by Dee Garcia
“How?” Her question was strangled, laden with both bewilderment and lust. “How can you still want me after everything I’ve put you through?”
There was no delay in what followed next. Aligning the head of my cock at her entrance, I thrust my hips and slid inside her, groaning at the feel of her pussy clamping down around me. “Because you’re you,” I said, rolling into her with deep, precise strokes that arched her back off the bed. “My Angel.”
And I’m going to save you from hell…
All I could wonder was, how?
How could someone like me deserve someone like him? Someone who was genuinely good, whose heart was pure. How could he think I deserved forgiveness? How could he still want me, regardless of who I was and what I'd done?
My questions, although I voiced them, continued to go unanswered, and eventually pleasure overwrote the need to seek them out. I was certain I'd never feel this again, him and I, connected as one in any way, shape, or form. Watching Xander loom over me, his brows bunched together as he rolled into me slowly, deeply, was so different from every other time we’d been together. It wasn't any less passionate, but without lies and secrets acting as an invisible barrier, it felt new, raw, better.
“Close. So damn close,” I murmured through harsh pants, right on the brink of what was undoubtedly going to be an intense, mind-blowing orgasm.
Xander growled in my ear and eased back, pulling out long enough to flip me over on all fours and thrust right back in, filling me to capacity. Snaking a hand between my legs, he brought his fingers to my clit and rubbed quick circles that threatened to tear me apart sooner rather than later.
“I'm gonna come…” I cried out and in turn, my warning set him off in a frenzy, each thrust harder than the last, hitting my spot with sweet precision, urging me closer to euphoria.
“Let go, Angel. Come for me,” he gritted out, tangling a hand in my hair for leverage.
And I had no choice but to let go. One swift slap to my ass and two more strokes ensured it. I moaned uncontrollably, my vision blurring, my legs shaking, and then...
Ecstasy.
Pure fucking ecstasy.
I came violently with his name on my lips, warm tingles deep within my core zipping up my spine at lightning speed, goosebumps rising along every plain of my skin. Xander continued on in his assault, forcing me to ride wave after wave of pleasure, until finally he stilled and groaned, his release pouring into me as quickly as he'd fucked me.
A semi-unconscious blob of sweaty flesh and liquid bones fucked properly into oblivion, I collapsed onto the bed with Xander beside me. Through the haze I heard him mumble something, but I couldn't speak, too tired to do anything but close my eyes. With his nails raking up and down my back, I began to slip further and further away as sleep beckoned me, and although I tried to resist it, in fear another nightmare might strike now that Xander and I had somehow managed to reconnect, it was pointless. The world around me drowned out and soon, I was fast asleep.
I left Xander alone. Slipped out of our hotel room undetected later that night and ventured off to another hit for LeRoux by myself. I did it only for two reasons. One, I knew he was safe, halfway in a sated comatose dreamland he wasn’t coming back from until morning, thanks to our full day in bed, and two, another name off that list meant we’d be one step closer to LeRoux himself. With the tidbits of information the Frenchman had given me on this mark via text earlier in the day, I was actually more than pleased to do the job this time. Why? Because Barry Donovan was a sick freak. Worst kinda sick freak of them all too. A child predator.
So when I turned into the parking lot of the bar Barry apparently frequented on Wednesday nights and saw the hustle and bustle of midweek drunks inside, I was relieved to feel the flip. From one moment to the next, I'd gone from me to her. She’d been so quiet throughout the last month, even when I was on a kill, that I was afraid I wouldn’t be able to channel her tonight. And tonight, I really needed her, because Barry Donovan deserved nothing short of a vicious, gruesome death. Excitement shot through my being, a cheshire grin spreading across my face as my dark passenger slid behind the wheel, mentally patting me on the back for letting her take control. With her by my side, I was ready.
Parking the GranTurismo under a large oak toward the back of the building, I slipped out into the chilled October night and wandered through the parking lot in search of a beat up white F-150 with a rusted license plate and a dinged rear end. Didn't take long to find, parked under another large oak at the opposite end of the lot.
Dark and secluded.
Perfect.
A quick scan of my surroundings confirmed I was alone, and with lithe, brisk movements, I sidled up beside the tin can and picked the lock through glass with a wire hanger just as Matteo had taught me when he learned the craft himself. It took a few minutes of maneuvering about, but once the telltale click echoed from within the vehicle, I tugged on the handle and ducked into the backseat to wait for my little friend.
And wait I did. I waited for over two hours, playing mindless games on my phone that probably fried my brain, before Barry finally staggered out of the bar and made his drunken way toward the truck. Watching him approach the vehicle had my blood rushing through my veins, every step closer driving me to the brink of euphoria where only The Silent Reaper fed off its pleasure. By the time he fumbled with the lock and fell into the driver’s seat, I was wired.
Throwing a long string of metal twine over his head, I pulled it back against his neck and trapped him to the headrest. Old school method, one of Daddy’s favorites to be exact, but it did the job. Did it quite well, too.
“Scream and I'll blow a hole through your head. Got it?” I gritted out.
Barry swallowed, and I felt it, felt the twine bob in my hands from its depth. He nodded frantically and flattened himself against the seat to breathe a little easier.
So I pulled it tighter.
Bitch move, I know, but oh well. Bastard deserved it and much more, if we were being honest. Alessio would've had a field day with him, had this anything to do with our family.
“I've got a message for you from Gaspard LeRoux.”
Sicko gasped, as they all did when I mentioned the French tart.
“So, here's how this is going to go,” I started, leaning closer to his ear. “I'm going to kill you, well, because I have to. But also because you're a disgrace to the human race. What kind of man lures young children off the internet and rapes them with a camera recording the entire assault?
