Perfectly Toxic

by Kristine Mason

  The bitch.

  He forgot about Jane and the slut from high school, and stared at Madeline’s breasts. Her flimsy nightgown teased and tantalized. Revealed the outline of her areolas, her hard nipples.

  “Suck them,” one voice suggested.

  “This could be a trick,” the other said.

  “Who’s with you?” Madeline asked. He shifted his gaze to her mouth, where she rubbed her index finger along her pouty lower lip. “If you’re honest, I’ll let you see my breasts.” She cupped one full mound. “I might even let you touch them with your mouth. I also might be able to help you get rid of whoever’s bothering you.”

  “Don’t tell her,” both voices shouted.

  When she used her other hand to lift the hem of her nightgown, his balls tightened. She had beautiful shapely legs. He could picture them around him as he drove himself deep.

  “Tell me, Liam. Let me help you. I don’t want you to end up like the others. You’re special to me.” She slipped her fingers beneath her panties. Her forehead wrinkled slightly as desire crossed her face. “So special. God, I wish these were your fingers instead of mine. Please tell me. Please, Liam.”

  Wishing he could touch her or at least stroke himself, he pulled at his restraints. The voices in his head kept cautioning him, kept telling him to keep their secret, to not be fooled by her act of seduction. He wasn’t fooled. He wanted her. He wanted to hurt her as he took pleasure from her body. “I want to strap Roderick to the bed, then fuck you in front of him,” he said, not meaning to speak out loud. He didn’t care, though. He had nothing to lose.

  “Your life,” the high-pitched voice said with urgency.

  “We’ll be fine,” the other countered.

  “No, no! She’ll hurt you. Roderick will know.”

  Madeline’s smile told him she liked his idea. “That would be fun. But you still didn’t answer the question. Tell me, and I’ll make sure this doesn’t go to waste,” she said, reaching for his erection.

  “I hear voices,” he admitted on a groan. “I was diagnosed with schizophrenia when I was twenty.”

  She unzipped his pants. “Mitch was one of those voices?”

  “Roderick the dick told you?” He sighed, but didn’t allow his hatred for the man to lessen the pure pleasure of having Madeline’s soft hand wrapped around his erection.

  “He did, but I’m not judging you. I’m curious. You told Rod that Mitch was gone. What happened to him?” she asked, sliding her thumb over the head of his penis.

  “Show your breasts.”

  The corner of her mouth turned up in a sly smile. She removed her hand from her panties, then pulled aside the strap of her right shoulder, exposing her breast.

  He licked his lips. “I don’t know.”

  “Mitch was a mercenary, correct?” she asked as she slowly pumped his penis. “How long did you know him?”

  He stared at where she held him. The voices had quieted. Even Madeline’s recorded voice had become nothing but a faint buzz. “Months,” he said, then blew out a breath. God, he wanted her mouth on him, which made him hate her even more. He didn’t want to depend on her, need her, trust her.

  “Months? What if I told you I could make Mitch and all the other voices go away?” She leaned in, then rubbed her nipple along his cheek, but not close enough where he could capture it with his mouth. “Permanently,” she added, bending until her lips were so close he could bite them. Puncture the soft flesh and tear it from her face before she could scream for Roderick.

  Tempting. So damned tempting. But hurting her would likely lead to his swift death. He wasn’t ready to die, not when he was on the brink of the greatest orgasm of his life.

  “How?” he asked.

  With a smile, she eased back. “It’s simple,” she said, shifting her body until her mouth was only inches from his straining erection. “Obey the rules.” She ran her tongue along his length. “Focus on only my voice.” She did it again, her gaze locked on his. “Watch the videos.” She circled the head of his dick with her tongue. “Don’t fight the drug, Liam. Let it break you free.” Rubbing her lips along him, she grinned. “Imagine life without psychosis, without voices. I promise, once you let the drug break you, allow yourself the clarity you deserve, the acceptance, the power…” She drew him into her mouth.

