Read Online Kiss Me, Kill Me by Allison Brennan - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Allison Brennan
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healing, others deep and bright red. She had only two more pills left in the antibiotic prescription she’d found in the medicine cabinet.
What was she going to do?
She could call her mom. She’d be mad, for sure, but she’d come and get her, and then Kirsten could go home to her own bed.
But she still wouldn’t be safe.
What would she tell the police? That Jessie had asked her to come to New York even though it wasn’t Kirsten’s scheduled weekend to play escort? Right, she was going to admit to her mom that she was an online call girl.
Better to get in trouble for selling sex over the Internet than be dead .
She bit her lip and thought about calling her dad. She had a love/hate relationship with him. Though her mother was a bitter divorcée, her father had started it by having all those affairs. Maybe she should just call him and say, “Well, you like to sleep around. So do I, but at least I get paid for it.”
That would go over so well. And Kirsten wasn’t exactly proud of what she did, though it gave her some control over her life. She finally felt as though she had power, for the first time in three years since she became a pawn in her parents’ divorce. When she first joined Party Girl , it had been so freeing and exciting she had jumped in with both feet. A part of her knew she did it to get back at her parents, but another part thrilled at being in full command. The power Kirsten had over her clients was intoxicating.
If she’d just stuck with the online sex chats she’d have been fine. But then another Party Girl , Jessie, told her about the big blowout bashes in New York, so she started coming up, and was astonished at how invigorating the raves were. Not raves as she’d imagined them, but even more intense.
Somewhere along the way, Kirsten had lost control. She was offered money to go to parties big and small. When she was high, she lost all sense of time and place. Everything began to fall apart, but she hadn’t wanted to quit because she felt more alive, more real , when she was pretending to be someone else.
But now Jessie was dead! And Jessie had tried to tell her something. She had called her Friday morning begging her to meet her at the party Saturday. And she’d said something else, but Kirsten had been too distracted. Then Jessie wanted to meet outside.
But Jessie didn’t send that text. She’d called Kirsten “Ash” instead, her party name .
If Jessie hadn’t texted her at the party, who did? Someone who knew what she looked like. Someone who had Jessie’s phone. If he had Jessie’s phone, he had her phone number, and he might be able to find out where she really lived. Kirsten could call her mother, but would she be safe even back home?
Kirsten was increasingly anxious about the arrangement. She was staying in this amazing apartment. She hadn’t left the bedroom and bathroom, but everything was expensive and classy. She’d been so out of it after finding Jessie dead, and then getting sick, she didn’t know what she’d agreed to or why the guy had let her stay here in the first place, especially since he himself didn’t live here. She couldn’t remember what he’d told her about who owned the penthouse or why the owner wasn’t here, but she would find out today. Now that she was thinking straight, she would figure out how to make it all right again.
She leaned over and locked the bathroom door, turned on the water in the tub, and pulled off the large T-shirt she wore. Her muscles were stiff from lack of use. She stretched her arms, staring in shock at her naked body, as if it were foreign.
She had small cuts all over her arms and legs, some so deep they would probably scar because they hadn’t been stitched. Bruises of all shapes and sizes and colors dotted her limbs, with one large, sickly yellow bruise covering most of her left hip. She touched it and winced. It was tender and painful. She didn’t think she’d broken any bones, a miracle considering the
What was she going to do?
She could call her mom. She’d be mad, for sure, but she’d come and get her, and then Kirsten could go home to her own bed.
But she still wouldn’t be safe.
What would she tell the police? That Jessie had asked her to come to New York even though it wasn’t Kirsten’s scheduled weekend to play escort? Right, she was going to admit to her mom that she was an online call girl.
Better to get in trouble for selling sex over the Internet than be dead .
She bit her lip and thought about calling her dad. She had a love/hate relationship with him. Though her mother was a bitter divorcée, her father had started it by having all those affairs. Maybe she should just call him and say, “Well, you like to sleep around. So do I, but at least I get paid for it.”
That would go over so well. And Kirsten wasn’t exactly proud of what she did, though it gave her some control over her life. She finally felt as though she had power, for the first time in three years since she became a pawn in her parents’ divorce. When she first joined Party Girl , it had been so freeing and exciting she had jumped in with both feet. A part of her knew she did it to get back at her parents, but another part thrilled at being in full command. The power Kirsten had over her clients was intoxicating.
If she’d just stuck with the online sex chats she’d have been fine. But then another Party Girl , Jessie, told her about the big blowout bashes in New York, so she started coming up, and was astonished at how invigorating the raves were. Not raves as she’d imagined them, but even more intense.
Somewhere along the way, Kirsten had lost control. She was offered money to go to parties big and small. When she was high, she lost all sense of time and place. Everything began to fall apart, but she hadn’t wanted to quit because she felt more alive, more real , when she was pretending to be someone else.
But now Jessie was dead! And Jessie had tried to tell her something. She had called her Friday morning begging her to meet her at the party Saturday. And she’d said something else, but Kirsten had been too distracted. Then Jessie wanted to meet outside.
But Jessie didn’t send that text. She’d called Kirsten “Ash” instead, her party name .
If Jessie hadn’t texted her at the party, who did? Someone who knew what she looked like. Someone who had Jessie’s phone. If he had Jessie’s phone, he had her phone number, and he might be able to find out where she really lived. Kirsten could call her mother, but would she be safe even back home?
Kirsten was increasingly anxious about the arrangement. She was staying in this amazing apartment. She hadn’t left the bedroom and bathroom, but everything was expensive and classy. She’d been so out of it after finding Jessie dead, and then getting sick, she didn’t know what she’d agreed to or why the guy had let her stay here in the first place, especially since he himself didn’t live here. She couldn’t remember what he’d told her about who owned the penthouse or why the owner wasn’t here, but she would find out today. Now that she was thinking straight, she would figure out how to make it all right again.
She leaned over and locked the bathroom door, turned on the water in the tub, and pulled off the large T-shirt she wore. Her muscles were stiff from lack of use. She stretched her arms, staring in shock at her naked body, as if it were foreign.
She had small cuts all over her arms and legs, some so deep they would probably scar because they hadn’t been stitched. Bruises of all shapes and sizes and colors dotted her limbs, with one large, sickly yellow bruise covering most of her left hip. She touched it and winced. It was tender and painful. She didn’t think she’d broken any bones, a miracle considering the
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