. There was a photo slotted in the front. Two girls with big, curly hair and big eyes looked out at me.

  "They're beautiful," I said.

  "They take after their mother," he replied although I could see they had his eyes, his soul, his gentle demeanor.

  "You weren't really cut out for this job, were you?"

  "What makes you say that?" he bristled.

  "Sorry, I didn't mean to offend you."

  We resumed drinking our coffee in silence looking up at the stars. It wouldn't be long until I knew I was going to be taken back to the motel room with its cheap furniture and mildew riddled bathroom.

  For all I knew, I could be taken back there and killed. For all I knew, Lincoln was already dead. Maybe being out here was the last taste of freedom I'd ever have. The thought burned a hole in me. I couldn't let that be the case.

  Beside me, Nathan was still brewing, still thinking about what I just said.

  "Seriously, what makes you think I'm not cut out for being a cop?"

  "You're too nice," I said. "And you obviously don't like violence."

  "I don't."

  He crushed his cup in his hands and tossed it into the gutter where it soaked up the muddy rainwater.

  "So why do it?"

  He thought for a second and pulled his scarf up even higher so that all that was now visible were his eyelashes that fanned out across his almost girlish eyes.

  "My dad was a cop and my uncle too."

  "Let me guess. You were just supposed to follow them into the force."

  "Pretty much."

  "But you always wanted to do something artistic."

  He jumped and turned to me, his eyes flashing with a streak of fear.

  "What are you? A psychic?"

  "I can just see that you're a soft sensitive guy," I laughed. “Believe me. I’m not psychic.”

  He thrust his hands into his armpits and leaned forward, trying to shield himself from the wind.

  "Always wanted to play the guitar," he said. "But everyone told me being a musician wasn't a real job."

  He was softening up to me, dropping his guard and melting in my hands like butter. A few more kind words and he'd be all mine.

  "I get it," I said. "When I was a kid I wanted to be an artist but my parents told me there was no money in art."

  He nodded and furrowed his brows.

  "Tell that to Picasso," he said.

  "Precisely."

  We both laughed. I looked down at his hand and saw he wasn't wearing a wedding ring but the tan line of a phantom band still lingered.

  "Married?" I asked.

  "Divorced."

  "That must be tough..."

  "It is."

  "You still get to see your girls?"

  "Only on the weekend."

  "That must really hurt."

  "It does..."

  He was still talking but I was looking at everything but his face. To my right, a few inches out of reach, lay a brick. Maybe even do it too well.

  "So, who's your favorite guitarist?" I asked as I leaned away from him.

  His eyes glossed over as he began to reel off names.

  "Oh, like Hendrix obviously but then there's Richie Blackmore because he really had this other worldly thing going on an-"

  I hit him square in the side of the face.

  He fell backward onto the sidewalk as blood spurted out his head.

  "Fuck!"

  I glanced around to make sure no one had seen me. There wasn’t a single person in sight. I was free.

  But for the second time in two days, I'd knocked a man unconscious.

  As I watched the blood pump from his head, I bent over and heaved up my coffee onto the curb.

  Then I took off running.

  Chapter Six

  Phaedra

  "Kirsty wake up."

  "Er..."

  She rolled over and opened her eyes wide when she saw me leaning over her.

  "What's going on?"

  "You were right! I was wrong. We can rescue them."

  She sat up and rubbed her eyes.

  "Are you... Are you crying?"

  I hadn't realized I still was but as I touched my fingers to my face, they came away wet and salty.

  "Don't worry about me. Listen, you were right. We can do it. I'm not sure how but we can do it."

  From deep within the house, little voices were creeping up the stairs, reminding us of the pain we needed to release.

  "You mean it," she said. "Because if you really mean it..."

  "I really mean it."

  Pulling her hands into mine, I pushed them to my chest so she could feel my heartbeat.

  "I've never been surer about anything in my life."

  "But...What made you change your mind?"

  She wanted to believe me but there was a suspicious haze over her eyes. She thought I was up to something.

  I thought about what they called me under the house.

  Witch...

  "I don't want to be a witch anymore," I said. "I can't live with being the bad guy."

  "Neither can I," she said, "So what do we do?"