  His eyes rolled back. The suction from her mouth was exquisite, until she released him. “Once the drug has broken you, I will give you something that will define you as the man you truly are, not the man doctors and pharmaceutical companies want to use as their guinea pig. Did your doctors prescribe you lots and lots of pills?”

  The memory of watching the colorful pills swirl down his sister’s toilet rushed through his mind, along with outrage. “Yes. I hated taking them. I hated the way the nurses looked at me as if I was a side show freak, and the way doctors wanted to dissect my brain with their tests.” God, how he’d hated every moment. He’d endured, for the sake of his sister. Kiera had believed in him, and was probably the only person who had accepted him for who he was—until Madeline. But Madeline was the enemy. She was holding him against his will. Drugging him, using him as one of her subjects.

  “She said she didn’t want you to be one of their subjects,” one of his voices quietly reminded him.

  “I still don’t trust her, but what other hope is there?” the other asked.

  None. Without Madeline, there was no hope. Not until he could free himself and escape. But what if she was right? What if this drug could help him? It had made him realize Mitch hadn’t been real, and had given him the memories he’d been suppressing.

  She gave him a wry smile. “You’re not sick, maybe a little cracked, but after I break you and put you back together like Humpty Dumpty, I think you and I could make history.”

  “Except Humpty couldn’t be put together again.”

  She stroked him. “I’ve got a special kind of glue. Don’t worry, Liam. By this time tomorrow, if you cooperate, Rod will remove the tape from your eyes. But you have to be good. It’s the only way I can help you, and stop Rod from killing you. Understand?”

  “What’ll he do to you if he finds out you’re touching me?” When she looked away, he remembered the thud he’d heard last night against the door, followed by Roderick’s crying. “He’d hurt you,” he said, desire rushing straight to his balls.

  “That’s why he can’t ever know.” She licked him again. “Promise you’ll be good for me. Promise you won’t tell.”

  “Don’t promise her anything,” the high-pitched voice said.

  “Shut up and listen to me. Promise her. Use her,” the other voice urged him.

  “How can I trust you?” he asked, tormented between telling her to go to hell, and demanding that she suck him.

  She raised a dark brow and released him. After hiking up her nightgown, she nudged her panties down over her hips, exposing her dark curls. “You can’t.” She climbed onto his lap. He groaned when she guided him in her tight, wet sex. “But I’m all the hope you have,” she said on a moan. “So, do you promise me?”

  “Yes,” he said, and meant it. Right now, he wanted release. As irrational as that thought was—considering his current situation—his body demanded it. Maybe because of the drug…it didn’t matter. Having her heat surrounding him did. He’d think about all the rest later.

  Madeline glanced over her shoulder as she rode him, a smile playing on her lips. “How fitting. Look at the TV, not me.” She undulated faster. “Whenever the voices start talking, focus on only mine. Listen to the recording when I can’t be with you. Picture this moment. Imagine your big cock inside of me. Imagine a future where you hold power.”

  As his orgasm neared, he stared at the television. Ironically, a clip from A Clockwork Orange—the rape scene—played. He’d seen the movie years ago before his psychotic break, and had been appalled and unable to finish it. With Madeline’s wet warmth taking him in, he wouldn’t close his eyes even if he could. He wanted that power she
’d promised. He wanted her on her knees, begging him for forgiveness, begging for her and Roderick’s life. And yet he suddenly couldn’t imagine not knowing Madeline. Intriguing, sexy, manipulative…what could they do together if Roderick wasn’t alive? Who could they break?

  “What are you thinking?” the high-pitched voice asked. “This isn’t you.”

  “It could be,” the other countered. “Wait and see what she does for you. If she can be trusted.”

  “You only care about getting off,” the high-pitched voice accused.

  Laughter from the other voice filled his head. They needed to stop and leave him alone. He was schizophrenic, not stupid. He was fully aware that Madeline was a self-serving bitch. With the way she rode him, and knowing there was a chance he could possibly leave this place alive, he didn’t care what she was.

