“So how long would you shoot to go back in? I’m not comfortable with it being more than twenty-four to forty-eight hours.”
Mads frowned at the time restriction. “I want to see where he moves business when he’s rattled, and we still haven’t seen the operation that actually gets the captives moved and sold. Of course it’d be great if we could nail some of the high-end buyers too, but for now, I want Vlasenko shut down.”
“I don’t think one day would do it, though we don’t want to push our luck,” Vincent replied. “He’s moving operations, but I don’t know where yet. We can’t risk sailing off to Aruba or Jamaica and losing your team.”
Silva gave her a quick, hard squeeze. “Nothing would get us off your tail.”
Vincent watched the way they interacted, trying to tell if there was anything more than a partner relationship at play. Not that it was any of his business.
The man leveled a flat, hard stare at him, as if warning him off. It almost made Vincent laugh. He hadn’t been with a woman in... he couldn’t even remember how long. Being in prison the past three years wasn’t the only reason he’d not indulged in sex. Nothing got him off like pain and blood. Lots of blood.
No way in hell a woman wanted to risk that kind of risk.
Chapter Sixteen
Nassau, Bahamas
Charlie
I come to her with my hands covered in blood.
Watching the sunrise, I stand in the shadows of our hotel because I cannot find the courage to go up to her.
Me, the great killer. Afraid to face my love.
Because I am a killer. I stand here while blood congeals on my shirt and dries on my face. The predator naps with a smile of satisfaction baring his canines, his belly fat, his tail twitching lazily while he basks in the sun. He fed well tonight, with the promise of a yet larger feast soon.
My breathing is too fast. I can’t steady my pulse. My chest heaves, my heartbeat thunders in my skull.
Covered in blood, I sprinted through miles of darkened streets to reach her. Not because I fled authorities. But because I could not bear to be parted from her, even while I killed. The monster cackles with glee at the thought that this might be the time I show too much. This might be when I break her heart. Finally, she’ll see the truth in my eyes and she’ll run. My monster wants her to run.
Because oh, there’s no sweeter chase than hunting a beautiful woman who loves you even when she’s terrified.
Is this the end? Will this break her when nothing else has?
I want her gone, far away from me where she’ll be safe.
I want her beneath me, crying out her release while I use a knife—the same cursed blade I murdered three men with tonight—to cut off her clothes. I want to touch her perfect skin and leave blood smears behind. Blood that’s not hers. Not mine. But my kills.
Rage crawls through me, a cold killing frost that splinters through my mind.
I love her. But I can’t love her the way I want, without ruining what I love.
I can’t keep her, for fear of losing her.
I can’t lose her, for fear of becoming an even worse creature than I already am.
I don’t want to succumb fully to the monster.
But without her...
That’s all I am.
Ranay
Pacing back and forth across the tacky dirt-colored carpet, I tried not to count the hours since Charlie had left.
He’d been gone all night. Even Sheba was starting to get worried. She lay on the foot of the bed and stared at the door as if she could will it to open and bring our Master home.
I’d read for a while. I’d tried to find something on the thousand-year-old television complete with dials and no remote. The stupid thing belonged in a museum, not a hotel room. I could smell the ocean, but I couldn’t see it at all unless I went out on the tiny balcony and hung off it to stretch out as far as possible around a giant palm tree, and then only a tiny sliver of blue sparkled back at me. My stomach rumbled unmercifully but I’d already nervous-snacked my way through most of the junk food we’d picked up downstairs when we first checked in. Charlie had given me very clear orders: I wasn’t to stick even a foot outside this door.
Unless he wasn’t back in twelve hours. Then I was to take our bag and start walking with Sheba until we found the beach. Then he’d find us there and we’d escape together.
Of course my brain had terrorized me all night with the many ways he could have already been killed. Or how many bad guys he’d killed, only to be arrested. If he got into trouble and I called Matheson, would she come down and help me get him out of prison? After the way we left Petit St. Vincent, I highly doubted it.
Every time I heard a car pass by outside, I jumped to my feet and waited for any noise outside the door, even though Sheba didn’t budge. She knew it wasn’t him. Our hotel was in a less desirable neighborhood, meaning very little traffic. At least automobiles—there were plenty of locals out and about as the sun came up. Charlie had wanted to be far away from the tourist area, but still civilized enough we could grab a car and make a run for it if needed. I didn’t know how big Nassau was, but it seemed like we were miles away from where he’d left the boat. We’d made so many turns and stops, to get a map, food, even for a new prepaid phone. There was no way in hell I’d be able to find my way back to the boat by myself.
Sheba whined softly and the door clicked. I whirled around, my heart in my throat.
He slipped inside silently and stood watching through the cracked door for long moments. My heart pounded but I didn’t even breathe. Not until he said it was safe. I was afraid any little sound would draw them down on us like a pack of starving wolves. Finally he shut the door and I hauled in a deep breath. I flung myself against him and squeezed him hard enough he grunted, though he turned his body away so I could only hug him from the side. I glanced over at Sheba, surprised she didn’t run over to greet him too. She sat on the bed, wagging her tail, but he must have signaled her to stay.
