The Switch

By Lindsey Schussman

It has been eight years since Lillian fought in the cages. After her death to the world, she became a new person and struggled hard to pick up the pieces. As the pieces were beginning to align, once again, Lillian was struck with a new task. One she could not let down. A new threat began to linger and Lillian found no other way then to hit it head on. Due to the circumstances, Lillian had to partner up with an old foe, and found a new, even darker menace. As old mistakes often surface, Lillian found herself once again bound and confined to darkness. And it was the darkness which she must overcome, or the poor world shall feel her wrath. Behind the wheel of a thought to be extinct Reich, Lillian must learn to control her new ability’s, destroy the world, or die. One thing that Lillian did know was that everything led up to everything. And as she took her steps into the unknown, she found that she was not alone. Book 2 of the Switchblade Mamma series.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lindsey Schussman
• Release date: Jul 29, 2016
• ISBN: 9781370662364

Lindsey Schussman

I thank you for taking the time to read! Tell me what you think. Leave a review... I know I have much to improve on, so tell me what you want! I love to write... I just have to find the time, and the attention span... I am the Switchblade Mamma and her creator. If you like Truly you, then read the Switchblade Mamma... She has a whole world to save, soon... First of three books!I am also a photographer, lover of karaoke and a proud owner of a Chevelle. YES, all of my work is free, why? Because I do suck at editing... Working on that, but until then, you get crazy free storys that are a bit encrypted... ENJOY!The Blade, book 3 of the Switchblade Mamma series is coming in 2018! Still working on her... I assure you, you wont be dissapointed!

Book preview

The Switch

By Lindsey Schussman

Smashwords Edition

Copyright 2016 Lindsey Schussman

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com or your favorite retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

1.

Even though I had spent the greater part of the day at a diner, I didn't eat a thing. I stared into an empty coffee cup. A coffee cup in which its contents had been drained three times prior by me. With the caffeine surging through my body, I found slight contentment by twisting and giving the cup a rimming job of its life with the tips of my fingers.

In the entire time that she was talking to me, not once did I make eye contact. And now, the silence was as brutal as a knife jab to the side. I guess it didn't matter what she said, or offered. In my mind I already had my decision made, yes. I just didn't want to make it easy for her. After all, she never made it easy for me eight years ago.

It was strange seeing Michelle Bishop again after all these years. Her face hadn't changed one bit. It was immaculate and smooth like latex. It seemed her money was doing a good job of preserving her face and her body. Or if my second conclusion was correct, then she was actually Lucifer herself.

Hello?

I slowly rose my head from my coffee cup, rolling my eyes and reaching a cock with the end of my eye brow.

You have not said one word since we sat down. Well? What is your answer?

I could see the frustration growing in her eyes. She was irritated with my silence, as was I was with her presence.

I squinted my eyes as I made an observation, motioning to her feet with my head. You’re not wearing your Manolo's. I said Pointing with my left index finger. They were in fact hidden underneath the booth table, but I had caught sight of the plain velvet black pumps as she walked in.

She looked at me with impatient eyes. Are you going to give me an answer, or are you going to comment about my shoes all day?

Well, considering what you've put me through in the past, I think I would prefer to talk shit about your shoes all day. I leaned back, squinted my eyes and gave her one more bottom to top look. Holding my hands up and a big what the fuck Gesture, I also added, and what gives with the Susie homemaker look? I asked.

Michelle Bishop quickly rolled her eyes. I think I am being followed.

By whom? I asked. My head tilted, mind filled with intrigue.

It doesn't matter, either way, Manolo's and Gucci do not belong in this hell of a diner. She replied.

I let out a low chuckle. And neither do you. I said. I thought you would melt as soon as you walked through the doorway.

Ha, ha, ha... are we done with the small talk?

I took a moment to look around. My lips stayed a complete straight-line, never wavering. My eyes would jump and focus from seat to seat, catching a glimpse of other than my everyday life. How simple and non-complex other people’s lives must have been, talking about and discussing everyday simple tasks.

The task I was about to except would most indefinably endanger my life, but I had no choice. I had to do what Michelle Bishop wanted me to do. If my mother was still alive, I needed to know where and how.

I took one last look around the dark worn-out diner before I gave her my answer. The curtains were yellowed with years of coffee stains, the counter tops were scratched due to constant service from patrons, and the waitresses all wore short skirts while chewing gum.

