Stalked Justice (Fractured Minds Series Book 1)

by Kate Allenton

  “If he thinks that I’m drinking, he’ll be more prone to approach.” I always had a plan, and this was mine. He was going to need to think that I was vulnerable. How did I know? Because I would’ve done the same thing. I closed my eyes for a brief moment, trying to figure out if I could get the direction from which the killer was watching me. When I opened my eyes again, it was hard for me to pinpoint with any accuracy given the sea of people.

  I turned my back to the bar and glanced up at the VIP area. I spotted Sloan behind the red rope. His assistant, Susan, was hanging on his arm. She’d ditched the office clothes and was now dressed in something sexier than even I was wearing. She whispered into his ear before turning her gaze at me.

  “Sloan is here in the VIP area.” Static filled my earpiece, and there was no response. Was the killer jamming our connection?

  I hadn’t even pondered the idea further when a hand smacked my ass, and I turned toward the tall guy standing behind me. He was in his mid-twenties, had dark hair and a fuck-me smile. He didn’t say a word as his hands traveled up to my hips and he began to sway from side to side. He leaned in to whisper in my ear.

  “Are you ready for me to rock your world?”

  It took everything I had not to roll my eyes and worse. I smiled up at him and pulled his head closer to mine. “Actually yes. You’re just the man I need.”

  The guy chuckled and pulled me closer, his body swaying against mine. “I’m going to make you crave me.”

  As if. The static in my ear cleared. “Is he your target?” Noah asked in my ear.

  I closed my eyes, unable to determine the killer’s surroundings. All I knew was he wasn’t staring across the room at me with hunger in his eyes like the guy who had me in his hold. I wouldn’t indulge, but I could. A grin settled on my lips as I shook my head, leading the stranger to the dance floor, leaving my wine glass on the railing.

  “Hi, I’m…”

  I held my finger to his lips. “Your name doesn’t matter,” I said, running my hands over his hard body. “Only this does.”

  “Hell yeah,” he said and tossed his arms up the air when I turned, giving him my back, and began to grind into him.

  “Lucy, you are not here on vacation. Lose the guy.”

  I squatted, going low, and spoke into my speaker. “This is better. Trust me. This will save us time.”

  I held Sloan’s gaze above as I ran my hands down my body. He’d headed toward the stairs when the woman he was with stepped in his way. I couldn’t hear her words, but there was little doubt she was talking about me as she pointed in my direction.

  Ignoring her, he stepped around her and headed down the stairs. I gave him a slow shake of my head, but that didn’t stop him.

  I muttered out a string of cuss words as Sloan crossed the dance floor. He was going to ruin everything.

  As if I’d made it happen with the power of my thoughts, Sloan moved into the college guy’s way and placed his own hands on my waist, drawing me into his hold.

  “Dude, she was dancing with me.” College guy growled and shoved against Sloan’s chest. Sloan didn’t budge.

  I left them both standing on the dance floor and headed back to the bar to get another glass of wine. Speaking to myself, knowing the others could hear me, I said, “College guy is the better choice. He’s a douche and won’t be viewed as a threat, whereas Sloan is like a fucking brick wall. Noah, handle your men,” I growled as I held up a twenty and waved it at the bartender.

  “He would, but I’m not his to handle,” Sloan said, sliding up to the bar between me and another person waiting. His hand rested on my waist as he leaned into me. “If you’re meaning to make the killer jealous, I’ll do that faster. Watch and learn.”

  He lifted me up into the air, and I wrapped my legs around his waist as he crashed his lips to mine. Heat seared through my veins as he moved to press me up against a nearby wall. His tongue dueled with mine as his palms squeezed my butt cheeks. Heat pooled between my thighs when he finally came up for breath. He stared at me, intent in his eyes.

  “If he’s here, and the jealous type, he’s about to blow a gasket.”

  My heart raced as I stared into his eyes. He slowly lowered me back to my feet. The hem of my dress slowly inched up my thighs until Sloan lowered it. He took me by the hand and led me back to the dance floor.

