Love Kills
Rebecca J. Vickery
Smashwords Edition
Love Kills
Presented by Publishing by Rebecca J. Vickery
Copyright © 2016 Rebecca J. Vickery
Cover Art Copyright © 2016 Laura Shinn
Executive Producer Karen Michelle Nutt
Design Consultation and Formatting Laura Shinn
Smashwords Licensing Notes
This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this ebook with other people, please purchase an additional copy for each person. If you are reading this ebook without purchasing it and it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of the author.
Love Kills is a work of fiction. Though actual locations may be mentioned, they are used in a fictitious manner and the events and occurrences were invented in the mind and imagination of the author except for the inclusion of actual historical facts. Similarities of characters or names used within to any person – past, present, or future – are coincidental except where actual historical characters are purposely interwoven.
[Love Kills previously appeared as Happy Bloody Valentine in 2011, included in an anthology from Pill Hill Press.]
A twisted tale of love and revenge...
Valentine's Day should be a time for cards, gifts, and attention from a special person. But for Rosalyn, February 14th brings fear and anxiety.
This would be her sixth year to spend the day in terror, perhaps fighting for her very life. Will she survive to live another year, or will vengeance win and decide her fate?
February 13, 2015
Chapter 1
Rosalyn tucked a stray wisp of auburn hair into her tight chignon as she watched the elevator doors slide open. Only eight a.m. and she already felt as if she were falling apart.
Something seemed wrong, but she couldn't quite put her finger on it. She hesitated as she eyed the crowded interior of the elevator car. No way am I climbing six flights in these heels, she decided as she squeezed inside.
The cloying scent of mingling perfume, cologne, after-shave, and deodorant made her want to pinch her nose shut. Rosalyn didn't understand the overwhelming need of most people to cover up their natural scent. Cleanliness and a light touch of deodorant or lotion were more acceptable to her than bathing in chemicals. She stifled a cough, wondering why it bothered her so much today, then turned to face the doors as they opened again.
She saw him for the first time.
Incredibly handsome, almost beautiful, he was tall and lean. Rosalyn thought he probably looked normal to everyone else. But he caught her immediate attention with his air of arrogance, his hunter's attitude, danger emanating from every pore. His neatly trimmed hair gleamed under the artificial lighting – a rich, mahogany brown with deep gold streaks strewn throughout and a hint of gray at the temples. With a firm upper lip and full sensuous lower one, his mouth reminded her of Elvis. His deep brown eyes were mature and knowledgeable when they met hers as he stepped into the empty space beside her. He towered over her. More than six-foot tall to her barely five-foot height.
Rosalyn felt overwhelmed. Goose bumps crawled up her arms. He held her gaze. Perspiration beaded her upper lip in spite of the early morning chill lingering in the office building. He gave her a half smile and she would swear he winked at her. Rosalyn quickly turned away, but felt forced to shift nearer to him when several passengers behind them attempted to exit at the next floor. Her elbow brushed his sleeve and tingles ran up her arm, a slight gasp escaped.
He's the one. But it's not possible – it's not time for him to come yet.
She went stone still as she caught a snippet of conversation from the women behind her.
"Yeah, Benny has it planned as a Valentine's Day surprise, but his sister told me all about the reservations." The woman giggled like a teenager. "Imagine, tomorrow night I'll be wined and dined..."
Rosalyn tuned out the rest, caught up in her own tumultuous thoughts. Valentine's Day – how could I forget? Tomorrow? How could February the fourteenth sneak up on her? How could she have ignored all the ads and the cards, the hearts and flowers plastered on everything?
She needed to make plans, fast, before it's too late.
Stealing a quick glance at the tall, dangerous-looking man near her, a terrified thought crossed her mind. I've already left it too late.
The elevator whirred to a stop at the sixth floor. The doors slid open with a gentle whoosh. Rosalyn hurried forward to escape the emptying elevator. The man jostled against her as they both stepped toward the opening at the same time.
He grasped her arm to steady her. Rosalyn felt her nerve endings contract with terror at his touch. He was definitely the one. He had come for her.
"Excuse me," he said, smiling down at her. The smile sat easily on his lips, but his eyes held a cold, hard glint deep within, just for her.
"Not your fault," Rosalyn responded as she quickly withdrew from his grasp. But she didn't believe it and knew he didn't either. He wanted her to be aware of him. She just wanted to get away.
Quickly exiting the elevator car, she tried to escape, to avoid him until after midnight tomorrow when she would be safe once more.
He caught her arm, stopping her flight to ask, "I need to see Mr. Norbett. Do you know where I can find him?"
"That way... Just... Go that way," she answered, pointing with a trembling finger as she tried to move away.
This can't be happening to me. I can't do this. Rosalyn shook her head slightly to get rid of the fear taking over her mind. How can everything around me be so normal with him here?
"By the way, allow me to introduce myself..." The handsome man stepped nearer to her side, close enough for his fine wool suit sleeve to abrade her overly sensitive skin. "I'm Varian Sanderson. I'm sure you know why I'm here," he added in a deep, silky purr.
