Five Alarm Lust (17 page)

Neat, utilitarian, the room held little of her in it. Instead, the massive bed, the dark furniture, were all things her mother had selected. Resolve filled her. There was no way she was staying in this place. First thing in the morning she was going to start looking for a new place to live, one she could afford. Behind her eyes, a headache began to pound. She rubbed at the lids, curled on the bed, her gaze on the blinking light of her alarm clock. Tomorrow, she’d get started packing, so when she found a place…

Chapter 17

Gillian eyed the clock as she finished her breakfast. She tossed a bill on the table, donned her simple tweed coat, and headed for her car. There was a lot to do before she had to get to work. With Jack coming at eight, she wanted to be sure she was ready. She pulled the list she’d made before leaving the house from her pocket and stared at it.

Tucking it out of sight before anyone else could see it, Gillian hurried to her car. The engine roared to life with the turn of the key. With her belt in place, she headed for the local drugstore. That would be her first stop, but not her last.

Ten minutes later, her face on fire, she stood in the drugstore staring at the display in front of her. With a glance up and down the aisle, she lifted a box from the hanger and flipped it over. “Ribbed for her pleasure. Guaranteed 99.9 percent safe against the transmission of sexually transmitted diseases such as HIV and AIDS.” Confused, she glanced at the rest of the boxes and sighed. What in the hell was she doing looking at condoms? It wasn’t her responsibility, was it? Yes, it was. Even if he brought his own, she wanted to show him she was serious about this.

After dropping a couple of varieties into the basket on her arm, she all but fled. With the basket tucked against her, she browsed the bubble bath, her mind on her favorite scent and how it would be nice to share a bath with him. The ring of her cell pulled her from her appraisal of the strawberry scent.

“Hello.” Absently she set the bottle back on the shelf, her eye catching on the lavender flowers on another.

“Good morning, Gillian.” Doctor Reimer’s voice filtered through the phone. “How are you?”

“Um, okay.” Dropping her selection in the basket, she hovered for a moment before heading for the checkout. “What can I do for you?”

“I wanted to call you and see how you were doing. You missed Tuesday’s appointment.”

“I did?” Gillian slapped a hand to her forehead. “I did. Sorry, I was busy.”

“Were you doing something you wanted? I see you often enough to know you’re doing a lot better than you were a year ago. I’m happy with your progress and just don’t want to see you letting your mother ruin it.”

“I know. I was out with a friend.” Gillian smiled nervously at the clerk and put her purchases on the counter. “We, um, went to the museum.”

“Gillian, I’m concerned about you. Do you have time to stop by my office today? I know you’re busy, but it’s important. Your mother called me, ranting about you going off your meds. She’s a real… Well, I’m worried about you.”

Gillian bit back a curse, handed over the cash, and took her goods. Obviously her mother hadn’t forgotten her rebellion if she was calling her therapist and not the doctor she’d been seeing before. “I can just imagine that call. I’m not in town at the moment, but I can be back there within the next hour. Would that work?”

“Quite nicely. See you then.”

Gillian hurried from the store. She tossed her things in the back of the car and cranked the engine over. Reversing out of the parking spot, she tapped the steering wheel, fuming at her mother’s high handedness.

Why can’t she just leave me alone? What good comes from haunting me with this bull? Now I’m going to be late for work! Oh goodness, Jack’ll be at the house at eight and I still have so much to do.

Tired, Gillian trudged up to the door of Doctor Reimer’s office and rang the bell. A moment later she smiled at her therapist who held the door open for her. Stepping into the warm foyer, she glanced around. “So, Mother called you, huh?”

“Yes, she’s concerned you’re off your meds.” Doctor Reimer used her hands to make quotations, a wry smile on her face. “Something about being confrontational?”

“I kicked her out of my house when she yelled at me for going out with Jack,” Gillian admitted. “Acting like I’m a two-year-old. So I told her off.”

“She mentioned you and Mike may be working on reconciliation. I nearly died on a spit-take, my poor desk got coffee all over it.” Doctor Reimer paused, her brows puckered. “I was shocked when she called, and even more so when she said that. I don’t mean to be an alarmist, but your mother is not well. Thinking you’re going to rekindle a relationship with the man who attempted to kill you is hardly an indicator of a healthy mind. Were I to hear of this, I would strongly advise against such an act.”

