Bombshell: A BWWM Billionaire Amnesia Romance Suspense Novel (17 page)

Chapter Twenty Six

……Back in Misty Falls

Sam, the owner of the Double XX Bar and Grill hadn’t checked the mail for several days, and when he saw the DVD with the note, he knew deep in his heart that it was bad news.

He couldn’t watch it in his house, because he’d already trashed the place—destroying his television and breaking every dish as he dealt with his loss.

He knew she was dead. That was the only explanation. She would never leave him without the satisfaction of rubbing it in his face.

He put the DVD on the seat next to him and tried not to look at the note, written in black marker.

“A goodbye from Fish-Face for Sam the Worm.”

It wasn’t her handwriting, and she’d never call herself by that hated nickname—which meant the note was from her killer.

He went to the Double XX and parked in the empty parking lot, then opened his trunk and pulled out an ax. With ax and DVD in hand, he walked up the wooden steps and put them both down as he removed the padlock which secured a board to the front door. After the board was down, he pulled the usual key from his pocket and unlocked the door as his hands shook.

Since the windows had been boarded up, the interior of the bar was darker than usual. He flipped on the overhead lights, then went back to the stoop to get the DVD and the ax.

When he got to the back of the bar, he walked by his office. The door was open, and all of his papers were exactly as he’d left them. In the corner of the office, he stared at the black metal file cabinet. Her file cabinet. The one he was never supposed to look in. It didn’t matter now. He knew she’d never come back to scold him about breaking into it. The cabinet was heavy duty, and the lock was strong. He took a moment to gather his composure, then wrapped his arms around the cabinet and heaved it into the main room.

Using his minimal body strength, he pushed with all his might against the top of it, until it flipped on its side. Then he grabbed the ax, swinging it and smashing the blade against the lock until it finally fell to the floor.

He opened the drawer and reached inside. Papers, and money, and jewelry—he shoved them aside. He wanted the box. The box where she kept her favorite instrument of torture.

When his fingers clamped around it, he sighed with relief.

He pulled out the box, then crumpled onto the floor, crying as the box lay between his crossed legs. Finally, he recovered and rose. Carrying the box, he went back to his office. The DVD from the stranger was already next to his player. He wanted to see one of her other videos first.

He opened the box with reverence. Inside the box, two dozen videos were neatly arranged, each one marked in his wife’s precise handwriting. They were in order by date, and each one was labeled with the pet name of one of her lovers. A smile played at his lips as he remembered the good old days, before she’d stopped sharing, when they’d watch the videos together.

Now she did it without sharing it with him. He didn’t deserve it anymore, she told him. He hadn’t deserved it for years. He recognized some of the pet names from the older dates, and for a moment, he contemplated watching one of those—just for old times’ sake—but then he changed his mind and grabbed the newest one. The date was mid-February, and the pet name was Fat Cat. He had no idea who that might be. He placed the DVD into the player and started it.

One of his regulars, a trucker by the name of Bronson Smith, was lining his cock up with his wife’s pink ass. His fat belly pushed his cock down and he had to hold it up, and each time he did, he let go of his cock, which fell down and failed to penetrate his wife.

“Goddamn, Bronson—do you need a fucking cock brace?” his wife yelled.

“Sorry, Florence,” Bronson whined. “Maybe if you were on your back.”

Sam was growing tired of this. The man was a terrible fuck. He felt sorry for his wife. The man didn’t even spank her or anything. It was pathetic. Even he could spank her, if she’d let him. He fast-forwarded through the video.

At the end of the tape, Florence had given up on Bronson—who jacked himself off while she masturbated and called him a pathetic loser. At least she had a chance to express herself, Sam thought sadly as he ejected the tape.

Taking a deep breath, he loaded the DVD left on his porch.

Another scene, a different place—a log cabin. The new man’s body was not fat and not pathetic. He was a worthy fuck for his wife. In her honor, Sam made a last-ditch effort to feel again. As snot poured out of his nose, mixing with the tears, he pulled his trousers down over his shaking legs. He let them pool about his ankles as the man with the worthy body bent down so Sam could see his face. Only he couldn’t see who it was, because the man’s whole head was completely covered.

