TORTURE ME: The Bandits MC

by Leah Wilde

  Fiona’s breathing gradually slowed down, the panic ebbing like a wave, little by little as the seconds went by. “I, just, you can’t touch me like that,” she finally replied as soon as she was capable of speech again.

  “I’m sorry,” Gage said, and for a long moment Fiona was utterly convinced that she’d imagined it. Gage, apologizing? When had that ever happened? He always acted like he ruled the world, like every choice he made was deliberate and justified, that nothing should or could stand in his way. What was he doing apologizing to her, apparently sincerely, only an hour after they’d reunited?

  “You’re sorry?” Fiona echoed, feeling like she needed to hear it again to make sure that she hadn’t totally hallucinated his last statement.

  Gage nodded to her, a small smile spreading across his lips. So clearly he wasn’t that apologetic. But he said, “I am. I am sorry that I scared you. I was just trying to make you feel better. Come sit back down and eat. You need to get something in your stomach. That’s probably half the reason you panicked a minute ago.”

  There was some truth to what he was saying. She used to go days without eating sometimes, just because it felt nice to ignore the pains and pleasures of her body, and then the panic attacks would come, overwhelming her until she finally stopped being stupid and ate. Fiona slowly walked back over to the chair now, staring at Gage and wordlessly ordering him to move. She waited for him to comply, stepping back a few feet, before she sat back down and stared again at the pictures he’d spread out in front of her.

  “It’s the clothes,” she said, picking up her fork to twirl more pasta around before bringing it to her mouth and forcing a heavy swallow. “The clothes. They’re clean. He’s cleaned them. He likes to pretend that he takes care of them, that he protects them. They’re his art and his children at the same time. He doesn’t think he’s punishing them,” she said, feeling her vision go blurry and unfocused as she continued to speak. Her brain and her body were detaching themselves from each other, letting her look at the pictures without panicking. Good, she thought. It was better to be numb than to be alive, if the price of the latter was so high.

  Gage nodded quickly, his eyes glued to the photographs rather than looking at Fiona. “Good. That’s good. I hadn’t…I hadn’t thought of that. What about…?” He paused as he pulled the first photo back and pushed the other four closer to Fiona. “What about those? Anything special about them?”

  Fiona didn’t answer for a long minute; she just stared down at the four pictures. “The girls are different from each other,” she murmured out loud, her eyes flicking back and forth from the different photographs. “Black, white, Asian. He doesn’t stick to one type.”

  Gage leaned over the table, at what must have been an uncomfortable angle for his back, as he pointed out a detail on the third picture. “He made a weird engraving here, on her skin, just below the knee. It’s not the best picture of it. Clearly whoever was photographing the crime scene didn’t notice it or he’d have gotten a close-up. But what do you think it is?”

  Fiona hadn’t noticed it at first, either. She supposed that was probably the killer’s point, to make it hard to see. But now that she looked at it, she could see that it was a spiral, carved out of flesh, a looping figure that started with a small coil, then got bigger and bigger as the killer went on. “Too soon to tell,” Fiona murmured. “But it bolsters the idea that he sees what he’s doing as art. He’s an artist. He’s making a point, maybe a political point, to the world. He wants someone to figure him out. He wants to be appreciated.”

  “Sick fuck,” Gage muttered under his breath, finally sitting back down across from Fiona and attacking his dinner with his fork and knife. Fiona stared at him for a long moment, watching how he messily ate, dripping pasta sauce and seasoning down the front of his shirt without even noticing. In the past, it would have made her giggle and wipe down his shirt for him. She would have leaned over him, just as he did over her a few minutes before, and given him kisses on his neck. Fiona practically shivered in her seat at the memory. It felt so real, so close, like she was watching her life unfold in front of her, looking back on her past.

  She had to say something, do something, to erect a boundary, something that couldn’t be crossed, otherwise she couldn’t stay here. That much was clear. And Carl, she thought. What would Carl think, seeing me eating dinner with my ex like this?

  Fiona cleared her throat before she spoke. “You can’t do that, you know, what you did earlier. Touching me like that, talking to me like that. You just can’t. I’m engaged now,” she reminded him.

  Gage looked up from his dinner, his fork frozen in midair as he looked at her. “I’m sorry,” he said again, but the words came out a little too quickly, like he’d been rehearsing them beforehand. “I just…I just wanted to help you feel better. That’s all. I promise.”

  Gage was never much for promises, Fiona remembered. He’d always say, “What will be will be.” But now he was promising to respect her boundaries. It was the best she had, for right now at least. Maybe we can be professional, she thought as she resumed eating. Maybe we can really be friends, work friends. That would be nice. After all, she and Gage had started out as friends, at the courthouse where they’d met, both testifying against her captor. Gage brought pictures of his little sister to present to the court while Fiona brought her own scarred body as evidence. They’d bonded that day. It would be a shame to lose that connection forever, right?

  Chapter Five

  Gage’s heart thumped in his throat, pounding against his Adam’s apple. He stabbed at his food, eating as quickly as possible, willing his heart to calm the fuck down. But he’d been close to Fiona, really close to her—physically and emotionally—for the first time in over a year. How else was he supposed to react?