“I need to shower,” he said gruffly, keeping his arms lifted away from me.
“Are you all right? I was so worried about you.”
“I’m fine. Not even a scratch.”
His voice didn’t sound right. Too tight. Too distant. As if he spoke to a stranger on the street. I pulled back enough to run my gaze over him. Dark spots smeared across his cheek, flecking off like peeling skin. I reached up to wipe it off and he ducked away from my hand, gently pulling away.
Maybe it was the stress of this trip, the long hours of worry alone in a strange place. Or the stiffness in his body language, the way he avoided looking at me, or touching me. The forced gentleness the past week. The fear that he’d just leave me or send me back to my parents for my own good. Or all of the above.
Something inside me broke.
I leaped after him and slammed the bottom of my fist against his back. “That’s blood on you.”
He whirled around, his eyes flashing just for a moment, giving me a glimpse inside his impenetrable wall. It shook me, the depth of his rage. How could he feel that much emotion, but show only an impassive, rock-hard shell to me? Worse, what had happened to make him so angry? “You know what I am, Ranay.”
“Then why are you pretending like you just went to the grocery store for a loaf of bread?”
He started to turn away and I lifted my hand, ready to thump him again. He shot a dark, narrowed look at me. “Don’t do that again.”
“Or what?” I knew it was stupid to taunt him, but I couldn’t stand this stranger. This man wasn’t Charlie. My Charlie wouldn’t hide from me. Wouldn’t pretend to be someone else. “What will you do?”
He turned back toward the dingy little bathroom. “I don’t have time to babysit right now.”
Tears burned my eyes. “How many people
did you kill last night?”
He stopped in the door but didn’t turn away. “I did what had to be done.”
“What does that mean? Why won’t you talk to me?”
He slammed his fist against the wall and pressed his head to the door frame. “Fuck, Ranay, what do you want from me? Do you want me to lie to you?”
“No. All I’ve ever wanted is the truth.”
He attacked so fast I couldn’t do anything but squeak with surprise and then he had me pinned against the wall. His eyes glittered like black diamonds, so hard and cold, his expression so remote that it chilled me to my core. Heavy and unforgiving, his body squished me against the wall so hard I could barely breathe.
“You want the truth?” His voice was low and mean. “If you touch me right now, you’re going to get someone else’s blood on you. Several someones. Now do you still want to touch me?”
I nodded and a short, grim bark of laughter escaped his throat. He rubbed his chest back and forth against me and I could feel his shirt, cold and sticky. Like clammy sweat. Only when he lifted his upper body away from mine, a dark stain smeared my white tank.
Blood. Cold, sticky blood. On my shirt. On my breasts. I shuddered and my stomach heaved.
“That’s what I thought.” He pinned my wrists above my head and ground harder against me. I tried to squirm away, to keep the blood off me, but he wouldn’t let me escape the cage of his body. “Not so sexy now, is it?”
But I couldn’t deny that it was sexy. Because he did it to me. He would always turn me on, especially when he was trying to scare me. “How many did you kill?”
He shrugged like it didn’t matter, but he averted his face. Hiding his eyes? Or avoiding mine because he didn’t want to see my reaction? “Three.”
I touched his face, feeling the rough stubble darkening his jawline. “Did you shoot them?”
He jerked his head around to glare down into my eyes. “Why do you want to know?”
“Because I want to know everything about you.”
“You want to hear all the gritty horrible details? If you have the balls to ask, I’ll always tell you the truth if that’s what you really want. But be warned, Ranay. The truth is fucking ugly and you won’t be able to handle it.”
“Did you shoot them?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
Holding me beneath him against the wall was starting to melt his rage. He didn’t soften against me, exactly—but melded against me, not punishing me with the hard planes of his body. “A gun’s too noisy. Besides, I generally like to do my killing up close and personal.”
“Like this?” I whispered, dropping my gaze to his lips.
“Don’t.”
“Why not?”
He muttered a curse beneath his breath. “This isn’t supposed to happen. I wanted to keep you clean from this side of my life. Fuck. Now you’ve got blood all over you.”
I bit my lip and looked up at him beneath lowered lashes. “But I like being dirty, Master.”
His head cocked to the side. “You have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“Teach me all the things I shouldn’t know. I want to know everything about you.”
He shifted slightly and suddenly his cock fitted against my crotch so perfectly I groaned. “I took the first one in the basement of the Royal Reefs hotel. I grabbed him and pinned him against a concrete barrier in the parking garage, after making sure there were no security cameras.”
I tilted my hips up toward him and widened my thighs as much as I could with him pressed against me. “Like this?”
“No. Like this.” Something sharp dug into my chin hard enough to make my eyes flare. Instinctively, I tipped my head back away from the threat. He lifted the knife up and showed it to me. “When he wouldn’t tell me where Vlasenko was, I stabbed him in the throat.”
My breath came faster, my heart pounding against my rib cage so hard my chest ached. Just the sight of the knife in his hand made me wet. All I could remember was the way he’d licked the blood from my skin when I made the sacrifice for him. How aroused it had made him. “Did you make a big cut, or just a small puncture?”