I looked up at Michelle Bishop, finally making eye contact... Lady, the answer was yes the first time you called me, it was yes when you entered the diner, and it is still yes. Give me the when and where details later, but first, who is following you?

She took her right arm, and plopped it up on the table. She used her right hand to rest her head upon. As her long black hair became entwined between her fingers, she began to fiddle with it. Her posture and facial expression almost reminded me of a 16-year-old girl that had lost interest in the conversation. When her blue eyes finally met mine, she spoke. Well, he is a red-haired, red eyed ambitious detective.

She had sparked my attention. My eyes widened and my mouth dropped at the sound of detective. Eight years ago I did terrible things. Eight years ago, I slain women and put two men to their death. Perhaps because I had also died eight years ago, my trail could never be followed. But the thought of somebody investigating Michelle, and could possibly lead to me, left me nervous.

Michelle noted my face of concern. Oh no my little warrior. This has nothing to do with you, so far. Yes, the earlier investigations were due to my husband's indiscretions, before he died. But now, I believe it has become personal to this detective, Mark Hampton.

I arched my eyebrows. Personal?

You see, Detective Hampton was put on my husband's case eight years ago. Of course big money was at play and of course nothing was pegged on him. As far as I know, from what my people could dig up, was that Detective Hampton has lost his sister.

I relieved myself of a small notion of disgust. She did not have to say, for I knew where the detective’s sister possibly could be. Hen fighting was rich peoples cock fighting. Women and girls alike were being plucked up off the streets and trained to fight. Either to the death, or seriously wounded. I was one of those girls. My body was surgically enhanced as well as trained. For three years, I lived through a bloody reality of mayhem. I tried my best to remember the difference between right and wrong, but sometimes it was difficult to differentiate between the two. If I could have had it any other way, I would have died the first time on the killing floor. But there was only one problem… The one and only incentive for me to keep pushing on was that they held my mom’s life for ransom. And if Detective Hampton was hovering over Paul Bishop, the very man whom I had killed for turning me into a beast, was very likely because he had taken the detectives sister. The Switchblade Mamma was the name I would take on the killing floor, only because my weapons of choice were two knives, the very knives I tried to take on my attackers with as I was abducted eleven years ago and changed forever. Is he going to be a problem? I asked.

Michelle just shook her head. I don't think so, but he will be a pest when you get to my place, so just a heads up.

Michelle and I worked out the details of the job. Because she was being watched, we had to be covert. She would fly out to her home, and I would drive out in the Suburban the next day, trailer with utilities in tow. The drive itself would take about 10 hours. Michelle had it all worked out and plan already in place. Apparently there was a fire and I was to remodel her kitchen. I agreed to the terms. As soon as I reached Aspen and spoke with Michelle, I would be given plane tickets to Germany and thus my journey would start. We parted ways from the diner and I was more than grateful to have Michelle removed from my company.

I waited a few more minutes inside the diner after Michelle had left. I wanted to make sure she was gone before I went to my truck. I was uncomfortable enough to be around her. Our past correspondences hadn't been the best. While in captivity, I was mistakenly given to her. Back then, Michelle Bishop had her powers of seduction. She was the wife of the man who took my life for granted and made me fight for a living. She craved me, wanted me and finally, got her wish. She violated me in so many ways. As I was drugged, I couldn't remember the majority of the night and I was glad I couldn't.

Finally, when I felt the coast was clear, I went for my truck. I went to the glove box and pulled out a pack of cigarettes. I wasn't a big smoker, but in times of great stress, I felt it necessary. As I lit up a cigarette, I pulled out my phone. I wanted to call Paige. I knew we would see each other at home, but I just wanted to call, hear her voice.

Mid-November and the sun from the Arizona sky was still non-relentless. Feeling the heat within my black hoodie jacket, I pulled it off and threw it into my truck. As I took another drag from my cigarette and readied myself to call Paige, I felt a cold touch upon my shoulder. Feeling her energy, I knew who it was and slowly turned around. Once again, I was staring blankly into Michelle Bishop’s eyes. Expelling a plume of smoke into her face, I asked, now what?

My car won't start.

I took my hand to my four head and rubbed it down my face. Are you serious? Call AAA. I said.

I can't. If I am being followed, then they will know where I am.

