by Ann, Jewel E
She turned and grabbed the other two envelopes, one in each hand as if she couldn’t decide which one to open next. “Knox, sweetie pie, you’re next.”
He grunted as the guy tore the tape from his mouth.
“I know you taught physical torture techniques used to acquire information from less-than-cooperative people, but I’ve never found them to be near as effective as psychological torture. Physical scars heal. Emotional ones don’t. Wouldn’t you agree, Dr. Jones?”
Luke glared at her.
“That’s fine. Don’t answer that now. We’ll revisit it later.” She opened the envelope. “I had some stills taken from the video footage of the private training session you had with Jessica after her kidnapping.”
“Irene …”
“Knox …” She leveled him with a stern glare. “First Sunny and then Jessica. You could have just hit me, or cut me, or physically done anything to me and I would have recovered. Those wounds would have healed, but instead you treated me like a whore not worthy of your time, your attention, your love. And then you snuck around with a married woman. Do you know how humiliating that was for me? How torturous that was for me? And then this …” she pulled out several large black and white photos and tossed them on the floor so everyone could see them.
Luke closed his eyes. Knox and Jillian did not. They were there. She wasn’t showing them anything new.
“Sunny rejects you so … what? You fuck her daughter. How did that work out for you? Oh, yeah … you left on a gurney. And you …” She shifted her attention to Jessica. “If he raped you, then why didn’t you tell anyone? Is it because it wasn’t rape? Is it because it was consensual? I watched the tape over and over and I saw what the two of you did to each other. I think you’d have a hard time convincing anyone that it wasn’t some BDSM fetish the two of you have.”
She bent down and grabbed one of the photos then fisted Luke’s hair, jerking his head back until he opened his eyes. “See this? Count yourself lucky that you dodged this bullet. You just about married one sick bitch.”
Jillian glared at Knox.
One rule: Luke lives.
She didn’t want a single hair on his head injured and it infuriated her to see Knox sit there and allow Irene to touch Luke. She would have lunged at her, intent on further mangling her nose or sinking her teeth into Irene’s carotid. Knox just sat there.
“This is upsetting. Wouldn’t you agree, Dr. Jones? Could you really blame this man’s wife—me—for completely losing it after seeing this video? Look at you. I can see it in your eyes. You want to fucking tear him apart. Does that make you a crazy person?”
“You blew up my house.”
“SHUT UP! You cheated on me! I read the letters you wrote to Sunny. I saw this video.” She shoved the photo in Knox’s face. “You brought me to my knees. YOU made me crazy. You and fucking Edgar drugged me, thinking I just needed an antidepressant to ‘chill out’ about you and your goddamn wandering dick! Then you sent me to a mental institution for five. Long. Years. No visits, just divorce papers.” She stepped back, her face taking on a blueish cast as she fumbled though the stuff on the table for her inhaler.
The man with the knife rested a hand on her shoulder. “I’m fine,” she whispered after taking a puff. “I need some air.” He helped her up the stairs, leaving photos of Knox raping Jessica scattered on the floor.
“If we make it out of here, I will kill you.”
Knox chuckled at Luke’s threat. “Get in line, buddy.”
Chapter Thirty-Six
Jackson’s phone lit up. He was seconds away from raining hell down on that shithole of a house. After seeing Luke bound and escorted inside the night before, he decided to wait until morning for a text and go in if they didn’t send one.
A, B, or C?
“Fucking amateurs,” he mumbled.
D, E, or FU? He typed back.
A it is then.
That’s all he needed to sit back and wait a little longer. He wanted a better sign than letters in the alphabet. Luke would buy him time. Whoever had them was not affiliated with their parents’ murder. Drug lords didn’t have the time or patience to play games.
Bullet.
Head.
Done.
He assembled his long-range sniper rifle. Next he ordered a pizza, cracked the window, and waited. Forty minutes later his pizza arrived. Jackson paid for the pizza over the phone and left very specific instructions to set the pizza on the porch, ring the doorbell, and leave immediately. To his surprise, the guy did exactly as he requested.
