Jewels and Panties (Book, Three): Sea Of Secrets Read online

  Table of Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Book Three

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Sea Of Secrets

  Jewels And Panties Series

  Book Three

  Brooke Kinsley

  © 2017 All Rights Reserved

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other non-commercial uses per law

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

  "Erotica is literature designed to be read with one hand.."-Brooke Kinsley

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  Contents

  Description

  Chapter One LINCOLN

  Chapter Two ETTA

  Chapter Three LINCOLN

  Chapter Four JET

  Chapter Five ETTA

  Chapter Six LINCOLN

  Chapter Seven JET

  Chapter Eight ETTA

  Chapter Nine LINCOLN

  Chapter Ten DETECTIVE BERGER

  Chapter Eleven RORY

  Chapter Twelve ETTA

  Bonus Chapters

  About The Author

  Description

  ETTA

  I should have known he was too good to be true. I should have guessed he’d never be interested in me. After discovering a pair of Jet’s panties in his jacket pocket, I go on a quest back to the Waters’ House to discover who she really is. She’s hiding a secret and everyone knows it and I’m sure she’s sleeping with Lincoln. Who else would have given her that ring?

  Meanwhile, the rumors are spreading. I catch snippets here and there but none of it makes sense. All I know is that the house is at the center of an unspeakable scandal, one that’s seeing the girls being killed off one by one and somehow Lincoln’s involved. If only I could stop myself falling in love with him.

  LINCOLN

  I’m falling in love with her and she has to know. The only problem is that she found my secret and ran away back to the house, back to Phaedra’s lair where only the most wicked and evil acts take place.

  If only she didn’t jump to conclusions.

  If only she realized I’ve only ever been faithful to her!

  On a crusade to get her back, I only have one choice. Go back to that house and reveal everything. Except she might be closer to the truth than she realizes.

  Chapter One

  Lincoln

  Harold was sat in the lounge with his mouth dropped open, his lower jaw loose like it was made of rubber. I followed his line of vision and saw he was staring up at the television. Some cheesy show from the eighties played. It looked familiar and watched for a second as a gentleman with oversized shoulder pads made his way around a studio set covered in fake cobwebs and dusty, cardboard books.

  "Hey, I remember this! Unexplained Mysteries, right?"

  I sat down beside him and laughed.

  "This used to be the scariest and the best thing about Wednesday night when I was a kid."

  "Shhh..." Harold pressed a finger to his lips without turning his head.

  I'd never seen him behave this way over anything that wasn't a donut.

  "Buddy, you okay?"

  He didn't answer at first, not until the show faded out as the modern commercials took its place.

  "That shit is insane," he said at last and closed his mouth.

  I screwed up my face not knowing whether to take him seriously or not.

  "Eh?"

  "The story just there. It blew my mind!” he exclaimed with his hand making a wild exploding gesture around his head like a halo made from his fingers.

  I searched his eyes for signs that he was joking but by the tightness of the muscles on his face and the way he blinked over and over like a startled fawn, I knew he was being serious.

  "I never took you as being someone who believed in all that stuff," I said.

  He darted his eyes from side to side as though he was considering imparting a delectable secret.

  "You're an intelligent man," he said and shifted closer to me.

  He smelled like sweat and carbolic soap, a peculiar combination that stung my nostrils.

  "And you're a nice guy aren't you? You wouldn't laugh at me," he continued, his fingers tugging at his short collar. “Would you?”

  He looked over his shoulder as though he was terrified someone was listening but the only thing that accompanied us was the spitting and hissing coffee machine in the corner.

  "I'm not going to laugh at you," I said. "Believe me, I've heard just about everything."

  "That's what I thought," he replied and glanced out into the hall through the small window. A group of nursing students hurried past like a gaggle of geese, all pristine white uniforms and still unread books clutched to their chests.

  "What's up with you, Harold? No one's listening."

  As though he just realized how manic he looked, he took a deep breath and eased back into his seat.

  "Sorry, yeah I was acting a bit mad there. Sorry, it's just that... fuck... Shut up Harold."

  For a moment, I was terrified his mind was starting to unravel.

  "Look, buddy, if there's something bothering you, you can tell me."

  He picked at a loose piece of skin along the edge of his thumbnail.

  "Jesus, you must think I'm a nut. It's just that I had this... this experience... recently. This weird thing happened."

