“Greg, I’m a seasoned agent; I don’t need you to tell me this.”
Clair winced at Janet’s bitter tone. She understood that Janet was an agent and Greg’s reminding her of the obvious was somewhat annoying, but she also understood he needed to do it. It was like parents who would constantly utter the same precautions when they left their children. Don’t talk to strangers, don’t open the door for anybody even if you know them…the things that parents generally worried about and would constantly remind their children about, that’s what Greg was doing. He was worried and it made him feel better to remind them not to do the obvious. Like with parents, all the response it required was a gentle, “I know, and I won’t.” There was no need to get upset about it. Janet had obviously missed that memo.
“Greg, we’ll be fine.” Clair patted his arm. “You go, drive carefully, focus on work stuff and then come home.” She willed herself to leave out the “to me,” part of her words. She wanted him to come home to her, but she wouldn’t say it in front of Janet. She was determined to be considerate and not rub her relationship with Greg in Janet’s face. Whether or not Greg knew it, Janet was obviously still…maybe not in love…but definitely in want of him.
“Okay. I’ll be back as soon as I can,” Greg leaned in and kissed her. She probably should have sent him the memo because he had obviously missed the vibes she was sending about not forcing them on Janet. Then again, maybe he just figured they were getting married and his partner would have to deal with it eventually. He hadn’t told her yet, she knew that, but she also knew he had told his boss and once one person knew it was inevitable that others would know too. Then again, they were all FBI; maybe they were better at keeping secrets than everybody else.
Greg left her there with Janet. While she wasn’t one hundred percent comfortable with Janet, she didn’t want to hinder Greg’s career. He was needed at work and she had to understand that, support that; it was the only reason she’d told him to go when every part of her wanted him to stay. Him she trusted with her life; Janet, well…on that one she wasn’t sure. She’d be fine. It was only a couple hours. Surely, Levins, if he knew where she was, wouldn’t try anything while any agent was with her.
Greg hadn’t been gone more than fifteen minutes when she felt the sense of uneasiness growing. Was she that dependent on him for her safety that she couldn’t function without him? Or was there something else making her worry? Maybe if he’d left her with any other agent she would feel comfortable, but there was something about Janet, something that was always there, but more so today, that told Clair this woman wasn’t exactly going to risk her life to save hers. Maybe she couldn’t ask that of anybody, but she’d prefer it if she were with somebody she was sure would put up at least a smidge of a fight to save her.
Levins might not have been some one man Delta Force, but he was tough. She remembered how easily he had subdued her fighting when he tried to tie her up. He had expertly evaded her kicking and punching. He had effortlessly pinned her to the floor, his knee pressing hard enough against her back to make movement impossible. Then, as if she were nothing more than a rag doll, he flipped her over and started to tie each wrist to the boards he had nailed in the floor. They were railroad boards, put in with the same nails they use to put them down on the tracks. She remembered feeling as if she were in one of those old movies where the damsel in distress gets tied to the tracks and the hero rides up on a horse to save her. Only this wasn’t a movie and there was no hero riding up on a horse to save her.
Levins had so easily made her a non-threat before getting Amy. Amy hadn’t been as much of a fight as she had. Amy was so obsessed with that porcelain doll. The alabaster color to the face and hands, the royal blue satin and lace dress with the Georgian hat upon golden curls, that she didn’t even notice Clair tied to the floor.
Clair had screamed to her to run and that’s when she noticed. “It’s just a game,” Levins had said. “Like in the movies.”
She told Amy to run again, but Amy stood there as if she were frozen in place. “Would you like to play?” Levins had asked so sweetly.
“It’s not a game, Amy. Run!” And at that point it was as if Amy finally realized the danger they were in and she started to run, but it was too late. Levins grabbed her and tossed her onto the only bed in the room before easily tying her up. Amy did nothing more than scream, and how could she? She was ten and Clair was sixteen. If Clair couldn’t stop him, she was bigger and older, and if she couldn’t stop him then Amy didn’t stand a chance.
