by Lake, Keri
Supplies in hand, I padded across the room, along with a pair of gloves I’d hunted down from a shelf beside them. Blood could be traced, as Dmitry had always told me, so I often avoided spilling it. Unless I could keep it confined on a medium that could easily be disposed.
I smacked Jasper’s leg, jamming the thick trodden cardboard beneath his bottom, and he hoisted up his hips just enough to slide it under him.
“I … I don’t know who you are … but I’ll give you anything. Whatever you want,” he sobbed as I positioned the flat surface beneath his leg.
Nothing I wanted more than to see him suffer the same way he’d made Eden suffer, but I tilted my head at the question.
“Why drown her?” The cold robotic tone of my voice didn’t allow for emotion, in spite of the tears welling in my eyes.
The question happened to be one I’d pondered for years after. Of all the ways to kill her, why water? Had he known she’d naturally feared the thought? That she’d often woken to nightmares of being unable to breathe?
Did he know she’d never learned how to swim in her life?
“Who … are you?”
Instead of answering, I slid out the box cutter blade from its sheath and jabbed it into his crotch, watching as his blood soaked the cloth of his white underwear.
Jasper screamed, a tortured, throaty sound that rippled down my spine, almost as if it searched for that one note of humanity inside of me. For a split second, my nerve faltered, and I thought about him as a boy, a young boy who was likely abused to make him turn out so sadistic and cruel to other girls. And yes, there were others. I’d learn of their vicious attacks through police reports and confessions, but only one of whom he’d attempted to dispose. And she happened to be everything to me.
So, fuck him.
I slapped the towel over his face again, gripping his jaw to hold it tight to his mouth, and saturated it with the hose. Jasper’s legs seized and twitched beneath me, the blood spilling onto the cardboard in pink dilutions, until I threw the hose away and removed the towel from his mouth.
His head swayed in what I surmised as exhaustion, likely due to terror and shock. The same terror and shock he’d subjected Eden to.
Nerves flaring, I lifted the box cutter and clicked the blade in and out in with the nervous energy coursing through me.
“Why drown her?” I asked a second time, leaving the blade unsheathed, just in case.
“I don’t know.” His weak and beaten-down whimper tickled my stomach with repulsion. “Just seemed … easiest. Only takes a second. One breath. Wouldn’t suffer as much.”
Easiest. All the years of teasing out the psychology in play, the sadistic nature of the crime, to find it was merely the easiest means of disposal.
I snickered and slapped the back of my wrist to my mouth, capping the laughter itching to burst free. My chest tickled with a mishmash of amusement, anger, adrenaline, and whatever emotional cocktail I didn’t have the mental capacity to sort out right then.
“I didn’t want to kill her. You gotta believe me. But Kenny …”
Squeezing the towel onto his crotch, where the cold water dripped over his wounds, capped his excuse, and his thigh trembled beneath me.
Kenny—or Pigman, rather—would be next. I didn’t need to hear anything more.
For the next hour, I alternated between the waterboarding and small cuts, making sure to keep as much of the mess onto the thick corrugated cardboard as I could. He eventually grew weak, until he could no longer keep his head up on his own, so oxygen-starved, his body had grown flaccid. I unhooked the cuffs and dragged him atop of the cardboard across the room, toward a roll-up door that let out to a dock. A rusted chain held an equally rusted padlock, weathered by the dampness. I grabbed a hammer I’d seen on a shelf and, with a few heavy hits, busted the lock. Rolling up the door exposed the half-moon set over the Detroit River, and the distant lights of a cargo ship, too far away for them to see the small shack that housed my crime. Every bit of strength went into hauling Jasper’s body onto the dock, where I left him for a moment.
With the flashlight, I searched for something significantly heavy. I found it in an old steel toolbox, filled to the brim with wrenches and screwdrivers, a timeworn sledgehammer, and other items that made it weighted enough that I had to drag it on the canvas tarp upon which it sat. I tied a rope to Jasper’s ankles as he lay moaning, his head rolling against the wooden dock planks.
