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by Suzanne Steele

  “My wife—it’s a done deal in my head.”

  This time it’s him placing his hand on my arm. “You can’t make the mistake of blaming yourself for their bad behavior.”

  “It isn’t the what that’s bothering me so much anymore, it’s the why.”

  “Forever the fixer—this situation ceased to be fixable a long time ago. You can’t fix crazy.”

  Her Accusation

  I watch intrigued as the drugs hit his system, and he becomes just another man under my control. I sent Freddy out to pick up one of the many men I have pictures of in my museum. I don’t want money. I want revenge. This particular john made the mistake of promising me my white picket fence—he lied. I want every man who has ever used me to pay for it—with their blood. I have to save Angelina from men like this, and the only way to do it is to kill them off. Somewhere in this mess I think my mind snapped. Maybe kidnapping that kid brought up all the things I’ve suffered. The death of a dream can be enough to send any woman over the edge.

  I run my fingertips languidly over the man’s chest as I slowly unbutton his tailored shirt. “You used me, love. You took what was supposed to be mine and used it for your own lusts. Now it’s time to pay up. You made promises you had no intention of keeping. You told me you would help me get off the street. Now, you have to pay the price for that betrayal.” The man’s not understanding. He is nothing more than a proxy—a stand-in for every man who has ever betrayed me.

  Freddy’s watching the man like he’s intrigued. “Look, even though he can’t move, he’s lookin all confused and stuff like he don’t know ya”—he directs his attention to the man. “Yeah, yeah, in her head you betrayed her. You can’t tell a whore you’ll rescue her and not do it. She’s makin’ you pay, man, for your sins and every other man’s sins.” My little meth head maniac begins to jump up down with excitement and then directs his attention back towards me. “Hey quit touching him like that. You’re touching him like you want to do him.”

  “Oh, don’t be jealous, love, there’s enough of me to go around. I’m so proud of you for understanding my logic. So many others just don’t get me. Crazy really is a relative term, you know.”

  “What if I don’t want to share?” Poor boy’s still stuck on that train of thought. How cute… he’s jealous.

  “You’re not running things anymore, darling. Please don’t interrupt me again, or you’ll be very sorry, my love.” He knows me well enough to know not to mistake my calm state of mind for an inability to carry through with my threats. I’m in a bit of a mood tonight. Funny how things have shifted from him being my pimp to me being his.

  “Back to you.” I direct my attention back to the man I have seated in the chair in front of me. “I debated using succinylcholine to drug you but didn’t have the means to hook you up to a respirator. I decided to go with a date rape drug so you won’t be able to recall your murder.” Upon learning he’s going to die, he attempts moving and realizes he’s paralyzed.

  “Oh yeah, he can’t move.” Now my partner goes into a meth induced dance of glee, and I see it as my opportunity to gain even more control over him than I already possess. I reach over to the small wooden table beside me and pick up a knife. I slowly wave it in his direction and watch as his eyes light up with excitement.

  “Boy, that’s some knife—perfect for guttin’ somebody.”

  “I want you to cut off a body part.”

  “Ooh, like an ear in the movies. Hey, maybe we could cut off his cock, then I won’t have any reason to be jealous.”

  “I’m thinking fingers might be a more appropriate body part to sever.” I’m not telling Freddy, but I want them to be able to identify the man. When they find out he’s a john that has nothing to do with the kidnapping, then they’ll understand I killed him to send them a message. I know this guy’s been picked up for solicitation before, so he’ll be in the system. What this will also do is put them on Freddy’s trail. Maybe I’ll get lucky and the cops will kill him for me. Nothing shouts “I’m in control,” like a dead body. That fixer bitch is smart enough to put two and two together. That would be the ultimate mind-fuck, getting the cops to do my dirty work for me.

  He reaches over and hooks the knife beneath three of his fingers and swipes in an upward motion severing them in one single stroke.