  He began nibbling on the edge of his thumb and as he pulled his hand away, I saw there was a trickle of blood pooling into his nail bed. Gently, I placed my hand on his and pressed it down into the seat before he hurt himself.

  "Like... a paranormal experience?" I asked.

  He nodded, his eyes cast down to the floor as though he was ashamed.

  "I can't stop thinking about it! It's got me thinking, got me looking into things."

  "Oh yeah? Like what?"

  Standing up, he strode over to the water cooler and filled a cup. Draining it in one before crushing it between his fingers and aiming it at th
e trash can. It bounced off the lid and tumbled to the floor but with his mind preoccupied he didn't notice and returned to his seat.

  "Okay. So I was in the operating room the day before yesterday. You weren't here, remember? You were volunteering over at the Waters House."

  Oh God, that place.

  I'd been trying to forget all about it since I took Etta away from there in the middle of last night. I made a mental note to call her before I returned to surgery and I found myself smiling at the thought of her and the way she held me as I slept. I thought about the way her body had shaken when I touched her in the right place and how she'd listened to me when I'd confessed my deepest secret.

  If only I was at home tucked up with her now. If only her soft hands were in my hair and she was lulling me to sleep.

  "What are you smirking at?" Harold asked, annoyed.

  Catching sight of my reflection in the window, I noticed just how wide my smile was.

  "Sorry, it's nothing. Please, go on."

  I put on my most serious, concerned face and leaned forward on my thighs. With my frown back in place, Harold continued.

  "It was operating room eight," he said and reached up to massage his forehead as though the mere thought of the place gave him a migraine. "I was with a patient, Suzanne Atkins."

  The name sounded familiar.

  "The lawyer's wife who was in for reconstructive surgery after a ruptured breast implant?"

  Surprisingly, we had quite a few of those.

  "Yeah!" Harold erupted. "You remember her?"

  "Sure! Her husband's Rory Atkins. Met him a few times. If I'm not mistaken he managed to get that ball player acquitted of murder. You know, the one who ran over a pregnant woman when he was high."

  "Shit! That’s her husband."

  He buried his head in his hands and made a strange whimpering noise. Breaking down and crying in front of me, he clenched his eyes closed and trembled. Instinctively, I reached over and touched his back. It felt strange like we were having an intimate yet improper moment when we should have refined our behavior to being professional and awkward.

  "I didn't realize that's who she was married to," came his muffled voice from somewhere deep within his hands.

  "So what if it is?" I asked. "Why does it matter?"

  He peeled his fingers away from his face to reveal bloodshot eyes.

  "Because she's dead, Bosworth. She's dead.”

  Chapter Two

  Etta

  I’d waited until he left for the hospital before I pulled the Ziploc bag out from under the bed where I’d hidden it the night before. Holding it in my hand, I listened to the way the plastic crumpled and saw how the panties looked so small, too small almost as if they’d be better fitted to a child than an adult.

  Of course, Jet wasn’t a child anymore but she wasn’t far off. The teenager was a real firecracker of a girl and last night she sure as shit had a bee in her bonnet about Lincoln and me. Meanwhile, I still hadn’t the faintest idea of what was going on.

  Last night, after I found the panties, I’d slid them along the floor until they were safely tucked away beneath where we slept and I’d not said a word. I couldn’t, not after what he just told me. As I walked back out onto the balcony with his coffee, he seemed so vulnerable, so sad and demoralized.

  Lying beside him, I’d stroked the top of his head and told him everything was going to be alright. I listened to the way his breathing slowed and how he fell asleep with his head on my bare breasts, thinking about Jet the entire time and how her soiled underwear was only a moment ago, hanging between my fingers.

  As he slept, I wondered if everything he’d just revealed to me was a lie. Was the whole thing an act? A cover-up? I was too confused to set all my thoughts out in order and stared up at the sky as he snored softly, the stars sparkling above the forest as my mind became numb.

  Soon, the wind picked up and I shivered, holding onto his body for warmth. He’d woken up as the sheets were picked up by the breeze and smiled when he noticed I was still in his arms.

  “Let’s go to bed,” he said and I hesitated for a moment.

  I couldn’t touch him like I’d done earlier, not now after what I’d found.

  “I’m really tired,” I said, making him know I was in no mood to do anything.

  “Me too,” he replied and led me up the stairs.

