Murder Stalks

by Sara York

  “Rex, Janice, I need you over here.”

  Rex rounded the corner, gun drawn. “Already did the dirty work. Thanks.”

  While Rex cuffed Michael, Tony knelt beside Marissa. Her arm had to be broken and her face was smeared with grime, but she was breathing. He pulled her onto his lap and felt for her pulse, finding it strong beneath his fingers. Tears began to flow, blurring his vision.

  Sirens blared outside and the garish red lights from the emergency vehicles cast strange shadows on the ceiling. His wife stirred in his arms and he dropped a kiss on the top of her head.

  “Tony, you’re alive,” Marissa whispered. She opened her eyes then closed them quickly as she slumped against him.

  He stroked her cheek, letting tears run down his face and onto hers. “Baby, we both made it.”

  “All three of us made it,” Marissa said as she placed a protective hand on her belly.

  “I love you. I can’t lose you. I want our marriage to work.” Tony choked back a sob.

  “Tony, I love you too. I think it’s time for us to become a family again.”

  “We’ll make it work. I won’t give up on us again.”

  “Neither will I.”

  Tony placed a gentle kiss on Marissa’s lips, holding her tight. Never again would he let his ego get in the way of loving Marissa.

  Epilogue

  Two weeks later, with Rex and Tony by her side, Marissa wheeled Ally out of the hospital. Ally could have walked on her own, but they had to follow hospital regulations.

  “You staying in town?” Rex asked Ally.

  “No, I’m going to move back to Pennsylvania, find some relatives. Then I’m going to try to work on a few things in my life.”

  “I’m glad you made it, Al. I’m sorry for the way we treated you in the orphanage,” Tony said.

  “You don’t need to apologize,” Ally said as she stepped into the cab. “You were nice to me. I thank you for helping me out when you could.”

  They watched the cab drive away.

  “She’ll be fine. The doctor said she’d need a few months of therapy, but she was strong to begin with,” Marissa said.

  “She may not have anything to apologize for, but I do,” Rex said.

  “Don’t, Rex.” Tony grabbed for Marissa’s hand, clutching it tight.

  “I should have believed in you. You’ve been my friend for years. I knew you never could have killed anyone. I should have rejected any evidence against you and just believed.”

  “Carson had been gathering condemning evidence for years, beginning at the campsite with Ashley. At least now we know that the high level of drugs in Ashley’s body meant she didn’t feel a thing. I would have questioned myself if I’d been on the other end of the investigation. We caught the guy, that’s what’s important. Is Janice stopping by for dinner before she leaves?”

  Rex’s eyes held a faraway look. He didn’t speak as they walked to their cars. “No, she doesn’t want to see me again. She’s ready to start her life over in California.”

  “I wish she wouldn’t leave,” Tony said.

  “It was either her or me. We broke department rules. She didn’t want a commitment anyway. And as ironic as it sounds, I didn’t want that type of relationship with her.”

  “What, the great woman conqueror met his match?” Tony ribbed him.

  “I just want what you and Marissa have.”

  Marissa smiled up at Tony. She had it all, a wonderful husband who was willing to work through their difficulties, a baby on the way, and a new house. Everything was coming together.

  Tony kissed her hand. “I love Marissa with all my heart. There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for her.”

  Marissa felt her knees go weak. “I love you, too. I hope you find this kind of love, Rex. It’s worth every drop of blood, sweat, and tears.”

  Tony dipped his head and let his lips slide across hers. Her heart fluttered and she sighed. They were together and nothing could separate her and Tony.

  The End

  Torn To Shreds

  Chapter One

  The metal cuff dug into Lucas Spires’ ankle as he shuffled across the kitchen, trying to keep the chain dragging behind him quiet. Master would be up soon enough, and he didn’t need to wake the bastard early. Lucas paused and gazed up at the ceiling, searching for help, but knowing he’d find no answers there. Tears welled, threatening to spill down his cheeks; he swiped them away. Closing his eyes, he clenched his fist, willing himself to be strong.

