“Should I be jealous?”
Another rhetorical question.
He shook his head as if he was disappointed, and maybe in a sense he was. “Another man wanting to partake in abduction play… I’m not so sure that I like that.” He cocked an eyebrow sardonically. His voice was laced with a certain amount of facetious skepticism. “Have you done something to lure another predator into my territory?”
Another rhetorical question. The best thing she could do right now was not to antagonize him.
“Very good of you to recognize”—he leaned in and whispered the last part to her— “I’m not in the mood for sparring.”
Pop… another button, and now he was using the tip of the knife to spread open her shirt. He placed the knife beneath her bra and split it open like it was non-existent.
“Ah,” he breathed out. The simple word was laced with so much sensuality that it caused her breath to hitch. He smirked when he picked up on the small tell. “It never gets old with you, baby girl.”
The next breath she took was laced with relief. She never knew what Jericho was capable of. She did know, however, that she had only scratched the surface on how deep the darkness in him went. He would never hurt me. Would he?
“Now… we’re going to play a game. You’re going to answer my questions, truthfully. I’ve been tossing around the idea of branding you as my property; how brutal that branding is depends on how honest you are with me. Do you understand?”
She shook her head yes.
“Good girl,” he answered, running the blade lightly over her face. Now she was scared.
“There it is.” He breathed in deeply. “I can smell it: the fear. I wouldn’t move if I were you. I’ll take the fear as a yes that you’ll be truthful.” His hazel eyes had taken on a golden tone like that of an animal playing with prey under a moonlit night.
“Did you do something to lead another predator into my territory—don’t fucking lie to me.”
“No. I swear to you I didn’t.”
“Good girl. I don’t know what I might do if I thought you were enticing another predator with my prey.” He leaned in and whispered, “Now be a good girl and take my cock out of my pants… that’s it.” He continued to trail the knife over various parts of her body. “Get those fucking jeans off. Now!” She wiggled out of her jeans as quickly as she could in an effort to not antagonize him.
“Do you want yours off?” She was careful how she asked the question. When he was in this type of mood she never knew what would set him off.
“You know I do.”
“Move the knife.”
He stepped back looking at her, studying her before he let his hand that was holding it slide down to his side.
He pressed the knife against her throat. “There it is again: the fear. Oh, baby girl. It never, ever gets boring with you. I can see it in your eyes: the fear of not knowing how far I’ll push the envelope. Let’s just say you’re not allowed to have any hard limits. You’re mine, and any hard limits you may have thought you were privy too, well, they now belong to me. So essentially, I guess that means I’m in total control.” It was there again, the sarcasm.
He tossed the knife to the side and out of the way like it was some kind of offensive item he was done using to interrogate her. He wrapped his arms around her, picking her up with ease and laying her on the bed with an almost tender demeanor—so different from what he was just seconds ago. Wasn’t that exactly what he was, though: unpredictable? She knew it—he knew it—and they both fed off the fear of his controlled capriciousness.
“God, I love you, girl, so fucking much.” His lips pressed down on hers, and her whole body responded to the possessive kiss. He owned her in so many ways, and they both knew it, but she owned him too. He pushed into her, and she opened her legs, accepting everything he had to offer. “I want my baby.” He pulled back and pushed into her with a fervency that spoke more than any words could ever say. “I want another baby, and I always get what I want, Angel.”
“I can’t guarantee you a girl. I can’t guarantee you anything.”
“I can. I can guarantee you I’ll be here as long as I live. I want you to be happy. Whether it’s a boy or a girl, it’s our baby, and that’s what I want. I want our happily ever after, and I’ll do anything to make sure that happens.”
“I will too.” Her fingers scraped down his back sending the kind of sensual pain that spurred him on. His body made all the right moves that he knew would send her over the edge. It was always about her in his mind—yes, there was the issue of dominance and control, but it was always about her pleasure, her happiness, and her wellbeing. He loved her with an obsession that drove him to the brink of insanity—it was Angel who kept his mind sound. He couldn’t lose her. It would be the end of him if he did. He needed to find the monster threatening her and put him down like the dog he was.
She screamed out in pleasure, bucking her hips as her body reacted to every nerve that was on fire in the center of her core. This was it, she knew it, and she would be having his baby.
He raised up, resting his hands on the pillow on each side of her head, and he began pounding into her with the desperation of a man intent on the primal need to mate. He felt like he exploded into a kaleidoscope of pleasure. He could feel his body becoming one with her as he loosed his seed deep inside of her. He lowered down on top of her and whispered in her ear. “You’re pregnant.”
“I know.”
“With my baby.”
“I know.”
Chapter Ten
“What’s your take on her, David?” Rene eyed him for any sign of body language that would be a tell. He was always honest with her, but it’s how she was wired, and no amount of love would ever undo the training she’d been subjected to for decades—it wasn’t what she did, it was who she was. There came a point in FBI work when your job wasn’t just what you did. It became who you were. It was one of the reasons they worked together like a well-oiled machine. It wasn’t a change that you could put your finger on when it happened. It was a progressive state of becoming.
