by Barker, Kira
That last part puzzled me.
“You’d just let me go?”
He shrugged. “Why not? I’d miss you, yes. But if you don’t want to be with me, I’m not going to force you.”
“Since when?” If my tone was a little sharp, that was completely understandable.
He flashed me a grin, but it was less nasty than it could have been.
“I might have made a few mistakes in the past.”
“Are you actually apologizing to me?” This was getting more surreal by the moment.
Darren clucked his tongue, a hint of annoyance spreading in his gaze. “Don’t be silly. Of course I’m not. But you have taught me a few valuable lessons that have made me see the error in my ways.”
“Like what?”
“Like the fact that my methods were rather flawed. I realized as much as soon as you started molding yourself to the wrong set of expectations, but I was too emotionally involved at the time to analyze everything critically. It was only after you stabbed me and left me bleeding on the floor that I realized that all those years, I’ve been looking for the wrong traits in my perfect women. But you, you proved to me that you were, after all, resilient enough not to succumb completely to my flawed whims. It hurt me to have to let you go, but your return signaled that you were ready to give us another chance. And tonight you cemented what I already knew—you are my perfect wife.”
Hearing his explanation gave me chills, and not just because it cast my actions in a completely different light from how I saw them. I should probably have felt relieved that, following his logic, I was actually on the safe side, but somehow getting confirmation that he thought I was his perfect match was a lot more upsetting instead.
“You mean like, the couple that kills together, stays together?” I ventured a guess.
Of course I got a dazzling smile in return. “Something along those lines, yes.”
“I’m not going to help you kill innocent women so you can truss them up in your basement!” I bit out—and the worst thing about the anger coming up inside of me were not the murderous intentions, but the fact that I wouldn’t stand by and watch him fuck all those whores.
Darren snorted. “Don’t be silly. I already told you, I don’t have a need for my collection anymore—and that includes future additions. As you so eloquently told me at the country club, and again yesterday, you are my wife. I might be many things, but unfaithful isn’t one of them. I know that you must still be upset about my dalliance with Daliah, but I hope that, over time, I can make up for that and you will forgive me. That part of my life is irrevocably over. Even should you leave me, or die—although it won’t be at my hands—you are the one for me. There will never be another.”
It wasn’t exactly the fact that they’d been fucking that upset me about the girl, but I kept my tongue about that. I wasn’t sure if he’d be able to relate, and scorn was the last thing I needed from him right now.
“So that’s it? No more murdering people for you?” Silence fell, and that was more of an answer than I wanted to get. Licking my lips, I asked, “How many?”
That he had to think just made things worse. “I honestly can’t tell you. My brides were a special project I probably obsessed over a little too much. I mostly just take care not to leave any traces of my involvement behind.” The look of horror in my eyes must have been quite apparent, because it prompted him to ask a question in turn. “How exactly do you think it was that I got involved with Alison? I know, the story that we fed the newspapers sounds so romantic that they couldn’t help but gobble it all up. Bright blue-collar student gets noticed by the hot-shot lawyer and consequently taken under her wings. Trust me when I say that Alison Moss has never done an altruistic thing in her life.”
That explained a lot, but also opened the floodgates to many more questions.
“Do you realize that she pretty much told me that if I couldn’t get rid of Daliah and make you snap out of your recent somewhat erratic behavior that she would have you killed?”
The news—if it was news, even—didn’t faze him at all.
“I admit, I can see where I had her worried. But seeing as all obstacles are taken care of, I don’t think that will become a problem. She is already very pleased to have you back where she deems you belong, and the recent developments certainly bode well for our continuing friendship.”
“Are you going to tell her?” About how exactly Daliah had found her end, I meant, but was sure that I needn’t explain that.
He didn’t even pause to give that some thought. “No. Alison doesn’t want to know. Never did, and I don’t see why she should change her behavior. The particulars of our working relationship are that she lets me know what she expects me to do, and then she considers the matter dealt with. It is my task to make it happen and to keep her hands clean. She retains complete plausible deniability, while I get to…”
He trailed off there, scrunching up his nose as if he was looking for the right words.
“You get to scratch that certain, special itch of yours?”
“That, too,” he conceded. “But it’s not like I have to kill. I just enjoy it tremendously.” He could clearly tell that he’d lost me there, making that wry grin from before resurface. “The people who make it to the top of her shit list are usually very deserving of what is coming for them. I’m by no means a modern day vigilante, but you have seen yourself what kind of people make up our client roster. The ones who are just profiteering pieces of scum we let back out into the world to continue their seedy business. But, once in a while, we happen to pull someone from the jaws of the law who deserves a much more gruesome end than a lethal injection—and it is my job to make sure that they meet it. I’m not telling you this because I’m asking for your absolution, or even your understanding. You already know my deepest, darkest secrets. You’ve met the monster that I am head-on. And still, you came back, and you are here now. In my house, in my bed, lying next to me as my wife. You have a right to know.”
