Amnesia, a Psychological Thriller (Centrifuge Duet Book 1)

by Kylie Hillman

  My mirth dissolves at the mention of my dead uncle. The emotions that were missing at his funeral hit me, the tears that were running down my face from my crying laughter quickly becoming real. Seb slings an arm over my shoulders and helps me to the elevator. He stays quiet while we descend, allowing me my belated bout of grief.

  “He’d be proud of you.” Seb announces once we’re in his car.

  “And, you.” I hiccup. “Where are we heading now?”

  “To put your life back together.”

  “Amber.” Xander strains against the chain that connects his hands and feet to the table when I enter the meeting room we’ve been allocated. “Sugar. What’re you doin’ here?”

  I let Seb pick a seat first, before settling into the remaining plastic chair.

  “I’m sorry, Xander.” The words feel inadequate, yet I don’t know what else to say.

  His blonde eyebrows pull together. He looks between me and Seb, speculation on his face. “Sorry for what? I don’t understand.”

  “Give me a moment.” I hope up a finger. Dragging in a deep breath, I try to steady my nerves, and find a way to tell the man who’s been my partner for the past decade that I’m the reason why he’s in jail.

  “I’m sorry because I didn’t tell you that I was leaving you. I’m sorry because I’ve done a lot of bad things while we’ve been apart. I’m sorry because I willingly shared my body with a man I hate so I could have my revenge. I’m sorry because I’m pregnant with his child and I’m going to keep the baby. I’m sorry because I hope and pray that you’ll take me back despite all that.”

  As confessions go, it’s up there with the worst.

  But, it’s honest. Brutally so.

  Xander turns red. His eyes bulge in his head. He lifts his tied-together hands, balls them into fists, and slams them on the table. “You’re sorry? I’ve been locked in here for weeks, worried out of my mind that they were holding you against your will, and you’re want to tell me that it was all a set-up?”

  The guard at the door pounds on the metal. “Settle down or you’re going back to your cell.”

  I take the opportunity to try to explain a bit better. “You know some of my history with Jax and my parents. What you don’t know is the full extent of their reach. A few months ago, I spotted Jax in the parking lot at the school. He was standing near our car, it looked like he was waiting for me. It scared me so I called Uncle Charlie in a panic. He told me that Seb was looking for me because he had some information I needed to see.”

  Seb nods his agreement, but wisely keeps his mouth shut. Xander growls at him, anyway. I shift uncomfortably in my seat, knowing that his mood is going to get worse before it gets better.

  “We met and Seb explained that Jax had perfected the memory medication that their grandfather had spent the final years of his life trying to develop. He’d lost his first wife to dementia so finding a cure became his obsession. When he died, Jax and Seb took up the cause. Seb thought they were working together until he found Jax’s notes and discovered that he was developing it with a second use in mind. He wanted it to erase memories. Specifically, mine. He had a plan to kidnap me, erase my memories, and then rebuild them using hypnotherapy and lies. It was all outlined in detail. Seb brought it with him to show me.”

  Xander moves to speak. I cut him off.

  “The next day, I received a personal letter from the Education Board that the funding for our school was up for review. I thought it had been sent to me by mistake since I was only a teacher, until I noticed the name of one of the members listed on the Board undertaking the review. Malcolm St. George. It was my father’s way of letting me know that he knew where I was and that he was part of Jax’s plan. I freaked out, and begged Uncle Charlie to meet with me.”

  Memories of my sweet uncle hit. I have to take a moment to compose myself.

  “Why didn’t you come to me?” Xander asks. “We could have moved away.”

  Drumming my fingertips on the table, I meet his bright blue, hurt-filled eyes and pray that he’ll forgive me for what I say next. “I didn’t want your help. I wanted revenge. I wanted make sure that my father and Jax could never come after me again. I wanted to break them. So, I met with Uncle Charlie and Seb and we put this plan into action. I would willingly submit to Jax and let him use Centrifuge on me, while they would perfect the anti-dote and find a way to gather the hidden evidence regarding the side effects. It was a brilliant plan, except for one thing.”

