Free Killing Secrets by K.L Docter

didn’t hurry because he knew she didn’t dare move before he told her she could. He reached down and spread her legs to his gaze.
    All of the bedroom lights blazed, as they always did when he had sex with her, exposing every inch of her to him the way he liked. She gritted her teeth against her squirming compulsion to cover herself, and watched him reach back to the dresser behind him. She didn’t react until she saw him raise his horsewhip over his head, and then it was too late.
    The whip ripped across the flesh of her exposed belly. She screamed. She automatically curled into a fetal ball, but the next blow lashed at her spine. He whipped her and didn’t stop, each blow punctuated with ranting words she could barely hear over her own screams, until black waves of nauseating pain swamped her senses.
    Barely conscious, she didn’t realize the beating had stopped until Greg leaned down and whispered harshly. “You’re mine, Felicia, and don’t you ever forget it. You’d better be here when I get back. If you aren’t, I’ll chase you down. And next time, I won’t stop with you. You hear me?”
    She moaned but couldn’t push past the agony to respond. He punched her in the ribs and her world began to dim into blessed oblivion.
    “’Til death, darlin’,” he spat in her ear. “You’d better get it because, next time, it’ll be your precious brat. And, next time…I…won’t…stop.”

 
    Chapter Six
     
    “Amanda!” Rachel screamed with rage. She flailed her way out of the black abyss and attacked the demon threatening her child. Her fingernails tore into his warm flesh.
    “Rachel, stop!” He cursed. “Open your eyes. It’s me. Patrick!”
    Her wrists caught in a firm grip, Rachel woke up and looked into Patrick Thorne’s brown eyes. Not a demon. Not quite an angel either, judging by the scowl on his face.
    A tormented sound escaped her throat as all of the fight rushed out of her. She collapsed onto her back. Patrick rose from her side and left her lying on the pile of daisy white and yellow pillows that decorated the vintage, black wicker couch on the side porch of the elder Thorne home.
    Where she and Amanda had hidden.
    From Greg.
    He’d found them!
    Rachel frantically scanned the yard. Twice. But Greg wasn’t waiting impatiently on the lawn for her to come to her senses, so he could drag her off to her doom. Instead, half a dozen strangers wearing Thorne Enterprises hard-hats and varying degrees of curiosity on their faces stood nearby.
    She relaxed. Eyes closed, recent events marched through her mind alongside the throbbing pain in her head. Everyone must think she was insane.
    Evidence was on their side.
    She’d claimed Patrick as her boyfriend! Her lover. What possessed her to say such a stupid, dangerous thing? She knew before they married Greg had a jealous streak a mile wide. Initially, his possessiveness was appealing. For the first time since her mother’s death, she’d felt truly treasured. Loved.
    It was on their Caribbean cruise honeymoon that belief was first tested. Greg decked a fellow passenger for simply talking to her at dinner, and then turned on her, accusing her of encouraging him. The incident was dropped when the man’s wife suggested to officials her husband might have had a little too much to drink, and apologized for his actions. Rachel had paid the price. That night, when Greg had sex with her, he didn’t consider her comfort or her feelings. She’d hesitated to call it rape, but that night made her ultra-aware of how she should interact with other men. She hadn’t dared expose anyone else to Greg’s possessiveness.
    Until now.
    Why did she blurt that bald-faced lie about Patrick being her boyfriend? The man had only tried to help, and she’d thrown him directly across Greg’s destructive path. “What was I thinking?”
    “Since you probably have a concussion that question is certainly up for grabs.”
    Her eyelids flew open at the severity in Patrick’s