Just as the delivery guy got back in his car, a woman came to the door. She tried to wave the delivery guy down, but he had already pulled away from the curb.
Jackson looked through his scope. He didn’t recognized the woman, but with her pink hood pulled over her head and large sunglasses hiding most of her face, it would have been impossible for anyone to recognize her. However, her build was not Jessica’s and that’s all that mattered. He pulled the trigger and she went down.
“Un-fucking-believable.” Through his scope he watched three cars pass by, one slowed in front of the house but then kept going. No wonder Four picked this neighborhood. A woman shot in the head, sprawled across the front porch steps, drew no more attention than a flattened squirrel in the street.
A few moments later, an arm reached out the door and grabbed her leg. Someone, fractionally smarter than the corpse, took cover while dragging the body back inside, confirmation there were at least two involved.
Once again, it was time to wait.
*
“She blew up your house?”
Knox laughed.
Luke didn’t. He said nothing and looked at no one. Jillian wanted to say something to ease his mind, but she knew the worst was yet to come. That third envelope was hers. It had to be. There was little doubt that whatever was in it would destroy Luke forever. AJ would destroy Luke forever.
“Yes. It didn’t make the news. Edgar made sure of it. But it was all we needed to put her away … at least for a while.”
“Where were you?”
He chuckled. “In the house. My office was in the basement. Irene didn’t realize my office was also the bomb shelter. I fucking crapped my pants, but other than knocking over a gun cabinet and a few things on my desk, I walked away unscathed. You should have seen the look on her face when I showed up at G.A.I.L. The first words out of her mouth were, ‘What are you doing here?’ Code for ‘how the hell are you still alive?’ Had we lived in town she would have leveled three blocks. It was pretty amazing she didn’t trigger San Andreas.”
“Okay, kids. Change of plans.” Irene marched down the stairs, her composure back intact. “Brother dearest doesn’t want to join the party. So let’s just get on with things. I’ll deal with him later.”
Jackson was close. Jillian knew it.
Irene picked up the remaining envelope while cutter guy cleaned Jillian’s blood from the tip of his knife. “What’s in the envelope, Dr. Jones?” She waved it in front of Luke. “And bear in mind, I don’t like asking more than once.”
“Pictures,” Luke said.
“Yes, of course, but of whom?”
“Jessica.”
Irene tsked a few times. “Now, I think someone with your background would realize how dangerous it is for you to think of her as Jessica. I think you will need to think of her as Jillian.” She brushed away a few strands of hair from Luke’s forehead. “You feel guilty about Charlie. Don’t you?”
He glanced up, meeting Jillian’s eyes.
“Well there really is no need. I can assure you, Dr. Jones. You’ve been a boy scout compared to your whore of an ex-fiancée.” With the toe of her boot she slid one of the photos on the floor closer to Luke.
It made him furious with Knox, but he was about to see something that would make him furious with Jillian. She felt it in her gut.
“Who is this?” she asked Luke.
He stared at the photo of AJ in unifo
rm, hand to his temple saluting someone. Jillian hadn’t seen it before, but just the image of him took her breath away. Luke shifted his gaze to her.
“Aric … I assume.”
Jillian nodded like a silent introduction between her ex-lover and her dead lover.
“How messed-up is it that she gravitated toward someone in uniform after her experience with Edwin Harvey? Just … on a scale of one to ten?”
Irene lost her name. She was straight up Psycho Bitch again.
Luke sighed. “Five.”
Jillian narrowed her eyes a fraction. It stung that he thought it was messed-up at all. It hurt that he didn’t trust her judgment.
“I would have said ten, but … whatever.” She pulled out another picture.
Knox smirked, maybe at Irene or maybe at the absurdity of the whole situation.
“Oh … this is one of my personal favorites.”
It was Jillian getting the mail in her red boots, panties, and thread-bare tank top.
