Page 1 of Hard Ruck
Chapter One
Chelsea
“You’re out of your mind.”Belinda Simmons’s gaze held a rapidly dwindling hint of defiance. There was no heat behind her words now. No anger. Fear was taking over.
I’d watched for the last hour as the fury faded out of her, and she finally realised she was fucked. It should have been satisfying, but it wasn’t. Nothing about this was right.
“All I asked was for you to delete that article.” I toyed with the gun in my hand. I wouldn’t use it, not on her. I didn’t need to. I made my point back at her apartment. Her keyboard was shot apart, nothing more than splinters of plastic and wires. Her monitor too. Neither of my bullets had touched her.
She might come to wish they had.
“Who is she?”
I glanced over my shoulder to see my brother reach the bottom step of the stairs that led into his workroom. He handed me a cup of coffee and took the gun from my fingers.
“Belinda Simmons,” I said, my tone clipped, controlled. Clinical. “She writes for one of those online magazines that thrive on gossip about famous people.”
“Ah.” He placed the gun aside and leaned his hip against a stainless steel workbench, his ankles crossed. He sipped hiscoffee and watched the woman currently chained to the ceiling, both arms raised over her head.
Belinda looked at him with something like hope in her eyes. “There’s been some kind of misunderstanding. Whatever this woman thinks is going on—” She jerked her head towards me. “She shot at me and then forced me into the back of her car at gunpoint. She brought me here.” Her voice grew increasingly higher with each word. The last two were delivered in a painful shriek.
“Huh, Chelsea did that?” He looked over at me, eyebrows raised in semi-mock disbelief. Most of it was for Belinda’s benefit. “I thought you didn’t like this shit?”
“I don’t,” I said dryly. “I made an exception for her.”
“See, she admits it,” Belinda said. “She’s out of her mind. She needs professional help. A doctor.”
He smiled just slightly. He didn’t take his eyes off me as he responded to her. “As it happens, I’m a doctor.”
She sagged slightly, visibly relieved. “Then you can?—”
He turned to her, slow and deliberate. “You’re misunderstanding. I’m notthatkind of doctor. Let me introduce myself. Isaac Miller. Most people call me Ice.” He was still smiling, but his tone was borderline menacing. “I’m a pathologist. Some people might say I’m pathological, but that’s another story. Mostly I work on dead people.” He sipped his coffee like he was having a pleasant chat with a friend.
“Sometimes those dead people are alive when they get to me. By ‘sometimes,’ I mean about ninety-five percent of the time. Once in a while they walk out of here alive, but they usually aren’t people who said my sister was out of her mind.” He glanced back quickly and gave me a fond smile.
I returned it and gulped my too-hot coffee while watching his words sink into Belinda’s mind. I saw the exact moment she realised she might not get out of here alive.
“I’ve been called worse,” I said. I didn’t elaborate. That didn’t matter right now.
“No one insults my sister and gets away with it.” Ice snaked an arm around me and pulled me in to press a kiss to my cheek.
I leaned into him, absorbing his comforting warmth. Only a handful of years older than me, he always looked out for me. Nothing ever seemed to be too much trouble for him where I was concerned.
Some people might find the protective older brother thing annoying or oppressive, but I basked in it. I loved that we still had a close relationship, even as adults. Even with vastly different, separate lives. He had a girlfriend, boyfriend and another partner involved in the relationship, but he always made time for me.
“I spoke rashly,” Belinda said quickly. Her thoughts couldn’t have been clearer. She thought we werebothout of our minds. “If you let me go now, I won’t say anything to anyone. I’ll forget I ever met either of you.” She was quickly becoming desperate. Fear began to override rational thought. How long would it take for her to snap?
Ice winced playfully. “That’s not nice. How could you forget us? I thought we were friends, Belinda?”
She gaped at him, struggling to figure out the right words. What could she say that would make us unchain her and let her go? As if the perfect plea and tone would placate us somehow.
“What do you want?” she asked cautiously.
“Ah, the third stage of grief,” Ice said with a knowing nod. “Bargaining. One of my favourite stages. Although, depression and acceptance are also good. And I have to give a nod to denial and anger as well. I’ve seen all of them in here over the years. Can you guess where bargaining gets most people, Chels?”
“Nowhere?” I suggested.
He grinned. “You always were my smartest sister.” He gave me another squeeze before stepping away. “She’s right; nowhere. One of my interests is testing human endurance. Specifically, how long a person can tolerate pain. It’s fascinating. And all for science, of course.”
