Rescuing Rachel: Lust (Seven Deadly Sins 1)

By Ruth Munro

Rachel's life is like a train wreck, but once upon a time she believed in fairy tales. All little girls are brought up on fairy tales. Some of us still believe in them. Rachel doesn't. For once upon a time Rachel was a pretty, happy go lucky student with the world at her feet. Blessed with a first class brain, and headed for a career as a doctor, her future looked great. All she needed was her personal prince charming to have what everyone dreams of: a great future and a happy home life.
It's about to get worse. Sometimes there are years when the men you meet are not frogs, they are snakes! For ever since Rachel moved in with Sid, and then was forced to run away from him, her life has gone downhill fast. Forced to live miles away from her family and friends, and tormented by memories, Rachel is struggling to cope.
Her downhill slide isn't over yet! For in the past Rachel attracted an admirer. Not Sid, but someone more dangerous. While she goes through the motions of life he is steadily closing in. He wants her alone and at his mercy. He's prepared to remove anyone and everyone who gets in his way. If Rachel wants a Prince Charming he volunteers for the role!
Will Rachel escape her fate? Will she turn her life around? If she doesn't will one lone cop put the pieces together in time to save her?
Genre: funny, but inspirational crime fiction with a touch of murder.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Ruth Munro
• Release date: Oct 6, 2017
• ISBN: 9781370275991

Ruth Munro

I am Australian widow, who doesn't like to admit her age, with four children and two step-children, living and working in China. I wasn’t always a writer. At different times, for reasons of acute boredom I have pursued a lot of entertaining professions and hobbies. Personally if I lived my life the way I wanted I would spend all my time on my favorite activities. I like to catch up with family, write, read incessantly, watch movies, and study towards my Masters. Fortunately God insists I live a balanced life. So in my spare time I pray a lot, spend time with God, and work a full time job! I am so blessed because my genetics have meant I rarely need much sleep. As to my career I am an experienced teacher, although I have also worked for Social Security as a clerk, sold roof tiles, been a wife and mother, worked as a Podiatrist and run various departments (or worked in them) in my church. I have always taught. I held my first unofficial math class on the steps of my neighbour’s house when I was about ten. I am also a jack of all trades since I’ve been a single mother since my husband died when we were both 34. In 2012 after living in India for two months working at Asha Bhawan, God gave me the theme of this series, and revived my desire to create stories that amuse, but also make us think. I hope you enjoy them. I have just published the sixth book in the seven book series. I am still struggling with the seventh book in the series which is mostly written. I am taking too long I know, but I really hate the subject matter. I will get it done by December even if I have to rewrite the middle and change some major plot events. If you like my books please leave a review. If you hate them also write a review. Like all authors I will think about your criticisms, although like most of us I hate criticism! May my God bless you!

Book preview

Rescuing Rachel: Lust (Seven Deadly Sins 1)

Text copyright 2016 Ruth Munro

All Rights Reserved

Book Cover Artwork Copyright Ravenborn Accessed online @http://www.selfpubbookcovers.com/Ravenborn

Dedication

For Kathryn, my beloved daughter, heart of my heart and blood of my blood, May you find real love, and walk in peace and love all your days.

Declaration

I declare that I am the original writer of this book, wrote it in 2012, and claim all rights to it. However I want you to remember this book is fiction. You may meet some characters you think you know. They aren’t them, but may carry superficial resemblance because people are alike. We are products of our upbringing, our society and our genetics. We are also all human, and so all flawed. I apologize in advance if anyone thinks they see themselves in this book, and gets a shock.

Smashwords Edition

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 your favorite ebook retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

Foreword

In case you are wondering this foreword is where I apologize in advance to all those I will no doubt offend. It serves no other useful purpose. If you don’t get offended easily feel free to skip this section. You can read it anytime and check on whether you should have felt offended later if you like...

I tried in this story to blend a couple of genres (crime, humor, ironic send-ups, drama and romance) and lace them with Australian sayings, which were common in this era, but are now no longer in use. (Some of which are no doubt stolen from overseas… Once we were convicts and thieves!). If you get lost in the old school Australian slang which is largely ironic in nature, please look up the alphabetized appendix, or do like we all do and ‘Google it’.

For purists, I have used Americanized spelling since Americans complain if you don’t (hopefully I have done this successfully), but Australian grammar because Australians don’t talk like Americans. My heroine talks and thinks like an Aussie because she is one! She may also not be likeable to some people – which I have heard is a common Australian trait. My apologies in advance for this too… She does eventually learn!