  “The college kid would have been easy pickings. You, on the other hand...”

  “Are going to get you all hot and bothered and then piss you off, where you hit me. He’s going to think you’re not only emotionally off balanced but physically unstable, too, when I stop your punch in mid-air. You’ll be pissed and ripe for the picking.”

  I stared up into his eyes as my body swayed with his. His plan had potential. Rough around the edges, but still potential.

  “You know I’m right. Better me, who knows the score, than the college kid, Lucy. Wouldn’t you agree?”

  “Lucy, it’s your call,” Noah said in my ear, reminding me we had an audience.

  “It could work,” I said.

  Chapter 11

  Sloan leaned into me and lowered his head. “It will work, but we have to make him believe it,” he said as he sucked my ear lobe into his mouth.

  I closed my eyes and grinned. That was one thing I could do.

  The killer’s anger grew over the next hour. I could feel him as if he were standing next to me. He was buying it, and why wouldn’t he? Sloan had me on the brink of believing it myself. In another life, in another moment, I’d act on the heat we generated. We were like the sparking wick of a Roman candle on the verge of taking flight.

  The sultry heat dampened my forehead. My satin dress was clinging to my body. I waved my hand over my face in an attempt to cool myself. Sloan took me by the hand and led me to the bar. He took the stool and pulled me to stand between his legs. “Wine?”

  “Water,” I answered, grabbing a napkin and dotting at the makeup on my face. I could only imagine the kind of clown I looked like.

  I took the bottle and downed it, almost finishing the entire thing before I gasped for air.

  He watched. The heat in his eyes left little doubt that he was fighting the part he was playing. He wanted me.

  “I need the restroom,” I said, tossing my napkins into the trash and heading toward the neon sign.

  I pushed open the door into the bathroom to find two coeds standing at the sinks. One was swiping lipstick on her lips as she bobbled, fighting the liquor in her system and gravity from taking hold. The other, with her hands stuck in her shirt, plumped up her boobs in her bra. Stalls lined the walls, two with closed doors and the last with its door hanging askew. The overwhelming stench of liquor and sweat filled the tiny room. I guess that was better than the alternative. It might be midnight, but it was too early for these partygoers to be feeling the effects and getting sick everywhere.

  I grabbed some paper towels as I stared in the aged mirror speckled with water spots. The overhead lights flickered. My eyeliner had started to raccoon around my eyes. My skin was flushed from dancing. No way would I give Sloan credit. I wiped the paper towel beneath my raccoon eyes to fix the smudges before tossing it into the trashcan and grabbing another. I dotted the sweat from my body as the other girls slurred their words, talking about the guys they were taking home.

  No matter how much this room reeked and differed from the OCD-clean bathroom at Camp Cupcake, I’d still choose this one. Freedom trumped sparkling floors.

  I slipped into a stall and locked the door. I needed a minute to myself. Just a minute to forget how my life had turned out. I closed the toilet lid and sat down on it, resting my face in my hands. How had it come to this? One wrong choice in the name of science and my life had never been the same since.

  The girls giggled again as their heels clicked the tiles. The loud club noise was brief, suggesting the girls had left me alone.

  “Make it quick, Lucy. We can’t watch you in the bathroom.” Noah’s urgency wasn’t at the t
op of my list of concerns.

  “Copy that,” I answered anyway. Otherwise, he’d send someone in to check on me.

  The loud club music invaded my space again as someone entered. Minutes ticked by without the sound of a flushing toilet or faucet being turned on. A pair of men’s shoes stood in front of my stall.

  “This is the ladies’ room,” I called out.

  The feet began to move, and the music flared again as the person left.

  “Lucy, you all right?” Grant asked.

  “I’m fine,” I answered, flipping the lock and yanking the door open.

  Fear clogged my throat as I read the lipstick-written words left on the aged mirror.

  Have your fun, Lucy. I’ve been having mine.