  I can feel the silent scream that reverberates through my victim’s body, and it’s so exciting it feels like it could bring on an earth-shattering orgasm. I am a sadist at heart.

  “Give me the knife, darling.” He reluctantly hands it to me and I slice through the bleeding man’s neck with ease.

  “Just one more thing”—I direct in my flunky’s direction—“clean up my mess.”

  His mouth is hanging open like he can’t believe I went through with it. He’s learned a very important lesson: don’t ever underestimate a woman scorned. I do believe little Freddy’s scared of me now. He’s definitely seeing a side of me he never knew existed. As far as that goes… I am too.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Trace

  Rolling over next to her is like a dream come true. For years I missed the feel of her body. I was never the same after she disconnected from me. I didn’t bother getting into any kind of relationship. Why subject a woman to being compared with a ghost—the one who slipped through my fingers like a vapor in the night. I press my hard cock against her backside as if it will convince me that she’s truly here. She teases me, wiggling her hips back against me, and it’s all it takes to send me into a frenzy of need. I grab her, pulling her back against me and pushing into her velvety folds. She gives me what I need—what I’ve missed for so long. As if reading my mind, she taunts me with her words.

  “I see you missed me.”

  “I missed fucking you and making you mine,” I growl, pushing deeper into her until she’s forced to take all I’m giving her. If I could climb inside her and make her mine I would. I’d consume her, body and soul, if I could. I’d give anything to never lose her—anything to have the fear of waking up and her not being here go away. It’s like a heavy cloud of oppression that hangs over me. No one knows how tormented I am. She has no idea what she’s done to me.

  “You’ve ripped and torn into me like some brutal force of nature, and you don’t even know it.”

  “I didn’t come back to hurt you, Trace.”

  “Fate brought you back—and fate made me love you.”

  “Trace, I’m not ready…”

  “Ready or not here I come.” I grab her hips swiveling against her swollen clit. Her fingers clench the sheets as if it will give her some sort of escape from me. There is no escape this time. “I’ve got enough love for both of us—for all three of us. I should probably warn you, my love isn’t roses and champagne. I’m obsessive, jealous, and controlling, but I’m faithful and I’ll be here when you need someone.” When she screams out my name as she comes, it’s music to my ears. She doesn’t know it yet, but she cares a hell of a lot more about me than she realizes. She’s independent and strong willed, but so am I. Let the games begin.

  “Come on, girl, I’m cooking us breakfast.”

  “You just said you weren’t romantic.”

  “I lied.”

  “Okay… I’m jumping through the shower and I’ll meet you in the kitchen. Go wake up Chase and let him help you. It’s your job to teach him how to be a man—real men cook for their women.”

  “Damn straight. It is my job to teach him and I’m taking it serious. I don’t know about real men cooking for their women, but I cook for mine. The only woman I care about is you, girl.”

  I give her a peck on the forehead and make my way into the industrial sized kitchen I had refurbished to meet my love of cooking. It’s a stress reliever for me. Redoing the kitchen was money well spent, and now that I’m not eating alone, it will get lots of use. I made the decision to come to my house after the doll incident—that, and finding out I had a son. She never felt safe after that doll being left. I’m sure
it’s exactly what the killer wanted. It’s a terrible feeling to be violated in your own home. It’s the one place you’re supposed to feel safe, and when that feeling of safety is intruded upon, it’s hard to get back the hominess a house once held. It’s so bad for some people that they end up having to move. If she goes that far, she’ll be moving in with me. She just doesn’t know it yet. I didn’t waste any time setting up Chase’s room. I had the babysitter come get him and take him shopping on my credit card. What used to be a dull guest bedroom is now a collage of action figures and super heroes. It about brought tears to my eyes when he said I was his. I guess a little boy’s view of being a cop is a type of hero. I love him like he’s been here for the last three years. My son has me wrapped around his finger already.

  The smell of vanilla alerts me. She’s out of the shower before I actually see her. It’s a light scent that pulls me in making me want her next to me, so I can continue to experience the essence of her.

