Five Alarm Lust (6 page)

* * * *

Gillian opened the simple white envelope and pulled out the contents. Reading it, she felt her stomach drop. With a shaky hand, she tossed her keys onto the foyer table, dropped her briefcase, and strode into the elegant two-bedroom apartment she’d lived in for two years.

Dear Ms. Hilliard, it has come to my attention your lease is nearly up. To ensure there are no delays in processing, please have your mother submit for our consideration the renewal forms no later than ten days past the date of receipt of this letter. We value your tenancy, but we do need to ensure all paperwork is in order. Sincerely, Sun Rivers Property Management

Gillian sank onto the stool at the island and stared at the letter.

A sob escaped her tightly pursed lips, loud in the heavy silence. She shook her head desperately and pressed a hand to her mouth. Betrayal lashed at her with the cruel intent of a million tiny knives. Even this, a home, a roof over her head, was controlled by the icy touch of her mother’s grasp.

She crumpled the ball up and tossed it aside, fury rising at the thought of her mother’s continued meddling. Gillian strode to her bedroom, her fingers making short work of the buttons on her blouse. She stripped and with a cold calculation put on sweats, an old stained T-shirt, and a pair of oversized men’s socks. She pulled her hair back from her face and appraised the already spotless apartment. Nausea rocked her stomach. Gillian pushed past it and grabbed the bottle of polish and a soft rag.

“I hate that bitch!” Fuming, she sprayed, waxed, and polished until a quiet numbness settled over her. The couch groaned when she dropped onto it. She pulled her knees to her chest and rested her forehead against them. “Damn, damn, damn.” Hot, salty tears tracked down her cheeks as the sun faded from the room, leaving her in the dusky light.

Chapter 5

Barbara tapped her scarlet nails against the steering wheel and stared at the battered old Chevy parked in front of the townhouse. She reached over to grab a cigarette, her eyes narrowing when the front door opened and Gillian appeared. The prim skirt and blouse hid any hint of a curve. Gillian carried her briefcase in one hand, the keys to her car in the other. She watched her daughter pause on the sidewalk, push her glasses higher on her nose, and crawl into her car.

Barbara glanced idly at the clock on the dash and smirked. Lenny figured she was over visiting for most of the day. She didn’t need to rush through this, and if it paid off in the end, well, all the better. A hand patted her purse, the checkbook peeking out from the top. Oh yes, it would pay handsomely.

“Where are you off to?” Barbara turned the key, the engine of Lenny’s older car purring. Staying a few meters behind her daughter, she followed her to an upscale neighborhood where she parked at a smaller house. She glanced at her watch and smirked with a hint of glee. Stepping on the gas, she headed north, toward the Drumheller Prison.

When she arrived, humming a tune, she smoothed her skirt down and flashed a smile at the guard on duty. “Good morning.”

The guard glanced at her with an icy detachment. “Morning, ma’am. Which inmate are you here to see?” The slightly overweight guard looked at his computer screen with an unreadable expression.

“I’m here to see Michael Kilpatrick.” Barbara offered her driver’s license and a sweet, seductive smile.

“He’s in holding now, be about ten minutes. Leave your valuables here, fill out this card, and when you leave you can collect them.” He tossed a small white card on the countertop, along with a pen. “You’ll step through that doorway there, passing by the metal detector. As long as it’s clear, you can proceed. The officer on the other side will escort you to the visitation area.”

“Thank you.” Barbara sashayed down the corridor, winking at a younger, handsome guard before slipping past the doors and into the common visitor’s lounge. She took a seat at a table and crossed her legs, her skirt riding up a little to reveal muscled calves. She looked up to see Michael strolling in front of two guards toward her.

“No touching.” The male guard escorting him shot a look between both of them.

“Barbara, how delightful.” Slick, even, the rich baritone drew shivers down her spine as she rose to greet the man striding toward her. Dark eyes appraised her carefully, a hint of heat flaring before the guard escorting him ushered him none-too-gently into a seat. “What brings you by? I’ve missed our visits. Heard you got married again. Congratulations.”

“Just came to see how you were doing.” Barbara leaned forward, her blouse gaping enticingly. “Are you still interested in…”

“The bitch is mine. Besides, I hate to leave a loose end.” Mike’s charming persona wavered for a moment before his casual smile was back in place. “Has she been causing you grief?”