  This time, I don’t try to make eye contact with Xander. This is going to be the straw that breaks the camel’s back. His reaction to this will tell me if there is any possibility of a future for us.

  “When I found out the terms of the prenup left everything to our children, I pulled out. After all that he’d done to me, I couldn’t willingly let him use my body. I love you so I didn’t want any of this to ruin what we had.”

  “But, you went ahead with it anyway—”

  “No, she didn’t,” Seb interjects. “Jax outsmarted us. He hired someone to hit her with a car and have her transported to his hospital. Charlie didn’t have a clue what had happened until four months later when he ran into her at the hospital with Jax. He phoned me in a blind panic and we devised a new strategy on the spot. It was a matter of life-or-death—”

  I pat the top of Seb’s leg when his voice breaks. He wipes at his face with jerky swipes, sniffing while he attempts to regain control. Xander growls. He glares at my hand where it sits on Seb’s thigh, raises his gaze to meet mine, and sneers with a viciousness I’ve never heard before, “Just fuck off. Get the fuck out of here. I want nothing to do with you.”

  “Are you sure you’ll be okay?” Seb asks once we’re at the door of the bungalow that I share—shared—with Xander. We’ve barely spoken since we were summarily dismissed by the angry man I love, and I’m only just holding on. The last thing I need is an audience when I break.

  “I’ll be fine. Being in my own home is just what I need.”

  Seb hesitates. I flap my hands at him. “Go and get laid. Celebrate. It’s not every day we beat the devil at his own game.”

  I slide the key in the lock and let myself inside. As I close the door, I offer the worried man one final smile, then I press my back against the wood and slide to the floor. The tears that I’ve been trying to contain since we left the prison spill free. I let them flow for a few minutes, then I wipe my face and shake some sense into myself.

  “No use crying over spilt milk. Onward and upward.” My uncle’s favourite sayings echo around my empty home. I push to my feet and head for my bedroom. I need a hot shower and eighteen hours sleep in my own bed.

  Ignoring the signs of Xander that clutter the house—his dirty clothes thrown on the hamper not in it, his toothbrush in the holder next to mine, his body wash in the shower caddy—I strip down to nothing. The woman who stares back at me in the mirror looks the same, yet I feel completely different. The weight of the world has been lifted off my shoulders. I should be happy, but I’m not. In the pursuit of revenge, I lost the one thing that made my life worth living.

  My man.

  It was a price I thought I wouldn’t have to pay.

  I thought he’d understand.

  Then again, it never crossed my mind that I’d be returning to him with my enemy’s baby in my belly, either.

  Turning to the side, I inspect my stomach. It doesn’t seem bigger, although I can definitely see a change in the fullness of my breasts when I straighten and look at myself front-on. I wait for the truth to hit. For my mind to rebel at the idea of carrying Jax’s child. It doesn’t come. And, that is strangely satisfying.

  Perhaps something positive can come from all of this?

  A new life. A baby born of St. George and Ray blood and raised to do good in the world, instead of evil.

  “Ripe like a delicate peach.” Speak of the devil and he shall appear. “Beautiful. Vital. Such a betraying bitch.”

  I meet Jax’s eyes in the mirror w
here he stands behind me. My body stiffens. Flight or fight is activated. I don’t plan to run, though, because I had a feeling he wasn’t going to let me go without a fight.

  Seb was right when he said this was a case of life-or-death.

  Saving my life means causing Jax’s death.

  My husband lays his hands on my shoulders, proud fingers digging into my flesh. Tilting my neck to one side, he shifts my hair out of his way. Warm lips, capable of inflicting pleasure or pain, meet the thin skin at my pulse point. Jax’s tongue darts out, touching the spot where my lifeblood races through my body, then he nibbles my neck with his teeth.

