Mad, Mad World

by J. D. Sloane

  Ronan blinked slowly as he watched the television feed change from a lot filled with police cars to the jerky footage of a man dressed in black leaping from the top of his apartment balcony, the angle of the footage making it seem as if he was flying through the darkness like some kind of fifth-rate stuntman caught up in his own hype.

  “Police have yet to identify this strange eleventh-hour protector and as yet cannot make sense of what part he played in this evening’s events. One thing is certain though, he saved the life of at least one of our city’s finest, and for that the city owes him a debt of….”

  Ronan picked the remote up off the metal box next to the couch and turned off the television with a smooth snap before tossing it towards the tile floor, his face shifting through a quick scenic tour of every unpleasant alley of his mind. He stood in place for a moment, his fingers twitching in the darkness as if running through the warm-up for some phantom, well-rehearsed solo and then walked into the makeshift kitchen area on the opposite wall, opening the cabinets above the sink as he reached for a jar of peanut butter. Ronan hummed under his breath, pulling out a loaf of bread and then slapped two slices side by side on the countertop, slamming the cabinet door shut with the flat of his palm.

  And isn’t that just poetic? He thought, his dark eyes beginning to twirl with a smooth, focused violence. Some eleventh-hour hero coming to right all the wrongs for all those terrified citizens out there whining about the monster under their bed. As if it changes anything. As if at any moment some self-righteous hero by another name won’t just swoop in and steal everything that’s important to them too. Just. For kicks.

  He slammed the next drawer closed harder than the first, his temper spiraling wildly as his phone began to ring and then pulled out his knife from his jacket pocket and opened it with a hard shake, scraping the side of the jar as he smeared a thick chunk of peanut butter across the closest slice of bread. He began to hum again as he slapped the first piece on top of the other before sending his knife skittering into the corner, and then yanked the fridge door open with a jerk so violent it shook on its casters, rooting around for a beer with a rough smack of his hand.

  Ronan kicked the door shut with a shove of his boot, cracking the top of his beer off against the counter and then paused as Alicia came around the corner, her short red hair damp and combed away from her face. He met her eyes over his bottle as he took a drink, her spoiled, schoolgirl’s face turned down in pouty annoyance and then slid them down the front of her short black dress, a tug of pure animal hunger butting up against a kind of frank, calming dislike.

  Ten to one this is how serial killers get their start, Ronan thought, picking up his phone as he turned his back on her. Satisfy all those base urges at once. An elegant solution to a complex problem.

  He hit redial as he paced into the living room and cocked his neck lightly to one side as Jaxson picked up on the first ring, his pale face almost languid with politeness.

  “I take it you already heard,” Jaxson said, his voice low and tense.

  Ronan rolled his eyes towards the ceiling and then glanced at the black television screen again, his pale face twitching across the surface of his scar.

  “Tell me you have the doctor,” he said, his low voice almost friendly.

  “His last address had him in Pennsylvania, not here. I’m checking into it now. But don’t worry. We’ll have him soon. He’ll never even see us coming.”

  “And what about the man of the hour? Hmm? Anyone get a good look at this guy before he scurried across the rooftops?”

  Jaxson paused, catching some of Ronan’s mood of killing rage in the chummy air of comradery that had crept into his voice.

  “That was…No one expected that, Ronan. He just came out of nowhere. By the time I heard what had happened he was already gone.”

  Ronan drummed his fingers over his lips and attempted to choose his words carefully, his voice dropping as he looked out the window.

  “It was him, Jaxson,” he said, his voice low and even. “The one who took her. I want him found. Today.”

  “Look, boss, I know how you feel. But there’s just no way to know that for sure…”

  “Today, Jaxson. Then we go see the doctor. All of us. Think of it as a working vacation.”

  Jaxson sighed on the other end and Ronan’s eyes lowered, his pale face filling with a wave of violence so serene it was almost beautiful.

  “Now tell me you heard me.”

  “I hear you, boss.”

  Ronan pulled the phone away from his ear and spoke into the receiver as his dark eyes danced.