“When doesn’t she?” Barbara giggled. “Look, I think we need to reevaluate. I heard they’re looking at doing an audit of her account. If they find out it’s not her making the transactions…”

“They won’t. You’ve made sure there was no paper trail, baby. Relax. Even if they do one, what are they going to do? It’s her signature on the checks, isn’t it? As long as they think so, they’re not going to do anything.” Mike cast an assessing glance around. “And she’s so scared of her shadow she wouldn’t say anything anyway.”

“True. Still, I don’t think we want to take any risks. Remember, darling, with her out of the picture it’ll be just us. Do you think you could get some phone time?”

Mike stared at her cleavage, his tongue sliding out to lick at his lips. “What did you find out?”

“She’s been to the parole board twice. I don’t know what was said, and they won’t tell me anything. I think, perhaps, you should reach out to her. You’ve been such a good boy lately.”

“Got a phone number?”

Barbara giggled, her fingers stroking down his arm. “What’s in it for me, Michael?”

“Oh, I’m sure I can figure something out.”

“So am I. I’ll give you her number. Just remember, slow and easy, nothing too outrageous. I don’t want there to be any suspicion aroused beforehand.” Barbara pulled the slim pink slip of paper from her bra, slid it across the table, her gaze darting around carefully. “Don’t make it too often.”

“Time’s up,” the guard ordered, grabbing the back of Mike’s chair.

“I’ll see you next week?” Barbara coyly batted her lashes and rose, her fingers smoothing her clothes into place as she strolled out of the room. The door clicked behind her and she struggled to contain a smile of glee. It wouldn’t be long, of that she was certain. Not long at all before the bitch was out of the way.

* * * *

Tension settled in her shoulders as Gillian walked along the stone path before a non-descript gray and green house. She pushed the doorbell and waited for the door to open. A heavyset redhead opened the door and ushered her into the foyer.

“Good morning, Miss Hilliard. Doctor Reimer will be with you in a moment. Just have a seat. Can I get you a tea or coffee?”

“No, nothing for me, thank you.” Gillian clutched her purse and sank onto the edge of an overstuffed leather chair. Her eyes darted around the room, unease flowing like water through her. This was a bad idea, the thought echoed in her mind like a pingpong ball. Doctor Reimer would notice too much, and she wasn’t sure she wanted to uncover all the details just yet, least of all to someone who already saw too much. Her face heated with embarrassment at the thought of discussing something so personal, something so raw and untamed, with such a clinical person.

“Good morning, Gillian. Please come in.” Doctor Hillary Reimer held the door open. Her graying hair was pulled back into an elegant French twist, her simple suit cut perfectly. For a second, Gillian felt a flare of jealousy before she squelched it.

“How was the wedding?” Doctor Reimer gestured to a seat as she settled into her chair. “You’ve been back for two weeks now. I can’t imagine spending any length of time with your mother was anything you’d enjoy.”

“It was a wedding.” Gilli shrugged. “More to the point, it was Mother’s wedding. I went, I suffered, I came home. Highlight of my weekend.”

Doctor Reimer scribbled something on her pad, glanced up at her over her glasses, and smiled. “Did you meet anyone?”

Gillian tensed, her face flushing. The question led to others, to ones she didn’t have the guts to answer right now. Maybe later, when she was alone in the darkest part of the night. “Uh, several people. No one worth discussing.”

“Really? Seems you’re a bit flushed about something. Did you have a problem at the wedding with your mother?” she hinted. “Perhaps she brought up Michael again?”

“Nothing I haven’t had before.” Gillian swallowed against the rising tide of fear. It choked her with an icy, brutal grip she couldn’t escape. Shifting on the leather, she mentally groaned at the creak of her chair and glanced toward the window.

“So you met someone then.” Her casual tone did nothing to hide her curiosity, her pen scratching across the pad.

Gillian fidgeted beneath the weight of her gaze. What she’d experienced had opened the floodgates and she was barely keeping afloat. Memories flickered, teasing her mind, her focus, and she clamped down hard, unwilling to share even as she fought the guilt still plaguing her. “Yes, but I don’t want to talk about it.”

“You can’t simply ignore the obvious, Gillian. At some point you have to make up your mind to open your heart again.”