Adult Content Warning

It has adult themes because of its subject matter of lust, and is not suitable for teenagers. I have tried to be thorough without being explicit. There are definitely no real sex scenes in this book. However it is impossible to show the effects of lust and sex addiction without talking about sex a little… I guess what I am saying is don’t read it if you can’t handle it. You can show your opinion through book sales!

My heroine is a little crude in the beginning, (yes that does include blasphemy), and her morals are hers not mine. I could not do otherwise and be true to her character. Be warned.

Finally, I recommend if you do get offended that you read the afterword section, which has a brief word about the theme and why I have focused on it… If there is any justification for what I’ve done, you’ll find it there.

Table of Contents

Front Matter

Prologue: The Day I Came a Gutser

Chapter One: Between You and Me and the Gate-Post

Chapter Two: Felling Like a Dog’s Breakfast

Chapter Three: In the Pudding Club

Chapter Four: If It Was Raining Palaces I’d Get Hit By the Dunny Door

Chapter Five: I Need That Like a Submarine Needs a Screen Door

Chapter Six: I’m Not Pissing In Your Pocket Mate!

Chapter Seven: Murphy’s Law

Chapter Eight: Fair Crack Of the Whip

Chapter Nine: Well Stone the Crows

Chapter Ten: It’s Enough To make You Chuck a Wobbly

Chapter Eleven: Fair Dinkum

Chapter Twelve Better Than a Poke In the Eye With a Burnt Stick

Afterword

Glossary

About the Author

Prologue: The Day I Came a Gutser

You can’t have one foot either side of the fence if it’s made of Barbed Wire - (Joh Bjelke Peterson, Queensland Premier, and Australian Politician).

The wise woman builds her house, but with her own hands the foolish one tears hers down. -Proverbs 14:1 NIV

April 1988, Brisbane, Australia.

I’m going to start my story on the second worst day of my life for a reason. I don’t know how else to begin. It all came to a head late one night, and no it wasn’t a dark and stormy night. The worst days and nights of my life have almost all begun deceptively well.

Jen! I called out that night, thumping on the front door. Open up, Goddammit!

It was 2 am and I was locked out. I could kill myself now for forgetting my keys.

Inside I could hear loud music playing and I recognized the song. Jen was currently into ‘I’ve had the time of my life’, and everything to do with the movie ‘Dirty Dancing’. Me, I was over it, and over being locked out! I’d been knocking about five minutes on the door. She wasn’t waking up, even if music was blaring from close by. It was time for plan B. If only I had one.

Before I go on there’s one thing you must know. I’ve always been a nerd, and mathematical. Some people would say I’m a nutcase and cannot function normally in social relationships. Well, duh… I am a nerd. Nerds by definition mostly have borderline autism, which means we are brilliant but we don’t get people, and we like to use our pet hobby. My pet hobby is math. Math is how I make sense of my life. I can’t function without math, and I can only explain my story with it. For those who don’t like it out there however I’ll stick to simple addition sums. Be warned! Math + me = common sense for me. It’s considered strange by almost everyone else.

Anyway, Jen had been acting really strangely the last couple of days. Her and Nick had broken up about 2 weeks ago. This time it looked like it would stick, although I’d thought that many times before. She had brought home some chick dressed as a Goth three days ago, and she told me she was off guys. Chicks were better. She said they were better at satisfying her, and they didn’t treat you like dirt.

That wasn’t what was grossing me out. If Jen wanted to become a lesbian I might not agree but I couldn’t really argue with her about it, because it was true Nick had always treated her badly. I wasn’t religious like my family, so there was no reason to believe choosing to be a lesbian was wrong. Maybe this Goth chick would treat her better and help her heal.

The thing that made it awkward was every time I turned around I felt as if her and the little Goth chick were checking me out. I was trying not to get angry at her because she had been suffering with the break up. Jen knew what I felt about sex though. Sex + me + really bad taste in partners = danger + guilt + lack of sleep + ... Need I go on?

To make it worse Jen and the Goth chick were drinking heavily too. I was worried about her. Her bingeing probably explained why she wasn’t waking up now. Drunks sleep very soundly.

