All Screwed Up (Belial's Disciples Book 2) Read online

  All Screwed Up

  By AJ Adams

  Text Copyright @ 2018 AJ Adams

  All rights reserved

  Kindle Edition

  Final proof edited by Inkblot

  Although many of the places mentioned in this book exist, all characters appearing in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

  License Statement

  This ebook is licensed for your enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each reader. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please buy your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Epilogue

  Want to stalk me?

  Chapter One

  Lacy

  “You stupid bitch!” He was stinking drunk. “It’s all your fault.”

  I eyed him up cautiously. Jason Barrows, six foot two and bulging with muscle, was glaring down at me. He was wearing his biking leathers, which added to the dangerous vibe. Normally that would have me melting in a puddle because I love playing games with bad boys. However, Jason had a mean streak a mile wide, and by the look of his narrowed eyes and balled fists, he was losing it.

  I would have vanished, but he was between the door and me. Worse, I couldn’t just cut and run, because he might follow. I wasn’t going to trail danger in my wake. No, I’d have to calm him down, right there and then.

  My eye was on the open door behind him, my stomach in knots. The sound of a shouting match carrying all over the cottage was bad enough, but if he beat me, it would be a real disaster. So I tried to be sensible, saying peaceably, “I can’t help it if the coppers come knocking.”

  “You shouldn’t have let them in.”

  “They had a search warrant.” God knows why I was defending myself. From the blast of tequila, he was well past reasoning. Still, I tried soothing him out of sheer desperation. “I did try to call you.”

  “I don’t answer to you!”

  Nice, huh? But I was watching those balled fists. It was safest to play nice. “Well, it’s not like they found anything.”

  “You’re a useless cow.” He loomed over me, eyes blurred with booze but the anger coming off him in waves. “They messed up my studio.”

  While Jason had been at the pub, the plods had pushed their way into his cottage. They had a warrant, so I couldn’t do a blessed thing as they’d gone through his workroom, poking about his cameras and backdrops as well as his computer gear. They’d photographed everything, from his office chair to the stack of concert tickets on his desk.

  I had tidied up afterwards, but although he was smashed, Jason had known the second he walked in that we’d had invaders. That’s photographers for you; they have an excellent eye for even the tiniest changes.

  “They didn’t take anything,” I assured him.

  “No thanks to you,” he slurred. “I was too smart for them.”

  “Absolutely!” I had no idea what he was on about, but I was all over that at once, fawning away. “Look, everything is fine, even your Masters in Fine Arts is unscathed.” I was babbling away. “Congrats on that, by the way. I had no idea you went back to school.”

  Talk about pouring fuel to the fire. “What the fuck were you doing, going through my stuff?” Jason was snarling, all self-congratulation vanishing into thin air.

  “I just picked the certificate up off the floor, okay?”

  “Liar! You were in my darkroom!”

  “No, I wasn’t!”

  “You fucking told them about it! Treacherous whore!”

  Jason had a home with loads of space, but unlike normal people, he used a shed for developing his work. It wasn’t even in his garden but standing half a mile away in an empty property. Bloody awkward, I thought, but as Jason had mumbled about flammables driving up insurance costs, and he was always a money-grubbing bugger, I thought he was just penny-pinching.

  “I wasn’t prying, honest,” I kept my voice low, hoping he’d stop yelling. “The police must’ve missed it too.”

  But Jason was fuming. “I’m gonna teach you a lesson,” he growled.

  I wasn’t happy. He’d given me a hiding before, leaving me with two black eyes and some broken ribs. I wasn’t going through that again. Maybe it was better to risk running, but I couldn’t remember if the bedroom locks were sturdy or not. “Now Jason.” I was edging away, using my calmest voice. “This isn’t my fault.”

  While I was trying to placate him, I was moving backward, trying to keep out of his way. But despite the drink, he was still with it enough to corner me. I ended up with my back against the wall. I had one last go at trying to run; I feinted left and broke right. But he was too quick. Before I could duck past him, he had me by the neck.

  My five foot four couldn’t match bull-like strength. I hung there, feet off the floor, gasping for air as I tried frantically to break his grip. “Jason, no, please!”

  “Bitch.” Then his fingers were squeezing, and spots began dancing before my eyes. “Useless frigging whore.”

  As if in slow motion, I saw his fist draw back. Another second and then it would come smashing into my face. I was terrified but I couldn’t breathe, couldn’t even scream.

  “Mummy?” Mia was standing in the doorway, half asleep and yawning. What I’d dreaded had come to pass. The shouting had woken her. “Where’s Buttercup?”

  My heart almost stopped. I saw my six-year-old was focussed entirely on finding her favourite cuddly toy, the plush pink pony that was her constant companion. My little girl was totally unaware of the danger she was in.

  For a second, the pressure on my throat relaxed. Jason knew someone was there, but the drink was addling his brain. He was craning his neck, looking around the room, and staring straight over the tot.

  “There you are!” Mia had spotted her pony sitting on Jason’s computer desk. “Naughty Buttercup. What are you doing here? It’s bedtime, you know.”

