Books by L L Brooks

I survived, physically. Leaving five bodies behind, I escaped the desert. With three more dead before it was over, Bell one of them, they were all dead. The other survivor didn't matter. Bunny's mind was gone. She'd never be able to tell what I'd done. I didn't need any reminders of those days of terror, not of what I'd done, or the deaths I caused, not with the nightmares and blackouts in the aftermath. Pratters, the only one who suspected the truth, used my fear of exposure against me. Months after I thought it was all over, he showed up with a brain damaged, crippled man. Dumping Michael on me, he told me I was the only one he could trust that those he worked with wouldn't suspect. Making me the one to hide and help Michael, Pratters swore he'd altered records. No one would know where Michael had gone, both of us would be safe. None of the promises eased the new fears. What of Michael? Oh, my God, I wanted him. Did that make me the whore Bell called me?

Bell was ugly, dirty, and mean. If he had left me alone, the others would never have known I was there. I was terrified of him, yet more terrified of not being beside him. He made promises when he kidnapped me, to protect me from the others and take me home once his drug deal with the biker gang was done. The others let it be known that at any opportunity, they would rape, torture me, and kill me. Every concept of the life I'd lived was destroyed, had to be for me to survive. Oscillating back and forth from trusting Bell, believing he would take me home, to hating and wanting to see him dead, I battled with never before experienced emotions. He hurt me a little, to save me from worse, or so he claimed. I responded to him, telling myself I had to, not that he made me hot and wanting.