The Last Resort

By Kimberly A. Bettes

Ashley Carter grew up in the city. She prides herself on her street smarts. She wouldn't have made it this far without them. But when she meets a handsome stranger in a roadside diner who invites her to his resort in the mountains, she ignores her instincts and goes.

Seeking poetic inspiration, Ashley soon discovers that she's found something far more sinister.

In an effort to escape, she realizes that sometimes justice is macabre.

*This is the third short story in the Minutes to Death series.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Kimberly A. Bettes
• Release date: Aug 1, 2011
• ISBN: 9781465913814

Kimberly A. Bettes

Kimberly A. Bettes was born on Thanksgiving Day, 1977, completely ruining any chance her mother had at enjoying a delightful dinner. At the age of 12, Kimberly began writing poems, essays, and short stories. At 14, she began her first novel, a project that would take two years and many sleepless nights to complete. Since then, she has written more than ten novels, dozens of short stories, and hundreds of poems and essays. She currently lurks in the Ozark Mountains of southeast Missouri with her husband and son. It's there she terrorizes the residents of a small town with her twisted tales, most of which focus on the dark side of human nature. In addition to writing, Kimberly is also a freelance photographer and life-long chocolate enthusiast.

Book preview

THE LAST RESORT

KIMBERLY A. BETTES

Copyright © 2011 Kimberly A. Bettes

All rights reserved.

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, organizations, places, events, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, without written permission from the author.

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Chapter 1

My head was pounding. I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to block out the pain.

I was angry with myself. It was my fault I was here. I had no one else to blame. I’d known better. I’d never before let myself down in such a way, and I’d never had to kick myself in the ass so hard. How could I have been so stupid?

I knew now the exact moment things had gone wrong. It had even felt wrong at the time, but as humans have a tendency to do, I pushed those feelings aside and thought everything would be okay. People have such a tendency to ignore their instincts, talking themselves into a false sense of security. It’s easier to believe that nothing bad will happen to you than to face the fact that bad things are going to happen to someone, so why not you?

Wish I’d realized that before everything fell apart.

***

I knew it wasn’t safe for a woman to travel alone on the highway. The last thing I needed to do was talk to strangers. In fact, it was a personal rule of mine—one on a long list of personal rules—to never talk to anyone I didn’t know. Yet I was doing just that very thing.

So why do you travel so much? He had a friendly face and kind eyes. He smiled, revealing perfect white teeth. Making him seem even more harmless was his relaxed appearance and casual demeanor. His tan complexion and tall, muscular build gave him athletic good looks. I couldn’t deny my attraction to him.

When he first sat down beside me at the counter in the restaurant, I tensed. It was only reflex. You had to be on guard at all times, even when there seemed to be nothing to guard yourself against. However, one look into his dark blue eyes had eased the tension, and I was swept up into a conversation with him.

He introduced himself to me as Nick. I told him my real name, which was something I never did. I usually played it safe, going with my fake name, Emma Royds. Only a few people had ever caught that it sounded like hemorrhoids, and no one suspected it was fake. After all, if I were going to fake a name, why would I pick one so goofy?

I sipped my soda and took another bite of my roast beef sandwich, glancing at him and smiling, unable to pretend not to notice that he was handsome. Of course, so were many serial killers, so I kept up my guard.

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