“Well, I already know yours.” The familiar clicking of her lighter was almost soothing to him now; he remembered a time when it had been irritating, but she represented so much more now.
“You think I’m a bitch.” It wasn’t a question, more of an observation.
He leaned in over the desk, steepling his fingers, and she knew whatever he was going to say was of a serious nature. “All due respect, but you are a bitch when it comes to other women. You don’t think you were hard on that poor girl?”
“Poor girl? Give me a fucking break. That bitch is smart. Don’t make the mistake of underestimating her.”
“Like I said—” he couldn’t help but smile as he finished, “you’re a bitch when it comes to other women.” He took a moment to study her. “It isn’t because of jealousy. It’s just you don’t trust women.”
“I don’t trust anybody.”
“You better trust me,” he growled. He got up from where he was seated. He could see just the smallest movement of her backing up. Hmm… fear… fucking delicious.
He bent down, almost nose to nose with her; so close he could feel her breath on his face. “You do realize things have changed; the rules of the game have changed, and the dynamics have definitely been altered. You’re not in control anymore—fight it, and you’ll be sorry. I’m kind of hoping you do, though. It’s been a while since I had a challenge like that.” His voice came out of the grey areas of her soul like he inhabited that place with her. “I want to hear you crying; some fucked up part of me wants to hear your screams of terror. I’m sure when I changed, maybe it was a progressive type of thing that I didn’t realize was coming. I do know one thing: there’s no resisting it. You can go willingly, or you can go kicking and screaming, but you will go, my love.”
He straightened the cuffs of his shirt and brushed imaginary lint from the dark suit he wore. He calmly made his way over to his office
chair with the confidence of a man who knew who he was, what he wanted, and where he was going; that… scared her more than anything. The fact he could go from being that intense then back to the normal agent his job demanded him to be was unsettling. He was accomplishing exactly what he wanted to: he was tipping her off her axis just enough to make her second guess herself.
“Tick-tock.” Joe held the large clock that looked like it had come out of a school close to her ear. He wanted her to hear the manifestation of the sands of time ticking off the moments of her life.
Fucking clock probably came out of an institution he was in. Time to throw this bastard a curve ball. “I know who you are. I’ve always known who you are. You imagined in some fucked up part of your low self-esteem that I was like the others. You did to me exactly what you don’t like people doing to you. You assumed I didn’t have time for you because of the job you have. I’m not like that. But, because other people have treated you that way, you assumed I was the same way. If you’re going to use that magnifying glass on others, then don’t look at yourself through rose-colored glasses. It’s a bit of a double-standard. Don’t you think so?” She watched him as he paced around the room nervously.
“It always amazes me how when you have something someone wants they treat you better.” He leaned down so closely she could smell his rancid breath. Do you know what I have that you want?”
“My life,” she said, with no reservation.
“Very good.” He seemed pleased that she was willing to play his sick little game. “I thought about getting an hourglass, but I couldn’t find one that was big enough—plus, I believe the sound of seconds ticking away adds to the psychological torment. I enjoy watching you suffer. Maybe I’ll have a huge hourglass made in your memory after I kill you. I could name it Jenny in your honor.”
“Is that supposed to impress me? It doesn’t. In fact, I think you’re a coward; anybody with the balls to kill somebody should have the courage to make it a fair fight.”
“Do you feel better now?”
“Actually, yes I do.”
“Don’t wrangle with me. You’ll never win. There are things I can do to you, dead or alive. I would assume you’d much rather be dead when I do those unspeakable things. Are you trying to get me to kill you?”
“Absolutely not. I just don’t understand why you’re taking your issue with Angel out on me.”
“Because she cares about you, of course. She needs to take responsibility for her actions. She’s supposed to be helping people, not hurting them.”
“So, you’re counting on her admitting to a murder she may or may not have committed.”
“I’ll have you know I do my homework before I kill.”
“Far be it from me to assume you haven’t done your homework. Let me play the devil’s advocate here—”
“Devil’s advocate; I like that.”
“—she would be the devil.” The sarcasm dripped from her voice like the dripping of a faucet, something evident and undisputable. For the first time, she saw interest dancing in his eyes as he anticipated hearing what she had to say. Narcissistic, fits with his psychotic thinking. He loves to hear about himself. “Let’s say she did kill a patient and it was a mercy killing. The woman was dying anyway. All she did was speed up the process. You have no idea the bills her family would have been left with. I’d venture to say that’s the reason the woman asked her to kill her. Excuse me… I’d venture to say that’s the reason the woman allegedly asked her to kill her. This is all supposition on your part. If you have proof she killed that woman, then why don’t you have proof the woman asked her to do it? Even if she did it, have you walked in her shoes? Have you ever had anyone beg you to kill them because the pain was so bad?”
“How do you know she asked her to do it? Were you in on it?”
“You told me.” She could tell by the look on his face he was second guessing himself because he couldn’t remember if he’d told her the details. He was doing exactly what she wanted him to do.
“I have proof! I have a fucking flash drive with her putting succinylcholine in her IV.”