  Once in the luxury of the bedroom, he’d fallen asleep easily like a man with a squeaky clean conscience. On the other hand, I’d done nothing but stare up at the ceiling looking for answers. Answers to everything, to what was happening between Lincoln and Jet, to why my mom as traveling around the world with her toyboy, to why Craig thought it would be okay to throw our life savings away. There was so much betrayal and confusion and not enough resolution.

  This morning, as he jumped out of bed and headed for the shower, he smiled and kissed me as though nothing was wrong. There was no mention of what he told me, no inclination that something sinister was simmering inside that head of his, but there must have been. There was no way of explaining how Jet’s underwear was in his pocket only hours after she was apparently with him.

  “Okay, sweety?” he asked as he pulled on his suit.

  I so badly wanted to hurl the panties at him in a fit of rage and demand to know what was going on but I was so intimidated by how powerful he looked, how powerful the house was. It felt as though it was impossible to go against the splendor and wealth of the place, of its solitude, of its dominance, of its owner…

  He may have been dashingly handsome and charming, so easy going and affectionate but I knew an empire like his came from a place of great genius, a place I could never touch upon even if I wanted to. Something told me there was no way I’d hear the truth even if I asked him for it. A man like him could outsmart me and buy me and sell me, discard me once he was bored and always leave me wanting more.

  Looking up at him, I was so overcome by the compulsion to stay silent in fear of disrupting the delicate web my life balanced on, but there was something else too. Maybe it was a certain kind of madness that came from feeling vulnerable. Or maybe it was the fact that I knew I was falling in love with him, tumbling headlong into an enigmatic abyss without knowing what would happen once I crashed to the bottom. Perhaps I’d fall to my death.

  But what if I grow wings?

  As he pulled on his coat and grabbed his keys, I did nothing but watch the handsomeness of his face with pure adoration in my eyes. It was the little things that triggered my infatuation, the smallest of gestures like the way he ran his hand through his hair or how he raised only a single eyebrow when he asked a question. It was the way he smiled and two precise dimples puckered up the sides of his cheeks giving his masculine, square face a hint of youthful softness. It was the way he kissed me until I was dizzy.

  I watched him leave without saying a word and regretted it the second the bedroom door closed. Rushing to the balcony, I listened out for his car and heard the rumble of his exhaust echo off the nearby mountain. Craning my neck and looking through the trees, I caught a glimpse of the shiny, black body of his car that slinked its way between the trees like a scarab.

  “What the hell am I doing?” I asked myself as I let the morning sunshine cover my body.

  Ashamed for not confronting him, I sat in front of the coffee machine for a long while deciding what I should do. It would seem I had a few options. I could present him with my findings the second he returned, but I didn’t like that idea much. At best it would cause an argument and I was never too good at being shouted at.

  Alternatively, I could stay silent and wait… Just wait until it all started to make sense but the more I thought about it, the more I realized that wouldn’t happen. I’d never make sense of the situation unless I went out and found it.

  The Waters House… That’s where it all began.

  Against my better judgement, I found myself grabbing my purse and calling a cab. I needed to get back over to there. Now all I had to decide
was what I was going to do once I got there.

  Chapter Three

  Lincoln

  “She can’t be dead,” I said, incredulous. “There was nothing wrong with her!”

  “That’s what I thought but you know these rich girls. They love their pain meds, love anything as long as it’s white and powdery. I didn’t know she was a cocaine addict. I swear to God I didn’t. She went into cardiac arrest right there on the table.”

  “You’re kidding,” I murmured and cursed my choice of words.

  “But she came back… For a little while she came back,” he continued. “And do you know what she said to me?”

  I shook my head and leaned forward, desperate to hear what he’d say next.

  “It was the craziest thing, Bosworth. I swear you won’t believe it. She opened her eyes and looked right at me. Right at me! She had this serene look on her face like she’d glimpsed heaven.”

  “Probably the effects of the anesthetic,” I interjected.

  He dismissed me with a flick of his hand.

  “Like she’d really been there,” he said.

  “Been to heaven?”

  He nodded.

  “She smiled and turned to me, her head swiveling like a broken doll’s and do you know what she said?”

  He gulped and turned away, horrified at his own memories.

  “She said ‘don’t worry doc, it’s beautiful up there. I saw the pink sticker’. Then she closed her eyes and just… died.”

  For a long while, there was nothing but silence between us and a sagging, lackluster energy. He’d revealed his story and was now exhausted and cleansed of the pent up terror he felt.

  “You believe me, don’t you?” he asked.