  It’s a straight-up, silent reminder that he’s in charge.

  “I could end you right now.” He muses. “But, where would the fun be in that?”

  Jax lets me straighten my head. His fingers continuing to dig into my skin. As they tighten painfully, I glance at their reflection in the cool glass. My bottom lip trembles at the recognition of what I’m seeing.

  Blood stains his hands. It’s on his skin, under his fingernails.

  “Seb.”

  My nightmare meets my eyes. Death is all I can see in his bleak depths. It’s the only answer I need. The austere words that follow simply overkill.

  “He’ll never disturb us again, baby.”

  Pure adrenaline kicks in. I throw my head back. It smashes against Jax’s nose. He howls, letting go of me as his knees involuntarily bend and he grabs his broken face. I use his distraction as an opportunity to break free.

  My feet are nimble. My limbs move quick. I pull the bathroom door shut behind me, then slam the bedroom closed as well. I need every single second of head start that I can muster if I’m to escape, once and for all. The length of the hallway is eaten up quickly in my frantic flight.

  I see the front door.

  It’s barely five metres away.

  I hear Jax gaining on me, his footsteps growing louder with each passing moment.

  My arm is outstretched. I can nearly touch the handle.

  Something is in the way. I stumble over it, falling to my knees with a painful thump. A bloodcurdling scream is torn from me when I realise what I tripped over.

  “Oh, my God.” I push back onto all fours and scramble away from the lifeless body of the man who tried so hard to save me. “Seb. No.”

  As I’m trying to stand, Jax reaches me. He slaps his bloody hand over my face, silencing me as he pushes me back against the wall. My struggle is futile. I know it is, but I don’t have it in me to go down without a fight. My teeth sink into Jax’s palm, he pulls his injured hand away from me.

  I seize the chance to scream for help. It doesn’t last long, the wind knocked out of my lungs by a blow to the kidneys. My insane husband lets me drop to the floor.

  “Shhh, baby. The neighbours are going to think you’re scared of me.” Jax stands over me. His chest is heaving from the chase. A maniacal gleam brightens the previously black depths of his eyes.

  When I kick out at him, he lowers his body over mine. Straddling my waist, he laughs as I buck beneath him. He pulls the familiar box out of his jacket pocket, and I know this time, that it’s really over.

  He has won.

  It’s a bitter pill to swallow.

  “Arm.” I follow his terse direction without argument. Fastidious to the very end, Jax ensures that my skin is sterilised before he injects Centrifuge back into my system. I welcome the ecstasy, the momentary escape from my life of conflict. The world tips on its axis. The ensuing dizziness a welcome distraction from the dark realisation that my life is no longer mine.

  Maybe it’s not so bad, after all?

  I mean, the drug is appropriately named.

  Centrifuge is the process of separating two substances of different density.

  Dr. Jaxon Ray certainly knows how to separate my previously steadfast reality from his fantastical fiction.

  Eighteen Months Later

  “Baby,” my husband calls out to me from the entertainment room.

  I juggle the toddler on my hip, and tiptoe out of the darkened downstairs nursery so that I don’t wake the baby. Pulling the sliding doors shut behind me, I make my way to Jax with an urgency in my step. He doesn’t like to be kept waiting.

  “Yes.” I rest my hand on his shoulder as I take my designated place, standing directly behind his seat. A warm hand is laid on top of mine, decisive pressure applied.

  I understand his unspoken demand straightaway.

  “Maria,” the maid appears out of nowhere when I say her name. “Can you please take Junior to the upstairs playroom for a while? Close the doors on your way out.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” I pass my child to the middle-aged woman and pretend that the delicious arousal that is settling into the pit of my stomach isn’t real. That I’m not perversely excited by the fact that my husband is about to degrade me for his own pleasure.

  “On your knees.”

  Dropping to the floor, my experienced hands are at the buttons of my blouse before the next order has been delivered.

  “Take your top off.”