  “Good. Call me when you have a location.”

  Ronan hung up, resisting the urge to hurl the phone through the window by the barest sliver of self-control. He licked his lower lip, rolling his neck to one side as he tossed his phone towards the couch and then grabbed his beer off of the table as he walked back to the counter.

  “Who was he?” Alicia asked, crossing her arms over the low v-front of her dress as Ronan picked up his sandwich.

  “Who was who?” Ronan asked, taking a quick bite as he slammed his beer down on the counter without looking at her.

  Alicia tilted her head at him and then picked up the remote and flicked on the TV set, raising her brows as he glanced over her shoulder. He took another long drink as a sudden blurry close-up of the mystery man over a scrolling red and gold banner filled the screen.

  City’s Own Archangel? The banner read as an explosion appeared behind his head. Ronan sneered, picking up the remote and snapped the TV off as he finished his sandwich, his pale face shifting with a moment of contempt.

  “Archangel,” he muttered. “Not sure that’s what I would’ve gone with. But that’s what you get when you let the brain trust at Channel Six do your PR work for you.”

  “Did they get him?”

  “What do you think?”

  Alicia bit her bottom lip as he tipped his eyes in her direction, the look on her face so uncharacteristically anxious that he paused, looking her over with a little more interest.

  “How does this change things? With the plan?” She asked, following him around the room with her eyes as he shrugged.

  “It doesn’t.”

  “Ronan,” Alicia said, her tone becoming so calm and reasonable that he felt that quick thrill of hatred for her again, filling all the empty places inside him like an electric charge. “Look. I know you want to get these guys. I get it. If I were in your position I’d want them dead too. But until we know who this guy is or who he’s working for, don’t you think it might make sense to just lay low for a few days? The entire city is already looking for us. We can’t fight everyone at once.”

  He ran his eyes over her delicate, too-thin limbs, tracing the line of her lips as she spoke and then glanced towards the doorway casually as he took a step towards her, taking another long drink without ever quite breaking her gaze.

  “Oh no?” Ronan asked, he lips curling up unpleasantly as he bent over her with his bottle in one hand. “Why not?”

  Ronan stepped closer until his bottle was right below her chin and smiled slightly as she swallowed, her eyes darting over his face as if she couldn’t quite help herself.

  “Correct me if I’m wrong, Holly,” he said, his voice low and caressing as he shifted his body closer. “But I don’t remember you complaining this much when it was one of your old friends on the hit list, were you? No. You were the perfect little playmate that night. All smiles and knives and plans.”

  Ronan snaked his hand out and dug his fingers into her jaw, yanking his head up towards him as his dark eyes dipped and twirled.

  “Your problem is you’ve been on your own too long,” he said, bending his face towards her until their lips where barely a breath apart. “You’ve forgotten what it is to be part of a team. But don’t worry. I’m not giving up on you yet. And trust me, Holly, there’s almost nothing I enjoy more than helping girls like you find t
heir one true place in life.”

  Ronan watched her gold eyes flutter up to him, struggling to control her hunger to kiss him, and released her casually, raising his bottle to his lips as he turned away from her. He rolled his shoulders as his eyes strayed to the television again and then shrugged off his jacket, switching the bottle from one hand to the other.

  “Did you fuck her?”

  Ronan turned around quickly, raising his brows at the angry accusation in Alicia’s voice and then rolled his eyes towards the ceiling briefly as he raised his brows, tucking his jacket over the chair as he set his empty bottle down on the metal end table.

  “What do you care?” He asked, his voice almost teasing as Alicia’s face registered a sudden rush of pain, her thin attempt to cover it arousing him in spite of himself. He watched her expression quiver with outrage, noticing how the short hem of her skirt barely cleared the trim upper half of her thighs and then gave her a sudden smirk, his too handsome face almost compassionate beneath the dark twirling malice of his gaze.

  “Go ahead,” he said, unbuttoning his shirt cuffs slowly as she balled her hands at her sides. “Ask me if I liked it.”