A dark grin of admiration flickered over his lips. “Ah, my sweet kitten’s interested in learning a killer’s technique?” He pressed the tip of the blade against the side of my throat. “I can see your carotid artery throbbing just below the skin here. I slipped the blade about an inch into his throat and cut a small slit into that artery. That’s all it takes. He tried to jerk away, and his blood sprayed me like a soda can that has rolled around in the back of your car on the way home from the store. In minutes, he was growing cold and I let him slide down the wall out of sight.”
I swallowed hard and tried not to blink rapidly like I was scared out of my mind. Not yet. I wanted to know more, and if he thought I was too scared, he’d...I didn’t know. And that scare-thrilled me even more. “Is that the knife you used on me?”
“No. I keep it special. I don’t want anyone else’s blood to spoil it.”
“But that’s the knife you...”
A slow curve of his lips made me shiver. “Yes. This is the knife I used tonight to kill. Say it.”
“This is the knife.”
“That my Master used to kill three people.”
“That my Master...” I had to stop and suck in a deep breath. My lips felt numb.
“Say it, Ranay.”
“My Master killed three people.”
He trailed the flat of the blade across my throat, mimicking how someone slit a throat in the movies. Hairs quivered all up and down my arms and my legs shook so hard I wouldn’t have been able to stand if he wasn’t holding me hard against the wall. The blade dipped beneath the cotton of my tank top and he sawed through my shirt. Roughly. Tugging hard on the cotton so I’d hear it tear. God, that sound was awful.
“I’d never make so much noise on the job. This is purely for my enjoyment. Do you have any other questions?”
“The... second... one.”
He nodded and then backed away. I started to slide down the wall, my knees like Jell-O. Effortlessly, he flipped me around and pressed against my buttocks, pinning my face against the wall. The stink of old paint and ancient wallpaper filled my nose. I could only hope there weren’t any nasty critters hidden in the peeling, faded walls. If something crawled across my face, I’d probably kill myself trying to get away.
Pressing his mouth to my ear, he whispered, “I caught the second from behind and pushed him into a supply closet. He outweighed me by fifty or sixty pounds but my blade evened the fight quickly. I got him here.” The cold blade pressed against my back to the right of my spine. “Kidney puncture. Hurts like hell and doesn’t kill right away, but it disabled him fast.”
“Small wound?” My voice seemed far away, like it wasn’t even me asking. “Or deep?”
He laughed softly, his breath hot and moist in my ear. The knife slid down my spine and ripped through the waistband of my yoga pants with a sharp tug. Great. Until I could do some shopping, my only other pair of pants were jeans. “I thrust the blade into him all the way to the hilt. Exactly like I’m going to slide into you.”
His left forearm pressed against my nape, keeping me in place. With his other hand, he jerked at the back of my pants, ripping them further. Again, the sound—it was so loud, my clothes being ripped from my body. My breaths came short and fast and I couldn’t stop shaking.
“Are you wet, kitten?”
I closed my eyes and nodded, but that wasn’t good enough for him.
“How wet? Is that pussy open and achy for me? Or are you tight and dry, too scared to even think about opening up for me?”
My back arched and I pressed my butt harder against him. “I’m wet. I want you.”
“How
badly do you want me?”
I groaned as he cut through my panties. “Hurry, please.”
He bit my earlobe hard enough I jumped. “But you haven’t asked me about the third man yet. He was the most important one. The way I killed him will tell you a lot about the kind of man you’ve decided to give yourself to.”
“No,” I breathed out shakily. But I was scared. He wanted to tell me about this last kill for a reason.
“No, you don’t want to know?”
Unfortunately, my teeth started chattering so hard I could only hope he understood me. “I’m not too scared.”
“You sound scared out of your mind, kitten.” He slid his hand down my buttocks, his fingers dipping to test my words. “So wet. Maybe this will help.”
His fingers stroked and petted my pussy, but he didn’t penetrate me with his fingers. He only teased me, those soft, gentle touches driving me wild. I moaned and tried to open my legs wider, hoping he’d work his hand deeper and stroke my clit.
Instead, he chuckled against my ear. “Not yet, kitten. The third man. I watched him awhile before I took him. I was running out of time. In just a few minutes, I could tell he was going to give me what I needed. He was soft. Weak. The other men had clear purposes, guarding exits, parking cars. This man stood by himself. He was easy pickings. The weak link. And I took advantage of it.”
He planted his palms over my hands without the knife, bringing our linked hands down on either side of my face, almost like I was going to do a mini-push-up off the wall. Lifting away from me, he finally let me move a little. I widened my stance, making sure he could get to any part of my body.
Squeezing his hands over mine, he ground the bones of my fingers together until I whimpered.
“Yeah. That’s what he sounded like when I broke the first finger.”
His words sent a jolt through me. I’d expected him to tell me about killing, sure. But deliberately causing pain? Torturing someone to get information? Somehow I’d never seen him hurting anyone.
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