  “Come here and help us.” I pull her in close to me. “You’re so beautiful.”

  “Yeah momma come help us,” Chase calls out from beside me where he’s standing on a chair to help. She reaches down tousling his hair and kissing his forehead and I feel complete. Any anger I felt towards her is gone. The light in my little boy’s eyes vanquished it like it never existed. It doesn’t mean I’m not holding her to marrying me, but I’m not pissed at her anymore.

  “I don’t even have any makeup on.”

  “You don’t need it. You’re perfect.”

  “You’re jaded.”

  “You have no idea.”

  I grab another cutting board and slide a tomato and and onion in her direction.

  “Oh, so you’re going to make me cry.”

  “I should do more than that for you leaving me.”

  “Well we’re here now—to stay.”

  “Damn straight you are. This time I’m not letting you two go.”

  “I like it here. It’s so peaceful out here in the country.”

  “I like it too, Daddy.” I lean down and kiss the top of his head, taking a moment to linger and enjoy the little boy’s smile.

  “Speaking of that, I want to get this boy a dog. I think it would be good for protection too.”

  “I think that’s a great idea. A dog will protect us, but don’t underestimate me, I’d do anything to protect Chase.”

  “You don’t ever have to worry about that. I did it once before and it will never happen again. I just want these guys behind bars. I can’t be here 24/7 and it has me worried.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  Amaya

  I’m enjoying cooking with Trace and Chase. I feel safe here and I hate it that I don’t feel safe in my own home anymore. I hate the person who did this to me. They robbed me of my peace of mind and I’m not going to forget it or let it go. I’m going to get even and I’m going to find Angelina. The sound of the doorbell ringing startles me.

  “Are you expecting someone?”

  “No, I’m not.” Trace wipes his hands and makes his way to the front door with Chase running behind him. When he returns with a small box, the familiar nagging of fear I’ve been fighting returns. I hate these people having this power over me.

  “I don’t want you to see what’s in here.”

  I pull him over to the side away from Chase. “I need to see it, Trace. I need to know what we’re dealing with. These people know where I live, and now they know where you live—they have to be watching us. These people aren’t stupid.”

  “We’re dealing with fucking psychos. It seems like they’re beginning to enjoy this sick game they’re playing. I’d be willing to bet they’re more concerned about terrorizing us than the actual kidnapping.” He shakes his head in disbelief.

  “Then maybe we need to use that against them,” I say as I watch him open the small box. Nothing could have prepared me for what I see. Three fingers are pointing in my direction. This sicko has cut off someone’s fingers and sent them to us. The note reveals what’s going on in their twisted minds. When you point a finger in judgement, always remember… there are three pointing back at you!

  “I’m convinced these two are escalating. Now they’re killing people to get our attention. There’s no way they left this victim behind. These two are still working together. The only good thing about there being more than one is there’s a good chance the weak link will talk.”

  “I still believe it’s Shelda’s old pimp and one of his girls. I never would have thought the guy was capable of murder though. I’ve looked back through all my cases and there aren’t any women who fit the profile. To be honest with you, I have more male clients than female—men with high power careers who get themselves into scandals and need damage control. Freddy’s the only person who would have a vendetta against Shelda and me. Somehow he found out Angelina could be his kid, and that’s where the kidnapping idea came from.”

  “And you think I’m crazy for thinking forced marriage and holding you two here to keep you safe is a good idea. Maybe it’s more about the child than you realize. You never know how a man could react to finding out he has a child he didn’t know he had. It does something to you—it wakes up a possessiveness inside of you that you can’t fight. It’s in a man’s nature to want to protect his family. Take that choice away from him and he goes crazy.”

  “So that’s your excuse for your over the top alpha nature?”

  “All I can tell you is what it did to me. When I looked in that little boy’s eyes, I knew I’d do anything to keep my family together.”