  Images of what Kennedy would do to me if I betrayed him flittered through my mind. He would kill me if he could but I didn't care. I was t
oo old to care whether I lived or died. All that mattered was doing the right thing. I had to save the future of the children. What happened to me was of no consequence.

  "I'm not sure... Oh, my God. I'm really not sure."

  Standing up and walking over to the window, I looked out at the moonlight that was glowing across the tops of the wheat. The wind washed through the field like waves, an ocean of leaves stretching out into the distance. I wanted to open the window and dive down into my death, forget that my life ever happened.

  "The first thing is to get those kids outta here," said Kirsty as she pulled on a sweater and flicked on the light.

  She was ready to spring into action but I was frozen with uncertainty.

  "But then what? Where would they go? Where could we take them where no questions would be asked?"

  "Church," she replied as though it was the most obvious answer.

  "The church?"

  "The church orphanage. What's it called? The one in Broadwood..."

  "No. We're not going back to that damned neighborhood. We take them somewhere no one knows or suspects anything."

  She sighed and began tapping her foot on the floor.

  "Fuck. Fuck. Let me think. Wait! I know!"

  Her eyes grew wider and wider as she looked up at me.

  "Well for Christ sake's, Kirsty. Are you gonna tell me?"

  "The Commune of the Reformation," she said.

  My stomach sank.

  "That crazy camp!"

  She nodded.

  "Camp yes. Crazy no. Remember Sonya?"

  The name sounded familiar. There were so many girls that came in and out the house on a regular basis it was hard to keep up.

  "And Roberta?" she added.

  "I remember her," I said and thought about how her body was discovered shortly after the others with the red spiral tattooed on her ankle, her mouth dried out from saltwater and sand in her eyes.

  "What about her?"

  "They both used to live out there."

  "Explains a lot."

  "No, listen. I know it sounds crazy but think about it. Nobody will ask questions and the children will go to homes where-"

  "Where they'll be expected to work the land like something from ancient times. I've heard about those places. The children don't go to school. They build barns and milk cows for twelve hours a day then pray to false prophets at night.

  "But they'll be away from us," said Kirsty. "Think about that."

  I did. She was right.

  "Okay... so what now? We can't just bundle them into a van and leave them there?"

  "Do you have a better plan?"

  "No! But... I wanted to return them to their parents."

  She lowered her head and examined her shoes.

  "I don't think that's possible right now. Do you?"

  Curling my fingers around the window ledge, I watched as the waves of wheat glistened beneath the wispy clouds. We didn't have many options but what Kirsty was suggesting was at least a start.

  "There's something else we need to do."

  She looked up and blinked before running a hand through her hair. There was a faraway look in her eyes. I wondered who she was thinking about.

  "What?" she asked as she focused on something behind me.

  "The judge. He needs to be out of our lives."

  Her leg began to shake.

  "You're not suggesting we..."

  "It'll be the last thing I ever do."

  "You don't mean that."

  My silence answered for me.

  "Okay," she said. "Just tell me what to do and I'll do it. Anything."

  I grabbed hold of her and hugged her with all the strength I could muster. The outburst of affection even shocked me. It had been so long since I had felt someone’s arms around me.

  "Hey... Hey don't worry," she said and smoothed down my hair. "We'll make it all right again."

  "I hope we do," I said, my voice muffled by her breast. "I really hope we do."

  Chapter Seven

  Etta

  Running.

  Running headlong into nowhere. There was nothing but the wind rustling through the trees on either side of me. A long stretch of road ahead of me. Far, far in the distance, I could just about make out the faint glow of streetlamps as a town came into view but it seemed so far away. Further than my legs could take me.

  Behind me, sirens blazed.

  I stopped to catch my breath. In the darkness, blue lights flashed like dancing fireflies. An ambulance, a cop car. They knew what I had done. How long was it until they caught up with me?

  I gulped down air and continued to run. Faster and faster until the blood pumped in my ears and I could taste blood in my mouth. A stich ached all up the side of my body but I didn't dare stop.

  The lights on the horizon came closer. There were streets, a row of houses, a convenience store with graffiti on the shutters. Music emanated from a nearby apartment. I was finally on the edge of Normont but I had no idea where I was.

  A sound rattled up behind me. I turned to see a rusty old beat up Hyundai roll to a stop before the window glided down to reveal a man with threads of hair slicked over his balding head.