As he said that, he reached for my hand—the right, mangled one—his grasp gentle as he brushed his lips over the broken and badly fused bones.
“You could let this get fixed, if you want to,” he offered. “There is no need why you should suffer the pain and constant physical reminder of that night.”
Peculiar as it sounded, his concern was touching—but I shook my head, my eyes still trained on his above where his lips continued to softly graze my scars.
“Thank you, but I kind of like it,” I admitted. “It reminds me more of what I’m capable of than what prompted me to act in the first place.”
He pressed a last, lingering kiss onto my fingers before he let go. “I can respect that. I personally don’t mind the scars, as you know since I didn’t have mine removed. I think we’re beyond the point in our relationship where you care whether I’d mind about yours, or not.”
Which reminded me that we still had other things to discuss.
“It’s not like I don’t care,” I replied. “I just think that it is in my best interest not to give you that much power over me ever again.”
I could tell that my words stung him, but he conceded with a simple nod.
“That’s fair. And, as I said, I’ve seen the error in my ways. I cannot promise you that I won’t always be very clear about my expectations in you, but I admire your strength, and I’m happy to concede that you do know best often. Which is, again, a trait about you I’ve found very charming; a new prerequisite, even. I love you because of who you are. Not because you could be the woman I want you to be.”
That must have been one of the most twisted declarations of love ever voiced. I was sure that if I said so, it would have made him smile.
“Where does that leave us now? You and me?” I asked, rolling over onto my front, but still keeping my head turned to face him. Darren moved closer, too; close enough that I could feel the heat radiating from his body.
“That mostly depends on you,” he offered. “As I said,
you’re free to do with your life as you wish. Of course I would be very pleased if I remain a constant, important part in it, because you will always be the same in mine. You are free to move in with me again, although considering recent events, we should maybe postpone that for a while. Unless you want to be around me all the time, in which case there is nothing speaking against it. But from the slight frown on your face I gather that this is not an option you like to consider at the moment.”
“You didn’t even pack away my things,” I murmured, my eyes inadvertently drawn to one of the shelves at the wall. I hadn’t really paid attention on our way in, but during our talk my eyes had started to wander.
“I didn’t see the need to,” he replied. “Call it wishful thinking. I had to remove most of your clothes for Daliah’s sake, but they are neatly packed and stored away in the guest room.”
“James?” I supposed.
“Who else?”
“Let me guess. He had a field day when that girl showed up here for the first time?”
Darren’s slight smile broadened. “Actually, she annoyed the heck out of him, but he was too polite to show it. Next to you he is probably the person who is—or I should say, was—most annoyed with her.”
“Did he pester her just as he did me?”
That smile brightened another notch.
“Of course not. He was politeness personified. Always helpful, but unobtrusively so. Oh, how she loved him. It wouldn’t have surprised me if he’d started carrying around a butcher knife with him, ready to hand it to me so that the moment I decided I was done with her, I could take care of that little problem. I think he quite misses you. That only exacerbates his ire, methinks.”
So much for my theory that James had actively tried to make me quit on Darren before things could grow worse—which was, as far as I knew, true.
“So he’s still around,” I surmised.
“Yes. I gave him the weekend off because I expected that you wouldn’t be too charmed by his presence.”
“Exactly what kind of dirt do you have on him that ensures that kind of loyalty to you?” Because this went far beyond the call of duty for a butler or bodyguard.
“Remember Alison’s list? Not all the names that end up there are coming from her. An acquaintance of an acquaintance helped him contact her. I took care of his problem, and in turn he keeps protecting me. As you found out for yourself, he greatly disapproves of how I treated the women who came before you, but he never had any issues with my other proclivities. As you can guess, it’s not just my courtroom work that sometimes makes it pertinent to have backup. If you still don’t see eye to eye with him and consider moving in, I can convert the pool house.”
While I didn’t look forward to having to deal with his snooty malcontent again, he had saved my life—or at least done nothing to prevent me from saving myself. That had to count for something.
“And if I don’t move in with you?”
Darren mulled that over for a couple of seconds. “We can easily keep separate residences but see each other frequently. I can stay the night at your place, you at mine. I would greatly appreciate having you by my side again when I have to work the crowds. You were greatly missed, I have to admit. It would be up to you to decide on the degree of separation and privacy you’d like to keep.”
“What about my profession?”
That answer came much faster. “You actually intend to take over for Brigitte when she finally retires? This wasn’t just a ploy to give you an excuse to be back?”
I nodded. “If that agrees with your finer sensibilities?”
He barked out a laugh. “I never had issues with you being a prostitute. I had issues with having to share you—mostly because that made it harder to manipulate you. You quit doing that, right?”
“I haven’t let another man touch me since you, and I don’t intend to change that,” I replied. Maybe not even if things between us didn’t work out, for whatever reason, homicidal or other. I hated to admit that, even to myself—but he was the only man I wanted to be with, and likely ever would. In that, we shared the same kind of madness.