  Underneath the table, Gage’s free hand sat in his lap, his fingers crossed. It was an old habit, an unfortunate holdover from his childhood that stuck around. Whenever he lied or wasn’t sure that he was telling the truth, he’d cross his fingers, as if that made it better. His fingers were crossed now for the sake of his “promise” not to push things with Fiona. He just couldn’t help it. It was like his fingers had their own agenda, and what they wanted was to touch her again. Even now, mere minutes after he’d comforted her, his fingertips itched like they physically needed to brush up against her skin.

  Even still, he knew that he had to keep up appearances, despite what his body wanted to do. If Fiona knew that he still had feelings for her, she’d flee. He knew she would. She was a survivor, through and through, and sometimes, that meant that when things got dangerous, she ran away. It wasn’t like he could blame her, not really. She was in a relationship now, after all. Gage hadn’t expected that. When he’d first e-mailed her, he assumed that she was living somewhere alone, just like him. It stung, knowing that she was able to “move on” so quickly. No matter how many women Gage bedded over the past several months, he couldn’t get Fiona out of his mind, not even for a second. It really hurt to know that the opposite wasn’t true for her.

  For now, at least, he smiled at her, giving her the big megawatt grin that always made her melt. He still knew how she operated, even after all this time. She was still the same Fiona, despite everything. She smiled back for a second before it fell from her face. Gage figured she hadn’t meant to smile at him, but it just came naturally. That’s the way things always worked with them. They never had to force their feelings for each other. I wonder if it’s the same for her and this new guy, he couldn’t help but think.

  He was tempted to ask her about her fiancé, but instead, he found another way to keep the conversation going, even though the silence that fell between them as they ate was far from uncomfortable. It was almost nice, sitting with her in the quiet the way they used to. But it was a little too familiar; it might scare Fiona off again if he wasn’t careful. Better to focus on the case for now. “So, um, the girl whose parents hired me, Tori Greenwood… She’s only been gone for a week n
ow, but The Knife left his symbol in her room for her parents to find. It’s him.”

  “He wants the attention,” Fiona said, flipping her fork between her fingers like it was a coin. It was hard for her to sit still, Gage knew, when her brain was working overtime the way it had been tonight. But it wasn’t done yet. He still needed to get more information out of her if they were going to solve this case in time to save Tori and the other girl. “But instead of leaving a sign for the cops…he does it for the parents? He wants to hurt people. The pain is important to him.”

  “Go on,” Gage prompted her, pulling out a pen and a notepad from his pocket to keep track of her thoughts.

  “It’s personal. He…he must have chosen her specifically, targeted all of them for some reason,” Fiona said, a little line appearing between her eyebrows as she concentrated. Gage loved that line. In the past, whenever she was too focused on a case, obsessing over the details, he’d lean in and kiss her right in between her eyes to smooth the tension away. Most of the time, it didn’t work. Fiona’s anxious energy defeated any and all foes, but he liked doing it anyway, trying anything to help her relax.

  “I’ve got her diary,” Gage said, getting up from his seat to go dig through his evidence cabinet. “Tori’s, I mean. I waited to read through it until you were here. I figured you’d have a better sense of what was normal and what wasn’t, having been a teenage girl yourself.”

  Fiona nodded and accepted the small, thin book from Gage’s hands. This time, their fingers did not brush up against each other at all, and Gage felt a pang of disappointment as a result. As Fiona flipped the book open and began to read, Gage walked over to her side of the table, keeping safe distance but still staying close enough so that he could read over her shoulder, even though she spoke the words aloud. “Dear Diary,” Fiona began, moving her finger across the page as if she could feel Tori’s energy through the marks of her bright red pen. “Today, school was so interesting! I learned about sine, cosine, and tangents. I’m really good at math. Mom always said that I would be, but Dad thought that my brother George is smarter than me. That just shows what he knows. Nothing. One day Mom will dump his ass and then it’ll just be the two of us, forever.” Fiona stopped reading to clear her throat before flipping over to the next page. “Dear Diary, I want to apologize for how I talked about Dad last time. He was the one who bought you for me anyway. He just makes me so mad sometimes because he thinks I am stupid just because I get bad grades in science and history. They’re boring! It’s not my fault! I always do my homework and study, but sometimes it’s just not good enough. Oh, well. I’m sorry, Dad, that I talked badly about you even though you can’t see it. I love you.” Fiona paused, putting the book down on the table next to her now-empty plate. “Jesus Christ,” she murmured, leaning her head onto the palm of her hand. “Fuck.”

  “What is it, what’s the matter?” Gage asked, even though he was pretty sure he knew the answer to that question. He had a feeling he and Fiona had the same reaction.

  “Nothing, nothing, it’s just…she’s so normal. Healthy,” Fiona muttered, her voice low, like she couldn’t bring herself to talk any louder in the presence of the diary. “Such a sweet kid.”

  “I found Abby’s diary once,” Gage blurted out, the words leaving his mouth before he even knew that he was going to say them. “I still have it, actually. But I’ve never read it.”

  Fiona turned to look at him then, her eyes wide and sad and full of emotion that had the potential to shake Gage to his core. “Why not?” she asked in a small voice.