She needed to stop thinking about Levins and Amy and twelve years ago. She didn’t want to think about it any longer, and the only way she could stop was to make herself busy. “May I make you some tea Janet?”
“Why don’t you sit down and let me make it. You’ve been through hell you don’t need to cater to me.”
Clair hesitated, but shrugged. She had to get over her dislike of this woman. She was sure not liking Janet was what had goose bumps tickling her flesh right now. This woman was a professional, and obviously mature enough to handle Greg not coming back to her; she should give her a chance. But still, she didn’t fully trust her, and she really did want to stay busy. Somehow she didn’t think she could tell her that. Although there really wasn’t much offense in the trust thing because she really didn’t trust easily. She was still working on trusting Greg completely; and he was about to be her husband.
“Sure. We bought herbal yesterday. It’s on the counter over there.” She pointed to where the new stainless steel tea pot was sitting.
“No problem. I’m going to need caffeine. I had a long night. Is there any regular tea in the house?”
“No. You know Greg’s not a tea drinker. He has coffee though.” She started to get the coffee, but Janet beat her to the cabinet, opened it and took it out. Something in her gut twisted, but she didn’t know why.
“I’m trying to cut back, but I don’t have to start today,” she smiled.
When Janet finished making the tea and coffee she brought Clair a cup of tea and then sat down at the table with her coffee.
“I heard you’re getting married. You must be elated.”
So she had heard. She was handling things remarkably well. Clair rotated the cup on the table between the palms of her hands. “Yes we are.”
“He should be happy. Are you going to drink that tea or play with it?”
“Oh, sorry,” she brought the cup to her lips and took a sip.
“Is it okay; not too strong or weak?”
“It’s…okay,” she struggled to say. It was a little on the strong side, much stronger than she liked her tea. She was more of the leave the bag in until the water took on a hint of the tea color and then take it out. One bag could last her about three days. She took a few more sips of Janet’s version of tea, but she couldn’t take anymore. It was honestly just nasty. Janet was obviously not a tea person herself.
She felt a little groggy, but her mind was suddenly clear. “How did you know where the coffee was?” Greg had moved the coffee to a new cabinet when they brought the food home. He normally kept it on the top shelf, but she had told him to keep it lower so she could reach it and make him coffee in the mornings. He liked her coffee, always had, and she wanted to be able to make it for him whenever she woke up first. She couldn’t do that if she couldn’t reach it. Unlike her home, he did not have any stepstools in the house. She had one at home, but rarely used it. Her cabinets weren’t abnormally high like his. His house had been redesigned to fit his height, and at six foot one inch, well, the cabinets didn’t need to be low. She could reach most of the items, but anything on the top tier shelf was out of the question.
She knew he had moved the coffee to accommodate her, but Janet shouldn’t have known that.
She felt really foggy now. “You…” She tried to stand and she fell to the floor, knocking over the chair. “You did something to my tea.”
“Did I?” Janet grinned.
The room seemed to be
spinning out of control. She wanted to pull herself up, to get away, but she couldn’t. Her legs and arms felt heavy, as if she were stuck in cement. She blinked back defeat and tried again. Janet let out a frightening laugh. God, she was powerless to do anything. She couldn’t move, couldn’t get away. Suddenly she felt fear taking over as Janet leaned over her.
“You don’t get to have him,” she said.
Clair struggled, but she managed to scratch Janet’s face. She drew blood. If Janet killed her they’d at least know who it was. But she didn’t want to die, she wanted to live. She had to fight.
Janet drew back, maybe an inch before feeling her cheek with her hand. She, unhappy about the blood dripping down her cheek, backhanded Clair. “Stupid bitch,” she snapped. “Levins would have made you suffer; now I’ll make you suffer for him. Don’t worry, I’ll clean that skin from under your nails and they’ll still blame him.” She pulled a kitchen knife from her bag and then straddled Clair’s waist.