Florence lay on the bed, on her knees, her arms tied behind her back. She turned her head towards the camera, and Sam’s heart almost burst. Even though she was blindfolded, the look on her face was a study in painful bliss as the hung man with the full face mask pounded her precious ass.

“You like that?” the man said as the horse whip came down on her back. Sam flinched as his wife cried out in her orgasm.

“Yes! Whip me harder.”

For the first time in years, Sam’s cock stirred to life. He let his hands drop down and tried to make himself grow, for her sake, for Florence. But his member was soon soft. When he looked up again, the man had pulled out and was untying her hands. Her body heaved and she licked her lips hungrily as stretched her arms over her head and secured her cuffed wrists to hooks on the bed post.

“Now I’m going to whip your cunt until it bleeds.”

“Yes,” she said, smiling as she jerked her lower body in anticipation.

But the guy didn’t start—he disappeared for a moment. He knew what was coming next. He couldn’t watch.

He walked out of the office, bottomless, and shuffled uncaring back into the bar. Behind him, his wife’s cries of bliss became more and more screams for the man to stop. But he wasn’t stopping. Sam knew that only one thing would make him stop.

He tried not to think about it, as he gathered up some unbroken plastic vodka and gin bottles off the floor. Tears ran down his face as he poured the contents into a plastic trash can. He hadn’t had a drink in thirty-five years, but it didn’t matter anymore. Saving the last bit of one of the bottles, he made a toast. “To you, Florence,” he said, then gulped it down.

In the other room, he heard one terrified scream, and then a shot. He had known that was coming. And then Florence stopped screaming; she made no sounds at all.

Wiping away some snot, Sam went about his business. He found a box of matches and struggled to light one. Taking some pieces of newspaper, he finally lit one ablaze. He dropped it into the bin of alcohol, and it lit up like a flambé.

Under the counter, he found the most expensive whiskey he had, the one he’d saved in case he ever decided to take up drinking again. He poured himself a shot and drank it down. It was smooth and steadied his nerves. But still he was afraid. He poured himself several more until he feared he had to stop, or he’d lose his motor skills. It was now or never. He kicked over the burning bin of fire, and the flames quickly lit up chairs and caught on a tablecloth.

He didn’t want to burn to death. But he wanted to die.

Finally, he was ready. He pulled the gun from under the cash register and placed it in his mouth.

He pulled the trigger.

Sam’s last thought before he died made him feel happy for the first time in years. Before the bullet ripped through his head and out of the back—he had a vision. Florence being spanked by angels, smiling down at him from heaven, thanking him.

Chapter Twenty Seven

After getting off the shuttle at the entrance to a beachside Amusement Park, Holly sat on a bench and tried not to cry. She was exhausted, and stressed to the gills. Over the last 24 hours, she’d had so many ups and downs, she wasn’t sure how much more her body could take. First, she got the call, an anonymous tip left on her voicemail. A women’s voice telling her that “her friend is fine, she’s at the Hotel Flynn in Atlantic City.” Overjoyed at the news, Holly had immediately Googled the hotel and called the number. She got reservations and it took a while to get routed to the front desk and when she did – they told her that there was no one registered under that name.

With nothing else to go on, she called Jimmy. He recommended that she just go to Atlantic City and see for herself. “Maybe she’s using a different name,” he suggested.

Holly packed her bags and Jimmy drove her to Litton and she used her dwindling savings to purchase a bus ticket. The trip had been grueling and when she’d finally arrived at the hotel, she hadn’t expected to hit pay dirt so fast. She’d plan to loiter in the lobby for as long as it took. She’d never planned on finding Jana, dressed like a movie star – and completely unwilling to acknowledge her existence.

That man who’d thrown her out, resembled the man she’d seen on the security footage at the Double XX. Holly body still vibrated from the adrenaline of being bodily ejected out of that hotel. Holly’s concern for her friend skyrocketed. Who was that man? Why had the security thugs come when he snapped his finger? Clearly he was powerful. Was Jana mixed up with the mob?

She contemplated calling the police. What would she say? My friends gone missing and now that I’ve found her, she doesn’t want to talk to me?

She was going through her purse, trying to calculate if she had enough bus fare to get to Jimmy’s friend’s apartment, or if she should hop on the shuttle and go back and try again, when a cab pulled up in front of her and Jana Peters walked out.