My words pleased him, and I hated how much that, in turn, pleased me.
“I have absolutely no objections to you continuing your work then,” he said. “I’m happy to help you in any capacity, should you need it. As per your agreement with Alison, you have already started to strengthen your own connections. But it is your business, and nothing I will be part of unless you explicitly require my help.”
That particular phrasing made me wonder if people like the professor my girls had had to deal with made it onto that list. That, in turn, made me feel guilty about not even thinking about checking in with the girls all day, but I’d had other things on my mind. Looking around, I realized that I had no idea where my phone was.
“Your purse is in your car,” Darren answered that for me. “The FBI will likely access your records, thus getting confirmation about your whereabouts. They likely already have the data thanks to your involvement with the authorities. It’s rather impressive how many different parties can have tracking software in one little device and it still works.”
By then, I hadn’t exactly figured that he was still in the dark about just how deep my involvement with Agent Smith and her team went, but it was still a point that left me highly uncomfortable. That, also, must have been plain on my face, because he addressed that concern next.
“Let’s be clear about one thing. The only mistake you could make is go to the police and blab about everything that happened. I guarantee you, you will not survive the day that happens, and you will likely not find your end at my hands—but you will bite the dust. That’s not to say that you can’t use these connections to your advantage.”
I believed him—the first part, at least—and had to swallow thickly to make my vocal cords work again.
“They have a witness statement from me about what happened. When I ran.”
I’d expected at least a flash of anger in his eyes, but he took that with relative calm.
“Don’t worry about that. If your dear agent could have used that to knot my noose, she would have already. I was referring to today’s events, and everything that we’ve talked about since. This concerns your present and your future. Be smart about it, and you’ll have one.”
“But you said the police will approach me—“
“And I remain with my statement that you should cooperate—to a certain point. That doesn’t mean that you have to tell the truth, or the right version of the truth. What I’ve always admired about you is that you can seamlessly become the person you are required to be. To me, you are entirely yourself. To Alison, you are the somewhat aloof, tough-as-nails escort turned madam. To Ray, you will always remain the temptress who despises him and uses the fact that he can never again have what he desires from you against him. To the police, you should be the honest if somewhat immoral upstanding citizen that you are. Yes, you couldn’t stand Daliah’s guts, but of course you didn’t wish her any ill. You just didn’t like having to deal with her. Maybe you’re even shocked and sad for what happened to her. After all, you’re a woman. You’re compassionate about women who have to risk facing violence every day. You might not have liked her, but this is not what she deserved. Of course you will help as much as you’re capable of—to a certain point. You have your clients and girls to protect, after all, and when you feel like the tide is turning against you, it only makes sense to let your lawyer handle things from here on out. It might not even come to that because you can be persuasive as hell, and they’ll likely gobble up the story you’ll dish out to them.”
“Shouldn’t we, I don’t know… compare notes on that? To make sure we don’t contradict ourselves?”
Darren shook his head. “The more you plan, the more planned your answers will sound, and that is exactly what a criminal investigator is looking for. Stay to the truth as much as possible. Yesterday, while we were talking on that balcony, I told you about
my plans for the weekend. I invited you. Maybe I wanted a threesome. Maybe I planned to set you up in another cabin and fuck you while Daliah got her spa treatments. No need to specify the reason. You had cause to be there, so you came. Things did not work out as expected. Daliah stormed off in the middle of the snowstorm, angry and feeling betrayed. I got into your car with you and we drove back to the city, to my house. Where we spent an extensive amount of time having sex, after which you returned home. I expect that by tomorrow morning, the police will find me here, on my own, to inform me of the tragic news. I’ll have my things and car sent back to me, seeing as I won’t have the time nor mental capacity to get them myself, wallowing in grief as I will be. It’s only natural that I would seek relief with the woman I never stopped having an affair with. End of story. Don’t embellish, don’t make extra details up. If this was what actually happened, you wouldn’t do that, either. You are an accomplished liar. Use that skill.”
He made that sound so easy—but, then again, it wasn’t that hard. It was easier than some of the assignments I’d had over the years, with clients who had high demands that went directly against what I’d been comfortable with. I had been Brigitte’s top earner for a very good reason—a reason that, in the end, likely had made Darren come after me.
Suddenly, I was burning with the desire to ask him about that.
“How exactly did you select me? You mentioned that your grieving period for the one who came before me hadn’t been over by far.”
“Ah, that,” he mused. “I was wondering when you’d ask. The answer is simple, if somewhat more romantic than you’re probably comfortable with. I started noticing you at events around the city. There was something about you, almost like a physical pull. I think it started when I saw you mime the fawning companion one night, and the cool, detached diva the other. I was intrigued, so I looked up the men who you’d been with. That got me Brigitte’s contact information. I didn’t know your name, and asking for you specifically would have been creepy, maybe even alarming, so instead I described the kind of company I was looking for. That little game that you were playing that evening, pretending you were hard to get just sealed the deal for me. I had to have you—and the rest is history.”