Gillian held up a hand. “She gave Mike my phone number; that’s not reconciliation at all. It’s pure spite. It’s something she has always done: tried to control every facet of my life.”

“Gillian, I think it may be time to consider the relationship you and your mother have is simply too toxic for you to continue. Have you thought of simply disconnecting from her?”

“Yes, I’ve thought of it. Knowing she’s been speaking to Mike has only reinforced my desire to cut her from my life.” Gillian frowned. “Still, it’s a rather daunting idea.”

“Has he called?”

Gillian flushed, ducking her head slightly. The old fear rearing its ugly head again as the memory of his voice slithered over her. Even now, fully clothed, she felt exposed, vulnerable, and she hated it. “Yes. Basically told me he wasn’t going to let me go. Like I’m a piece of meat or something he can own. I hung up on him and then mother called. It was a stressful evening.”

“First thing tomorrow morning I want you to call Robert. Get him working on stopping the calls from Mike. The man is not to be calling you or having any contact whatsoever.”

“Can he get rid of my mother too?” Gillian forced a giggle. “Look, I’m sorry I missed our meeting. Just a lot on my mind and I forgot. I better get going. I still have to grab some boxes before I get home and clean up. I have to work and then I have company coming tonight.”

“Oh? Boxes? Company? Have you been…”

“I started dating a very nice man. We’re going to have dinner tonight at my place. The boxes are because I’ve given up my lease and need to find somewhere to live.”

“Well, I’ll wish you the best with both the dating and the move. I’ve scheduled you in for Friday, so please try and make it this time.”

“Friday? I’ll be here, and thank you for letting me know about Mother. I hope she doesn’t bother you again.” Gillian shuffled from the house. She closed the front door and palmed her cell a second before it started ringing.

She smiled as she recognized her home number. Pride flared at the thought she’d managed to figure out how to forward her calls. She hit Talk.
Maybe it’s Jack
. “Hello?”

“Hey, babe, where you at?” Mike’s voice oozed over her.

“The police station. Just gave my statement in regards to your harassing calls.” Gillian leaned against the door, her hands shaking violently.

“Now that ain’t nice.”

“Do not call me. You’re insane if you think I’m going to let you back in my life in any way! Fucking nuts,” Gillian ground out, anger pushing at her fear until both were locked in a head-to-head battle she wasn’t sure either could win.

“Don’t take that tone with me. Your momma said she invited you to dinner. I expect you to dress nicely and go.”

“Like hell. You have no say in my life, not now, not ever.” Gillian whirled around, her eyes widening at the opening of the door. Doctor Reimer stood in the doorway, a pensive look on her face. “Rot in your cell and leave me the hell alone.”

“Sexless, useless, and dumb. Why your mother kept you—” The snap of the phone reverberated through her.

“I’ll see you Friday, Gillian. Call the police as soon as you get home and let them know he’s harassing you. I’ve already called Robert’s office.”

Gillian nodded and hurried to her car. She really needed a life of her own.

Chapter 18

Lying on his lumpy cot, he tossed a ball in the air and caught it. The thought of fifty thousand dollars was impressive, but the risks weren’t something he wanted or needed. He didn’t want to go back, didn’t want to be around men like Mike Kilpatrick. He shuddered at the image of Mike’s features as he spoke to him.

A simple job: remove an irritant. One who should have been gone a long time ago. Easy work. His eyes shone with a weird light, almost as though he was getting off on planning the job.

Ignoring the angry creaking of his bed, he rolled over to pick up the phone and dialed the number on a scrap of paper. Maybe he was over reactin’; no harm in checking it out. Right?

“Hello?” Smooth, sultry, the woman’s voice held little warmth.

“Heard you got a pest.”

“Yes, yes I do. Rather large one. It’s my understanding you can help me.”

“Possibly. If I can’t I got a friend. What do you need done?”

“There’s an obstacle between me and a rather large sum of money. I need the obstacle removed. She won’t be a problem at all. Too much of a mouse to do anything.”

His stomach knotted. “Price’s going up. Got a pen? I’ll give you a post office box number in town. Write down the details on what you want done and when and mail ’em to this address. I’ll pick ’em up in two days and get back to you on the price.” He hung up, the receiver hot in his hand. No, he wouldn’t do it.