  Madeline clutched his shoulders. She let out a low moan, her sex clenching him as she rode out her orgasm. He was about to join her when she quickly moved off him, then took him in her mouth. She licked and sucked him as he’d always fantasized a woman would. Jane had been too much of a prude to bother. The slut from high school had simply spread her legs and told him to stick it in her. Between them, there’d been no one. After, it had been him, his pills and his hand.

  Primed, his body tense, he watched her. Wished he could make the bindings around his wrists disappear so he could grab her hair. Rip it from her head. See the tears in her eyes.

  She took him deep in her throat and he came in a rush, grunting his pleasure and frustration, wishing he were buried deep inside her again and choking the life from her body. As she let him slip from her mouth, she licked her lips, then righted his pants. Once he was zipped, and his clothes were in place, she put on her panties, then fixed her nightgown.

  “You’re something special, Liam,” she said, touching his cheek. “When you were coming, were you thinking about me?”

  “Yes.”

  “Were you thinking about hurting me?” she asked as she tightened the sash of her robe.

  “Yes,” he answered honestly. Based on the videos and her voice recordings, his desire to harm her shouldn’t be a surprise.

  “You really are something special.” She slapped the duct tape over his mouth, then stared into his eyes as she kissed his sealed lips. “One day, when I’m certain you won’t bite me, maybe I’ll give you a real kiss.” She grinned and moved toward the door. “Enjoy the video and remember what I said. When the voices come, focus on only one. Mine.”

  As the door closed behind her, he listened to Madeline’s words and watched as the video segued into what he hoped was another horror movie clip. Bludgeoning a person with a bat wrapped in barbed wire had its merits, but was damned gory. And strangely appealing…

  Chapter 15

  Hope House Homeless Shelter, Tallahassee, Florida

  Monday, 1:23 p.m. Eastern Daylight Saving Time

  “THIS IS CRAZY,” Cash said as he parked along the curb several streets over from Hope House.

  Mel agreed, allowing Harrison to remain wherever Madeline took him—if she took him—for a minimum of thirty-six hours was insane. So much could happen during that time.

  Even Lola had originally wanted Harrison out of there within less than twenty-four hours. But after a morning conference call with Ian, and the way their boss had explained the need for hard evidence in order to make this bust as legit as possible, Lola had reluctantly agreed to give Harrison the thirty-six-hour window.

  “We’ve been over this before,” she said, then took a drink from her water bottle. They had another scorcher and, while she had a bottle of water stashed in her backpack, she wanted to be sure she was hydrated before stepping out of Cash’s truck and into ninety-degree weather. “He knows the drill and he’s wearing the GPS chip. He’ll be fine.” At least that had been what she’d been telling herself since their conversation with Ian.

  “Harry no fine,” Vlad said from the back seat. “Harry have strong bone in back. Vlad know this. Vlad also know Harry not strong like horse.”

  “Physical strength isn’t what he needs,” she said. “If Madeline takes him, he’s going to have to use his head. Harrison is one of the smartest people I know. So for this job, he will be fine.”

  Vlad sneered at her. “Mel have delusion. Either swamp have warp effect, or maybe Ice Cream Lady spend too much time in cooler. Harry not fine.”

  “You might want to watch how you talk to my wife,” Cash said. “Remember why we’re here. Or do I need to remind you.”

  She choked on the testosterone in the truck. “Enough,” she said when Vlad glared at her husband. “Decisions have been made and we’re moving forward. Madeline might not even show—ever. Who knows? She could be done. In the meantime, keep your nasty remarks locked in your Russian brain before I come at you with something worse than an ice cream scooper.”

  Cash grinned. “I bet we have tools at the garage that could turn one of those scoopers into a sharp object.”

  “Vlad do not like threats,” he said, his tone surprisingly menacing. While she’d heard him threaten suspects and had witnessed Vlad’s aggressive side, it had been on the job, and he’d been able to joke easily afterward. This Vlad was one she wasn’t sure how to handle.

  Her cell phone rang, saving her from having to deal with Vlad at the moment. Since the caller ID showed Lola’s name and number, she hit speaker. “Hey, Lola.”