“Sure, sure I will. I just don’t want to discuss my mother’s wedding right now.”

“Is that what we were discussing? I thought we were talking about you meeting someone? However, if the topic is a bit too tender, what should we talk about then?”

Gillian inhaled, fighting against the fear tightening her throat. Staring into her lap, she debated how much to tell. The ticking of the clock seemed to mock her, the steady cadence throbbing with her heart. Inhaling, she glanced at her therapist before her gaze skittered away.

“I’ve been having nightmares again. The bad ones I had when he was writing me just after his sentencing. Just doesn’t seem to be easing no matter what I do. I’ve tried to escape by sleeping with the light on, but it’s not helping. I don’t understand why. It’s not like he’s sent me a letter recently, and I haven’t talked to Mother about him in weeks. Every night it seems I’ve been getting less and less sleep. What sleep I do get that’s not filled with the nightmares is usually filled with…” She cut herself off.

“What happens in the nightmares?”

Gillian plucked at her skirt, a frown marring her face. The dreams were never concrete, never real enough to be spoken of in detail. Or they hadn’t been. Now they’d returned, clearer and more menacing than ever before. “He’s there yelling at me. Telling me I’m worthless,” her voice dropped until she was whispering, “screaming at me how I’m sexless and useless. Taunting me. He and Mother are constantly at me, yelling, screaming, cursing. No matter how I try to escape, they’re both there hovering over me. It’s like it’s stuck on replay, only it never ends. His words just get sharper and sharper.”

“Do they become physical at all?”

Gillian glanced up sharply. As terrifying as these dreams were, there was an element that kept them from being simple replays. “Not all of them. A few have been about that night. Mostly, though, he’s yelling from the sidelines, going on about how sexless I am, how I’m not a good fuck. But it’s not directed at me anymore. It’s directed at Ja…” Gillian slapped a hand over her mouth and stared in horror. She shook her head and half rose, only to settle back when Doctor Reimer gestured for her to remain in her seat.

“Relax.” She smiled. “I’m not here to judge you at all. If Michael isn’t yelling at you, who is he yelling at?”

“Jack. The man I met at the wedding. He’s determined to make him not want me.” Gillian sighed. “I mean, I’ve had really good dreams, ones where Jack and I are … and then Mike pops up screaming, yelling, throwing things. I just don’t get why. I don’t understand why when he stops my mother’s there, harping, yelling, making me miserable.”

“You met someone, Gillian, someone who your mind and body agree is worthy of note. For too long you’ve hidden away from the fact you’re a woman. The nightmares are a means of your mind facing your fears, of opening the doors to what you won’t admit to needing or wanting. There is nothing wrong with needing someone, Gillian, nothing at all. I want you to work on your relaxation exercises, and I want you back in this office in two weeks.” She patted Gillian’s knee, a warm smile on her face. “Good for you. It’s time, and you deserve a little happiness. Have you been doing your journal? I want you to work on it every night. And I want to hear about this man you met.”

“I didn’t…” Gillian flushed, memories floating through her mind. Already she could feel the heat swirling in her belly, the images flashing of how free she’d been.

“Gillian, make an appointment for two weeks and we’ll see you then.”

With a quick nod, Gillian rose and shuffled from the office. Of course her nightmares were linked to her fears. Why wouldn’t they be? She’d come twice! With some stranger she’d met at her mother’s wedding. She got into her battered old Chevy and debated going home or to work. A glance at the clock revealed she could make it in for six hours of work.
Hiding from this in your work is not productive, Gillian.
Doctor Reimer’s voice echoed as she cranked the stereo and started for the university. Productivity could go screw itself, Gillian decided, and turned the stereo up another notch.

* * * *

Kicking off her low-heeled shoes, Gillian carried the take-out bag across to the kitchen and set it on the counter. She dropped her briefcase and turned her computer on. It was still early; a few hours of work could be done before she went to bed. And if it helped to keep the nightmares at bay, well, it was just an extra little perk. Ripping into the burger and fries, she set to work cataloguing the latest arrival of fossils.

The jarring phone shattered the silence and pulled her from her work. She reached for the handset and hit the Talk button. “Hello?” She eyed the window and the streetlights beyond. Gillian blinked as the first one flickered and came on, her attention darting to the clock on the wall.