“You say prayers at night, girl?” Jasper asked, stuffing a cigarette into his mouth as he set his boot against the heavy anchor, beside which the girl stood tied to a bent piece of metal stuck up from the top of it.
Boot set atop the toolbox, I stared down at Jasper, who’d begun to wake up a bit. Bending forward just enough to remove the blindfold, I watched with pointed interest, as his eyes narrowed, undoubtedly gaining focus with each passing second. His brows came together in the kind of confused expression that brought a smile to my face.
“You say your prayers at night?” I asked him, stuffing a cigarette into my mouth.
“You—” Before he could finish his thought, I kicked the toolbox over the edge of the dock, nabbing the cardboard before it slid into the water with him.
His body sank below the surface, eyes staring up at me, hands still bound behind his back as he fell deeper into the water below.
When I could no longer see him, I flicked the cigarette into the water and made my way back toward the building. I tossed the cardboard into a steel trashcan set on a grassy patch alongside the dock and set one of the drier corners aflame with Dax’s lighter I’d acquired. Hungry orange flames consumed the cardboard and Jasper’s fallen blood, swallowing up the evidence.
The remains of my first revenge kill.
It wouldn’t be my last.
24
Nicoleta
It was after midnight, when I parked Dax’s car and snuck back into the apartment.
Dax lay sleeping, just as I’d left him, and after a quick check of his breath against my ear, I made my way toward the bathroom. Dried blood climbed the length of my arm, over the scars to just below my elbow, where my shirt sat bunched up over my bicep.
Good thing I hadn’t gotten pulled over, because there’d have been no denying foul play, looking at the thin red stains across my palms. In a piss poor attempt to clean it off Dax’s steering wheel, I’d wiped it with a few McDonald’s napkins I’d found in the glove compartment. I’d have to clean the rest of it in the morning. I’d grown weak with exhaustion to do any more.
After peeling out of my clothes, I flipped on the shower, and turned off the lights. I didn’t want to see Jasper’s blood pooling on the floor. I didn’t want to see the evidence of my detached and merciless act.
I did it for her, I told myself. For the girl who couldn’t save herself. The one he’d raped and tortured, before throwing her weakened body into the river.
Tears spilled over onto my cheeks, as I rested my forehead against the cold tiles and sobbed. “I’m not a monster. I’m not like them. I did it for her.”
You enjoyed it, though. Eden’s words bit down into my conscience, and I sobbed harder. Look how easily you took his life.
“I did it for you.” Brow furrowed, I shook my head and sniffed. With fervency, I rubbed his blood off me, blindly scrubbing the sticky substance in the dark. “I killed him for you.”
I never asked you to do that for me, she taunted back.
I refused to let the weight of her guilt crush me. Instead, I washed quickly, ignoring the tears, ignoring her taunts. Dial twisted to a punishing scorch, I gnashed my teeth with every lash of scalding water against my skin.
The visuals of Jasper holding the sprayer in her face while she choked left me clamping my eyes, trapping it inside my head—an image I’d never forget. I set my palms against the shower tiles, curling my fingers, while the flaming water lapped at my skin, as if it could cleanse me. As if any part of me was left redeemable.
I’d killed a man.
Deliberately, and with such care for his suffering, perhaps I was a monster.
Hand slapped to my mouth, I pushed through the shower door and fell to my knees, just in time to expel a torrent of fluid from my mouth. It splashed into the toilet, leaving a sour taste on my tongue. I heaved another round, grasping the toilet seat to steady the shakes that’d settled over me.
Once I’d emptied my stomach, I stood to brush my teeth and rinsed the acrid flavor from my mouth.
After switching off the shower, I dried and wrapped a towel around my body, then padded into the room and crawled into bed next to Dax. Staying close to the edge kept distance between us, as I lay watching him sleep. His chest expanded and shrank with evenly spaced breaths, and I reached out to run my fingers over the small patches of coarse black hair covering each of his pecs, down to the happy trail that disappeared into the sheets gathered low at his hips. I liked the rugged landscape of his body, how it gave him a mature and masculine appeal.
