Pierced: Pierced Trilogy Boxed Set

Pierced

Pierced By Danger

Pierced By Love

Pierced Ever After

Pierced By Christmas

Lashell Collins

Other Works by Lashell Collins

Pierced By Danger

Pierced By Love

Pierced Ever After

Pierced By Christmas (A holiday novella)

Jagged Hearts

Jagged Dreams

Jagged Addiction

Jagged Secrets – Available December 2013

By Lashell Collins

Copyright © 2013 by Lashell Collins

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either a product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or people, living or dead, is entirely coincidental and not intended by the author. This book contains content that may not be suitable for young readers (under age 18).

All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this eBook may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.

Table of Contents

Pierced By Danger

Pierced By Love

Pierced Ever After

Pierced By Christmas

About the Author

Pierced By Danger

Prologue

I’m lying across my bed playing with my Hot Wheels cars when it starts. I hear the yelling and I jump. I don’t like it when he yells. I’m scared to move. But I don’t want to hear the yelling and the crashing. I jump off the bed and run over to the door and push it closed. Then I run back over to my bed and I crouch down on the floor between my bed and the wall. I can still hear the yelling and I know he’s throwing things. I hear loud noises and she’s crying again. I put my fingers in my ears and close my eyes really tight.

Sometimes, when he yells, nothing happens. He just yells really loud and she jumps and does whatever he says. But most of the time, when he starts to yell things get really bad. She tries to do what he says but, I guess she doesn’t move fast enough or she does it all wrong because he gets so mad at her and he calls her bad names and then he hits her. He hits her really, really hard. Sometimes he hits her so hard that she falls down. I don’t like it when he hits her. He hurts her when he hits her.

I can hear the yelling getting closer and I know that they are in the hallway outside my room. I’m so scared. I want to run to the door and let mommy in so she’ll be safe in here with me. Only I know that she wouldn’t be safe in here with me because he would just push the door open and keep on hitting her like he always does. And then he might hit me too. I don’t like it when he hits me. It hurts.

I can hear him screaming at her even though I still have my fingers in my ears.

“
Please, Danny. I’m sorry, honey. I just asked where you were?”

“
Don’t you worry about where I was, you stupid bitch. Where I go is none of your damn business!”

I hear the smack of his fist hitting her skin and then a big thud as she falls against the wall outside my bedroom door.

“
No more, please! No more.”

She is whimpering now. I hate it when she’s lying on the floor, begging him to stop. She always looks so little and scared. Why can’t he just be nice to her? I can feel the tears sliding down my face but I don’t make a sound. If I make noise he will remember me and then he might come in here and hurt me. I keep my eyes focused on my white shoelaces and let the tears fall onto my shirt. All of a sudden, the white on my shoelaces takes on a soft blue color and I look up with a start. The white walls of my room are pulsing with a soft blue strobe light and I take a big, relieved breath. Good! The yelling and hitting will stop now for the night, now that they’re here.

I hear the loud, hard knock against the front door. “Open up the door, Pierce! Seattle PD.”

“
Shit.” I hear my dad mutter the bad word and I creep out from behind my bed and go over to the door and peek out. I see him running his hands through his hair and wiping his face with the back of his hand as he glares down at mommy. She’s still lying on the floor. “Get up and look presentable,” he hisses at her. As she slowly starts to pull herself from the floor he adds, “Fix yourself up!”

The knocking comes again, louder and more insistent this time. My dad leaves the hallway and goes to answer the door and I slowly creep out into the hall. My eyes lock with mommy’s and she frowns at me as she pats her hair and wipes her face. Then she hurries past me into the bathroom to look in the mirror.

“
Good evening, officers.” I hear my dad’s cool voice at the front door. “What brings you out on this fine night?”

“
How you doing, Danny?” one of the officers says, just as coolly. “Got a call that there might be some kind of trouble here at your place.”

“
Nope. No trouble here.” My dad sounds like all is right with the world but, I don’t think the officers believe him.

“
Really? Because when we walked up to the door just now, we heard an awful lot of yelling and fighting going on. Why don’t we come in and just check it out for you?”

My dad steps aside and lets the police officers come in. I’m still hiding in the hallway, watching mommy check herself in the bathroom mirror. One of the officers gets a real sad look on his face when he turns and sees me standing at the end of the hall. I recognize him. Officer Parson; he’s been here before. They’ve all been here before.

“
Hey, there you are, Little Guy,” he says to me. “Why don’t you come on over here with me for a minute.”

I hesitate and look over at mommy. She’s still in the bathroom at the mirror and I think she’s afraid to come out. I don’t think she wants the officers to see the cuts and marks on her face. She looks at me and nods that it’s okay and I turn back to the officer who’s motioning me to him. I walk over to him and he leads me into the living room while the other officer is still talking to my dad.

I like it when the officers come. It means the fighting will stop and they’re always nice to me. They talk to me and ask me questions. Not just questions about the fighting but, questions about other stuff. Like what I’m doing in school and if I like to play ball or watch movies. Stuff like that. And sometimes they take me outside and let me look at their police cruiser, ’cause most of them know that my favorite thing is cars. One time, Officer Parson even let me turn on the siren once. It was neat.