  "Are you okay there, girly?"

  Girly? Who is this creep?

  I got a bad vibe from him straight away. His car looked even more exhausted than I did and there was something about the way he looked at me. Something that sent a shudder down my spine.

  "You need a ride?"

  "No thanks," I blurted out.

  "Are you sure? It's not every night I see pretty young girls running through the country for miles."

  Was he watching me?

  "Came from the motel back that way, did ya?"

  He pointed his thumb behind him.

  It was a loaded question. It was the only place I could have come from.

  "Well, why don't you hop in and I'll drop you off somewhere in the city. That sound good to you?"

  I shook my head. There was no way I was getting in the car with him. Even as I hesitated and shuffled from foot to foot, his eyes ran over every inch of my body. I expected to climb in the car and see that all the inside handles were removed.

  I'm fine. Really. I'll walk from here."

  Before I could finish my sentence, the sound of sirens carried on the breeze. They were looking for me. Getting nearer every second.

  He leaned out the window and slapped the door.

  "It seems to me as though you don't really have much of a choice," he said.

  Looking to my right, I could see blue lights approaching.

  I leaped into the passenger side and he stepped on the accelerator before I had the chance to close the door.

  "Where we heading?" I asked.

  "You tell me. You're the one who bludgeoned a police officer."

  "How... How the fuck do you know that?"

  Instinctively, I checked around the car for signs that he was a cop but if he was, he wasn't like any policeman I'd seen before.

  "That motel back there is my old man's,” he explained.“I work in it most weekends. You know helping out and such."

  "You were there!"

  "Saw the whole thing."

  "And... and...."

  My chest tightened up like a coil winding itself round and round until I couldn’t breathe.

  "Calm down," he said as he picked up more speed. "It's okay. I drove out here to help you."

  "Why?"

  A stoplight turned red in front of us and he sped through it before turning on the radio. He settled on a country channel and soon the sound of tinnyguitar and saccharine sweet lyrics oozed out the speakers.

  "If you want me to let you in on a little secret," he began with a smile. "I fucking hate the police. You did a good thing back there. Killing that guy."

  "Killing him!"

  "Oh... He's dead alright. I saw them take him away in a body bag. I suggest you lay low for a while. Cop killers are never the most popular of fugitives."

 
It was then, as I was sure I was about to lose the contents of my stomach once again, that the hospital loomed up in front of us and I recognized where I was. We were only a mile or so from Broadwood.

  "Stop the car."

  "What? Where you wanna go round here?"

  "Stop the car!"

  He screeched to a halt in the middle of the highway and I dashed out.

  The only sirens out here were the ones coming from the hospital.

  I began to run again, scrambling up the embankment at the edge of the road before dashing in front of an ambulance and edging my way down a side street.

  My feet battered off the ground, burning with blisters but I didn't stop until I saw the diner, the docks, the alley where Jet's body lay dead.

  Then I saw it. The house.

  It seemed bigger now and even more sinister. As I entered the parking lot I noticed the doors to the basement and knelt down beside them.

  Opening them up, I looked down and saw nothing but darkness.

  "Hello?" I called out.

  There was no one down there. Even the rats were too afraid to scuttle across the dirt.

  Looking up at Phaedra's room, I saw her light was off. Out of all the things that struck me as peculiar about this night, it was that she wasn't up there with her light on, sleepless and obsessive as she wrote down her meticulous notes.

  I approached the front door and raised a fist to the wood.

  My body was still trembling.

  What had I done?

  What was I doing there?

  I've killed someone, I thought. A father. A man with two beautiful daughters who loved to play the guitar and... saved me from being raped.

  I was a monster.

  Without thinking, I rapped my knuckles against the door. From inside, I could make out the sound of someone shuffling down the stairs in slippers. A moment later, the door opened.

  "Oh, hey! It's you."

  The girl was about my age with dyed red hair and heart shaped lips. Dressed in a skeleton onesie, she looked like a kid. I almost didn't recognize her.

  "Erm... Katy, right?"

  "Yeah! You stay here, right?"

  "Used to," I said.

  "You don't stay here now?" she asked, confused. “I swear to God this place is like a railway station. I can never keep up with everyone.”