I am the opposite of a lesbian. I’m into men. No, I’m not a slut, since I’d never even dated many men; I’ve dated two. I’m a sex addict though. Like all addicts I’m consumed by thinking about how to get to my next fix. In the middle of getting sex I am insatiable, as I’ve found to my cost. Don’t get me wrong. There are nice men. Most men I meet though are not nice. They take advantage, and since sex is my weakness, like all addicts there comes a time when you have to recognize you have a problem. You have to avoid your addiction! It was better not to be used and abused.

So I’d put myself through my own form of AA (alcoholics anonymous for those who don’t know what that is), which I called MAP. It means ‘Men are Pains’. I was over being taken advantage of because of my weakness, perved at or treated like some commodity instead of a person. Just saying MAP made me feel empowered and not want to ever have anything to do with the source of my addiction, ever, ever again. This works for me. Jen had her cure for MAP and I had mine. I preferred mine.

However, this thing with Jen was making me uncomfortable. I’d only moved into Jen’s from my parents a couple of weeks ago. I’d had to. You can’t live at home if home is a place where a weirdo is stalking you.

It wasn’t working out like I’d planned. I’d planned to have more peace, and to catch up on sleep, not get less. In the last two days I had taken to working late, eating out and watching a late movie at the cinemas just to pass the time in a comfortable place. I would sneak into my home really late after the movie in the hope Jen and her lover would have long gone to bed. Believe me when I say this type of lifestyle is not good for a young doctor who already works impossibly long hours. It’s even worse for a stalker victim who wants to avoid dark places.

So now I walked round the house, in the dark, looking for a way in and trying not to jump at shadows. There’s something about shadows and the quiet of a deserted back yard, which makes all the fine hairs on my back stand straight up. I was frantic to get in any way I could.

I’m no cat burglar, so I was looking for an easy way in, like an open window. Fortunately the house was one floor only, raised on small wooden stumps, about 2 foot high. Breaking in should’ve been easy; it looked easy enough on television shows. However before I started something as extreme as breaking and entering I checked the back door. Always check the obvious first. It’s the key to success for any intelligent person.

It was locked, which wasn’t unexpected given the hour. Something sticky and wet was on the handle.

Eeuuw! I whined to myself. I wiped my hand on the white dressy shirt I’d worn to work over my satin camisole. Since I’m in a lab coat all day, I usually manage to wear white and keep it clean. I’d left the lab coat in my car. I hoped whatever it was wouldn’t stain. I guess I could’ve wiped whatever it was on my skirt, but skirts cost more…

The window on the far left looked like it was slightly ajar, but unfortunately it was the bathroom one, and was a very tight squeeze. Maybe I could get in there, if I could climb up to it, but the spa-bath was below it, and the taps for the spa were directly under the window.

I could picture myself landing face first on the taps because I’d have to go in that way, and last time I looked no one put hand holds in bathrooms for anyone to climb in by. MAPS (‘Men who Are Painful’ … remember?) don’t think about sensible things like that when building bathrooms, even though little wall fittings could double as soap holders, as well as being really convenient for unexpected moments when you were locked out.

I decided this window would have to be my last resort. Plan B + Small window = Acute Embarrassment + Black eye = need for a new plan. I had to work tomorrow and I’m sure my patients would not trust me if I looked like I’d gone ten rounds with a kick boxer because I’d gotten up close and personal with some taps.

I walked round further but that window looked like my only choice. That’s how my day had been going. My last resort was my only resort. I pulled the garden chair over under the window and stood on it. I was five foot nothing, but hey I could reach half way up, which should mean I had enough leverage.

I tried to pry it open, but my nail broke.

Ouch! Goddammit! I sucked my finger and tasted blood – lots of it. What the hell? I hadn’t thought I’d broken my nail that far down, and it wasn’t stinging more than a little. I shook it a little and then I gave up on the thought. It was 2 am, and maybe my nerve endings were exhausted too. Maybe the fatigue and anxiety had overloaded them. No doubt worse pain would come later when I had to file it back.

The situation was not looking good. There had to be a better way to open the window. I couldn’t afford open wounds on my hands, what with working in a doctor’s office and worries about HIV and hepatitis.

I looked around frantically and remembered the tent still packed up in its bag and on the back lawn, from a couple of weekends ago. Jen and I had been telling each other to clean it and put it away for days. Lucky we hadn’t. There were metal tent pegs and a hammer in it. I guess if prying the window open with a tent peg didn’t work I could always smash it in with the hammer. That was sure to wake Jen up.

