He prayed more.
When he opened his eyes, he was leaning against the wall to catch his breath.
What had he done?
Jesus!
Save him.
When he heard the sound of a police car in the distance, he knew it was time to run. He raced out of the alley, away from the sound, and toward home.
He needed to think.
He needed to compose himself.
He’d just taken a life, and he liked it. The entire time, he was thinking about all the things he knew were forbidden and sinful.
Still…
They were there in his mind because he was only human. He had flaws. He had weakness. He had to put it into the hands of a higher power.
He was going to do his duty to clean up DC.
Oh, this wasn’t over, and he knew it. He saw what he had to do, and it was going to be his mission in life to make sure they were ended.
He loved the power.
He loved the control.
He loved her death.
By God’s will, the streets of DC would be cleansed. He would be the man to do it. This was his job.
This was his calling.
It was time to do what he was born to do.
Kill.
* * * E l i z a b e t h L a R u e * * *
Three Months Later
Washington DC
It took him some time to build up his nerve to do it again. A good mission took preparation, and he couldn’t just walk up to a hooker and steal her life.
No, it took planning.
In that time, he prepared and studied his prey. While they pranced the streets, he watched, waited, and picked out the wickedest of the bunch.
They never even noticed him there.
It was perfect. He’d planned the ideal mission. Here was proof he was a soldier of God.
Goodbye, ladies of the night.
This was going to be epic.
In DC, you had two kinds of sluts. There were the ones who walked the streets outside the bars, and then there were the ones who got the big money as high-priced call girls.
He would take care of the latter, later. For now, he was focused on the dredges of society.
They had his attention.
As he watched them, he saw why men picked them up.
These weren’t pricy women. They were cheap, easily accessible, and readily available.
Unlike the higher priced call girls, these women were the perfect marks. He didn’t feel horrible about killing them at all.
In fact, he was doing them a favor. In the end, it was best for everyone.
The men wouldn’t sin.
The world was a better place.
And he would be a hero.
They were the pariah of the city, and he was wiping the filth back into the hole it came from.
As she walked around, leaning in car after car, shaking her ass, he knew she was the one to die tonight. She was blatant, and she didn’t even care that others watched and were horrified.
Well, he was.
On top of that, he cared a lot, and he was going to do this right. Like her ambivalence, he would show her the same.
You reaped what you sowed.
As she headed down the deserted alley, not long after the tourists and crowds had dispersed back to the better part of town, he prepared to make his move.
Time was of the essence, since the sun was about to come up. More people would be out, and that meant more risk.
He wasn’t about risk.
No, he liked to be safe. That was why he’d hidden himself where no one would find him. He was a master at this, and God would reward him for his skill.
Tonight, it would be his second kill.
He’d watched her work, and he was going to make sure she paid with her spilled blood. Tonight, it was her judgment day, and he was the jury.
He was the executioner.
Only God would be her judge.
Tonight, she was going to stand before her maker, answer to her sins, and she’d pay the price.
Her life.
As she stopped in the alley, he knew the exact moment when she was aware he was there. Fortunately, he was close enough that he could grab her before she spoke.
Pulling the wire from his pocket, he got it around her throat before she could turn. It pulled taut and did exactly what he needed to be done.
He was strangling the life from her vile body.
He didn’t let her go, even as she struggled, pulled, and tried to get away from him.
The scent of blood flooded his nostrils as she bled out against his body.
He didn’t care.
He’d burn the clothes when he got home. No one would be the wiser.
When she dropped to the ground, only then did he released the wire. She didn’t move. With the toe of his shoe, he rolled her over. Again, he was faced with the same horrors as the first woman he’d killed.
There, from her place on the concrete, she stared up at him with dead eyes and a gaping mouth.
It horrified him.
He knew deep down, despite doing God’s work, it likely always would. The pain, clearly visible on her face, was nothing compared to the pain she’d inflicted on families by selling herself to the husbands, fathers, and sons.
Still, staring down into her dead eyes freaked him out. It was so bad that he could feel the panic arising.
He couldn’t bear it.
He knew he had to do something to stop her from staring at him. He didn’t want to see that look in her eyes as he thought about what he’d done. There was no way he could handle it.
Again, he pulled out his knife and began the task at hand. He was going to have to stop her from staring.
He removed her face, and this time, it was easier. There was no vomiting, no purging of his conscious, and he was glad. After killing the first whore, he relived it over and over in his mind. He’d punished himself for being so weak.
Now he was strong.
He didn’t even flinch as he did the deed.
It was hard to believe that the killing became easier, but it did.
It became cathartic.