  “This guy’s a pimp, not a family man. There’s also the possibility Angelina isn’t his.”

  “If he’s gone so far as to convince himself Angelina’s his, that makes him even more dangerous. At first, he probably used his greed for money as an excuse to take his daughter. It doesn’t change the fact that even if he gets caught, and a paternity test proves she’s his kid, it’ll work in his favor. He can tell a judge he was just taking what was already his. It wouldn’t be hard to convince a judge that his paternal emotions got the best of him.”

  The realization hits me for the first time that Trace has a lot of power in my life; he’s my son’s father. Whether I like it or not, we’ll be connected for the rest of our lives. The same thing is true for Shelda and Freddy too.

  I lean into him and whisper in his ear, “If I haven’t said I’m sorry, I am. Please forgive me for hiding Chase from you. I didn’t want you to feel obligated to a woman you had a one-night stand with. You have got a lot of power now that you know he’s yours—maybe that’s what I was scared of. I’m so, so very sorry.”

  “We’ve got now, babe. The past is the past, the future’s not promised, and all we have is this moment. You’re forgiven, but don’t ever leave me again.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  Her Delusion

  My fingers threaded through her blonde curls feel as natural to me as if I had birthed the child myself. It soothes me to run my fingers through her naturally curly locks. I guess, in a sense, I did birth her. For the last month I’ve been taking care of her. I’ve been protecting her from a drug addict who is a deadbeat dad. In a way she is my kid now. I begin to tell her a story—my story, when I see her eyes peacefully fluttering.

  Once upon a time there were two little girls who lived in a tiny little bungalow in the woods. Every day they would skip through the forest, holding hands and promising they would never leave each other. The sisters were too young and innocent to know promises are made to be broken.

  They were a happy little family when it was only the father and his girls, but then she came…

  “Who? The wicked witch?”

  “Yes, love, the wicked witch.”

  When the father went to work she would be mean to the girls. The older sister knew she had to do something to get rid of the wicked, evil woman. She decided one day that she would go for a walk in the woods without her little sister. So, she went while she was asleep in the cottage
.

  She looked around the forest for berries and roots and gathered them up to take back home.

  Day after day she would crush up just enough to go unnoticed when she slipped it into the witch’s food. Right when she began to think it wasn’t working, the old hag got very, very sick and died.

  The little girls were happy again.

  Of course, the story is just a morbid fantasy in my mind of what I wish I could have done to the stepmother I was forced to grow up with. Maybe if I would have had a sister I would have done something. I’ve always been the victim, but not anymore—now I have someone who needs to be protected and I’m going to do just that. At all costs I’m going to make sure this little girl gets back home where she belongs. I’m going to give her what I never had: a home, her home, with her mother.

  Freddy’s been acting different since I sliced a man’s throat in front of him. I think he’s scared of me now. Maybe he thinks I’ll poison him or slice his throat while he sleeps—maybe I will.

  Trace

  I could feel the weight lifting off her shoulders when I told her I forgive her. If it was anyone else but her I would doubt their reasoning. I know Amaya, and I know she didn’t want me to feel trapped. Yes, she should have given me a choice, but I do get her reasoning. She’s used to taking care of herself and she’s not the type to need a man. She looked at her pregnancy like she does everything—she’d fix it—she’d raise him on her own. She doesn’t have to now; I’m not going to let her. Now it all makes sense why she just disappeared years ago.

  My thoughts go back to the problem at hand. I’m not convinced Shelda is an innocent victim in the kidnapping. I don’t think she’s necessarily in on the kidnapping, but I do believe she knows more than she realizes. She may realize where Freddy is and she doesn’t even know it.

  Freddy had to spend a lot of time stalking Shelda. He had to know her schedule and make a plan to catch her off guard. This is definitely a case of revenge being a dish best served cold, because she never saw the attack coming. The only person involved in this who’s showing some backbone is Amaya. If Shelda wants her kid back she’s going to have suck it up and help us find this guy.