  “Hi. Harrison just left the car. He’s heading to the shelter. I’m going to wait a few, then follow behind and park where I did yesterday. Mel, are you ready?”

  She instinctively touched the switchblade she’d hidden in her sock, then smoothed her old jeans in place. “I’m ready.”

  “Okay, let’s hope today we get a lead. Watch Harrison’s back and get the full license plate if you can.”

  “Got it,” she said, before the line went dead. She glanced to Cash. “That’s my cue. Give me some sugar before I go melt in this heat.”

  She hated the worry on his face, but loved the sweet kiss he gave her. Afterward, she took another long drink, then looked back to Vlad. “See ya’ later, gator.”

  Vlad gripped her shoulder, the intensity in his eyes scaring her. “Harry will not speak to Vlad. What if…?” He shook his head and released her.

  “Nothing is gonna happen, honey. Harrison always had faith you—anyone could see it—maybe you should give him some credit.”

  “Vlad cannot help worry.”

  She smiled. “That’s ’cause he’s your best bud. So, while you’re sitting here twiddling your thumbs, why don’t you think about that and how to resolve your problems? I’m sure we’ll all be back at our house, hangin’ poolside by dinnertime anyway.”

  “You don’t think she’ll show?” Cash asked.

  “I like the theory of Madeline coming back to find out if Noah came here or if he went to the police, but it’s a long shot.” As soon as she cracked open the truck door, the heat took her breath away. “Dang, it’s hot. I see frozen froo-froo drinks in my future.”

  “You got it, babe,” Cash said. Despite his smile, worry lurked in his eyes. “Be careful.”

  “Always,” she replied, then closed the door. After slinging the backpack over her shoulder, she made her way down the street and around the corner toward Hope House. Using her hand to shield her eyes from the sun, she searched for Harrison and spotted him stepping out of the street and onto the sidewalk. He gave her a nod of acknowledgement, then headed toward what little shade was near the building.

  Deciding it didn’t matter if Madeline saw the two of them talking, she walked over to him and realized there was no room for either of them in the shade. “Let’s go across to the vacant lot and hang out there. There’s not that many people along the brick wall, and in another hour or so, the sun will shift and it should be shady.”

  He agreed and fell into step with her. “Man, is it hot,” he said, wiping sweat from his brow. “Yesterday wasn’t as bad.”

  “There
was a slight breeze. I have a full water bottle if you need it. It’s not that cold, though.”

  “That’s okay, I still have mine,” he said. “I don’t think I can do this for another three days. I don’t care what Ian wants.”

  Ian had suggested they give it five days before walking away from the case—which, fortunately, included yesterday and today. “Just picture later this evening…drinkin’ a cold beer, coolin’ off in the pool. I’ll have Cash grill us up some country ribs loaded with my special sauce.”

  “Special sauce, huh? Would this sauce be made from some critter you caught in the woods or pond?”

  She elbowed him. “No, but there ain’t no guarantees on the hash.”

  “I’m never eating anything you serve me unless I watch you make it.”

  “Would you stop? I’m only kind of joking.”

  “Only?” He grabbed her hand. “White car at two o’clock.”

  She looked to her right, just as a white sedan came to a stoplight. Once the traffic slowed, she gave Harrison’s hand a squeeze. “Georgia plates. Should we turn back to the shelter?”

  “Let’s hang tight and see who’s driving and where they head. It’s early.”

  Anxious to see if the driver was a blonde female, yet terrified this could be Madeline, her stomach rolled and she regretted the water she’d guzzled earlier. She wanted to put an end to anything sinister this woman and her partner had planned, but did not want Harrison risking his health and life for a case.

  The sun glared off the windshield as the car pulled forward, then turned left. The driver veered the sedan close to the curb and, as if searching for a street address or a place to park, drove slowly. Out of the corner of her eye, Mel noticed a few men rising from their resting spots in the shade. She glanced over her shoulder and saw several men who’d been standing near the shelter, walking in their direction. “People are coming toward the car. Early or not, it’s gotta be her.”