• Rod Kackley

Messy Ménage à Trois


This is an excerpt from Wicked Revenge: Book 2 From the St. Isidore Collection:

Bree and Beth, barely old enough to be street legal, were two teenage assassins clever enough to get a serial killer to do their bloody work in A Wicked Plan and then quick enough to get the cops to kill their killer.

Now these young lovers face a new set of challenges.

The B Girls as the world knows them are young women in love, partners in all things. And, they have to hide St. Isidore’s crime of the century, get away from the serial killer’s brother who wants revenge, all while they avoid all the bodies snapping at the neck in the Suicide Forest.

Oh, and Bree has to deal with a MILF who’s in love with her, another woman who thinks she can figure out who is really responsible for the murders of Bree’s parents and the deaths of Tim Sheldon and his lover, Paul, and Bree has to keep Beth happy in bed. Wow. Every day’s a busy day when you are Breel

Just keeping her life straight and her lovers happy has turned into a feat daunting for even Bree, who holds a black belt in psychological jujitsu.

But the fear of losing the love (and sex) of Beth, staying famous, and the knowledge that for every crime there has to be punishment, keeps Bree going — especially when she thinks of all the crimes she has committed and all the punishment she deserves.

If there is one thing Bree knows for sure, it is that she can’t live without Beth. What Bree doesn’t know is that Beth feels the same way about her. Even more important, Beth can be deadly on her own. And Beth is looking for some revenge too. She knows about Bree and her MILF.

While she had A Wicked Plan in Book 1 of the St. Isidore Collection, Bree is making it up as she goes along in Wicked Revenge, thinking what she needs more than anything is an exit strategy.; a final exit strategy. That might be best for her and for Beth.

She just wants to stay with Beth until death do them part, and Bree is pretty sure she can see that exit ramp dead ahead.

Anne was fuming. She was tired of pussy-footing around — of course her definition of that was remarkably different from that of the rest of the world — and she wanted to talk to the one person that she figured to be an open door into the world of Bree.

Anne’s mind was made up come Hell or high water.

She was about to encounter both.

Beth didn’t have to sense impending danger. She heard it.

The aura of this woman enraged was hard to miss. Not only did Anne’s personality sell itself five feet ahead of her, the sound of her coming up the stairs on a bad ankle, wheezing, muttering, stomping on the good, sliding on the weak, was monstrous. Everyone heard it.

Beth was no exception.

She knew it had to be Anne.

To say Beth was intimidated by Anne would be damning the word “understatement” with false praise.

Beth was petrified.

She froze.

Anne tapped, then knocked, then pounded on the front door of the apartment that served as the B Girls’ home, love nest and corporate headquarters.

The thick oak door trembled and was no less intimidated than Beth.

After three minutes — Hell hath no fury like Anne ignored — Beth rose from her chair on wheels.

“Who is it?”

“Beth, you know who this is.”

“Who?”

“Please let me in. We need to talk.”

Beth turned the dead bolt lock, removed the gold plated chain, put her hand on the door knob, turned it a couple of inches to the right, stood on tiptoe and Anne’s eye was waiting for her when she looked through the peephole.

“Jesus!”

The last thing Beth expected to see, Anne’s pupil, knocked her two steps back and one to the left.

The door opened three inches as Beth stumbled, and a couple of feet more as Anne took advantage of an opportunity.

Whenever the door of opportunity opened, Anne always tried to be moving forward. This time was no exception.

Beth landed hard on her butt.

Anne’s momentum pulled her into the apartment and with a grace she hadn't felt since, well, since ever, Anne was able somehow to land on her good ankle and avoid falling on the collapsed Beth, who breathlessly watched the 210-pound ballerina pirouette around her body.

“May I sit down? It’s been quite a morning already.”

Beth’s vocal cords were frozen. Sitting on her bruised pride, she pointed to a chair.

Again, hearing her own three-piece jazz combo in her head, Anne decided she needed more comfort than the wicker piece of furniture would allow.

Anne chose the sofa.

Once she sat down, Anne wasn’t going anywhere for a while. She knew it. Beth knew it. There was no turning back for either of them.

Anne could have used the ruse of asking about Bree Inc. She could have warmed up Beth with idle conversation the way she would warm up a spankee with her hand before switching to a hairbrush and then a paddle.

But Anne went right for the cane.

“I need to know if you two killed Tim Sheldon.”

Beth’s gulp would have taken down the biggest smoothie she could buy in the St. Isidore Mall Food Court.

“Who two?”

“You know who two.”

“What two?”

Anne’s eyes locked into Beth’s window to her soul. It was time to use a trick that had served her well in business negotiations.

Silence.

“The longer you stay quiet, the more the other person is going to want to fill that silence with something,”Anne told her class. “The first one who speaks loses. Make your offer. Then shut up.”

Beth felt like a trapped, cornered animal. The kind of animal with DNA that told it chewing its foot off was Plan A.

But Beth sensed Anne hadn’t sprung the trap yet. In fact, there was no trap, unless Beth allowed there to be one.

If there was one thing she had learned from Bree, it was the best defense was to go on offense, strike first, and don’t give your opponent a chance to hit you first.

“Don’t wait for them to attack you,” Bree had told her more than once. “Take the fight to them.”

Beth had been bullied by the best and believe it or not, Anne was not even in the top ten of that group.

Beth had few options when she was on that school bus. She had many more as an adult, including:

“Get out of my house.”

To Be Continued or you can start reading this intense thriller right from the beginning by ordering your signed copy of Wicked Revenge from the Crime Stories Bookstore right now! - Rod

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