“
You got any new Hot Wheels, Guy,” the officer asks me and I shake my head shyly. I look over at the other officer and my dad. My dad doesn’t like it when the officers are nice to me. He never says nothin’ but, I can tell. Right now though, he’s too busy talking to the other officer to care about me. He’s always too busy doing something to care about me. I watch as mommy finally comes out of the bathroom and the officer starts to talk to her and ask if she’s all right. I want to hear what they’re saying but Officer Parson keeps talkin’ to me.

“
What’s that you’re holding in your hand, Guy?”

I look down at my hands and see one of my Hot Wheels. I didn’t even know I was holding onto it. I hold out my hand and show it to him. It’s a Chevy Camaro Z28. “It’s an old one,” I say to him as he takes it from my hand and studies it. He whistles.

“
Nice. Z28. I always wanted one of those myself.” He smiles at me and I can feel myself smile back.

Chapter One

Samantha

I walk out of the market and stop momentarily to readjust. I’m trying to juggle my eco-friendly bag full of groceries and my purse as I fish my keys out of it. Why didn’t I get my keys out first before leaving the store? Not very smart of me, I realize now. I roll my eyes at myself as I shift the grocery bag to my left arm and push my purse straps a little higher onto my right shoulder at the same time. This is a tricky maneuver since the bag is quite heavy and I’m not exactly known for my gracefulness.

A gentleman sitting in a beat up old car in a parking space near the exit glances at me through his open window with disinterest as I struggle with my bags. I notice him flick the ashes from his cigarette as he blows out the smoke and turns away. Glancing to my left, I see another young man standing next to the trash can near the exit. He looks down at his feet when we make eye contact. Gingerly, my fingers fumble with my key chain and I slowly pull them out of the little pocket inside the purse.
Got it!

Placing the small leather key chain between my teeth, I sigh as I shift the awkward bag so that I’m carrying it with both arms as I continue on to my car. It’s dark now. It was still light out when I went into the store but, luckily I parked beneath one of the large lamps that dot the store’s parking lot. I hate shopping at night but, it has become a necessary evil the past few weeks since my work hours have changed. I’ll be glad when we finally hire a little extra help so I can get my nice daytime hours back. Or better yet, when I get the docent position that I interviewed for a couple of weeks ago. Assuming, of course, that I do get it. I frown to myself at that thought. I really want that job; I don’t want to think about the possibility of
not
getting it.

The parking lot is large and somewhat deserted now. Was I really in there that long? There are only a handful of other cars around and I get an uneasy feeling as I continue to glance around. I don’t know why I feel so nervous, it’s not like I’m in a bad part of town. I shop here all the time and I’ve never had the first problem. Only why did I have to park so far away from the door? Again, not very bright of me.

As I near my car, I begin to get the strangest feeling that I am being watched and I think I hear footsteps behind me.
Well, it is a parking lot, Sam.
My subconscious smirks at me. She’s right, of course. And even though it wasn’t overly busy, there were a fair amount of other shoppers inside the market; of course there would be people coming out of the store behind me. But even as part of my brain is trying to think rationally about this, I can’t let go of the eerie feeling that’s beginning to creep up my spine. I pick up my pace, but the footsteps behind me quicken as I do. Am I imagining that?

Suddenly, I am accosted from behind. My bag full of groceries goes flying forward, out of my arms and oddly, I wonder how long it’s going to take me to gather up the contents that go scattering all over the lot. The thought is fleeting as I begin to struggle with my attacker. His hands grab at my shoulder as he tries to rip my purse away from me and I am flooded with an overwhelming sense of terror. The anxiety grips at my heart and I really begin to fear for my safety.

My hands push against his face as I try to pull away from him but, he is too strong! His hands seem to be everywhere and I can hear myself screaming. Then, in one brief moment, I see his fist coming straight toward my face and the shattering pain when it connects is blinding.

“Don’t play with me, bitch!” He snarls at me and I feel the impact of several more blows but, I see nothing.

*****

I awake slowly and I can hear the muffled sounds of people talking far away. I try to open my eyes but, something won’t let me and the pain is excruciating. I seem to hurt everywhere – my head, my face, my left side and arm, my right shoulder. When I let out a soft groan of agony, I hear a shuffling sound near by and my heartbeat quickens with fear.

“Sam?” The familiar voice sounds full of concern.

“Lucas?” My voice is small and shaky.

“Yeah, Pita, it’s me. I’m here.” His voice is full of both worry and relief and I try to smile at my brother’s favorite nickname for me. Pita. An acronym for ‘Pain In The Ass.’ He has affectionately called me this since we were teenagers. Well … sometimes maybe not so affectionately.

“Lucas, where am I? What’s going on? Why can’t I see anything?” I can hear the fear rising in my voice and I begin to cry.

“Shh, it’s okay, Sam.” He takes my right hand and gives it a light squeeze as his other hand softly pats my aching shoulder. “You’re going to be all right. I’ll just go and get the doctor.”

“Doctor?” My voice is panicky. Why am I here and why do I hurt all over? “Lucas, what is going on, why am I here?”

“Sam, you were mugged last night,” he says. And in that instant, it all comes back to me. In my mind, I see flashes of last night play like snapshots before my eyes. Working late, picking some beautiful fresh zucchini at the market, being in the checkout line, stepping out into the darkness from the brightness of the store, fumbling for my keys as I walk toward my car, feeling an eerie chill when my attacker came up behind me.
Oh, my God!
I remember the fear.