I stare at the back of his head. I’m mesmerized by his story. Tears stain my cheeks, and I pray to god, that he doesn’t start sucking my neck.
“I even called 911. The entire town showed up. Do you remember?”
I nod just enough to prove I heard him.
“No one suspected anything. Certainly not from the quiet, little boy no one paid attention too. But Aunt Lorraine and Uncle Chuck knew. They found my little cubby hole in the basement—the newspaper, the pictures, the fingernails, the golden-brown hair, the clothing…They sent me away to the Cuckoo’s Nest. Did you know they still exist?”
He looks at me, his eyes wild.
“Montie wasn’t all that different from the other private boarding schools I went to…Well, except for the bars on the windows and the locked steel doors. But what my dear Aunt and Uncle didn’t know is that at eighteen I was free. I came back for you—but you were already with Him. You forgot all about Cody. You forgot all about me.”
My chest heaves. I shake my head. I don’t know how much more of his story, our story I can take. “I didn’t, I didn’t even know you…”
“I talked to you at a party.”
My eyes grow wide.
He smiles. “Yes, that’s it. I knew you would remember. I soon realized I had to win you and in order to accomplish that, I had to become the ideal man for you. So, I waited and bettered myself. I took guitar, piano, and singing lessons. I traveled and rock climbed. I even got my ears clipped for you, but perfection is expensive. I tried to gain access to my trust fund. After all, my blood relations were dead. Poor Aunt Lorraine and Uncle Chuck. They died in their sleep.”
Chapter Seventy
His eyes drift away, to another time, to another place, taking pleasure in the deaths he caused. The psycho fuck.
He clears his throat and smiles, but the smile is all wrong. The boyish, flirting grin disappeared with the first body.
“But they put a little caveat on the Trust. I had to wait until I was twenty-one to inherit my millions. The monthly stipend was adequate to cover most of my living expenses, but when I swept you off your feet, I needed money, so I waited.”
Pieces of the intricate puzzle fall into place. Cassie’s silence. We’ve never gone this long without talking—even after our worst fights. Her fingernail at my apartment. The fighting Mrs. Sullivan heard. Cassie’s fingernail at Jeb’s. “What’s the banging in the basement?”
He walks over to my senior high school picture. “I wish I could’ve been there for your graduation…,” he whispers, fingering the ornate wood carved frame.
“What’s the banging in the basement, Jeb?”
His body stiffens. He pulls his hand away from the frame and turns to me. “I can’t believe after everything I’ve done for you, you still question me. I’ve killed for you, Angel. I need you to understand…,” he struggles with his words. The muscles in his face twist and pulse as if they have a mind of their own.
“You ungrateful…,” he slaps the side of his face. “You b… You can’t be here.”
He tears out a clump his hair. “I can’t…, I can’t….Run, Tiffani!” He roars as he slams into the wall. Plaster from the ceiling crashes to the floor. It’s enough to snap me out of whatever spell I was under.
I hobble out of the room as fast as my broken leg can take me, but I know it won’t be fast enough.
The Jeb I know, the Jeb I trusted, the man I might have even loved, vanished, replaced by a black-eyed monster that will most certainly tear out my beating heart. I race down the hall. Stumbling. Tripping. Regaining my step, only to lose it again and again. Screams and growls fill the house. I don’t look back. I don’t stop, but there is no way in hell I can get down the stairs fast enough. No way in hell I can get away before the monster tears me to shreds.
I consider hiding in one of the upstairs bedrooms, but I know he’ll find me. He’ll always find me.
A rush of fresh air blows up the stairs. Jeb left the front door wide open. A mistake he won’t make again. The cool breeze strengthens me. It gives me hope. I could get away. I could do it.
Jeb tears out of the room. A blast of heat and danger explodes around him. Our eyes meet. The promise of pain rockets through me. I throw myself across the railing and slide down on my stomach. I fly faster than he can run, but there is only one way off this roller coaster.
The null post slams into my chest. My ribs crack into teeny-tiny pieces. Fireworks fill the room as I soar through the air, but I do not have wings. There is no one to save me from this nightmare.