Then again, maybe I shouldn’t smash the window in. Sleeping in the car might be better than waking Jen by destroying her house. Broken window + 2am = Eviction. All the same compare it to, Sleeping in the car + Stalker = Possible rape or Death. Hmmm…

Oh well, I thought, the tent pegs might still work. I got down off the chair, went over and pulled out the tent peg bag. Then I pried the window open enough to get my fingers in, and pulled it the rest of the way open. This is not as easy as it sounds, for all those critics out there. Tent pegs bend easily. I ruined quite a few before I worked out I was being stupid and used the back of the hammer for a lever. Just because I’m a nerd doesn’t mean I always think things out properly the first time.

The window was one of those horrible, historically authentic pull out windows that looked tacky. Even the stained glass on it was ugly, being cheap and green, like all those on the house. When Jen had the money she planned to replace them with non-authentic aluminium sliding windows that you could put insect screens and security on. It would be historically indefensible, but more convenient.

The window left me with a bit of a dilemma. Not only was it small and placed too high, being a half window at best, but it only opened upwards a little making it narrow both ways. I hoped my backside would fit. No I’m not fat; it’s just it was a very small window that wouldn’t open far. No doubt it was designed to stop a ‘psycho’ shower moment or perhaps to give more privacy from peeping toms. Things like that are important in bathrooms.

With a jump and a wiggle I levered myself in about halfway. Luckily my boobs were not very big. I was a B-cup on my best days, well an A minus cup really, but I refused to give in and wear the smaller bra. That’s why padding was invented.

Squirming, I tried to fit my backside all the way through. About then I realized I was stuck. Stuck upside down, and no doubt flashing my underwear because my skirt had rucked up, not that it mattered because no one was there.

Goddammit. Damn it to hell, Jen! Wake up! I saw a light go on next door, and then heard Jen’s snotty neighbor letting out a scream. Mrs. Smythe—... I tried to yell, but my voice was somewhat muffled by the awkward position. At any rate I had never been good at screaming as loud as Mrs. Smythe, who could be heard three blocks away and didn’t sound like she would stop any time soon. Thirty seconds later I heard the sirens start up. I said some more choice words and struggled harder to get down. How could Jen sleep through this?!

In the short minutes it took them to get there I did not manage to do anything but tear my skirt and hurt myself. My backside was as stuck as ever, and was that blood trickling down my leg where the sill was? What a horrible place to find a splinter.

I’m sure I was a sight. Why are you even wondering why? I’d like to see anyone get stuck like me, be wriggling back and forth to get free, and not have their knickers creep between the cheeks of their butt and their skirt resemble a belt! I was lucky the knickers hadn’t torn like the skirt. I hoped Mr. Smythe was not looking down with Mrs. Smythe, but knowing the way my night was going it was likely he was. MAPS! If I know one thing about MAPS it’s that they are always doing exactly what you don’t want or think they should at exactly the wrong moment.

My first clue the cops had arrived was a very strong light, shining on my very exposed backside, as well as the window. I swore again. That was followed by loud laughter from what sounded like two men and then a suspiciously innocent ---

Would you like a hand?

No! I said sarcastically, I like hanging around! ... Don’t touch me!

When we sorted it all out, I found myself red-faced (because the only way to get me down was to touch very near my upper thighs and hold onto questionable places while pulling with excessive force), and blinking into a very bright light held by one of the cops. I know what you’re thinking, but they were both middle aged and had paunches. Put me in an embarrassing situation where some guy has to lay hands on my nether regions, and I guarantee he’ll be seriously ugly or a jerk, or both. They were both as ugly as bulldogs chewing wasps. In a fairy tale they would be good looking cops. My life is not a fairy tale!

Name? the ugliest one asked. I sighed.

Rachel Grace McCain. It’s not what it looks like… I live here.

Locked out?

Yeah, and I’d ask you to give me a boost in, but you saw how well that was going. Besides I really, really did not want his hand anywhere near my body ever again, not that I’d say that aloud. MAP was my religion, and these two no doubt proved my theory, but I wasn’t a fool.

In Queensland, Australia, on this date in 1988, the police had power; you did not offend them. It’s a police state, my state. Think Nazi, and you have the general impression of most Queenslanders of their average cop. Even if Nazi is a bit of an exaggeration, most of us hate cops. Australians are typically ex-cons, about six or seven generations back (depending of course on how fast we