  Alicia swallowed hard, her pale face darkening with anger and flinched as Ronan laughed softly at her, glancing at her out of the corner of his eyes.

  “Would it make you feel any better if I told you that it was all in a hard day’s work?”

  Alicia stopped in her tracks as Ronan stepped towards the doorway and cut off her retreat with a curt turn of his shoulders, rolling up his sleeves casually as he raised his brows in her direction.

  “Did it ever occur to you that Nolan is just telling you what you wanted to hear?” She asked, her voice coming out in a low, violent rush. “About the doctor? About everything?”

  Ronan froze, his brow furrowing with a moment of unpleasant surprise and then watched her step around the table, approaching him slowly as her face flashed triumph. He felt a wild rush of rage flutter just beyond the edge of his conscious mind as she threw him a sly look of contempt and then went back to rolling up his sleeves, his face smoothing out into a calm, unreadable blank.

  “You sound a little hysterical,” he said, beginning to whistle under his breath. “Maybe you should go get some air.”

  “He’s lying to you,” Alicia said stepping around the table as Ronan glanced towards the door, his face beginning to fill with a slow unhealthy light. “She’s gone, Ronan. She is dead…”

  Alicia let out a low cry as Ronan crossed the distance between them in two steps and shoved her back against the wall. He curled his hand around her throat, shaking her once as he dug his fingers into her spine and leaned over her as the back of her head smacked the wall, allowing himself to enjoy the sudden look of terror in her eyes as he brushed his lips against her ear.

  “Now I’ve just about had my fill of brokenhearted little victims tonight, Holly,” he said, his face shifting between hatred and desire so quickly they were practically the same emotion. “I really, really have. Maybe you should try another act, hmm? Go ahead. Show me something I haven’t seen.”

  “Is this how you treated her?” Alicia said through clenched teeth, her sweet voice pulsing with venom as she shoved back against him. “How you treated Brooke? I bet she let you do anything you wanted to her, didn’t she? I bet when you fucked other women she just curled up into a pretty little ball and cried at your feet.”

  Ronan grinned, watching her eyes carefully as he held his finger up to her lips and lowered his eyes to meet her.

  “That’s better,” he said as she tried to yank her head out of his grasp. “Now that’s the star quality I remember. Go ahead. Analyze me, Alicia. Tell me about the five stages of grief. Tell me what I need to be whole again.”

  Alicia blinked quickly as Ronan slid his fingers down the curve of her cheek, tugging at the neck of her dress as he watched her eyes. He saw her swallow hard, her entire body sighing towards him, and felt his cock pulse against his thigh as he dragged his fingers down the front of her dress, shifting his body closer. He twitched his fingers over the tight front slit of her skirt, closing his eyes briefly as he felt her thighs shift apart and then yanked her forward roughly as he shoved her to the ground, her knees slamming against the floor with a hard slap.

  “And then go get packed up for the weekend,” Ronan said, his voice hard and cheerful. “Because Daddy’s going to take you on a fun cross-country trip. Don’t worry. Good times guaranteed.”

  Alicia flinched as he leaned over her and then rolled her tongue over her lips as he passed her without turning, humming under his breath as he yanked open the fridge.

  “You sadistic fuck,” Alicia said her voice low and rough as her expression crumbled. “This isn’t about revenge, is it? You think she’s still out there somewhere. You’re still searching for her.”

  Ronan’s fingers twitched at his side, and he rolled his shoulders slightly, making an impatient gesture in her direction.

  “Don’t make me ask you again, Alicia. I’m not in the mood to repeat myself.”

  “Fuck you, Ronan,” Alicia said, gritting her teeth as she got to her feet. “And fuck this. I’m out of here. You understand? I’m done with whatever kind of game you think we’re playing.”

  Alicia turned around and walked down the hallway, her mood taking a swift, violent nosedive as she shoved open the door to their long makeshift bedroom and stalked inside. She looked around the huge clinical space Ronan’s men had reappointed for their arrival and jerked open the steel doors to the standing wardrobe along one wall, kicking a battered looking leather bag out into the middle of the floor.