I often wondered how I would die. I started creating a variety of different scenarios about my death after Cody drowned in that frozen pond so many years ago. The swift and precise—death by guillotine. The torturous and drawn out—fall off a cliff, break every bone in my body, and live on the edge of consciousness until the crows gouge out my eyes and maggots devour my heart.
But never did I imagine I would gladly embrace death rather than live another moment in the fear that Jeb’s punishment would be exact and agonizing.
I blame the second glass of wine or maybe the third. Yes, the third was a bad idea, but it’s too late for regret. The end is almost here, and I welcome it.
Chapter Seventy-One
But the end didn’t come. My stubborn heart refused to stop beating even as I willed it to quit. I wanted to die, but the unquenchable thirst to live, to taste freedom once again, won.
And if I left this Hell on Earth without Jeb, dozens, if not hundreds, of women would share a fate much worse than mine because they will never rival his Angel. No one can rival Josiah’s Angel, not even myself.
He whispers his dark, twisted confessions to me as I lay faking unconsciousness. His fucked up idea of pillow talk. He tells me how he dresses women up and pretends they’re me, and then he beats and whips and burns them because in the end, they are not me.
He thinks I sleep in a drug-induced coma, the peaceful, dreamless respite of an angel. He believes the morphine IV keeps me in bed and unconscious, but he is wrong. I’ve become quite the actress. I am aware. More than aware. I am coherent. Perhaps all the pain meds rush to the broken bones in my body. Maybe I’m immune to morphine or I’ve consumed so much of it I’ve grown tolerant to the substance or maybe Jeb stuck the IV needle in a muscle instead of a vein.
He took precautions though. He tied my arms and legs to the bed posts with thick green climbing rope. The same climbing rope we used the day he took me to Old Man’s peak to cheer me up after my fight with Drew, during that wonderful time in a relationship when everything is fresh and new and exciting and dirty secrets are kept under lock and key, a time when duplicity does not exist, a time when blood does not stain your hands.
Chapter Seventy-Two
The banging wakes me.
“The pipes,” he said. “The old pipes in the basement.”
If Cassie’s still alive, and I have to believe she is, that’s where she must be. I need to save her and get the hell out even if I have to drag us by my fingertips.
I tug with my good arm. If only I had a little slack, just a miniscule sliver, it might be enough to maneuver a wrist from the rope. The restraints bite my wrists and ankles, but I keep struggling anyway.
I relax my arms and legs, letting them fall on the bed and stretch toward their respective restraints. I twist my body toward my right arm and shoulder. A short piece of rope dangles in the air just out of reach. If I could reach that piece, if I could wiggle it out of the figure eight knot, if I could…The floor boards outside my door creak and moan under Jeb’s weight.
I breathe in and out, in and out, to calm my heart. I close my eyes just as he opens the door.
“Oh Angel,” he says, his voice thick with regret, “it makes me sick to see you reduced to bondage, but you left me no choice. You know too many secrets. I must reprogram you again and that takes time. Deprivation of light. Denial of basic human needs. Days of solitude. You must learn your place and accept your role.”
He checks the IV bag and the other bags hanging from the metal stand. He runs his fingers along the tubes. Probably checking for blockages or kinks in the tubing. Wouldn’t want me to die while he’s reprogramming me. Where’s the fun in that?
“I have Dr. Carlson to thank for my medical knowledge. I helped subdue other patients at Montie while he conducted his non-FDA approved experiments. Those damn bureaucrats took all the fun out of patient care.”
He laughs, a dark, twisted laugh, as he presses buttons on one of the machines beside the bed. “I’m so glad I thought to take his white coat off him before I slit his throat. Blood stains are a bitch to get out.”
He didn’t just say…
I can’t even…
“I got everything I needed to keep your heart beating while your body repairs itself. It’s rather alarming how easy it is to blend in at a hospital if you act like you’re supposed to be there. The building overflows with young nurses more than willing to swipe their badge through the pharmacy security system for a Doctor. The aphrodisiac of the white coat.”
He cradles my cheek in his hand. It takes every ounce of my being not to fight him, to lay still and act as if I’m unconscious. One twitch. One wince, and I’ll be given away and that will be the end of me.