  Jason zeroed in on her. “What the fuck!”

  Mia’s eyes were huge as she took him in. Then she was gazing at me. “Mummy?” she asked uncertainly.

  I was frantic, plucking at the steel fingers that kept me pinned helplessly against the wall. “Mia, run!” At least, that’s what I meant to say, but it came out as a strangled gasp.

  Mia took a frightened step back. “Mummy?” Then, reflexively, she grabbed Buttercup, holding the pony in front of her face, just like she did whenever Ursula the Sea Witch made an appearance on her favourite cartoon.

  “Fuck!” Jason was dropping me, his attention totally taken by my little one. Then his fist was whistling around, aiming straight for Mia. “You little -”

  I was sliding down the wall, gasping for air, but rage and fear for Mia gave me superhuman powers. I bounced up, grabbed his shoulder, twisted him off balance and then I punched him in the face. I got him smack on target. There was a snap and then blood everywhere.

&n
bsp; “You fucking bitch!” He dropped me like a hot potato and clutched his face. “You broke my fucking nose!”

  It was the end of the road. “Jason, I quit. Find another model.” I stepped hastily around him and picked up my little girl. “Are you okay?” As I frantically checked her over, I breathed again, relieved to find her unharmed. I hugged her close to me. “Come Mia. Let’s get out of here.”

  Ten seconds later I was chucking our things in a backpack. As we didn’t have much, it took me just minutes to get it together. I zipped up the bag, and it was only then that I realised my poor lamb was just standing there. The look of dismay in her eyes went straight to my heart. I swept her up in a cuddle. “Poor baby. You okay?”

  Her eyes, cornflower blue, just like mine, were bewildered. “Why was he angry, Mummy?”

  I stifled the answer that came to mind first. “Because he’s a big silly, love.”

  “Was I naughty?”

  That brought tears to my eyes and a boatload of guilt to my heart. “You’re the best, love. He’s the one who’s wrong.”

  Although I spoke calmly to reassure Mia, I felt sick because this was all my fault. We were at Jason’s because of my job. You see, I’m a model, but you won’t see me in Vogue because I specialise in adult shoots. Yup, my body is my product.

  At five foot four, I’m petite, but I’m also curvy which is the perfect body type in my trade. Apart from decent boobs and a perky arse, I’ve got that Black Irish look going for me: black hair, pale skin, and bright blue eyes. I’m not beautiful, but I’ve got the kind of colouring that does well with make-up. Lucky, huh?

  As I’ve got the right attributes, I pose for all the lad mags, but I make most of my money with kink shots. Bondage, suspension; you name it, I’ll do it. That line is less competitive than straight-up fashion, and it pays more, so it’s a good career for a single mum like me.

  “I shouldn’t have taken you here,” I said guiltily to Mia.

  My little sweetheart hugged me. “But Mummy, you have to make sacrifices for your work.”

  Dear lord, out of the mouths of babes. I get good regular work, and usually I stick to my client list, but I had a long history with Jason. We’d dated back when I was a giddy teen, and he’d gotten me started on my career. He taught me how to pose, helped me develop my portfolio, and introduced me to the major players.

  One of the first photos he ever took of me, one where I’m tied to a garden bench, with my hair up in a Grecian bun, was so sublimely beautiful, that it became an iconic image for the industry.

  Jason gave me a start, which I’ll always be grateful for, but when we split, it was terrible. So awful that we went our separate ways and avoided each other like the plague in the years that followed.

  Although I’d not seen him, I’d heard about his projects. Jason was always a difficult bugger, but he drifted in and out of the industry whenever he wanted because his work was hauntingly beautiful. It didn’t matter if he were photographing geishas, strippers, landscapes or trucks; it was all glorious.

  So when he called me two weeks before, I was so curious to know what he was up to, that I just had to listen.

  “I’m creating an adult photonovel for a Japanese client,” he informed me.

  “What’s that?”

  “It’s like a comic but with photos instead of illustrations.”

  I could hardly breathe from excitement. With four to six photos per page and dozens of pages, it would take a month’s work at least. It would mean instant tonnes of cash, and it would get me loads of new fans.

  That last bit mattered. I had worked hard to build up a fan base by lifting my image with Instagram and Twitter platforms because in my business, young and fresh rules. To stay in demand, you need to stand out from the crowd. With an international following, my career would get a substantial boost.

  “Jason, are you sure you want to work with me?” I asked because the break-up had been brutal. “Really?”

  “I had another girl booked, but the bitch walked out on me. She couldn’t hack the work.”

  Told you he was an evil-tempered bugger. “So I’m a desperate filler in? I’m flattered.”

  Jason ignored my sniping. “This is a golden opportunity. We’re starting with one title, and if it goes over well, we do two a year for five years.”

  My heart was going pit-a-pat. This was mega. “How much does it pay?”

  Jason mentioned a figure that made me see spots.

  “Sounds good.”

