Leather & Lace- THE SPECTER SERIES [book five]

Chapter FIFTY

Lacey Paxton

The growl of an engine greets you awake as you crack your bleary eyes to see soft black leather beneath you and you realise you are moving.. Gently swaying and bouncing in the backseat of a car..

Your skull throbs angrily where you had been struck earlier.. Your neck is terribly tender from the choking and your back aches in about ten different places..

You blink your sore, exhausted eyes a little wider open, twisting your neck around to see the back of Kingsley's head, his muddy brown hair dishevelled and his knuckles white as he grips the steering wheel and growls into his cell phone.. "I don't give a fuck, Donald.. You were supposed to handle these Specter arseholes!! Must I do everything?!.."
He snaps again after taking only a few seconds to pause for response.. "The little bitch shot Jake.. No.. I don't give a fuck if he is dead.. He wasn't worth his cut anyway.. I barely got out of there before that FBI-slut showed up.."

You wince, trying to push yourself to sit up slowly.. Head hazy as you realise Kingsley must be talking to Redlend..

This can't be happening again.. The tornado of questions, that whats and whys begin to whip around your flustered mind..
Where is he taking you?!
What will happen to you once you get there?!
The same thing that happened to Kimberly?..
Why does this keep happening?.. Why you?..

The familiar chilling questions send a wave of nausea washing over you head to toe and a crazy plan beginning to formulate in your cracking mind.. "The detectives will be even farther up my arse now.. I DON'T GIVE A FLYING FUK HOW YOU DO IT, JUST FIX IT REDLEND.."

He hangs up the call, and before you can second guess yourself, like a psychotic, feral hellcat you pounce, launching yourself at him, smacking and scratching at his face, tearing out fistfuls of his hair and digging your nails into the sockets of his eyes.. "WHY WON'T YOU JUST FUCKING DIE ALREADY!! LEAVE ME ALONE!! LEAVE ME ALONE!!"

Every once of your hatred is poured into your full on assault, and you only wish you were a bigger woman so that you could inflict even more damage.. You want him to die and you don't care if you have to do it yourself..

Heck.. You don't even care if you die along with him.. Just so long as he is erased.. You screech like a banshee, your own voice completely foreign to your ears.. "I HATE YOU! I FUCKNG HATE YOU!!"

Kingsley sure knew how to talk a big game about 'men's urges' and 'carnal fucking desires', but he most definitely underestimated one thing.. The 'fight or flight' instinct..
Your primal survival drive.. It's working double time right now and Kingsley took away the flight option when he locked you in this car with him, making fight your only option..

"You crazy little cunt!.. Get the fuck off me--" He swats and smacks at you..
Something about knowing what lies at the end of this drive gives you a sense of reckless abandon.. Nothing matters anymore.. The car swerves and sways dangerously as he shouts and swings his arms defensively.. But you don't care, because you'd rather die in a fiery wreck than reach whatever destination it is he has planned.. "GET OFF!!"

Tyres screech against the street as the black Rolls Royce barrels into the intersection..

- CRASH -

The violent sideways impact of the pickup truck as it t-bones the car sends you careening head first into the door of the backseat like a floppy ragdoll.. Glass shatters, raining down over you like razor sharp shards of glitter and the sound of metal on metal as it screams in agony grating against itself as the cabin crumples around you..

Time passes in sluggish slow motion, almost frozen, the world crystallised before you for just a single silent moment as the spike of your adrenaline overflows.. But the worst of it is over in just a few seconds.. The car skids to a stop, completely totaled in the centre of the midtown intersection, the perpetual blaring honk of the horn almost lost to your deaf ears that buzz as if filled with starved mosquitos..