Rosalyn felt the color drain from her face and it seemed the blood in her veins turned to ice water. This one is different. He's actually warning me. I'll stay at home tomorrow. I'll call in sick and lock myself in. I...
Varian caught her arm again. "Are you all right? You've gone quite pale." One thick brown eyebrow rose in question. His eyes stared intently, accusingly into hers.
His touch burned her elbow and she jerked away.
"Don't touch me!" she snapped sharply. Seeing two associates down the hallway stop to stare in her direction, she lowered her voice to hiss, "Stay away from me. Don't come near me again."
Rosalyn escaped behind a door marked Women. She thought she heard a low laugh follow her as she turned the lock.
Shaking from head to toe, she leaned against the lavatory to draw in deep breaths. Nausea threatened, but she swallowed it down, pushed it away. She must think. She survived last year – and the four years before that. She could do this, just as she had for the last five Valentine's Days. But this one frightened her more than any she'd faced thus far.
He wanted her to know him, to know why he was here. What if...?
No, I won't go there. It's exactly what he wants. He wants to feel my fear. He wants me to panic and do something stupid. Maybe he – what was his name? Varian? Is that Latin for 'changeling'?
Her brain sought further distraction from the terror, but found none. No, I'm doing it again, losing control. I refuse to give in. I will not panic.
Cold water splashed repeatedly on her face helped Rosalyn gain enough composure to seek out her supervisor. She didn't bother to ask, but hurriedly stated she needed to take a couple of sick days.
Perhaps it was Rosalyn's pasty white face, the look in her eyes, or her unusua
lly abrupt manner, but she received no argument.
Surprising from a boss who normally expected attendance from employees even during childbirth or major surgery.
Rosalyn gathered up her jacket and purse before striding cautiously to the elevator. She smelled Varian before she saw him. The hairs on the back of her neck prickled in warning. Funny how her senses became so acute at this particular time of year.
As she punched the call button, he sidled up behind her. His scent called up memories of too many flowers crowded into one room – like one found at a mortuary. A faint whiff of formaldehyde, a lingering haze of mold, with a hint of rotting meat – death. That was it, he smelled of death.
"Leaving already, Rosalyn?" he whispered near her ear. "It won't do you any good. I'll find you. But I do enjoy a challenge. At least try to make it interesting." Varian chuckled when she hurried away down the hall. He softly called after her, tauntingly, "See you later. Valentine's Day starts at midnight tonight, you know?"
Rushing into the stairwell, Rosalyn kicked off her heels then grabbed them up. She raced down the stairs, heart thudding against her chest walls, while she bit back the desperate desire to scream for help. Her shredded hose clung around her feet by the time she reached the lobby, but she kept going. Out the front door and down the street, barefooted, she ran to the safety of her car.
Teeth chattering from the cold of the cloudy February day, she started the engine before wrapping her jacket around her shoulders. What am I going to do now? She leaned her forehead on the steering wheel, fighting against the tears, until the car warmed up enough to leave.
Chapter 2
Once home, three deadbolts, a drop-bar, and a chair wedged under the doorknob for good measure helped her feel a bit safer.
Rosalyn glided on silent feet to check and double-check the locks on the decorative, but functional, wrought iron grates she had paid to have installed over the windows of her brick home. She left no entry-way unsecured, not even the chimney. She'd had it filled in with mortar.
Now, all she had to do was to wait patiently for tomorrow to come and go. Then her life could get back to normal for another year.
In an effort to force the time to pass, she spent the remainder of the day cleaning rooms which already sparkled, re-scrubbing a bathroom as immaculate as an operating room, and peeking warily from the windows as she polished the glass.
With nothing left to do, Rosalyn finally switched on the television and tried to hold the fear at bay. When that failed to hold her attention, she reached for a book. She had read the same page for the tenth time, not comprehending a word, when the clock struck twelve.
* * * * *
12:01 a.m., February 14, 2015
Valentine's Day was beginning, the day to celebrate love and relationships. For her, this would be a day of fear and anxiety.
A chill swept over her and a shiver coursed up her spine. This was the sixth year she would spend Valentine's Day in terror, fighting for her very life. Rosalyn reluctantly stood and walked slowly to the window facing the street in front of her home.
Right on time, a large dark SUV pulled to the curb across the street. He was here. Would he move on her right away? Or make her wait, dreading his attempt? How many times do I have to live through this? How long do I have to pay for doing what I had to do?
Calling the police would be useless, Rosalyn knew from past experience. Until Varian attempted to break in or actually lifted his hand against her, the officials wouldn't do anything. Nothing illegal about parking on the street, they would tell her. But once he made his move, the police would never arrive in time to help. She would already be dead, if this one succeeded. He seemed like the efficient type.
Determined to protect herself, Rosalyn moved to the end table beside the sofa. Taking a deep breath, she opened the drawer and removed the pistol she kept there. Loaded and ready, the nine-millimeter Glock gave her an added sense of security as she once again checked all the locks on the door and the windows. The back door had been covered over with metal plating. It offered no entry or exit anymore, but she examined it to be sure it remained firmly in place.