“Do you find her sexy?”
“Yes.”
“Do you approve of her traipsing around outside looking like a whore?”
“She’s not a—”
“Uh-uh … it’s a simple yes or no question.”
“No.” He didn’t blink.
The man staring at her was Dr. Jones. She knew that look and his ability to ignore her over-the-top antics. However, his disapproval still pissed her off.
“God doesn’t either,” Irene mumbled, tossing the photo onto Luke’s lap.
“Here they are on a motorcycle.” She held up that photo of AJ driving, Jillian holding on tightly to his back. “Did you ever take Jessica for a motorcycle ride?”
“No.”
“That’s a shame. You really should have taken more interest in her hobbies. Then maybe she wouldn’t have left you. Aw … here’s another good one.” She held up a photo of AJ and Jillian next to his Jeep. Her arms and legs wrapped around his body as they kissed.
It was the day they left for Portland and she told AJ to kiss her like he fucked her. She could still taste his lips … feel his tongue.
“How do they look together?”
Jillian clenched her jaw, but said nothing. It wasn’t her turn to speak. Luke showed no reaction. His face still entirely Dr. Jones—neutral, professional, unattached.
“Desperate.”
Irene turned, holding the photo closer to Jillian. “Were you desperate in this photo?”
“Yes.” It was the truth.
“What about here?” She held up another picture, showing it only to Jillian.
There it was, the end. Jillian looked at the photo and then at Luke. When she blinked the tears came out, an apology to Luke for what he was about to see. Irene was right, psychological torture inflicted wounds far worse than anything physical.
“I love you.”
Irene whipped her head around. “Dr. Jones. It’s not your turn to speak.”
Cutter guy unsheathed his knife.
“Stop! I’m sorry, I won’t say it again!”
The tip of the blade punctured Jillian’s skin along her temple, blood ran down the side of her face. Dr. Jones vanished. The man before her lost all composure as tears filled his red, angry eyes.
He had no idea how much she needed those three words.
“Say it again,” Jillian whispered.
Luke shook his head.
“Say. It. Again.”
He continued to shake his head. Irene’s eyes flitted between them, enjoyment danced in her smile.
As psycho bitch turned to show the photo to Luke, Jillian let out a strangled sob. “Please…” more tears spilled over “…say it one more time.” She needed to hear it because she knew it would be the last time he would ever say those three words to her.
Pain contorted his face as he continued to shake his head. “I love you.” He squeezed his eyes shut as the knife carved a new valley in Jessica’s skin above her shoulder blade.
She felt nothing but the resonance of Luke’s words in her heart.
“Can you still say that?” Irene asked, showing Luke the photo of AJ fucking Jillian.
It was the day she took off on her motorcycle and he followed her to an abandoned dirt road atop a bluff overlooking the city. She was so angry with him for his venomous words. It was a turning point in their relationship. How could she not have known someone followed her … took pictures of them? AJ stood with the door open, pants and briefs at his ankles. She sat sideways in the passenger’s seat, legs spread wide to accommodate his body, her hands clawing his back, her brow tense, eyes closed, jaw slack.
Everything drained from Luke’s body—his blood, his dignity, his past, his whole life.
Defeat.
It no longer mattered who lived and who died. Irene won. She ruined Sunny’s precious daughter. She found Jillian’s weak point and drove a dagger into it.
“Did you enjoy fucking AJ?” Irene asked Jillian, keeping her attention on Luke.
Cutter guy stepped closer to Luke.
“Yes,” she said, her voice weak.
So much betrayal lived in Luke’s eyes.
“Did you love AJ?”
The knife would hurt him less. Would Luke understand that?
It didn’t matter because Jillian didn’t want to deny her love for AJ. They shared something life-changing and saying otherwise would tarnish his memory.
“Your brother’s antsy trigger finger just put a bullet in the head of my knife-wielding friend’s girlfriend. He’s ready to kill all of you. I wouldn’t push him.”