Jana stopped only ten feet away and stared at her. Holly looked at her, her eyes tearing up, but she stayed in her spot. She couldn’t handle being rejected again.

Her heart thudded as she waited for Jana to make the first move. Maybe her friend wasn’t her friend anymore. Maybe that man had turned her into some kind of sex slave, or worse. Jana moved towards her and Holly saw the wetness in her eyes. Holly lot her resolve to stay put and rushed to her friend, who was already moving towards her, arms out.

“Jana! Oh, Jana,” Holly said bursting into tears as she embraced and a sobbing and shaking Jana.

After the hugging and the tears stopped, Holly took Jana by the shoulders and held her at arm’s length so she could have a better look at her. “Damn, girl, you look amazing,” Holly said. She reached for fabric of Jana’s dress. “Is this an Elsa Schiaparelli?

~~*~~

Jana relaxed a little and smiled. “Yes, it is,” she beamed, as Holly flipped over the tag on the back of her neck, to confirm. “You think that’s awesome, check out my shoes,” Jana said as she showed off her Jimmy Choo’s.

“Holy crap, Jana—what’s going on? One minute you’re getting shot at by your old boyfriend, and you’re missing, presumed dead and then you turn up as some rich gangster’s moll?”

“He’s not a gangster.”

“Well, what is he, then? He sure didn’t like the looks of me. He wouldn’t let me talk to you—he had his thugs throw me out. Why didn’t you stop him?”

“I’m sorry – I was just so shocked to see you, that’s all.”

They sat in silence for a while watching people lining up to buy tickets. “So, what do we do now?”

Jana stared at Holly. She didn’t know. At first, she was going to tell Holly not to tell Merrick who she was. She had a good thing going here and didn’t want it to end. But, now that she’d been reminded that it was all pretty much a lie, it didn’t seem possible to go back to how things were. Besides, wouldn’t he hate her if she kept pretending she didn’t know who she was, even after she’d remembered?

“I guess we go back and tell him the truth,” Jana said.

“I don’t know—I’m not too keen about getting kicked out again. Can’t you just call him, or something?”

Jana didn’t have her purse. She didn’t have a cell phone either. “I don’t have a phone.”

“You’re wearing five thousand dollars’ worth of clothing, and you don’t have a cell phone. Is the dude cheap, or just controlling?”

“I just got out of the hospital last night—there wasn’t time to get a cell phone.”

“What? Why were you in the hospital?”

“Can we talk about something else?” She wasn’t ready to go back and face Merrick yet. He’d be so upset with her for walking out. She needed some time to think things through.  “Look, I could use some distraction. Let’s go in there.” She pointed to the park.

“I can’t afford it,” Holly said.

“I’m buying,” Jana said and pulled out the twenty that was meant for bus fare. They could wait for the free shuttle when they got out.

Holly could afford a snack, so she bought some drinks and a cotton candy to share. They walked around the park, and just ate the sticky confection, not saying much as they watched the carnival riders and the excited children and their parents. Behind them, the waves pounded a steady rhythm onto the shore. Seagulls flew overhead, crying occasionally.

“So, why didn’t you call me?” Holly asked at last. “I’ve been worried sick about you.”

“I had amnesia.”

“What?”

“Yeah, you heard that Harold came to the night club right?”

“Yes, Jimmy and I saw the security footage. And we saw the bar – he trashed it.”

“Well, I don’t remember much but, apparently he shot at Merrick’s car when he was trying to get me away – and my head got a piece of glass stuck in it.”

“Oh, Jana, I’m so sorry.”

“Yeah, well when I woke up in this strange house, I couldn’t remember anything. Not you, not my name, not what happened the night before.”

“So, you had amnesia, I get that – but that doesn’t explain why you ended up here. Why didn’t your guy – what’s his name?”

“Merrick”

“Why didn’t Merrick make an effort to help you figure out who you were – why the trip to Atlantic City?”

“I don’t know,” Jana said honestly. “He told me that my name was Mona Lisa Van Dyke, but that everyone called me by my stage name.”

“Bombshell?”

“Yeah, exactly.”

“So, he also told me that I we’d met a few weeks before and that we were engaged. He said he was my fiancé and that I was to come work for him at the casino as a singer.”

“Holy shit. The guys so full of shit – you know that, don’t you.”