Oh God, this was it. She was going to die. Levins or Duvall it didn’t matter she was still going to die. She tried to move once more, but with Janet’s weight combined with whatever drug she’d put in her tea she couldn’t do it. Had she had more of the tea she would have been unconscious by now.
“I always hated you,” she ran the knife down the front of Clair’s shirt. The strip of ruffles over the buttons seemed to mask the tip of the blade. “I should have gotten rid of you back then. Had I known you’d come back to haunt me I would have. I thought making him leave you alone would be enough. I deleted your calls, even burned that pathetic letter you sent. “Don’t leave me, Greg. You were so stupid.” She mocked her. “Begging him to be your friend. Apologizing for something and nothing at all. I made sure he never read that letter. He would have felt obligated to come to you and I couldn’t have that. Don’t you see? He’s mine.”
She raised the knife over her head, preparing to thrust it into Clair’s chest. Clair felt tears rolling out the corner of her eyes. She tried once more to lift her arm, but she couldn’t. She was becoming increasingly immobilized with each passing second.
“Don’t do it, Janet!”
Greg. She heard Greg’s voice. Oh God, he was there. He was going to save her.
Janet turned around, but she hadn’t moved from her position.
“Don’t you see, Greg; we belong together?”
“Put the knife down and get off of her right now or I swear to God I will shoot you.”
“Greg, you love me! You love me, not her!”
“Move, or die,” his voice was even, but laced with hatred. He would shoot her. He may not have wanted to, but he would. “Look, the paperwork will be a bitch, but that’s not going to stop me. You have three seconds to get your ass off my wife.”
Janet didn’t put the knife down, but she did move. Clair could see Greg standing in the open doorway, his gun drawn and trained on Janet. “Over there,” he motioned for her to move toward the sink. “And put that damn knife down.”
He moved toward Clair, cautiously, keeping his gun and his eyes trained on Janet. She saw him look to the cups on the table. “What did you give her?”
“Greg…”
“Answer me!”
“GHB,” she said. “I put a lot in her cup, but she only took a few sips. Stupid bitch can’t even die right,” she hissed.
Greg looked down at her lying on the floor. “It’ll be okay, baby.” He had looked in her eyes briefly. Something, some movement, must have caught his line of sight because he looked up. She heard Janet scream something, she couldn’t make out what, but then Greg started firing. She must have lunged for him.
He stepped away from Clair briefly, before returning to her side. He must have been checking to be sure Janet was either incapacitated, or dead. A small part of her hoped for the later. She’d hate to be hunted by two insane people.
He knelt beside her and put his gun on the floor. He brushed his fingers over her cheek. “She can’t hurt you anymore.”
“But I can,” came the old, familiar voice. The voice that had haunted her dreams for years.
Before Greg could even turn around, grab his gun, do anything to get out of the way, Levins had hit him over the head with a piece of wood. Greg fell across her. God, she hoped he was alive, hoped he would be okay. Levins was here, ready to kill her and her concern was for Greg. She would never forgive herself if he died because of her. Then again, Levins was going to kill her so she wouldn’t exactly be living with that guilt for too long.
If there were such a thing as burning in hell she would have wished it upon Janet. Thanks to her crazy fantasies, Clair was unable to move to help herself or Greg.
Maybe somebody had heard the shots. They had to. Greg’s house wasn’t like hers. He had neighbors to the left of his place, across the street and behind him. Somebody had to be home. Somebody had to hear the shots. Who was she kidding? They were probably all at work trying to pay for those big, beautiful homes. Nobody was coming, and Levins was here. She was going to die. She tried to move again, but the drugs plus Greg’s weight pinning her to the floor prohibited movement.
“Miss me?” Levins stood over her. He dropped the board on the floor. She saw rope attached to his belt loop. He ran his hand through his now red hair. Despite the color change he still looked like the same sick bastard, just a little older. “I missed you.” He took the rope from the loop of his pants. “I just have to take care of this one and then we can go some place special.”
