Page 21 of Breaking Rosalind

That explains the leather scent, but since when do I fall asleep in the place where I fuck?

I squeeze my eyes shut, trying to concentrate through the pounding headache. What happened yesterday?

Roman got released from prison, and we fucked up some traitors, what else?

My chest tightens, and I gasp for breath, my vision tunneling as my body floods with adrenaline. I’m losing control, and on the tail end of a full-blown panic attack. I haven’t had a blackout in eighteen months.

A cold sweat breaks out across my brow. Is this another relapse?

Shit.

Shit.

SHIT.

They’re going to lock me up again and force me to go cold turkey. Or maybe this time, they’ll send me to an institution. There will be doctors, blood tests.

If they get their hands on my DNA...

My insides twist with nausea. I scramble to my feet and stumble to the bathroom, but the door jams. Before I can jiggle its knob, my stomach revolts, and I bolt out of the bedroom, across the living area and go straight to the kitchen sink, where I dry heave.

Through the spasms and convulsions, my hindbrain screams that something is amiss. If I had drunk so much alcohol to warrant this blistering hangover and blackout, then where’s all the liquid?

What the fuck happened after the waterboarding?

My stomach riots, but I hold on to that thought. I got changed and looked through the monitors. Roman was going to hook up with that woman and then there was Cousin Leroi...

I turn on the tap, stick my mouth under the spray, and wash out the taste of bile.

Leroi walked in with a tiny woman in a gold dress, and then his stalker arrived…

Realization hits me in the solar plexus, my head snaps up, and I stare at the kitchen tiles. Last night, I rushed out to the club to see fireworks and ended up spanking the bunny boiler’s pussy on my desk.

My dick throbs at the memory. I didn’t just spank that bare pussy. I whipped it with my belt, and she loved every minute.

A distant scream pierces through my musings. I shut off the water to hear a woman shouting. My stomach drops. I brought the stalker home to tie her up and...

And what?

The next scream has me running out the French doors. I pause at the pool, my heart palpitating, and cast my gaze across the lawn.

It’s like looking through a haze. My perceptions are distorted, but I’m not hallucinating. It’s like standing on the edge of a dreamscape, only it looks like the estate is in a state of emergency.

Guards rush toward the mansion, and my sympathetic nervous system kicks me in the gut. Montesano men don’t kill innocent women. Especially not their cousin’s exes.

I run toward the gathering crowd, wondering what the hell I did last night and why I can’t remember. Did I choke her to death? Did I get so fucked up that I hung her by the entrails?

Black fog creeps along my periphery and thins across my vision to form a thin haze. Memories assault my psyche in a blinding rush. Her, crawling on her hands and knees. Her, lying strapped to the bench with my hands around her throat as she struggles for air.

And then...

And then...

I run into a hard body, which flinches.

“Hey,” a deep voice snarls. “Oh, it’s you.” He chuckles. “Didn’t see you there.”

My vision clears and I lock gazes with Gil. He’s grinning, which must be a sign that what he’s looking at can’t be so bad.