It didn’t surprise me that Dax was a womanizer. He had all the physical ingredients to draw women in. But he had something else, too. Something that’d hooked me the first time I’d crawled out of my drugged out stupor to find him gently wiping my forehead.
The corner of my lips lifted with a half-smile, and I dragged my finger over his shuttered eyelids.
Something about his face, his closed eyes, the tense pinch of his brow, even during his slumber, entranced me. A calm settled over me, and I turned away from him, taking a mental snapshot of his sleeping expression, as I willed myself to sleep.
As soon as I tried, though, a scream needled my brain, crushing that image into the memory of Jasper sinking to the bottom of the river. Those accusing eyes staring up at me.
I screwed my eyes tight, tucking my face into the pillow. I’d never killed based on vengeance, in my life. I’d been taught to kill only for self-defense.
You won’t stop. You’ve had a taste. Just like a pig that’s had a taste for blood. You’ll crave more of it. Eden’s voice clanged inside my head. You’re just like them.
I clutched the pillow, breathing through my nose to abate the nausea still churning inside my stomach. “I won’t,” I whispered. “I won’t become like them.”
Trembles wracked my body, while ice-cold branches crept along my bones. I couldn’t get warm, as if my insides had been torn open and exposed to the elements. Every time the visuals relented, and I began to drift, a frigid stab shook me awake, and I heard Jasper’s muffled screams beneath that wet towel.
A blanket of warmth settled over me, as Dax’s arm slid across my hip, and he dragged me backward across the sheets into his big body. I felt small and fragile beside him, while he held me trapped in his embrace, the heat leaching into my skin, calming the storm inside of me. The solid pressure of his chest at my back and his thick arm enveloping me, his powerful thighs curved beneath mine and the heat rolling off his infernal skin, ensured no part of me was left untouched by him.
A deep masculine sound purred in his chest as he slept, like a growl, hypnotically distracting me from my destructive thoughts. The delicious scent of his body watered my mouth for one taste of him—a warm, woodsy amber musk mixed with hints of orange, like bergamot, and that naturally virile undertone that overpowered them all. His heat, his body, his scent, all stamped out the quiet whispers inside my head, and for one moment of bliss, my mind turned silent.
Instinct told me to push him away, but I didn’t. I allowed him to hold me captive against him.
And I fell asleep in his arms.
25
Dax
A dull ache throbbed inside my skull, as I let out a quiet groan and squinted against the pain. Thin rays of sunlight bled through a skinny gap in the curtains, and I blinked against the invading and unwelcomed brightness. The clock across from me flipped to 12:36pm.
Damn. I hadn’t slept past noon since my barhopping days, back when I’d first turned twenty-one.
My whole body tingled, and I reached down into the sheets to adjust the massive hard on sticking up out of my boxers—didn’t even remember taking off my pants. But shit, it’d been a long time since I’d had morning wood so intense. Like every drop of blood in my body had gone straight to my dick.
As I shifted in bed, smooth skin brushed across my forearm, the slight tickle heightening my arousal. With a frown, I lifted my head to see small blonde spikes of hair below my chin.
Nicoleta lay curled against me like a child, arms tucked into her body, her head pressed against my chest.
Fuck.
I let out a frustrated breath and covered my eyes with my hand. How shitfaced had I gotten the night before?
Flashes of her straddling my lap, kissing her, running my dirty hands over her body, all of it raced through my mind, but not one single image remained of the two of us having sex. Couldn’t remember a damn bit of that, which sucked.
If I was going to be the heartless bastard who’d fucked her, the least I could’ve done was remembered it.
Must’ve passed out.
My mind skimmed over memories of drinking whiskey, evident in the empty bottle still set out on the table, but I’d never passed out on that shit. Not in a long ass time. Not for the small bit left in the bottle, anyway. Had I polished off the entire fifth, then maybe.
A thought struck me, and I shot my attention to Nicoleta, still sleeping.