She watched, helplessly as he tied Greg’s hands behind his back. He dragged him out the back door. She felt pain stabbing her heart. Was he going to kill him too? She hadn’t had long to conceptualize the thought of Greg being dead before Levins came back for her. He had more rope in his hand that he use to tie her up too. “Can’t take a chance that stuff is going to wear off before we get where we’re going,” he grinned before lifting her like a sack of potatoes over his shoulder and carrying her to his SUV. It was probably stolen, but it didn’t matter because he had means for escape and he was getting ready to use it.
He tossed her in the back. Greg, he was lying there. She could see the slight movement of his chest. He was still breathing; he was alive.
Levins closed the hatch and then got in front. “I’m going to take you to our special place, Clair. I’m going to fuck you in every way imaginable, and then I’m going to kill you.” He said his words so smoothly, so naturally as if what he wanted to do to her was the everyday norm. Maybe it was his everyday norm, but it wasn’t hers or any other sane persons.
Time passed, she didn’t know how much, she just knew that the SUV had come to a full stop and then Levins dragged Greg out the back. He was gone a while before he came back for her.
He had her tied to the same wooden slats in the floor that he had tied her to twelve years ago. Her legs were spread wide and tied to two more boards. Those hadn’t been there before. He had added them, probably because he knew the adult Clair would have enough strength to fight like hell.
Greg was tied to a chair in the corner. “Once he wakes up we can start, my chocolate éclair.”
She shuddered at his tormenting words. She could feel her body slowly regaining control. The room was no longer spinning, her arms no longer felt stuck in cement, but she still couldn’t move. He had tied her tight. He had made sure she wouldn’t get away from him.
She didn’t feel one hundred percent, but if she weren’t tied up, she’d make an effort to get away. She wouldn’t leave without Greg. She knew Levins would chase her and so Greg would probably be okay, but if Levins gave up trying to catch her he’d come back and kill Greg. Who was she kidding? With the way she felt she’d probably stumble and fall the entire time. He wouldn’t have to chase her because she would never get the upper hand. But she would try. She would have to try.
She heard Greg coming around, grunting through his pain and realizing he couldn’t move. She heard the chair rattle. Levins had obviously secured the rope around the me
tal slits in the chair. Greg was as helpless to move as she was. He was, however, coming to with a vengeance. She wished he hadn’t because that was all Levins was waiting for.
He liked an audience. She figured that out the last time he had her here, in the same room where he’d gutted Amy like a fish. He was going to do what he’d done before and make Greg watch. Then, he would kill them both.
She fought against the rope and he laughed. “I told you sweet Clair. I told you ten years ago. You’re mine. You belong to me. And I am going to claim you.”
“Let her go you sick bastard!”
Greg’s order did nothing to Levins, not even anger him. He simply laughed. “I think he’ll enjoy watching what I do to you, Clair. I think you’ll enjoy it too.” He straddled her waist, knife in hand, and he leaned over her, so close she could smell the cinnamon chewing gum in his mouth. It was the same smell he’d had twelve years ago. She remembered it as if it were yesterday, his smell, his touch; it made her sick. Now she knew why she couldn’t tolerate sweets. Bakeries seemed to always have the smell of cinnamon, his smell of cinnamon. She thought she would vomit right then and there, but she willed herself to be strong.
He wanted to see her suffer, wanted to know he was torturing her. She wouldn’t give him that satisfaction. For as long as she could she would hold out from giving him the satisfaction of knowing he was hurting her, scaring her, making her want to die rather than have him touch her again.
“Oh, sweet Clair,” he moaned as he rocked against her still clothed body. “I’ve missed you, dreamed about you, and wanted you for all those years. You turned out to be special,” he pushed his center against her. He was already aroused, already ready to take her. “All those years, patiently waiting for you, and now…now my chocolate éclair, I get to have you.
Dangerous Obsessions Page 18