  Three weeks. The time in captivity seemed like forever. Three long weeks of hell and abuse at the idiot’s hands. He squared his shoulders and tamped down the pity party, vowing not to cave under the pressure.

  Lucas took another step, the chain clanking against the floor. He stopped and almost crumpled to the linoleum, overwhelmed by misery. With gritted teeth, he willed himself to stay strong. The need for Master to secure the knives had passed with the desire to kill himself, and he couldn’t hurt Master. The fucker was too strong, and the zapper he carried delivered a hell of a volt.

  The first week, Lucas had tried to escape. The second week, he’d lain on the little pallet Master had made for him and only moved when the beatings hurt too bad to stay still. This week he accepted his slave status; he had no choice in what happened to him. Serving Master was his only option in this new reality. Lucas fought the memories of his past threatening to race through his mind. He wouldn’t think of school or of rushing through the Student Union to meet with his friends over coffee. Letting his thoughts wander to those memories crushed him, making him want to end his pathetic excuse for a life. In some small part of his consciousness he hung onto the hope of making it out of here alive, where he wasn’t held prisoner, somewhere he had freedom.

  Hunger clawed at his belly, but the fucker padlocked the refrigerator, only opening the appliance for him to cook. The asshole locked the pantry also. Lucas glanced down at his naked body. His stomach caved in, showing his ribs. His legs were too lean, like a scarecrow. Master fed him enough to keep him alive, but not nearly enough to sustain a healthy weight.

  Master opened the bedroom door and Lucas flinched. He tried to keep his knees from shaking, but failed.

  “I want eggs. You can have one.” Master opened the refrigerator, taking out the carton of eggs. “Three, scrambled. Don’t fuck ‘em up.”

  Lucas stared at the open refrigerator, eyes burning with despair. So much food, and most of it would spoil before Master consumed half. If only...But it didn’t help to have if only thoughts. He ate what master gave him and didn’t complain.

  Master watched as Lucas prepared the pan and cracked the eggs into a bowl. He whipped the eggs with a fork and poured them into the hot pan. The sound of the eggs sizzling reminded him of the zapper, and he flinched, his throat tight with emotion. Master hated when he broke down. He had to stay strong, at least until Master went off to work.

  Lucas stirred the eggs, watching them grow thicker as the seconds ticked by. His belly hurt for food. One egg would be enough to take the pain away, but not enough to fill him. Never before had he been this hungry, this desperate for food, like all of him would splinter into little pieces if he didn’t eat.

  Once Master’s eggs were done, Lucas put them on a plate and delivered them to the table where Master sat. He dismissed Lucas with a wave of his hand, the small reprieve almost caused Lucas to sigh, but he caught himself in time. Lucas went back to the stove and cracked his egg into the pan. He watched as the clear liquid boiled on the surface and turned white. He broke the yoke and flipped the egg, just like his mother had done before she passed away. When the egg turned white, and no yolk flowed from the cut in the center, he took the pan off the burner and ate the egg. No salt, no pepper. The bruises had faded, but the lesson remained; he received no extras.

  Master ate the last of his eggs, placing his fork on the plate. Lucas swooped in, clearing the dishes. After rinsing the dirty dishes, he waited for his next set of instructions, hoping lik
e crazy the jerk didn’t want sex. Master said nothing as he went to the bathroom. The sound of water running told him that his abductor had started his shower. Lucas relaxed a bit as he cleaned the kitchen, washed the plates and put them back in the cabinet. The asshole had never demanded sex after showering, Lucas got off easy today.

  Since Master was still here, he didn’t even think about opening the refrigerator and sneaking a piece of meat, though his stomach ached as if he hadn’t eaten all week. He stood in the center of the kitchen waiting for Master to leave for work. The door to the bedroom opened and Master walked out dressed in jeans and a T-shirt. Lucas had no idea what job Master held, and he didn’t care. All he wanted was for the jerk to leave for the day without asking for sex or touching him.