  The words didn’t scare me until my gaze dropped to the music box sitting on the counter. Panic escalated to defcon 5. I grabbed it and flipped it over, forgetting to breathe. My and Gigi’s initials were carved into it. We each had music box given to us on our birthday’s. Only mine had our initials. This had been in my apartment, even worse, in my bedroom. I flipped the lid open to find the lipstick inside, and panic laced my spine. I keyed up the mic.

  “He’s been in my house and Gigi’s,” I shouted as I ran for the door. I yanked it open and fell into Sloan’s waiting arms.

  “Did you see a man come through here?” I asked, glancing up and down the hall.

  “No,” he answered. “What’s wrong?”

  “He was in the bathroom. He’s been inside my home,” I screamed as I shoved passed him and pushed open the only other door in the hallway.

  The men’s restroom was worse than the women’s, with three urinals standing on the wall and only one stall.

  I glanced beneath the stall to find a pair of men’s dress shoes. Anger stirred my gut.

  “I’ve got you now, fucker,” I said as I kicked the door from the hinges.

  A woman squealed as she clung to the man’s chest. Her skirt was bunched around her hips. The collar of her shirt dragged below her bustline. His pants hung around his legs.

  “Sorry.” I apologized as heat claimed my cheeks. I pulled the door back as best I could. Sloan took me by the arm and led me out.

  Grant and Ford hurried down the hall in my direction. Grant took me by the arms and looked me over. “You okay?”

  I nodded with shaking limbs. “He’s been in my house and yours.”

  I handed him the music box. “Grant, go to Gigi. She needs you more than me. Go make sure she’s okay.”

  I watched as his head and heart warred with his needs. “Leave or I will, Grant. I’ll call this off and do something stupid to send us all packing.”

  Chapter 12

  “Lucy, Gigi is fine. I’ve got her tucked away at another hospital under a fake name. He hasn’t found her. He couldn’t have.”

  I yanked the lipstick out of the music box and held it up to show him. Gigi was the name of the color, and the only one my sister wore. Her friend in the cosmetics industry had made it special and named it after her. “Grant, don’t make me do this the hard way.”

  Noah appeared in the hallway. Anger radiated in the narrow space. “Grant, go check on your wife. If he doesn’t take a girl from here, we’ve got two days before he hits again.”

  “Why two days? I thought Bar Wars was nightly.”

  “The next club on the list is closed for renovations. We passed it on the way here. The brochure must be outdated.”

  “Who’s to say he’s going to stick to his pattern?” Grant said, slamming his palm against the wall. “Do you have any idea what Gigi would do to me if she knew that the killer was that close to Lucy and I didn’t stay to watch out after her?”

  I slowly nodded. I understood now. His pain and anger ran as deep as mine did. I took his hand and stared into his eyes. “You saw what I did to Carl. I can take care of myself. You go take care of her. If anything happens to her, it would kill us both.”

  He nodded and handed me back the music box.

  “I’ve already got him on a flight,” Sam said in our ears.

  “Sam, check the parking lot for motorcycles. Make sure there’s none leaving with women on the back.”

  “Already done, Dr. Red Hot,” Sam announced. “There were three, and only one had a woman. I’m tracking them now.”

  This killer was smarter than I gave him credit for. He’d been in my home, and he hadn’t struck when he had the chance in the bathroom. He was calculating and in control. That changed everything.

  In the daze of my own spinning mind, I followed the others out of the club and back to the SUV and van parked next to it. The door flew open, and Sam grinned down at me.

  “Let me know next time you want to go dancing. I’ll be your partner.” Sam wiggled his brows.

  I frowned and slipped inside the SUV to wait on the others while I worked a psychological profile in my head. Something was wrong with what I was working with. His age and the way his killings had escalated were in complete contrast to that stunt in the bathroom. He wasn’t just a cocky killer. He was a psychotic stalking mastermind. Those were two very opposite variables.

  The ride back to the hotel was slow with college kids cruising and hanging out of cars flirting with one another. The moon shined high in the night sky. I closed my eyes, searching for his emotional strings that would take me to him. Nothing.