No. No way.
I pushed myself away from her as realization settled over me. Something my head refused to believe, but all signs pointed to one explanation.
She’d drugged me.
Her body stirred on the bed, and she stretched like a kitten snoozing in the afternoon sun. Yeah, my body ached to have her arched like that beneath me, but then I remembered that little fucking kitten was a lynx who wore claws.
She’d duped me.
And the question that lingered at the back of my mind was why?
The moment she stopped moving, I pinned her arm against the bed, biting back the maddening compulsion to kiss her, as her wide eyes latched onto mine. “You drugged me.”
“Let go of me.” She jerked against me, but I held tighter.
“What did you do last night?”
“If you don’t let me go, I’m going to scream bloody fucking murder.”
“If you don’t start talking, I’m going to commit bloody fucking murder.”
“You don’t scare me, Dax. I doubt you’d go through the trouble of saving me, just to turn around and kill me.”
“You don’t know me very well. I’m very adept at admitting my mistakes. And trust is everything to me. The moment I stop trusting you is the moment you’re no longer safe with me.” I pressed her arm harder into the mattress. “Now tell me what you did.”
“You know exactly what I did. You wouldn’t be this pissed if you didn’t.”
I let that sink in for a moment, mentally chewing on it as I watched her lift her chin like she was proud of the shit.
“We’re done.” I released her arm and pushed off the bed, searching the floor for my pants. The need to take a piss, or rub one out, urged me along, but I ignored it for the rage still seething through my blood. “You want those men? Find them yourself.”
“You know I can’t! I don’t have the free pass plastered on my body like you do!”
“Guess you should’ve thought of that before you decided to go rogue on me.”
“You don’t understand.”
“Oh, I understand. I understand better than I did before. Your horns are sticking out from your halo, sweetheart.” I paused my search to jab my finger toward her. “You’re a manipulative little shit, that’s what you are. You’ll do whatever it takes to get what you want. Even if it means fucking the hand that feeds you.”
“I never fucked you. For the record.”
“Yeah, that’s no surprise. You play me along until I can’t …” A stab of pain struck my skull, from both the hangover from the drugs and tight clench of my jaw.
“U
ntil what?”
“Never mind. Your mind is a tiny fucking recorder, jotting down everything I say. Every weakness that you can use against me later. You knew I wanted you last night. And you played your cards well, Nicoleta.” I stood pinching the bridge of my nose, ignoring the small bit of victory I could see beaming across her smug little face. “What did you do to him?” I’d expected that smile to stretch wider, but it didn’t. Instead, her eyes turned sad, and the wet sheen coating them told me something hadn’t gone as planned. “What happened last night?”
Lips pressed tight, she turned her head away before shaking it.
“Tell me, Nic. What’s wrong?”
“Have you ever watched someone drown before?”
I shook my head in response, pushing away the anger of being swindled, as I could see something much darker had taken hold over her.
“There’s a … split second when … just before they take a breath under water … when their eyes become resolute. There’s no redemption. No possible chance to save themselves. They breathe because they have no choice. It’s like the body becomes so desperate that it … it kills itself. It kills itself, doesn’t it?”
I could see the guilt in her eyes, and knew that feeling all too well. She’d probably slept with it all night long, if she’d slept, at all. “You drowned him?”
“I offered him the same choice that he gave Eden.”
Which hadn’t been a choice, at all. I rubbed my hand over my skull and down my face. “I’ll go back tonight. Make sure it’s all clean.”
“Dax? I’ve …”
“You’ve never killed anyone like that before. I know.” Didn’t take rocket science to see the girl was tearing herself up over it.
Her hands trembled as she ran them over her short-cropped hair.
“It doesn’t get easier. In fact, it gets worse.”
She blinked away the tears in her eyes and lifted her gaze to mine. “And yet, you still want to kill Tesarik.”
“More than anything. And I’d have taken care of that sick bastard last night, too, if I hadn’t been busy trying to save another one that’ll probably end up back in the same fucking place again.”
