The Ultimate Selection: Be Careful Who You Talk To by S. J. Wardell Page B
Authors: S. J. Wardell
Tags: detective, thriller, Psychological, Crime, Mystery, Police, London, Murder, gritty, Kerry Wilkinson, james patterson, Lee Child, Steig Larsson, vigilante, bloody, her last scream, the hitman's guide to housecleaning, midwiter sacrifice, alex walters, danielle ramsay, ben cheetham, detectivecrime, blood guilt, trust no one, simon kernick, taunting the dead, jo nesbo, killing floor, rosamund lupton, mel sherrat, katia lief, the faithless, siege, mark capell, martina cold, michael connoelly, locked in, silent witness, bloody valentine, the enemy, Mons kallentoft, luther, patricial cornwell, harry bosch, stephen leather, stuart macbride, red mist, hard landing
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baby once she had murdered Brian. Greg had not allowed her the time. She had realised that she no longer loved Brian, though she tried fooling herself. She was beginning to look upon the man in the shiny suit as her saviour. He was giving her a way out, a way to stop the beatings and the abuse. Greg looked into the room where Sharon had indicated her baby was. Totally oblivious, the baby was sleeping deeply.
âIf we keep the noise down, the nipper might sleep through all of this,â Greg said, closing the door to the room that separated the little soul from its motherâs nightmare.
âAre you sick?â Sharon asked struggling to process it all.
âNo, Sharon. Itâs you, and scum like you, who are sick. Why does Brian beat you and then fuck you? Why do you let him treat you like shit? Youâre the sick bastards not me!â
âIf I didnât let him fuck me, heâd rape me⦠I canât control him, heâs too strong.â
âWhat a sad existence for you and for your baby. You let a man who you donât love fuck you. You gave life to his child for fuckâs sake, and you allow him to treat you like this â like shit! Is this the role model you want for your baby? The template for your babyâs normalcy?â Greg knew he had struck a chord.
âWhat else am I supposed to do?â
âYou look for a way out; you find your escape. You do exactly what you are about to do.â
âYou are fucking sick!â Sharon trembled.
âWeâre not going over that again; remember promises can be broken⦠I could start with the youngest and work my way up. Well, I donât have to spell it out to you, do I?â
Sharon glared at Greg. He had forced her into her own personal hell. She felt trapped; there was no way out.
âI want to wake up from this bloody nightmare now.â Sharon was exhausted, worn down by it all. She knew that it was not going to end for a very, very long time. âForever is a long time,â she mumbled.
âYouâre not dreaming. This is all very real. Youâre going to have to deal with it; face it with open eyes and clear vision. Your choice has been made and you made it. Donât live with regrets. Live knowing that you saved your babyâs life and your own.â
Silence filled the air as they both heard a key being pushed in to the keyhole. Greg pointed at Sharon.
âPromises and choices. Donât you make a fucking sound,â he told her as he quickly made his way to the front door.
The front door opened slowly as the drunken man wrestled with the lock. He was struggling to retrieve his key. Seeing double hampered his vision.
âFucking shitty lock,â he burbled, his aggressive speech slurred. Brian finally yanked the key from the lock and stumbled backwards. He closed the door with an aggressive push, almost losing his balance in the process.
âHey!â Greg said, in his middle class voice with a startling effect.
Brian turned to see where the greeting had come from. His intoxicated state of mind did not allow him to instantly recognise the ownerâs voice.
As Brian turned his head, he was blinded by a mass propulsion of liquid being forced in to his eyes.
âARRHHHHH!â he screamed, âWhat the fuckâs going on?â
His question was unanswered.
âBrian?â Sharon called.
âThis fucking stuff stings⦠I canât breathe! Help me Shazza!â His pleas were all in vain.
âShut up,â Greg said calmly.
âYouâre fucking dead, you wanker!â The pain was evident in Brianâs threat. He was still trying to act the big man.
Greg had heard enough and gave Brain a couple of sharp blows to his chest, using his clenched right fist. Brian fell to the floor with a thud. Greg rolled him over on to his stomach and, in a single manoeuver, pulled both his hands behind his back and handcuffed him. Brian continued to scream,
âIf we keep the noise down, the nipper might sleep through all of this,â Greg said, closing the door to the room that separated the little soul from its motherâs nightmare.
âAre you sick?â Sharon asked struggling to process it all.
âNo, Sharon. Itâs you, and scum like you, who are sick. Why does Brian beat you and then fuck you? Why do you let him treat you like shit? Youâre the sick bastards not me!â
âIf I didnât let him fuck me, heâd rape me⦠I canât control him, heâs too strong.â
âWhat a sad existence for you and for your baby. You let a man who you donât love fuck you. You gave life to his child for fuckâs sake, and you allow him to treat you like this â like shit! Is this the role model you want for your baby? The template for your babyâs normalcy?â Greg knew he had struck a chord.
âWhat else am I supposed to do?â
âYou look for a way out; you find your escape. You do exactly what you are about to do.â
âYou are fucking sick!â Sharon trembled.
âWeâre not going over that again; remember promises can be broken⦠I could start with the youngest and work my way up. Well, I donât have to spell it out to you, do I?â
Sharon glared at Greg. He had forced her into her own personal hell. She felt trapped; there was no way out.
âI want to wake up from this bloody nightmare now.â Sharon was exhausted, worn down by it all. She knew that it was not going to end for a very, very long time. âForever is a long time,â she mumbled.
âYouâre not dreaming. This is all very real. Youâre going to have to deal with it; face it with open eyes and clear vision. Your choice has been made and you made it. Donât live with regrets. Live knowing that you saved your babyâs life and your own.â
Silence filled the air as they both heard a key being pushed in to the keyhole. Greg pointed at Sharon.
âPromises and choices. Donât you make a fucking sound,â he told her as he quickly made his way to the front door.
The front door opened slowly as the drunken man wrestled with the lock. He was struggling to retrieve his key. Seeing double hampered his vision.
âFucking shitty lock,â he burbled, his aggressive speech slurred. Brian finally yanked the key from the lock and stumbled backwards. He closed the door with an aggressive push, almost losing his balance in the process.
âHey!â Greg said, in his middle class voice with a startling effect.
Brian turned to see where the greeting had come from. His intoxicated state of mind did not allow him to instantly recognise the ownerâs voice.
As Brian turned his head, he was blinded by a mass propulsion of liquid being forced in to his eyes.
âARRHHHHH!â he screamed, âWhat the fuckâs going on?â
His question was unanswered.
âBrian?â Sharon called.
âThis fucking stuff stings⦠I canât breathe! Help me Shazza!â His pleas were all in vain.
âShut up,â Greg said calmly.
âYouâre fucking dead, you wanker!â The pain was evident in Brianâs threat. He was still trying to act the big man.
Greg had heard enough and gave Brain a couple of sharp blows to his chest, using his clenched right fist. Brian fell to the floor with a thud. Greg rolled him over on to his stomach and, in a single manoeuver, pulled both his hands behind his back and handcuffed him. Brian continued to scream,
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