With a trembling finger he dialed a number, waited, and counted the rings. “Hello, bonjour, Drumheller Royal Canadian Mounted Police. How may I direct your call?”

“I need to speak to someone to report a crime.”

“One moment please.”

Swinging his legs over the edge of the bed, he leaned forward, his head resting on his palm, elbow on his knee. A brusque male voice came on and he straightened. “Yeah, I, um, I had a buddy in jail request I help with a job. You got a pen and paper and I’ll give you what details I have.”

“It’s a woman wants her daughter killed. They live here in town. I made initial contact, will have more information in two days. Do you have anyone who could intercept the mail?”

“We do. We’d like more details if we’re going to stop this woman.”

He leaned back against the wall, smiled, and held the phone closer to his ear. “Sure, sure. Glad to help. I ain’t about to go back to prison.”

* * * *

Gillian slipped her glasses into place and stared at the mirror above her bathroom sink. Her dark hair hung in curls around her face, a touch of makeup highlighted her eyes, and her full lips wore the rose-colored lipstick well. The faint color to her cheeks only added to her appeal.

She looked good. The blue blouse and simple black skirt didn’t reveal more than she was comfortable with and weren’t prudish. Straightening the blouse, she smoothed her skirt into place and turned the light off. She inhaled the smell of salmon and lemon filling the house. It was amazing what she’d managed to get done in just under an hour. She giggled softly at the memory of her boss’ stunned expression when she told him she had a date and needed to leave a few minutes early.

Jack had proven to be unfailingly gallant, their dates worked around the work schedules they had, and she was feeling more than a little spoiled. Dinner, movies, picnics, walks along the river, romantic get-togethers guaranteed to leave her burning for more. She shivered, her nipples hardening at the memory of their phone conversation the day before. “Tonight,” Gillian promised herself as she checked the oven. “Tonight, we’ll see if it’s as good as I remember.” The oven door closed with a soft thud as she turned the temperature off to allow the salmon to rest. She strode through the living room to the massive bay windows and lifted the curtains to peek out.

She flushed as she bumped against the television, pausing to double check she hadn’t left one of her adult-type research videos in the slot. With a sigh of relief, she glanced around the room. Nothing seemed out of place, everything had been put away, tidied up, and cleaned. She could smell the faint scent of her wood polish and smiled. Yes, he’d be pleased.

Candles rested on their holders, waiting for the strike of a match. Her computer desk was cleaned off, the only thing visible her desktop protector. Everything was as ready as it could be.

“He’ll be here soon. Dinner is nearly ready. I should get the bedroom ready.” Gillian scurried down the hall to her bedroom. She sat on the edge of her bed and pulled open the bedside table’s drawer. Condoms, lubricant, even a few of those silk scarves. Her hand rested on her abdomen, the vague hope of calming the butterflies going by way of the wind. “Candles!” Shaky fingers lit the columns of wax sitting atop her dresser. The dancing flames gave just the right amount of light for her to feel secure. Blowing them out, she hurried back to the kitchen.

“Why on earth would I have him come here for a date?” She adjusted a plate on the table. Her fingers plucked at imaginary lint from a napkin. A glance at the clock revealed Jack would be arriving shortly, something she was immensely grateful for. Better to get dinner over with quick and painless rather than prolong the agony. Food wasn’t really what she wanted—no, she would rather know if he really wanted her.

Using the remote, she turned the stereo on and the soft throb of music filled the silence. The light from the fridge spilled out onto the floor as she pulled out a bottle of wine. She wrapped it in a chilled dish towel, set it on the counter, and grabbed two glasses from the cupboard.

Gillian jumped at the peel of the doorbell, smoothed her sweaty palms down her skirt, and hurried to answer the summons. She smiled at the single white lily Jack held out to her. “Oh, it’s beautiful.” Sniffing at it, she stood back, waving a hand at him to usher him inside. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” Jack glanced around as he pulled off his leather jacket and hung it on the rack next to the door. Dressed in tan slacks, a white shirt, and tie, he looked mouth-watering.

Gillian hid her face in the flower, hoping he wouldn’t catch her licking her lips. Desire flooded through her, the urge to see if he tasted as good as he looked powerful. She turned and hurried toward the kitchen.