  And how much of this was hers? She thought, flicking through the closet of lush, colorful dresses Magda had provided her with a sudden wave of disgust. I’m going to guess most of it. The kind of wardrobe that would look right at home on some high-priced prostitute. Or a delicate little porcelain doll. One that’s just begging to lie down on a bed somewhere and be undressed and fucked oh so carefully.

  Her face screwed up with annoyance as she dragged out the teal dress she had worn the night at the club and tossed it to the floor, ripping three more dresses off their hangers in a sudden fit of rage. She shook her head as she let out a low sigh, trying to get her anger back under control and then paused as she came to her plain white tee-shirt dress, the hem torn and discolored from long overuse. She ran her ringers over the stretched-out v-neck, her gold eyes moving over it with a sudden defiant anger and then yanked it out of the closet and tossed it to the floor, taking a step backwards as she unzipped her black dress with quivering fingers.

  He can keep it, she thought, letting the dress pool around her ankles before kicking it out of her way. I don’t need to be anyone’s second edition. First stage of grief, Ronan. That’s called denial. Look it the fuck up. She dragged the short white dress over her head and then pulled on her cheap vinyl boots, dragging them on quickly as she looked around for her jacket. She glanced in the mirror when she was through, shaking her damp red hair out of her eyes and let out a deep sigh as she realized that she felt like herself for the first time in weeks. And maybe longer than that.

  I’m only leaving with what’s mine, she thought back-handing an armful of clothes from her old apartment into the front of her bag as she tugged at the zipper. She pulled on her black leather jacket, her heavily lined gold eyes darting around the dark, empty room and then paused as she eyed a set of long emerald earrings, a pair she’d taken from one of the women at the club and which were probably worth more than any car she’d ever owned.

  Still mine, she thought palming them with a careless swipe of her hand and tucking them into her pocket. After all I did steal them. Finders keepers and all that.

  She slung her bag over her shoulder, her brows furrowing as she realized that Ronan hadn’t even bothered to follow her, as if the idea of her leaving bothered him so little he was simply content to let her go, like some kind of mildly entertaini
ng pastime in a world of more pressing concerns. She shrugged lightly, trying to think of something to say to him, something that would make him feel as disposable as she did and then paused at the end of the hallway, looking from one end of the library to the other as she realized that he was gone.

  Alicia shifted her bag to her other shoulder, realizing that she didn’t really want to go, that she was actually waiting for Ronan to walk through the door and fight with her about it, and then let out a short sigh and headed for the elevators, her boots echoing down the long, tiled hallway.

  It’s better this way, she thought, pressing her lips together as she hit the elevator button and watched the numbers scroll above her. It’s better for him just to say nothing. Because that’s exactly what I meant to him. I’m just a placeholder. Someone to distract himself with while he searches for the girl he really loves.

  She bit her lower lip as the elevator let out a soft chime, casting one last glance back towards the library as the doors slid open and felt her heart leap into her throat as Ronan stepped out of one of the empty treatment rooms behind her, his pale, too-handsome face half hidden in shadow.

  “Not leaving already are you?” He asked, his gravelly voice so low it was almost a caress.

  “What’s the point, Ronan?” She said curtly, adjusting her strap with a shrug. “I’m not her and I’m never going to be. I don’t even want to be.”

  Alicia turned her head and stepped onto the elevator as the doors started to slide shut.

  “Oh. And the first stage of grief? It’s called denial. You should look it the fuck…”

  Alicia let out a low cry as she felt Ronan grab her by the back of the neck, the time it took him to cross the hall sending a thrill of dread down the corridor of her spine. She tried to break his grip as the elevator doors slid back open and then screamed as he yanked her out into the hallway, locking his arm around her neck as he pulled her across the hall.

  “Let me go!” Alicia screamed as Ronan dragged her into the treatment room and then picked her up off her feet as she threw her arm out and grabbed the doorway, the heels of her boots scrapping against the floor.