“They all reminded me of you. Their hair or their eyes, the way they smiled or the way they laughed. The waitress tied her hair back in a sloppy bun just like you. The nurse’s walk reminded me of the way you skipped into my store that first day--full of life and possibility. But in the end, none of them rivaled my Angel. They were weak, pathetic, poor excuses for human beings, who begged for mercy.”
“You didn’t beg though, did you? You will never need to beg. Whatever you want is yours. Anything, my Angel. I will give you everything you ask. I can never say no to you.”
And there it is. I never thought about asking Jeb for anything. But now I know how to rid the world of him forever.
Chapter Seventy-Three
My eyelids flutter, as if engaged in a great battle, a civil war of sorts.
“Angel,” he whispers. His voice sounds thick with emotion. “Angel, are you alright?”
“Jeb,” I croak. I keep my eyes closed, so he thinks I’m calling for him out of desire not proximity.
The bed shifts as he sits beside me. “I’m right here, Angel.” His hand, his disgusting, psychotic hand, runs down the length of my face, but I’m careful not to shutter. I swallow hard and lean into it instead.
“Jeb?” I say. I flutter my eyelids a bit more before I open them. “Is that you? Is that really you?”
His lips press against my forehead. I remember when I dreamed of those lips touching mine, kissing my naked body. Their soft sweet caresses, now a viper strike.
“I…, I…,” I pause, steeling myself to the events I am about to set in motion. “I love you.”
He sighs. “Oh my darling Angel, how I’ve waited for you to say those words to me. I love you, too.” He covers my face with tender kisses, leaving open, festering wounds wherever his lips land, but he’s not satisfied, he forces his tongue into my mouth, plunging in and out. I force myself not to gag. He cups my breast, teasing the nipple with his fingers. The nipple betrays me and grows hard from his touch, but I don’t fight him. He needs to follow me down this path.
He explores the hard ridges of the roof of my mouth, the sharp lines of each tooth, the soft underside of my tongue. He penetrates deep into the back of my throat, relentless in his pursuit to possess every part of me. He groans as he sucks on my lower lip before releasing it. My poor lips throb from the poison he left in his wake. His hot ragged breath burns my cheek. “Angel, I missed you.”
“I missed you, too,” I whisper breathlessly. “I never want us to part again.”
He pulls away from my cheek to look at me. I have never seen his face so soft and childlike, as if all those murders were nothing more than a simple misunderstanding. He cradles my face in his hands. “Never Angel, never.”
I breathe deeply in and out and release another moan. “I want to be with you and only you.”
He pulls me into an awkward embrace, restricted by the restraints still wrapped around my arms and legs. I let out a squeak of pain, but he is too caught up in his own ecstasy to notice my discomfort. “Oh Angel,” he says.
I clench my jaw. He can’t find out the morphine isn’t working.
He rubs his hands up and down my back, as if to comfort me, as if I am a willing participant in his fucked-up game. He releases me against the pillow, but he’s not done yet, not by a long shot. He finds my mouth and breasts again. I imagine myself downing a fifth of vodka to cope with his attack.
“Oh Tiffani,” he says from my nipple. “Oh, how I’ve wanted us to be together for so long.”
I moan again and fake a smile, but my efforts are wasted. He’s back at my breasts, sucking, pulling, taking what he thinks is his. Without asking permission, his lips devour everything in their path. His calloused hands wrap around my waist and squeeze, as his tongue circles my belly button. Once my fantasy, now my nightmare.
“Just one small taste my Angel, just one small taste,” he whispers.
A quick pinch and a tug, and he removes what I assume is the catheter. He carefully places it on the floor next to the bed. “Oh Angel,” he sighs, “I’ve waited so long for this.” He licks his lips, before burying his head between my legs.
Jeb devolved from my white knight in shining armor to the most disgusting, vile creature I’ve ever met long before he went down on me. I squeeze my eyes shut in complete denial of what’s happening. I try to relax as much as possible. Mind over matter and all that, but my body rebels against me. Tired of the shackles. Damaged. Abused. Broken beyond repair. My body, my temple tries to shut itself off from Jeb’s advances. My sex tightens in a giant Kegel to deny him entry, but his tongue forces his way through. I moan in pain, but he must take it as a sign of pleasure and continues his probing.