Don’t you own like a gazzilion dollar car? I impatiently asked.

Michelle looked at me, expression short. I borrowed it… I am being followed, remember?

Take me to your car. Let's see what's wrong.

Michelle led and I followed. I wasn't the greatest with cars, but I knew the basics. If anything, hopefully it was just the battery. Sure enough, as I got there and popped up the hood, hearing the engine and the clicking, it was the battery. If I wanted to I could've played by the books. I could've went to the nearest auto-parts shop and picked up a battery, but for some reason I just wanted to get it done and over with. So I went with the easy way out.

With my cigarette nearly gone, Michelle watched me as I casually walked about the parking lot. She watched me as I walked up to the most expensive, newest car I could find. Michelle Bishop watched me as I began to work my magic.

What are you doing? I don’t have time for this! Michelle yelled it from across the parking lot.

I looked at her, squinting from the sun and shooshing her with the cigarette still in my mouth. The force from my breath sent ash flakes fluttering about. Magic indeed. It was a little craft I had picked up after I had died and was resuscitated, twice. For some reason, I was able to absorb energy. Electricity at best. Michelle watched me as I casually walked up to a Mercedes-Benz. I made sure to find a so-called rich car, for I knew they had and would call AAA. I placed my hand closest to the battery as I could get it. I took a deep breath and closed my eyes.

I had to concentrate. I had to wait until I felt it at my fingertips. The power, the energy. It was waiting, giving and wanting to be consumed. As I kept my eyes closed, I waited to see the sparkles within my eyelids, the power that would let me know that it was ready to be consumed. A few more seconds and confirmation was given. I opened the floodgates and let it in. As many people would feel it while drinking an energy drink, I felt it 1000 times more. As I drained the Mercedes-Benz from its power, I held it within me.

Michelle, with a confused look upon her face, watched me as I walked over to her car. As I placed my hand upon her car battery, I concentrated. I took another deep breath and expelled. The energy that I held within, coursed out of me and into the battery of her car, giving it life. Somewhat dazed after my transaction, I looked up at Michelle in a semi-drunken state and smiled. Start her up.

Her mouth was open the whole time. She didn't believe me one bit. Somehow she thought I was high on something. But when she got into her car, and put the keys into the ignition, it started up instantly.

I rolled out a big cheesy smile. I nodded and laughed.

Michelle's eyes were wide and big. How the Fuck did you do that? She asked, staring at me, and pointing at her car.

I lit up one more cigarette for the road. Compliments of your late husband. Apparently he gave me more than he thought he did.

I'll keep that in mind. Thank you for the battery recharge. At least I know my daughter will be safe in your hands. See you in a few days.

Smoking, puffing on my cigarette, I gratefully watched as Michelle Bishop left the parking lot. Smug, but not so smug with myself. It probably wasn't a good idea that I showed her what I could do. She was the predator, I was the prey… Was. I had established a new life. I was a new person. Lillian Ann cross was dead. In my new life, I was Jennifer Ann Drake.

It was so very possible, that what I was about to get myself into, would completely destroy everything that I worked so hard to build, but I had to do it. It was my mother, my mother's life. I thought she was dead, they told me she was dead. The fact that the information of her living was coming from somebody that I did not trust, made even worse. But who would I be if I didn't try? The task was simple. A life for a life. If and when I brought Michelle’s daughter home to her safe, she then would give me the whereabouts of my mom. My heart fluttered at the very thought. I was giddy and scared shitless all at the same time.

I drove home with the uncertainties of everything. One more night with Paige. I knew she would not be happy. She was flexible enough with my occasional moonlighting as the Switchblade Mama, but I knew she would not agree with this. Either way, she loved me or therefore she would let me go.

Paige always worked hard. At the office, she was known as the one and only renowned Rachel Renée Drake. From her humble beginnings at Dr. Sebastian Cole's plastic surgery farm, taking care of me and others, she built herself an empire. After bringing me back to life, Paige and I starting a new, she became a benchmark in the medical field. The love of my life, was the most beautiful, smartest woman in the world. She worked her ass off every day.

It would be an extremely difficult task to have to come home and tell her. Paige and I had not been separated for more than a few days since we got together. Our marriage was a strong one and our passion for each other was never ending.