“Well, yes, I mean no – he’s a great guy. I know he was lying to me, but I don’t think he did it to hurt me.”

“So, you’re saying you haven’t slept with him?”

Jana felt herself blush.

“Jesus, Jana, can’t you see – he’s totally taken advantage of you. What a scum bag.”

“Don’t say that about him, it’s not true. Merrick Flynn is the most wonderful man in the world.”

Holly stopped in her tracks, then tossed the half eaten cotton candy into a trash can and licked some of the stickiness off her fingers.

“You’re in love with him, aren’t you?”

“Yes,” Jana said, as her eyes filled with tears.

“Jana, it’s not love – its brainwashing, plain and simple.”

“Where are you going?” Jana said as Holly headed towards the exit.

“I’m want to give that bastard a piece of my mind.”

“No,” Jana said.

Holly glared at her.

“Can we just do something first while we’re here? The carousel? Or,” Jana looked around. “Can we go in the funhouse, first?”

~~*~~

Holly and Jana paid for a ticket and waited in a line to get in the fun house.

When they got to the front of the line, they gave the man their tickets and walked through the turnstile. To get inside the fun house, they had to mount a metal ramp. Jana went first, but as the moment she placed her shoe of the ramp it started to move side to side. Despite her anxieties, the movement made her giggle, and as she continued her climb up, the ramp vibrated and jostled her even more. She had to hang on for dear life, and found herself laughing, the tension sliding away as she hoisted herself up to the non-moving platform.

She looked down and saw Holly standing at the bottom, hesitating to put her feet on the moving ramp.

“What are you waiting for? It’s fun.”

Holly grabbed the handles and stepped on. The ramp started moving and Holly squealed with delight as she tried to pull herself up.

Holly was almost to the top, when Jana decided to plunge ahead. She walked around the corner, into a room where music blared.

Holly was almost to the top of the ramp, a man pushed past her, almost knocking her off her feet. “Hey, watch it, buddy,” she said. The man in the long coat and a too large bird, ignored her and turned into the fun house. Holly regained her composure and finished climbing to the top.

Behind her, she heard someone yelling. “Bombshell.” Holly looked down and saw two men running towards the Fun House. One of the men she recognized, Jana’s fake fiancé, Merrick.

The one named Merrick spoke. “Where’ Bombshell, is she with you?”

Cutting the line and not buying a ticket, Merrick and the other guy jumped over the turnstile, and bounded up the moving ramp as if it were still.

“Where’s Bombshell?” Merrick asked.

Holly blocked access to the entrance to the Fun House with her arms.

“She’s inside, having some fun for once. Why don’t you people leave her alone?” Holly said. She chewed her lower lip, knowing in the back of her mind that she was overstepping her bounds. Clearly Jana was smitten with this guy, even if there was something wrong about their relationship. Maybe she should stand aside and stop trying to interfere, but she wasn’t going to let him off that easy. She jutted out her jaw and glared at them, daring them to try something.

Merrick let out a frustrated breath of air. “Tony, will you do something about her?”

“My pleasure,” Tony said, and before Holly could protest, he grabbed her by the waist and lifted her up as if she was a box of tissues, then set her down away from the entrance, out of Merrick’s path. Merrick ran inside calling out her name.

Holly kicked and fought trying to pull out of the new man’s grasp. “What are you doing? Let me go!”

A smile crossed his lips, and he put her down, but didn’t release her arms. His face grew serious. “Listen, just listen, will you? Then I’ll let you go.”

Holly nodded and stopped struggling.

“You’re Holly, right?”

She nodded, but didn’t stop glaring at him.

“My brother needs to be with her. She’s in danger. We just got word that the man that she’s been running from, has been spotted in Atlantic City.”

“What? Sheriff Buck is here?” Holly’s knees buckled. The man in front of her caught her before she fell.
Oh, my God, the man with the beard, I knew there was something familiar about him.

“What’s wrong?” Before Holly could answer the man, she heard the loud crack of a gunshot and then a scream. Jana’s scream.

“Oh no!” Holly shouted. But the man had already rushed passed him, shouting Merrick’s name. Tears fell down her cheeks and her lungs burned in her chest as Holy blindly pushed back one absurd obstacle after another until she came upon a man lying in a pull of blood in the hallway of mirrors.