Between my legs, up my cock, spilling with fire and brimstone.
Wave after wave of sick, debilitating lust. Spilling into a traitor. Sharing pleasure with an adversary.
I hadn’t finished coming before a wave of bile shot up my throat.
Ripping my body from hers, I barrelled off the bed and barely made it to the bathroom before spewing my guts into the sink.
My body purged.
My cock dripped more cum on the tiles as my stomach rid itself of Viagra and rum all while my heart flogged itself, maimed itself, sought salvation for the destruction I’d caused.
Sliding to my knees, I hugged the vanity as shock began.
My teeth chattered as the full consequences of what I’d done crippled me.
I’d spend my life in jail.
I’d never see Olin again.
I’d always be known as a rapist.
“Get up.”
I hunched, fighting another wave of sickness as Tallup tapped me on the shoulder.
“Get up,” she repeated, stepping into the shower and turning on the hot water.
I didn’t move while she soaped and rinsed, fighting to put myself together again so I could stand and face the police.
Her bare wet feet appeared in my line of vision on the floor as she wrapped a towel around her well-used body. The body I’d tried to suffocate. The vessel I’d tried to murder for what she’d made me become.
Her hand landed on my head, and in some twisted, disgusting way, I looked up to her for guidance. She was my teacher. She was supposed to teach me, help me grow, guide me into adulthood.
Instead, she made me into this.
Tears pricked my eyes as I noticed the red marks I’d left on her mouth from holding her down. Her lips were swollen, and blood glowed from where she’d bitten through.
But instead of horror on her face; instead of marching to the phone to call the police, she smiled loose and satisfied. “Turns out, I didn’t need to teach you how to fuck, Gilbert Clark. You’re a master all on your own.”
I froze.
More bile churned in my belly.
She turned and dropped her towel, striding toward the bed and sitting on it with the slyest, nastiest grin on her face. “Now you know what I like, get back here. We have all night before that Viagra stops working.” She patted the bed. “Come here.”
I shook my head, cursing the burn in my belly. The hunger to obey. The need to come again. And again.
Her eyes narrowed, her temper fizzing in the space. “We agreed on one night. Not one fuck. Obey and you’re free. You have my word I won’t harass Olin Moss. I’ll let you graduate. You can pretend none of this ever happened.”
Her hand trailed between her legs, spreading them, revealing exactly where she put her finger. “But if you don’t crawl on your hands and knees to me this very second, our deal is void, and I’ll call the police.” Her finger dipped inside herself. “They won’t treat you kindly, Gilbert. They won’t have any reason to doubt my claims. I have the bruises to match the accusations. You’ll never see Olin again. Never be free.” She tutted with a sad shake of her head. “Poor, innocent Gilbert Clark. What a terrible predicament you’re in.”
Her lips spread into an evil smile. Her eyelashes fluttered as she fingered herself. “Now, crawl.”
I crawled.
Chapter Thirty-Two
______________________________
Olin
-The Present-
“COME ON, GIL. Pick up the damn phone.”
I cancelled the call as it dropped from ringing to his answer machine for the fourth time. I understood why he wasn’t answering. I doubted being interviewed at the police station allowed personal calls to interrupt. It had only been a couple of hours since he’d been ‘borrowed’ for questions. I was probably overreacting.
I knew all of the above, but it didn’t change the fact I desperately needed him to pick up.
Something isn’t right, Gil.
And...I’m not sure what to do.
Tossing my useless phone onto my lap, I clutched the steering wheel with both hands and focused on the road. My foot rocked on the accelerator, inching over the speed limit, testing the black van tailing me.
My heart raced as the van matched my increase, gliding like a threatening shadow about to swallow me whole.
Shit.
I should’ve stayed in my apartment.
Then again, the bastard Gil was trying to protect me from had definitely been there. I didn’t feel safe knowing his hands had touched my stuff, walked my carpets, and investigated my home.
After the police had left, I’d tiptoed through the rest of my place, doing my best to untangle superstition from fact. I’d almost managed to convince myself it was just crazy imagination, lack of rest, and Gil’s ominous ‘you’re in danger’ talk that made me second-guess the privacy of my home.
However, that false hope popped the second I entered my bedroom and found my pillows on the floor. Strange but perhaps not too strange. Gil could’ve tossed them from my bed while I made us coffee before we left. He could have a weird need to do something odd—to mess up the bed I’d slept in and not offered him to join.
I could’ve spun a tale that far-out, if it hadn’t have been for the symbolism of blood smearing the linen.
Gil was a painter, but I doubted he’d ever take a bottle of red nail varnish and dribble it over my bedding and pillows, staining them with acrid crimson, turning fluffy comfort into fabric corpses.
He wouldn’t do something that reeked so pungently of death.
Instinct had kicked in, telling me to flee.
I snatched some clothes, stuffed them into my duffel, and shot from the building. I’d hoped the cops might still loiter outside. They wanted clues to apprehending a criminal? I had clues.
Gil had an airtight alibi this time. Nothing could beat being in police custody while an obvious threat to my life was left uninvited in my apartment. I could tell them about the kidnapper—give the right license plate. I could do my part in protecting Gil for a change.