He jerked Luke’s head back and pressed the tip to his carotid.
“Yes. I loved AJ.”
Luke’s eyes shut. A lone tear bled from his right eye.
Knox frowned. It was possible he felt Luke’s pain, the kind that came from losing the one, the one that was supposed to be forever.
“Up.” Irene nodded to her disgruntled accomplice.
He dragged Luke to his feet. Jillian used what little energy she had left to fight her restraints. “Where are you taking him?”
“Fishing.”
“Luke!” Jillian screamed until more blood came up with a coughing fit. “He’s … he’s …” her voice died.
The door slammed shut.
“Yes. Jackson’s going to kill him to save you.” The resolution of Knox’s words filled the air and buried her alive.
Jillian rolled to her side, the cold concrete pressed to her cheek.
Protocol.
Irene would use Luke as bait to get Jackson to surrender.
He wouldn’t.
Never surrender.
Shoot one hostage to make a point and save ten more.
Jackson was selfish. He wanted Jillian alive at all costs. He’d take her broken and desolate as long as she was alive.
“While you were self-absorbed in your own dysfunctional life, one foot in G.A.I.L. one foot out, Jackson killed and he was good at it.” Knox nodded. “Better than anyone. Everything has to be black or white. Gray is nothing more than hesitation. He’s alive … and so are you because he never hesitates.”
Chapter Thirty-Seven
“Jones … you suicidal fucker.” Jackson watched through his scope as Luke inched into the front yard.
No one else was in sight, yet there had to be another gun pointed at Luke’s back.
Protocol.
Shoot the hostage. Always call their bluff and then attack.
“I warned you, Jones.”
“Are you willing to die for her?”
“Yes.”
The target didn’t get any easier. Luke stood completely still, a red dot marked the spot where the bullet would end his life. Jackson took a slow breath. Claire’s dead body flashed in his head.
“Let it go,” he whispered. A bead of sweat rolled down his face.
Luke closed his eyes, a complete surrender.
“Are you willing to die for her?”
“Yes.”
Jack
son wiped the sweat from his brow with his arm then repositioned, the laser finding its target again.
“Take the shot.”
Jessica in her wedding dress.
“I’m just a girl with Luke. I know it sounds crazy, but I feel safe with him … when we’re not together I don’t feel alive. It’s like I’m holding my breath.”
AJ.
“I need some time alone to figure out if I can forgive you, because right now what you did feels unforgivable.”
Ryn.
“There’s nothing about you I couldn’t love … if you just let me.”
“Fuck!” Jackson pulled back, the rifle falling to his lap as he tried to catch his breath.
He tossed it aside and got out. With each step he felt his pulse thundering in every single vein. As he crossed the street he unfastened his vest and tossed it in the yard a few feet from Luke, followed by his weapons belt.
“Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil: for thou art with me; thy rod and thy staff they comfort me.”
Luke opened his eyes. “Why?”
“I’d rather she love me in Hell than hate me on Earth.”
*
“Move your arms and legs.”
Jillian blinked. Cobwebs under the bottom stair came into focus.
“I beat you. I raped you. I sodomized you. I stole your innocence. But. You. Fucking. Survived. Move your arms and legs, goddammit.”
She grunted and her arms moved, a lot.
“You don’t have much time. Get yourself free. Kill or be killed.”
Jillian rolled to her back and wriggled, tugged, and pulled in every direction. Weight loss plus daily drenching had loosened the duct tape. Her legs were still zip-tied but her wrists were not. Irene had to tape them to her sides in order to get the IV in.
“They’re coming.”
“I can’t,” she whispered.
“They’re going to kill everyone. Do it for Luke. Do it for Jude. Do it for Claire.”
Knox had always been ruthless with his motivation. Mentioning Claire was a low blow.
She freed one arm and then the other, ripping out the IV. She was too weak to break the ties around her ankles.
“Take out the guy first.”