Where he thought he wouldn’t be able to do it again, he was wrong. The wire made it easy. He didn’t have to hear that sickening thud of bone crunching beneath the weight of the lead pipe.
When he stared down at her face in his hand and the missing meat from her skull, he actually laughed.
She was dead.
The world was free of one more whore.
Now for the eyes.
Only this time, instead of butchering them, he pulled them out a little more carefully. With a little finesse, they popped out, so he could cut through the artery and veins. He looked around, and didn’t see a place to toss them. Instead, he placed them in her pocket.
It made him laugh.
He didn’t know why, but it did. It amused the hell out of him. Someone was going to find her eyes in the wrong place.
With her body, he wanted to toss her in a dumpster, but there was only one nearby. Yesterday, the garbage had been collected. If he used that again, she would be found.
Shit!
He didn’t plan this one well enough after all.
Well, since he was out of options, it looked like he was going to leave her right there. So much for hiding her again.
Placing her face in her lap, after he rested her against someone’s garage, he checked out the scene.
Maybe this would work.
Yes, it was sick, but he was willing to take credit for it. Maybe he was sick too. Maybe he liked it so much, since he was turned on over what he’d done.
Still…she wouldn’t tempt him.
It couldn’t happen.
He was a saint.
She was a sinner.
He was going to finish his job and make it count. This was his life, and he was going to end the filth in DC—one whore at a time.
As he walked away, he was already planning the next woman. In
his head, he had his list, and it was getting longer with each one.
It was never ending.
As was the sin in DC.
* * * E l i z a b e t h L a R u e * * *
Three Days Later
Monday
He was as giddy as a schoolgirl.
The next woman was done ‘working’ for the night, and he couldn’t wait to get his hands on her. He was going to enjoy this more than he could articulate.
He was going to end her life. With the first two, he wasn’t sure how to kill. He’d gone the lead pipe route, and it wasn’t his thing. In fact, it made it worse.
Now…a garrote?
It was perfect. He didn’t have to face them, and he could use his weight to destroy their lives.
It was the ideal weapon for him.
Plus, truth be told, he liked watching the blood run down their skin in rivulets.
It made art.
With this one, he’d end her the same way. He’d watched her all night, leaning in cars, bending over to give men a good tit shot, and she had it coming.
They all had it coming.
But he wasn’t worried.
No. He wasn’t.
He’d watched the news the last three plus months, and none of the stations even mentioned their deaths. In DC, a dead hooker was like a dead fly.
It happened.
No one cared.
He’d gone undetected, and he was glad. No one would try to figure out who was preying on them either. He didn’t have to worry, and that made him happy.
He could kill in peace.
So, as this one was walking down the street, he had already memorized her walk home to the dingy apartment. He knew where to grab her. It was going to be damn easy.
As he heard the clip of heels on the sidewalk, he got ready. As she passed by the darkened alley, he reached out, wrapped the wire around her throat, and yanked her back into the darkness before anyone was any the wiser.
There, he killed her.
It was violent.
It was vicious.
It was perfect.
When he was done, he took off her face and dropped it onto the ground, simply because he hated her seeing him. After that, he popped her eyes out, and this time…he took them with him.
They were his to keep.
Why?
He didn’t have a clue. He only had the compulsion.
He placed her against a wall and got the hell out of there in less than five minutes.
It was a new record.
Now for his penance.
He had to go home, shower, and jerk off. He’d enjoyed that way too much, but there was no way he would touch her.
She was vile, even if she made him hard.
While she would sin, he wouldn’t. He wouldn’t bury his dick in that filth. He’d rather jack off all night than even go there. He wasn’t stupid.
She was a walking disease.
And he was the damn cure.
* * * E l i z a b e t h L a R u e * * *
Georgetown
Doctor Leonard’s
Brownstone
Wednesday Pre-Dawn
He was tangled in his sheets. The entire time he was tossing and turning, Chris was thinking about only one woman.
Elizabeth.
It was so damn wrong of him, but he couldn’t help it. He had it bad for his best friend.
She haunted him all day long, and even at night. Was it wrong to be thinking about her like this?
Yes, but he couldn’t help it.
He was curious about their relationship. It was hard not to be. After all, she was beautiful inside and out, and there was a connection there. When they were together, it was like a partnership. They complimented each other.
Curiosity was killing the ME.
Chris knew it was three days past wrong to think of her sexually, but he was helpless to it.
She was an enigma, and he was a man.
While her brashness should turn him off, it didn’t. He could picture her on his body as they had sex. It was his biggest fantasy, and he knew it would never happen.
That line couldn’t be crossed.
She was his best friend.
She was his sister.
Elizabeth was off limits.