  “Plus two percent of the royalties. But Lacy, you kick back ten percent of your modelling fee and half of your royalties. You pay the tax, and you give me the cash.”

  Typical Jason. But even with the cut, it was outstanding money. Enough to cover the fees for the brand new private school I wanted to send Mia to. The village kindy had been terrific, but the local comprehensive was a zoo. Jason’s job meant Mia would have small classes, great teachers, and a good future.

  “Can you get here by this afternoon?” Jason asked. “I want to start ASAP. I’m already behind schedule.”

  I wanted to say yes, but I remembered his temper. “I don’t know, Jason. You and I don’t get along, remember?”

  “Oh, for fuck’s sake, you still going on about that? It was years ago!”

  I controlled my temper. “Yes, six years to be precise. Mia is now six years old.”

  “You should have gotten rid of it. It’s nothing to do with me.”

  Red-hot rage flooded over me. “She is not an it! She’s called Mia,” I bit off every word, wishing I could thump him. “And you can take your job and shove it up your arse.”

  Telling him to fuck off made me feel great for about two hours. I was sitting down for lunch with Mia when a trickle of water leaked down from the ceiling. Within seconds, the trickle was a river.

  I got us out of there fast, and it was just as well. After a bitch of an icy winter that had created merry hell with the plumbing, the upstairs bathroom water pipes had burst. Not only had it flooded upstairs but sod’s law kicked in, and the kitchen and living room ceilings had come crashing down too. Right in the middle of our cheese and tomato sandwiches.

  Jason called an hour after, “Look, I need you.”

  “Do you?” I was surveying the wreckage that was our home.

  “I’ll forego the commission.”

  With huge bills, weeks of repairs, and no home, my answer was a no-brainer. “It’s a deal.”

  “Be here in an hour.”

  He really was in a rush. “Jason, I’m looking at the ruins of my home. I’m going to need a day to find a rental. Or a B&B that’s affordable.”

  “Fuck that. I want to get to work.”

  Artists, right? “I need a roof over my head.”

  “I’ve got one. Stay here.”

  “But there’s Mia.”

  “Bring her! Bring your dad, your dog, whatever,” he snapped. “Just get your arse over here.”

  “She’s six. I’ll need to find a sitter -”

  “There’s a kindy summer camp across the street. I’ll go now and sign her up.”

  Jesus, he really was in a rush. I’d never known him to be in the least bit helpful about anything. “Thanks.”

  “Yes-yes-yes, come on, hurry up. I need to get to work.”

  When we arrived, Jason had been waiting on the street. I was shaking with nerves as I held Mia’s hand. “Mia, this is Jason -”

  He hadn’t even looked at our baby. “They’re waiting for you at the camp. Hurry up. We’re behind schedule.”

  I should have known, Jason had never acknowledged his own flesh and blood. As far as Mia was concerned, her father was lovely, but he’d died in an accident before she was born.

  I’d told her that fiction because it was better than the truth but secretly, I’d always hoped Jason would one day recognize her. But he’d never told a soul about her and clearly, he wasn’t going to change his mind. Still, Mia didn’t know, so the pain of rejection was mine, not hers. I decide
d to be grateful for the opportunity to make a small fortune and tried not to hate Jason.

  “Is this our new home?” Mia looked over the cottage living room, littered with magazines and somehow soulless.

  “No, love. It’s only a few weeks. We’ll go home soon.” I spotted the summer camp across the street with relief. Decorated with banners and balloons, with four women keeping an eagle eye on a little garden filled with kiddies, it looked well maintained and popular. “While I work,” I said cheerfully, “you are going to make lots of new friends!”

  For the first week, we were okay. I’d been hesitant about having Mia so close to my work, but she was in her element, messing around in sand pits and a mini paddling pool all day.

  The arrangement worked well because Jason had me busy all day but he’d disappear into his darkroom come late afternoon. It meant Mia didn’t see anything she shouldn’t and the two of us had lots of family time.

  It was just as well because posing for Jason wasn’t exactly a picnic. The photonovel plot centred around an abduction, and the hero was into super dark kink. The shots were a shade away from torture porn, so it was intense and tiring. In fact, it was such a challenge that Jason hadn’t lost one model; he’d lost four.

  “Fucking lazy cows,” he grumbled.

  I was on tiptoe, my body straining from hanging from a beam for two hours. “Yeah, because cramp is such a joy!”

  “Shut up, straighten your fingers, spread your knees, lift your chin, tilt your head right, and look as if you’re begging for your life.”

  “Yes, sir!” It was bloody hard work, but I was pumped because the very few photos Jason let me get a glimpse of were brilliant. I was sure the photonovel would make me a star, which would guarantee enough work coming in to keep Mia and me comfortable.

  Mind you, although Jason was a fantastic artist, I couldn’t find him at all likeable. The bursts of charm and humour that had once attracted me had vanished. The new Jason was merely nasty. He was off to the pub every night, coming home pissed as a rat at closing time but as he was quiet and Mia never knew, that didn’t bother me. However, it didn’t pass me by that the booze had soured him.