  Gage shrugged, even though he already knew the answer. It felt stupid, saying it out loud. “I know she wouldn’t want me to read it, you know, if she was still here.”

  Fiona frowned, her eyebrows scrunched up together. “What’s the difference between Abby’s diary and Tori’s? Do you think we’re…do you think we’re violating her by doing this?” Fiona was clearly trying to keep her voice as casual and light as possible, but Gage could detect the fear hidden between her words. She doesn’t want to do anything to hurt anybody, Gage thought. Same old Fiona, same old beautiful kind loving Fiona.

  “It’s different,” Gage began, “because Tori is still alive. She can still forgive us for doing it. But Abby…Abby will never be able to do that.”

  Fiona was quiet a moment, tapping her fingers on the top of the table as she thought. “I think she’d forgive you,” Fiona said softly. “I really think she would. It would just be…it’d be you trying to speak to her one last time. That’s not so bad.”

  Gage didn’t know what to say to that. Sometimes, especially now that Fiona was gone, he’d take out the diary from its hiding place, late at night, and run his hands over the brightly decorated covers, dragging his fingers over his sister’s writing, where she’d scrawled, “PROPERTY OF ABIGAIL. STAY. OUT” on the front. What could he do, except respect his sister’s last message to him? Wasn’t that the best thing to do, after all?

  But he didn’t want to argue with Fiona, not now, not when she just got here. “Maybe,” he said instead of the flood of thoughts that had invaded his brain.

  “It’s just a thought,” Fiona said, returning her attention to Tori’s diary and flipping to the back page. There were tons of empty pages, lots of room where she hadn’t written anything yet. Fiona flipped back until she found writing again, landing on Tori’s last entry.

  “Maybe we should head to bed, get an early start tomorrow,” Gage suggested, tearing Fiona’s gaze away from the diary. He honestly felt exhausted, like he’d run a bunch of miles and swam across an entire lake or something like that, even if he knew it was only because he’d thought of Abby.

  But Fiona frowned and shook her head. “You can go ahead. I’m going to stay up a little while longer and read the last few entries here. Maybe she mentioned something that could come in handy. You never know…” She ducked her head, flipping a few pages back to some earlier entries, and resumed reading.

  Gage stared down at her for a long moment, conflicted. This was the ultimate contradiction with Fiona: on one hand, she could be quite fragile, falling apart at the slightest reminder of what had happened to her as a teenager. But at the same time, she was so much stronger than him. A mere mention of Abby could cause him to crumble into pieces, which he’d have to reassemble by himself, piece by piece by piece. If Fiona weren’t here, he’d probably go to his room and simmer in his feelings or otherwise, head out to the clubhouse of his MC, where he spent most of his time now that Fiona was gone. But even after having a panic attack, here Fiona was, struggling away at the work like she needed to solve the case to survive. Hell, maybe she did. Maybe that’s why she was such a fighter, because she knew how weak she was underneath it all.

  Gage finally sat down, next to her rather than across from her this time, so he could read along while Fiona’s finger scanned its way down the pages of Tori’s diary. After a few minutes of reading basic banal details like her schoolwork, her soccer games, and her friends’ teenager drama, Fiona suddenly cleared her throat and began reading aloud again: “Today I met a boy! Well, he’s not really a boy. He’s more of a man. But he’s in college and works at the sunglasses store in the mall, right next to my favorite shop. He asked me and Vanessa if we wanted to buy something and when we said we were broke, he gave me a free pair! Vanessa was FUMING. She was so jealous, it made me laugh really hard. But not really. I kept it in because I don’t want to piss her off because we’re best friends.” Fiona paused to take another sip of her scotch, sighing loudly as she downed the thick liquid. “But anyway, I gave him my number, but I forgot to get his name! How stupid am I? I have to go back and try to look and see if he has a nametag because it’s going to be so awkward and embarrassing if I have to ask now. He hasn’t texted me yet, though, so maybe nothing will happen. I’ll let you know!”

  Fiona paused again, putting the book down on the table as she drained off the rest of her glass and got up to pour more without asking Gage’s permission this
time. Gage smiled a little at that, loving how quickly Fiona seemed to get used to this new place, but in the back of his mind, worry nagged at him like a pestering child. Why is she drinking so much? Is she okay? Gage wondered. But he didn’t push the issue, at least not for the moment.

  “The Bandits’ clubhouse is near the mall, right?” Fiona asked as she settled back in her chair, gripping her glass in her hand. “At least, that’s the way I remember it.”

  “It really depends on which mall,” Gage said, rolling his eyes in the back of his head as he thought of the different shopping malls in this part of the city. “But yeah, the one closest to her house and school…is that one.”

  “So let’s go,” Fiona said, getting to her feet and quickly draining her full glass, cringing a little as it slid down her throat into her stomach.

  “Wait, why? Just because she met a guy there?” Gage asked, confused.

  “Most victims know their murderers,” Fiona reminded him. “Even if it’s just an acquaintance situation, this is the best clue we’ve got right now. We need to go see if that guy still works at the sunglasses shop. He might be our guy.”