Still…
He pictured her mouth on his dick, the way they’d slide together as one, and he wanted to see what it was like. Mysteries were his thing. That’s why he’d become an ME.
He wanted to solve things.
Now he was plagued with the biggest mystery of them all. Would they still be friends if they succumbed to sex? Was there the possibility of a deeper level to their relationship or would it go to hell in a handbasket?
Shit.
He was obsessed. All Chris wanted was just that one taste of the forbidden fruit before setting her free. Once he had it, he was convinced he’d be able to let it go.
He simply needed to get it out of his system.
He was young.
Male.
The prime of his life.
Men his age thought about sex nonstop, and he was no different. Yes, he played in the dead, but in the background, he was checking out his best friend’s body.
If he believed in Hell, he’d be going there. When they’d have date night or crash on one of their couches to watch a movie, he was always focused on what could be.
Yes, he was a letch.
It was hard not to do it. Elizabeth was tall, slim, and built really well. The curves were in all the right places, and he wondered what she’d look like naked.
Sue him.
He was curious by nature.
Many times, she’d told him they could have sex if that’s what he really wanted, but she followed it up with the promise that it wouldn’t be earth shattering.
He was beginning to think she was wrong. There was no way he’d hate it.
In fact, he’d bet money on it.
It was to the point that he was focused on sex pretty much all day. When you told someone that they couldn’t have something, that’s when they wanted it even more.
He was no different.
With each case that they worked, he’d fallen more and more for her.
She intrigued him.
Elizabeth warmed the coldness inside him.
They worked side by side, they did happy hours on Fridays when she wasn’t on a case, and Elizabeth even helped him find a place not far from hers to escape his mother’s home.
They were almost like a couple—just minus the sex. She slept at his place, and he crashed at hers. They ate meals together, called each other before bed to check in, and even spent days off in each other’s company.
Hell!
They went to the beach on vacation together. For one full week, he’d been forced to frolic in the ocean with his best friend as she was sporting a bikini.
Talk about Hell on Earth.
It wasn’t easy to hide an erection in swim trunks. There wasn’t a doubt in his mind that she’d been very aware of it too. Elizabeth was too smart to miss anything.
Together, they spent a shitload of time as a couple, and now he really hated that he had no control over this one thing in his life.
Could best friends be lovers?
He’d promised hands off, but this was killing him. He simply wanted to see what it would be like.
Would it be as amazing as he thought?
Could reality match his fantasy?
He sat up.
He was torturing himself.
Chris dragged his ass out of bed and headed toward his shower. If he was going to think about sex, and with a woman he knew he simply couldn’t have, he needed to purge his mind of it.
Yes, it was time for the cool down.
It was time to stand beneath the icy spray, as he asked forgiveness from the lust Gods.
He should be ashamed of himself.
He hoped the aftereffects cooled his jets. Chris knew that he needed to find a way to forget about it long term.
That was going to be his only solution. Jerking off wasn’t going to hold that back for long.
In fact, he’d likely be thinking about her again in the upcoming hour. Chances were, at some point, he’d be seeing her at work. As of late, Elizabeth had picked him as her ME each time she had a case. If she was working, he was working by her side. Chris knew she didn’t trust many of the other doctors. She’d been the fodder for everyone’s jokes, and it had stung.
Elizabeth was keeping her circle closed to protect herself, and Chris didn’t blame her.
Honestly, he was glad. He didn’t want to share.
She was his.
Still…he had to get past that need building in him. This was going to be damn hard.
Like his dick.
Leaning against the tile in his shower, it became less about forgetting her and more about satisfying the needs of his body. He gave up trying to fight it off.
He couldn’t do it.
He was weak.
Slowly, Chris slid his hand up and down his erection, promising himself it was only to take off the edge.
In his mind, he was picturing Elizabeth on her knees in front of him. He wanted to experience that just once in his life. Chris knew that sex with her would either damn him to Hell, or set him free.
It was a crapshoot.
And for once, he wanted to live on the edge.
Chris knew why he wanted it to be with Elizabeth. She was safe. It was like riding a bike with training wheels. There was no way she’d let him fall, she’d never tell him he sucked in bed, or that he was anything less than perfect.
That made it desirable.
He’d be safe in her very gentle hands.
Speaking of which…
As he pictured her touching him, licking him, and then riding his dick, he was only focused on that. The need welled up, made his heart pound, and his body reacted.
He pictured her swallowing him whole, and he couldn’t stop that heat from exploding from him.
He came so hard that he was forced to slide down the wall to catch his breath. When Chris opened his eyes, he hated himself.
Stalked by the Past: An FBI Flashback Novel. (An FBI Romance Thriller Book 17) Page 2