  I have it unbuttoned in a flash. Butterflies in my stomach make me squirm when Jax keeps me waiting for his next command.

  “Unzip me.”

  I open his pants.

  “Release me”

  His hard cock is pulled free seconds later.

  “Open wide.”

  I take his length into my mouth, twirling my tongue and sucking lightly—exactly as he likes it. Jax increases his pace. I hollow my cheeks and swallow whenever he hits the back of my throat. Gagging is not permitted. Pushing against his thighs if I want him to slow down isn’t allowed, either. Staying still and taking it like a good girl is the only option.

  Somehow, he manages to thrust harder and faster. As I’m beginning to contemplate breaking the rules and pulling away from him, he withdraws his cock from my mouth.

  “God, you’re beautiful.”

  My husband places one hand on the back of my head, the other working his dick as he chases his release. I close my eyes, push my breasts together with my arms and hold my tongue out. This isn’t new. I know what’s expected of me.

  Jax bucks his hips in front of my face, groaning as he comes. Ribbons of semen land on my face and chest. I hold still until he’s finished. Once his hand has left my head, I know that I’m safe to clean up. I open an eye so I can see where I’m going, clasping my top shut with one hand as I duck into the downstairs bathroom.

  As I’m drying my face, the bathroom door open, and Jax enters. He has a pleased glimmer in his eyes. He turns me to face him, pressing his body against mine until I’m caged between him and the cabinet.

  “Do you know how much I love you?”

  I duck my head, feigning the shyness that I know he likes. “Yes. Almost as much as I love you.”

  My husband rewards me for my correct answer with a kiss that leaves me breathless and him adjusting him thickening cock in his pants. I smile, a wide grin of triumph, as he exits the bathroom with a spring in his step.

  A tiny beep breaks the silence. I pull my phone from my pants pocket and read the reminder that’s just sounded an alert. My grin widens impossibly, before I drop to my knees and ferret around in the cupboard under the basin until I find what I’m looking for.

  My leather-bound journal

  A secret list of ways to control Dr. Jaxon Ray.

  History of the life that he thinks I’ve forgotten.

  But, I haven’t forgotten what he’s done to me, nor will I ever forgive. For my ally had a contingency plan that outlived him; a sneaky reminder to check my journal set up on my phone, a weekly letter containing a poem that means too much to be forgotten sent to my house, and an anti-dote hidden in my bathroom with a note to use it once I have my ducks in a row.

  That day is growing nearer.

  Because one day, very soon, my dear husband will learn a valuable lesson in combat. War is not one furious battle fought to the death. It is a series o
f skirmishes disguised as a single fight. And, it’s quite possible for your enemy to lose the first battle, but rise to defeat you in the war.

  THE END ... maybe?

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  SEIZING CONTROL

  Black Shamrocks MC #1

  Sneak Peek

  “When something bad happens, you have three choices. You can let it define you, let it destroy you, or you can let it strengthen you.” ~Unknown~

  This has been my motto for the past four years. I was certain I’d proven to myself, and anyone who mattered, that I’d let my past strengthen me, not destroy me. I’d survived every woman's worst nightmare and I was still standing. I was chasing my dreams, my family was thriving, and so was my relationship. As far as I was concerned, I exemplified the positive essence of the saying.

  Unfortunately, everything I thought I’d overcome was about to rear its ugly head. He refused to stay in the past where he belonged. He was determined to conquer me and keep me for himself. To control me, alienate me from my loved ones, and force me to submit to his will. His latest attack was going to prove his most lethal, and he was going to teach me that, even though he hadn't destroyed me in the past, he had absolutely defined me.

  Cutting the engine, I breathe a deep sigh of relief as I lay my head back on the headrest. Organised chaos is the only way to describe the situation at work today. I love my job but I’m bone tired. My back hurts from sitting most of the day, and I have a throbbing headache from spending too much time reading obscure briefs and debating vague angles.