She'd chosen the brick home carefully and had the roof replaced with a metal one. Burning her out was unlikely. Her apartment complex burned down the second year. She learned quickly. Extra weatherproofing around the windows and beneath the metal front door precluded him secretly filling the rooms with poisonous gas. That had happened the fourth year.
Rosalyn paced the floor, wondering what he would do, when he would take action. Returning to the window, time and again, she saw the dark SUV sitting in the same place. No lights, no movement within, just sitting there, waiting. Was he watching her watch him?
After a time Rosalyn realized her throat was so dry she could hardly swallow. Glad for something to do, she went to the kitchen to make coffee. The heavy pistol, now her constant companion, lay on the counter as she worked. She pressed the button to start the coffeemaker, but the house suddenly went dark.
Scrabbling her fingers across the countertop, Rosalyn located the gun and grabbed it. Her hands shook so hard she almost dropped the weapon before getting a secure grip. Not daring to use a flashlight, she felt her way through the short hallway to the living room.
She peeked carefully out the window. The street lights were still on. The power outage was hers alone.
Varian. It's started.
Then he moved and she saw him. He stood on the sidewalk. Not on her property where she could report him for trespassing, but on the public sidewalk. Varian stepped into the edge of the light cast from the street lamp and gave her a jaunty, two-fingered salute.
She watched as he reached into his pocket. Readying her own gun, she felt sure he would try to shoot her through the window. But instead, she saw him lift something to the side of his face.
A noise startled her. Rosalyn jerked and would have fired the pistol as her hand flexed if not for the safety. The shrill, insistent ringing came again, and she recognized the sound of her phone.
He's calling me. Why would he call me?
Rosalyn swallowed her heart back into her chest cavity and picked up the receiver as gingerly as she would have handled a live rattler. "Yes?" she whispered.
"What? Not even a hello? Rosalyn dear, how unfriendly of you. I have a message for you. Demetrius sends his love. After all, it is Valentine's Day. He wishes he could spend it with you, but you know why he's not here. Why don't you let me in like a good girl? I promise to make it quick and painless for you. Demetrius would want it that way, don't you think?"
Rosalyn slammed the receiver down. She hurried back to the window, tempted to shoot at him if he stood in the same spot.
He was gone. The door closed on the dark vehicle as she watched. Then nothing. Several minutes passed, but there was no other movement from him. She returned to her pacing, banging her knee painfully against the coffee table in the dark.
Still thirsty, she felt her way back into the kitchen. She filled a glass with tap water and took a long drink. The roiling in her stomach forced her to stop. Nauseous and angry, she flung the glass across the room. Rosalyn heard the satisfying crash as the glass hit something and shattered. The anger melted away, replaced by fear once more.
With a deep sigh, she realized, "Now I have to watch out for the broken glass in the dark. As if I don't have enough problems."
Chapter 3
Dawn was late in arriving. Clouds obscured the sun. The threat of snow hung in the air. Rosalyn cleaned up the broken glass guided by the light filtering in from behind the curtains. The Glock remained by her side, never out of reach.
Eighteen more hours. If I can make it eighteen more hours, it will be over.
Her stomach growled, reminding her she hadn't eaten in hours. She grabbed the sour dough bread and cut off a hunk, then spread butter on it. Hoping it would stay down, she poured milk into a cup to go with it. The bread was almost to her mouth when the telephone rang.
Rosalyn lifted
the receiver but didn't speak.
"Did you have an enjoyable night, Rosalyn? I managed to nap a couple of hours, myself." He paused for a moment then continued, "I'm going to eat some breakfast, but I'll be back. Anything I can bring you? Coffee? Croissants? Remember how much Demetrius loved coffee and croissants in bed with you on Valentine's Day? Perhaps you and I could share them before... Well, you know before what. You're a smart girl. No need to spell it out is there?" He laughed loudly, being sure she heard him.
This time she jerked the phone line from the wall jack and threw the telephone to the floor. She refused to listen to him taunt her anymore.
But he had succeeded. Her thoughts turned to Demetrius and their last Valentine's breakfast, seven years ago today. They had been deeply in love, or so she thought.
* * * * *
February 14, 2008
Gourmet coffee and cream-filled croissants were served on a tray on the balcony overlooking the Mediterranean. They wore only robes after having made love with the rising of the sun.
Then Demetrius ruined the day for her. "I must go to the office, but I will return later and we will celebrate Lover's Day however you wish."
Rosalyn corrected him for what seemed the thousandth time, "Valentine's Day, Demie, Valentine's Day. And you promised." She didn't attempt to hide the hurt in her voice. This was to have been their day together. They didn't get that many.
"Is it not the same? I will leave my card and you will go buy something outrageously expensive and sexy to wear for me, yes?" Demie held his cup out for her to pour him more coffee. He smiled charmingly.
But she saw the truth in his eyes. She stood and moved to the railing, refusing to serve him. After a few moments of gazing out over the azure water, Rosalyn turned to face him, demanding, "You're going to see her, aren't you?"
Demetrius got up from the lounger and walked over to join her. His hands possessively cupped her shoulders as he stroked them. "I must see her on business. That is all. You will be my wife as soon as the necessary papers are signed." He smiled down at her, confident she would fall in with his plans as she always did.
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