After an assault on every soft fold and crevice, he smacks his lips and withdraws. His eyes capture mine, and I cannot tear myself away. He unbuttons the top of his shorts. With his hand on his zipper, he says to me, “Oh Angel, it is time for us to join as one.”
I spent more nights than I can remember, imagining this very moment, but now, dread consumes me.
“Wait,” I pant. “Wait.”
His erection hovers over me. Impatience plagues his amber eyes. “What,” he grunts.
“I want you,” I say, “but I need you to do something for me before I give myself to you.”
His face brightens. “Anything you want Angel, I’ll do it.”
“Let Cassie go.”
He stiffens. A glare… A hesitation…
Before the monster can surface, I thrust my body down toward him. The head of his dick touches my soft folds. His eyes go round. His body shudders and I pull away from him. “Please, Jeb, hurry.”
A battle wages within him, but my side must win. I thrust down again. “Hurry Jeb. Your Angel needs you. So bad.” I moan as I bite my lip.
Chapter Seventy-Four
I hear his distant footsteps race down the stairs to the basement. It pains me that I was right, that Cassie was one floor below me the entire time I was here, and I did nothing to save her. But I can save her now. I can do this one small thing for her.
I tug and twist to break free from the constraints. The ropes don’t give at all. There’s not even a centimeter of slack I can work with. And the knots, the knots bite down on the rope and refuse to budge. A figure-8 doesn’t come undone unless the creator designs it that way. The practical, logical side of me knows the only way to get free is if Jeb unties me. The irrational, illogical side refuses to give up the fight so long as I am able. For too long, I allowed myself to remain a prisoner. For too long, I took Jeb’s gifts and embraced a life I thought I wanted, but not anymore. Now I will fight until my last breath.
Heavy footsteps stomp up the stairs. I let my mind go numb. Je
b can’t know I’m trying to get away. I must remain emotionless, unaffected from this nightmare.
He stops in front of my doorway. I can’t tell, if the poor creature in his arms is Cassie. Her head hangs backwards over his arm. Greasy clumps of brown hair are plastered across her face. The hair color shocks me for only a moment. Then I remember what he told me. He dyes their hair to look like me. The sick bastard.
Her bare ass hangs out the bottom of a crumpled and torn black dress—the very one I thought she stole from me after our fight over Jeb.
How I wish I listened to her that morning.
Black, purple, and ugly shades of yellow bruises cover her body as if a tattoo artist used her skin as his canvas. Her lifeless form molds to his arms. I can’t tell if she’s dead or alive. Please let her be alive.
“Is that Cassie?” I whisper. I’m careful not to demonstrate any emotion.
He hesitates, clutching the body close to him. The predator unwilling to give up his prey. I fight the urge to call to her, to cry for her, and it almost kills me.
Her head falls to the side. Her eyes open wide when she sees me. A single tear falls down her stained cheek.
Those clear blue eyes fill me with hope, and I find my resolve. “Jeb, it’s okay. Take her outside and come back to me.” I pull my knees apart exposing myself to him. His eyes grow round. “Hurry.”
He disappears from the doorway. A moment later the front door opens. I listen to his heavy footsteps as he delivers Cassie back into the world of the living, my parting gift to her.
In no time, he returns to my room. He hesitates at the doorway, as if wondering if he made the right decision.
I know what I need to do. It’s time to finish this.
“Take off your shirt,” I order him. He lifts his black t-shirt with the silver wings off his stomach to reveal his man line. The same man line I once thought was the sexiest thing I’d ever seen. I lick my lips. He slowly reveals each hard muscle of his stomach. The very ones I once imagined tracing with my tongue on my way down to suck him. I give a soft moan. He yanks the shirt over his head, revealing the well-defined shoulder muscles I once dreamed of gripping while I rode him.
And Then He: A Rogue Mountain Billionaire Novel Page 18