  Damn him. Damn me.

  The hotel was brimming with people; only they weren’t the vibrant sparkling-eyed kids from earlier who’d been just heading out for a fun night out. These guys were dragging in, propping each other up, and barely able to function.

  We all stepped onto the elevator. My shoulders sagged as I leaned against the wall. This wasn’t how it was supposed to end. My music box was clutched tight in my hand digging the hinges into my palms. I glanced up to find the rest of my bunkmates staring at me.

  “He got in my head,” I said, not caring if they understood. “He threw me off my game.”

  “You’re human.” The words were as much of a surprise as the deep voice they came from. Carson, our resident weapons expert, had broken into my pity-party. “Roth, she needs to be armed. Either with your consent or without, she’s not going back into the field unable to defend herself.”

  “Aw, that’s sweet. You thought I was vulnerable.” I nudged his shoulder. Reaching down into my dress and into my bra, I pulled out a switchblade and handed it to him. “Compliments of the college kid who couldn’t keep his hands off my ass.”

  Carson’s gaze held mine, his stone veneer intact and unmoving. He took the knife and flicked it open. “This will do for now.”

  He slapped it closed and was about to hand it back when Roth intercepted my bounty. “What part of dangerous psych ward patient are you guys not understanding? She doesn’t get to play with weapons, especially knives, not after the way she sliced up Carl.”

  “She could gut us in our sleep,” Ford said as the elevator dinged and we all stepped out.

  “Now why would I do that? You’re my ride home,” I said, bypassing Ford and stepping into our suite. I headed to the bedroom and changed into sleep shorts and a tank top before going out on the balcony to claim a seat.

  The ocean breeze made goosebumps rise on my arms. The sound of crashing waves below was a melody that I’d replay in my mind when I was back at sleepover camp. The psych ward wasn’t as horrible as prison, not when I could predict what the doctors and patients were going to do. I compared it to a walk in the park and totally worth the torture I’d inflicted.

  The sliding glass door behind me slid open, and Ford stepped out, carrying a plate with pizza and a beer. “It’s not wine, but it’s liquor.”

  “Thanks,” I said, taking it from him. He returned seconds later with his own.

  “So, are you out here plotting how to kill us in our sleep?” Ford asked as I sipped my beer.

  I grinned. “Not yet. I was just out here thinking that this guy got in my mind. That was unexpected. I underestimated him.
”

  “That’s half the battle, isn’t it? Trying to figure out what makes a person tick. Sometimes people are easy to peg; other times, it’s like shooting an arrow at a brick wall. But I can tell you that the best way that I’ve learned to read people is by seeing the way they live. You can tell a lot about a person by the way they keep their home.” He shrugged. “Or don’t keep their home.”

  I took a bite of pizza. “You sound like you’re talking from experience. So, remind me again. What is it that you do?”

  He glanced over his shoulder before leaning in. “I’m a thief. There isn’t a lock that can keep me out or a room and building that I can’t breach. I didn’t start that way. I was a squatter, believe it or not.”

  “Explains the pricey threads,” I said, glancing at his dress pants.

  “There’s nothing wrong with appreciating the finer things in life, Dr. Bray.”

  “Lucy,” I corrected him. “I was wrong about you. We aren’t anything alike.”

  “I told you,” he said, glancing at me as he dangled the pizza slice over his face. He took a bite and chewed before he continued. “This pizza isn’t half bad, but it doesn’t even come close to the pizza I had when I housesat at 39th Street unit 102.”

  I glanced in his direction and took another sip of my beer. “Explain.”

  “I associate food with experiences. The pizza in unit 102 was handcrafted by an old Italian woman who had flown to California to visit her children. I was sixteen when I stayed in her home. That was the night I learned the life lesson that people lie.”

  My brows scrunched. “How did that come about?”

  His lip pulled up at the corner. “I found the empty, store-bought sauce jars in her trash. She might sell her pizza as authentic, but it was as fake as you and me.”

  “You would think that she’d get rid of the evidence before asking you to housesit.”