But no cruiser sat at the curb. No badges and protection were there to jot down my sudden willingness to talk. Only a young couple strolling arm in arm kept me safe as I bowled from my building and almost tripped into them.
Their eyes widened at my bright green skin then snickered as I stumbled in my haste.
My hands shook as I unlocked Gil’s hatchback, threw my bag in the back, and buckled in. My driving skills were rusty. But I shoved aside trepidation and tore into gear, my mind careening with scenarios and solutions. Gil wanted me to go to his warehouse. But the guy knew where Gil lived. He’d beaten him up and tried to kidnap me right outside—I daren’t go there on my own.
I’d driven down my street, joined the main road, and chewed my lip while contemplating answers. Then I’d looked behind me and spotted company. Company that had never left my tail since leaving my building.
Maybe it’s just a coincidence.
My eyes flickered to the rear-view mirror again, studying the black van. The late afternoon sun glinted on scratched paintwork, revealing a dent that matched the one I’d seen when Gil had been on his knees accepting unretaliated abuse.
It wasn’t a coincidence, and for the first time, Gil’s warnings of danger were no longer an inconvenient threat but a very real concern.
One hand dropped from the steering wheel as I once again scooped up my phone and pressed redial. I hopped into a new lane, haphazardly turning left with no indicator.
I studied my follower as frustrating ringing filled my ear.
The black van mimicked me, earning a honk from some motorist in his rush to chase me around the corner.
My heart stopped.
This was real.
He wasn’t just going in my direction. He was hunting me.
The call once again didn’t connect, and I was done being the scared mouse. It’d been a while since I’d driven—thanks to using public transport on a budget—
but I didn’t let that stop me as I stomped on the accelerator and shot forward.
Veering into another lane, I overtook the blue sedan in front of me and ran the amber light while others pulled to a stop.
The van raced forward, cutting the light as it turned red.
Prickles of foreboding galloped over my skin. My eyes flickered to the fuel gauge.
Quarter tank.
How far would that get me before I ran out of ability to run? Where the hell could I go? My parents weren’t in the country. Gil was otherwise engaged. My dance friends wouldn’t know what to do with me after my vanishing act and lack of communication the past few years.
I literally had no one to turn to and nowhere to go.
I sped up, shooting down a side street that led to a quaint cobblestone lane.
Bad move.
Pedestrians clogged the space as well as food carts spilling from the curb.
Flattening my palm on the horn, I earned a few one finger salutes as I inched my way forward. The van followed, our chase turning from quick to crawl.
With my elbow, I locked the doors, grateful that this uninspiring hatchback at least had central locking. At this speed, the guy could jump from his vehicle and walk to get me.
Come on!
I honked again, ducking low from people’s glowers.
My phone slid from my thigh into the crook of my lap as I feathered my foot from brake to gas pedal. I scooped it up again, redialling for the sixth time.
Ring.
Ring.
Answer machine.
I hung up.
Reaching the end of the lane, I looked behind me. The van hugged my bumper, crowding me into traffic.
I’d run out of options, and I didn’t have the driving skills of a stunt car operator to lose him. I hadn’t wanted to turn to Justin. I hadn’t wanted to replay the past by leaning on Justin because Gil wasn’t there for me. Gil was there for me—he was just incapacitated currently.
But...I don’t really have a choice.
The van nudged me, shuttling me forward as I pulled to yet another crawl at a zebra crossing with a mum pushing a pram.
I threw him a nasty gesture, allowing my anger to hide my fear. No way would he make a murderer out of me by running her down all to save myself.
With trembling hands, I pulled up Justin’s details and shot forward as the woman reached the pavement. I hesitated a few seconds before pressing call, wincing at what Gil would say, knowing that I’d once again used Justin for my own devices.
Swallowing hard, I activated the speaker and placed the ringing phone on my lap. Planting both hands on the steering wheel, I crept over the speed limit again, trying to put some space between me and the van.
“Miller speaking.”
The line crackled a little, but relief shot through my heart. “Justin, it’s Olin.”
“O? Everything okay?”
“Um. Not really.” I took a corner sharply, cursing as the van managed to manoeuvre the same path.
“What’s going on?” Justin’s tone slipped from casual to sharp. “You in trouble?”
That was Justin.
He might’ve been the boy everyone liked at school, but it wasn’t because of some misplaced popularity contest or ego. He genuinely cared. He was thoughtful and sweet, and it’d been my broken heart over Gil that had drawn him to me.
I hadn’t actively tried to date another person. But Justin had seen my tears and offered a shoulder to cry on. He tried to make me happy.
Justin was like me.
It made him feel good to help others. And even though we were too similar to date long term, I’d allowed Justin to soothe me and hid my cringes when he’d kissed me. I’d ignored the fact that I had no romantic interest in him because I’d missed Gil so, so much.
Also, knowing Gil saw me with him...well, the vindictiveness was sweet after heartbreak.
Guilt rose.
Guilt for hurting Justin as well as Gil.
Guilt for hurting myself.