I rode up to the driveway of our house. Her car was gone. She must've had another late meeting. No worries, I thought to myself. I would just start packing and prepare myself for my journey. The question was, what was the best thing to bring? My journey was to Germany. I had absolutely no idea how long I was to be. I hoped it wouldn't take more than a week. I packed a few clothes and of course the essentials of toiletries. As I was content with what I had packed, nervous as hell, I sat on the bed upstairs in our master bedroom and quietly waited for Paige.

As time began to melt away, spin and fall from my grasp, as the night became more mature, I felt butterflies as I heard Paige's car move on to the drive. The door opened, the keys flopped and clinked upon the counter top, and then I heard her.

Honey? It was echoing and distant, but I heard it all the same.

Normally at this time of night, I would be downstairs watching a series or two on Netflix, enjoying a few beers, waiting for my beloved to come home. She was home and I heard the stairs creak as she slowly made her way up, thus heightening the flight of my butterflies even more.

I thought you would be downstairs, unwinding. She entered the upstairs master bedroom and pulled off her overcoat, tossing it into the dirty clothes hamper. How long have you been home?

My complete mood could be given away in my facial expressions. As Paige looked at me further, she could see it in my eyes. Something was not quite right. I sat upon the edge of the bed, quiet and not moving.

Paige was hesitant, for she knew something was wrong, but she pressed on with her nightly duties. As she undressed, I slowly watched. As she entered the bathroom, she started the shower. Have you eaten anything?

Coffee and cigarettes I thought to myself. No, I wasn't hungry. You? I asked.

Had something at the office.

For some reason I had supersonic hearing at times. As Paige was undressing in the bathroom, even with the shower running, I could hear her undergarments as she slowly peeled them from her soft rose like textured skin and gracefully let them fall to the floor. I imagined her as she would sit herself in front of the mirror, looking at her beautiful body and all of its magnificence. Should would take a brush to her hair and comb out her long brown silky locks, always curled up at the ends. Thinking of those exact movements that were happening exactly at that time, I could not let the situation escape. I waited until I heard the shower door open until I slowly peeled off my clothes as well. It was a horrible strategy on my part, but I wanted to lessen the blow of me leaving.

Like a B-52 Stealth bomber, I waited for everything to fog up. Taking a deep breath, I made my approach. Like a predator approaching its prey, I quietly stalked into the bathroom, naked. As she was rinsing herself off, I crept up from behind. It wasn't exactly a sneak attack, as she heard the shower door open. As I wrapped my arms around her abdomen, I turned her so that I could get wet underneath the warm streams of the shower. She received me acceptingly. She held her hands over mine and pressed me closer to her body. As I was behind her, I slowly began to kiss the back of her neck, trailing down and slowly sliding my hands up to caress her underneath her subtle breasts.

She turned around, gently handling my chin, raising me up so we became at eye level. I could not let go of the dreaded facial expression and she knew it. She put her hands around my neck and kissed me. With the streams of water falling around us, dripping and leaving a sparkling magnificence, Paige pulled away slowly. Her brown eyes soft and penetrating. She held my face with one hand and trailed through my short hair with the other. I know something is wrong. Something has been wrong long since I got home. Something has been wrong since you received a phone call earlier this morning. There is something you're not telling me, but I assume you're taking your time, only because you know it will hurt me. She cupped my face with her hands and kissed once again. So now, if you have thought about it long enough, will you please share?

At that point it was a tad awkward. I should've kept my expressions at bay. Due to me holding back, my sexual spill the beans was no longer possible. Quietly, we toweled off. I threw on my shirt and boxers, Paige putting on her usual silk nighty and overcoat.

As Paige was standing in the bedroom, combing out her damp hair, she looked at me once again. The look on her face was the look that I never liked to deal with. Now, are you going to explain to me what the problem is?

Hesitantly, but surely I spelled it out. The whole ordeal with Michelle Bishop. Despite everything, despite all the dangers I would have to endure, I made it clear to Paige, that if my mother was alive, I had to find her.

Paige paced back and forth in our room, wildly. With brush in hand, she made drastic back-and-forth movements. As she began to spew out words from her mouth, I paid no attention as I watched the edges of her pink silk night coat slowly flutter up at the ends, revealing her slender thighs as she continuously gained speed, pacing. As I slowly began to lose myself in thoughts of were my tongue would be best placed upon her thighs, her voice chimed