  Without a word, Master fixed his lunch, locked the refrigerator and walked out the door. Lucas went to the window and watched the red truck drive away. No one ever came up the road except Master. They were somewhere in the mountains, that’s all he knew. The despair burning deep in Lucas’s belly came out in a piercing cry, rumbling through the rooms as he screamed and cursed at his situation.

  He slumped against the wall, relieved that he was alone for the day. Part of him wished Master had him locked up anywhere but here. Truly alone in this piece of shit house, the isolation taunted him. After he stopped crying, Lucas wiped his eyes and checked out his food for the day.

  Master had left a peanut butter and jelly sandwich on the counter. Lucas paced himself, taking a small bite then waiting a long while for another, knowing he had all day to finish the meal. He lay on the blankets for a long time then swept and mopped the main room. He ate another bite of the sandwich, ignoring the clawing hunger. Boredom set in so he took a nap then checked the time, praying master wasn’t due back soon. He'd already eaten half the sandwich, but starvation hovered close, never leaving him alone. If he ate the rest now, he would get nothing else until Master returned home. Too long to go without any food.

  Lucas turned on the tap and slurped down some water. The gross taste filled his mouth, but felt good when the liquid hit his belly. The temperature dropped even more last night, and he probably wouldn’t survive the winter unless Master gave him clothes. Already the house was a little chilly. At least he had a blanket.

  He spent the day cleaning the house like Master demanded. Passing the time with the chores kept him from getting too bored. If only he found a way to communicate with someone and tell them he needed help. With no phone and no computer to hook up to the internet, he was at a loss.

  After dusting the house again, Lucas realized he hadn’t eaten all of his sandwich and Master would return soon. He shuffled to the kitchen and heard Master’s tires crunch on the gravel outside. Fear pinged around his body. He stuffed the last two bites of sandwich into his mouth, chewing quickly and swallowing before Master came in. Master would be displeased if he didn’t eat what he was given and then Master would give him less tomorrow. Lucas had played that game earlier, and he hated the results. Master knew how to be cruel enough to motivate him to do whatever the bastard wanted.

  Another quick slurp of water from the faucet washed the sandwich residue from his mouth. Lucas did a quick glance around the kitchen, noticing the napkin Master had set his sandwich on still on the countertop. He raced over and grabbed paper, tossing it into the trash before Master walked in.

  The key slid into the first of the locks, and Lucas dropped to his knees, fighting back the tears. Another key in another lock, and Lucas settled his ass on his heals. The sharp clink of a padlock dropping to the ground sent fear racing through Lucas’s body. He shivered and bent forward, placing his forehead on the ground, his hands pushed in front of him as though he were bowing to Master.

  The position, dictated by Master, left him totally defenseless against Master’s attacks and whims. Lucas choked back the sob threatening to erupt as the door swung open and Master stepped in.

  “Slave, I’m home, and I’m feeling good.”

  Welcome to hell.

  Lucas shut down his mind, no longer allowing himself to think. He wouldn’t spend any more time permitting his emotions to rule. Soon enough, this place would be more than he could handle. When the time came, he’d have a plan. For now, he would exist and pray that somewhere, someone searched for him.

  You can find Torn To Shreds at most online retailers.

  Author Bio

  Writing is Sara's life. The stories fight to get out, often leaving her working on four or five books at once. She can't help but write. Along with her writing addiction she has a coffee addiction. Some nights, the only reason she stops writing and goes to sleep is for the fresh brewed coffee in the morning.

  Sara enjoys writing twisted tales of passion, anger, and love with a good healthy dose of lust thrown in for fun. Almost a quarter of a century ago Sara met her lover, falling for him after knowing him for ten minutes. Sara's passion for him comes out in her stories, mixing with her passion for life, love, and good times, flowing onto the page and becoming tales from the heart.

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  sara@sarayork.com

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