“How do you know that’s what it was? We administer medicine for pain and various other things intravenously.”
She couldn’t help but chuckle at the irony of the conversation they were having. “You have nothing but pure speculation.”
“Even if you’re right, it doesn’t give her the right to play God—even if it was a mercy killing.” She had reduced him to a child with a whining argument, and it gave her satisfaction to know she’d done exactly what she set out to do.
“You are—playing God. You’re making the decision that I deserve to die for her sins.”
“I guess you’re right.”
Bingo. There it is: self-doubt. The clinking of her handcuffs reminded her that she wasn’t having an educated conversation with someone—she was talking to a monster. If she was going to get out of this situation alive, then she would need to count on herself, not someone else’s mercy.
“Tick-Tock,” he whispered.
And… the psycho is back.
Chapter Eleven
“This is interesting.” Jericho looked up from the desk where he was seated running criminal checks on hospital personnel.
“Who raised a red flag?” Angel asked him, looking up from the bed where she sat working on her laptop.
“The janitor. The guy is fucking weird. He has numerous charges of stalking—”
“Hold up a minute,” she interrupted. “I thought they wouldn’t hire anyone with a record?”
“That’s just it. The guy was smart enough to go under an alias. He has legal documents where he changed his name, but I’d be willing to bet they’re counterfeit because the courts check to see if you’re running from a record.”
“You stalked me. In fact, you went so far as to kidnap me. How can you say he’s weird for doing it?”
“I never said I wasn’t fucked up; I’ve always said I have a dark nature—especially when it comes to you. That darkness goes deeper every day we’re together; like some ominous thing in my soul spreading its tentacles and wrapping itself around every hidden place within me. You’ve managed to tap into a part of me I’ve kept hidden from the world.”
“You’ve managed to tap into a part of me I never knew existed. So, I guess we’re even.”
He flipped the computer around and showed her the picture of a heavyset man whose eyes gave off the impression they were staring off into space, not really focused on any one thing. “You ever run into this guy in the hospital hallways?”
“Yeah, Joe Monroe. Funny thing about old Joe is he acts like he’s mentally challenged. I can’t imagine him pulling something like this off.”
“Maybe it’s just that—an act. What makes him appear to be mentally challenged?”
“The way he talks, and he has a very childlike nature. In fact, I’ve gone out of my way to help him because I felt sorry for him. Now you’re telling me I’ve been played? What kind of sick fuck would use a ruse like that? I mean, seriously, who can you trust if someone would stoop low enough to do that?”
“You know, Jericho, I’m wondering if we should have gone to your boss, Frank Hanover, rather than Agent Turner.”
“In answer to your question, you can trust me; as far as going to my boss, I thought about that too, but those agents are like dogs with bones, we’d never be able to get rid of them. The best we can hope for is to outmaneuver them.”
“Outmaneuver two agents who are by all rights viewed as geniuses in their field? You have a hell of a lot more confidence in me than I have in myself.” She rubbed her hand over her face as she shook her head. “This act of mercy has taken on a life of its own.”
“Then we get out ahead of it and take control; we have no other choice but to do so.”
“I wish I could go back and undo this; talk about hindsight being 20/20. She was so sick, and I convinced myself it was the right thing to do. It was every day, day afte
r day, watching her in pain and so sick; I felt like I was dying inside watching her die. She begged me, Jericho—I mean like fucking begged.” He watched his wife as she was reduced to sobbing over the memory of watching a life waste away day after day. “I honestly thought I was helping her and this couldn’t be traced back to me.”
“You had no way of knowing the sonofabitch was taping you. What it does tell me is he singled you out. The question is, why you? He could target any of those nurses, but he targeted you.”
“Maybe it’s because I was working with Doctor Jackson.”
“Or maybe it’s because you’re married to an FBI agent and the psycho needs to prove a point. Everything he says points to him trying to prove some moral issue.”
“A killer with a conscious? How quaint. Even if we catch this guy, we have no way of knowing he doesn’t have more tapes of me.”
“We’ll cross that bridge when we get to it.” He wasn’t about to tell her he’d torture the man until he would tell the truth, until he begged to die, until he was in so much pain he would give up everything he knew just to escape it.
Chapter Twelve
“Tick-Tock.” He taunted, as he leaned against the concrete wall watching his cuffed up victim. “You really are quite beautiful; it’s almost a shame I’m going to have to kill you.”
She looked up at him and knew he was getting ready to go to work by the way he was dressed. The khaki pants and uniformed shirt with Joe written across the pocket made it apparent. As if reading her thoughts, he spoke.
“I have to maintain my schedule; so things appear to be normal.”
“How could you lie about being mentally challenged?” This wasn’t about throwing him off kilter. She honestly couldn’t believe anyone could stoop so low as to use something like that as a sham. She didn’t give him time to answer her as she continued lighting into him. She went so far as to point at him, holding up both hands due to being cuffed. “You should be ashamed of yourself!”
Contradiction in Terms (Angel of Death Book 2) Page 4