“Olin...you can tell me. If you need help, you know I’m always—”
“There for me. I know.” My knuckles turned white on the steering wheel. God, how could I betray Gil’s confidence? How much could I spill without telling everything—including the parts I didn’t know myself?
I accelerated, taking another corner too fast. “I don’t have time to explain, but I’m being chased by someone Gil was protecting me from. I don’t have anywhere to go and daren’t go to Gil’s on my own.”
“Where’s Gilbert?” Justin demanded. “He isn’t with you?”
“He’s, um...elsewhere.”
“Where are you?”
“Driving around, trying to lose unwanted company.”
Justin sucked in a breath. “What do you need from me?”
“I don’t really know. I just need somewhere I can be safe.”
“Come here.”
“Where’s here?”
“My work. I’m the CFO of Abacus Accounting. We’re on the main drag downtown.”
“I don’t think I can get there. How would I park? Where would I get out without this arsehole grabbing me?”
He went silent for a second, then strict control entered his voice. “Go to Gil’s.”
“But I just said—”
“Go to Gilbert’s. I’ll meet you there.”
“I don’t think the two of us will scare this guy away. He hurt Gil last time—” I shut myself up. How much did Justin know of Gil’s life?
But Justin didn’t ask for more details; his mind already on other distractions. “Keep driving for ten minutes, then get to the warehouse. I’ll bring reinforcements.”
He hung up.
Reinforcements?
I slipped through another orange light and looked at the clock.
I had no idea what that meant, but I had ten minutes to kill.
Ten minutes until this ended—for better or for worse.
I shot forward, doing my best to vanish.
* * * * *
The van shadowed my every move as I turned into the warehouse precinct and followed the long drive past other used and derelict buildings to Gil’s painting empire.
I’d done my best to shake my shadow, but I wasn’t quick enough, and he was determined.
I’d waited fifteen minutes before driving to Gil’s, knowing that it was a one-way entrance, and once I was outside warehouse twenty-five, there was no going back.
With my heart thrumming, I inched farther from public view, begging Justin to have a decent welcome committee. My shoulders slouched in gratefulness when I spotted three cars parked outside Gil’s place. Four men in black suits with arms crossed loitered against their expensive sedans.
Thank God.
The van that’d ridden my ass the entire trip, slowed and fell back.
I sped up, putting distance between us as I shot to where Justin stood, and parked swiftly. Launching out of the hatchback with my phone in hand, I jogged to him and turned to face the van.
It hulked in the middle of the road with warehouse debris on either side and evening light dappling it in softness. Standing next to Justin and his friends, I felt like an idiot—as if I’d made up the seriousness of the threat.
Justin reached out and squeezed my hand, giving me a quick smile. “You all good?”
I nodded, unable to take my eyes off the van but equally unable to leave my hand in his. Tugging away slightly, I returned his smile with a huge sigh of gratefulness. “Thanks so much for helping me.”
“Not at all.” He nodded at his friends. “Let’s go pay our unwanted guest a visit, shall we?”
The men, who looked as if they regularly attended a gym but their natural habitat was behind a desk, moved forward in a black-suited crowd with Justin in the middle.
I trailed behind them, peering into the windshield of the van, trying to see past the window’s glare to the driver beyond.
Is it the same guy?
Was Gil being black
mailed by a single person or multiple?
Passing the hatchback with its engine still running, the men balled their hands in an obvious threat. Justin cocked his chin, his profile harsh and cutting in the early evening shadows.
The van didn’t move. A black stain on the horizon. It sat and accepted their threat until only a few metres existed between vehicle and man.
I shook with adrenaline, trembling at confronting the very person who terrified me and made Gil’s life a living hell. I wanted him arrested. I wanted him dealt with so he could stop hurting Gil so badly.
But as Justin struck into a jog and his friends followed, the van’s engine squealed. It shot into reverse, zooming down the road, too fast to be caught.
The guys slowed to a walk. One of them took a photo of the van’s license plate while another chucked a rock in the vehicle’s direction.
The van swerved at the end of the drive and disappeared into traffic.
It happened so fast, I once again felt like an overreacting idiot.
I fell back as Justin spoke to his friends.
The murmur of masculine voices blended well with the buzz of the city and hum of whatever other industries were alive in the unassuming warehouse buildings. I looked down at my phone, moving away.
Should I call Gil again? How much longer could the police keep him?
With my thoughts on Gil, I didn’t look up until the snarl of engines stole my attention, signalling Justin’s mates were leaving. I waved in thanks, wishing I’d been more sociable than worrying over Gil.
I owed them the biggest thank you.
My heart skipped a beat as Justin threw a hand up in farewell, then headed toward me. His eyes held lines of stress, but his mouth quirked into a smile. “You sure you’re okay?”
I nodded, slipping into step with him. “Yes. Thanks again for all your help.”
He shrugged. “That’s what friends are for.”
“Were those guys your friends?”
“I work with them. All good blokes even if they are accountants. One holds a championship in amateur boxing.”
“Impressive.”
“It’s handy when you have someone threatening you.” His gaze narrowed. “Want to tell me what’s going on?”
The Body Painter (Master of Trickery Book 1) Page 36