He made not a sound, so I went on.
“A deranged, mentally unstable, despicable one, that's who. And that ‘who’ just so happens to be you, which is why removing your vile presence from this earth is going to be such an honor. Forget your wrongdoings to the Frenchman who sent me. I'm sending you straight to an eternity in hell for all the innocent children you preyed on. All the innocent children you killed. Any last words, Donovan?”
“N-no, you've got it a-all wrong. I-I've ch-changed!” He stammered through his exclamation, spittle shooting out from his mouth from the force of my hold, his body rattling against the seat like those sets of chattering teeth you got as a kid from the toy store.
It was comical, to say the least.
I chuckled darkly and pulled back on the twine just a smidge more, cutting off his air supply just a smidge more too. His gasps were no longer from shock but from feeble attempts to fill his lungs with precious air.
“Time’s up, Barry. Close your eyes and count to ten.”
But I didn’t give him until ten. In fact, I didn’t even give him until two. Consumed by the vicious monster within me, I pulled back inch by inch, each time with a little more force, until I heard, felt, and saw the tearing of skin. Droplets of blood began splattering onto the glass beside him and when I heard a ragged choke explode from his mouth, his eyes bulging as I watched from the rearview mirror, I knew my job here was done.
“Officials have identified the body as fifty-eight-ye
ar-old Barry Donovan, a man who was registered as a sex offender in the state of Delaware. They’re also stating it appears there was no sign of a struggle prior to Mr. Donovan entering the vehicle. The rest of the details, however, are still quite unclear. With no witnesses during the time of the homicide, law enforcement has very little to go by. We’ll be here as the investigation continues to bring you the developing story within the next several hours. For WBOC16, I’m Brandi Dubois.”
I stood frozen beside the bed with a towel wrapped around my body, my hair dripping wet onto the carpet beneath my feet. The volume on the TV diminished into nothing and through the mirror hung on the wall, I caught Xander’s thoughtful stare.
“Was that you?” he questioned, his tone even, not a trace of anger or fear to be heard.
My first reaction was to lie, to protect him from the darkness The Silent Reaper evoked, but then I remembered he knew everything. Well, almost everything. He still didn’t know I was her, or really, it: The Silent Reaper. I didn’t know when, where, or even how I was ever going to tell him, but at this point, he’d definitely know if I was lying, and unless I wanted a full-blown repeat of the last month, it would be stupid for me to do so.
So I nodded, unable to actually say the words.
He didn’t flinch, didn’t speak, didn’t blink. After a quiet moment or two, he turned off the TV and came to stand beside me, his hands cupping my face.
“Sounds to me like he deserved it.”
My eyes widened in shock. Had he really just said that or was I now suddenly imagining things?
“Yeah, um, he did,” I agreed, because I really wasn’t sure what else to say.
It’s not like it wasn’t the truth. Barry Donovan deserved every bit of what he’d gotten and more. He’s lucky I didn’t have time to dismember his body and use it as firewood.
“I'm gonna have a shower before we get going, okay?” he said, placing a soft kiss to my lips before he pulled his tee over his head and stalked off to the bathroom.
Needless to say, I was baffled beyond belief, the entire exchange replaying in loop as I dressed for the day ahead. What the hell was going on? I’d openly admitted to killing someone and all he’d said about it was that Donovan deserved it. Either he really meant it or he was using his concession to mask what he truly felt. I never asked him, though, mostly because when he emerged from the shower, he seemed no different than when he’d walked in, but also because it would be wrong for me not to give him the benefit of the doubt.
Forty minutes later, we were on the dirt road Gaspard had instructed us to follow until we came to the abandoned church. Apparently, my next mark had taken residence there after using the Frenchman’s money to buy the necessary parts for a bomb. LeRoux hadn’t known it at the time but Jim Hozier was going to turn his world upside down.
“You must be getting close,” Xander said beside me.
“What do you mean?” I asked, noting the scenery around us was exactly the same as it had been since we’d turned off the main road. “Did I miss a sign or something?”
“No, I mean you must be getting closer to wrapping up this list for LeRoux. Usually he makes you wait a few days in between these things, but he gave you one yesterday and one today too.”
He was right. I hadn't noticed until he said it, too preoccupied with all that had taken place in the last forty-eight hours. Could he be right, though? Was the back-to-back distribution because I was nearing the end? LeRoux had said he promised it wouldn't be very long.
“I don't know,” I said, just as the abandoned church came into view. “But I'll ask him when we get back to the hotel. Okay?”
Xander nodded, a small smile hiking up one corner of his mouth.
St. John's Catholic Church
Est. 1919
The old wooden sign, faded and wearing away at the corners, sat outside the obsidian gates securing the perimeter. The actual doors hung by only one hinge, leaving the entrance wide open. Turning into the driveway, dirt and rocks billowing behind us, I drove down to a group of cargo vans and parked behind the one furthest in range. Their drivers were MIA, meaning they were inside. That, or Hozier had killed them.
I could feel Xander's eyes on me, unease rolling off him in waves. He reached over and grabbed my hand, prompting me to drag my gaze to where he sat.
“Be. Careful. Please, Angel,” he said, placing emphasis on the please.
“Always,” I promised, giving his hand a little squeeze. “What's wrong with you? You're always so calm during these things.”
“I may have acted that way, but I always worried about you.”
That hit me right in the heart. Even in anger he’d been concerned for me, for my well-being.
Leaning forward, I wrapped my arms around his neck and pulled him close. “I promise I'll come back in one piece. Just wait here, recline the seat if you can. I'll try to be quick.”
“I'm serious, Eden. Be fucking careful, please. Something feels off.”
“You feel it too?” I asked, pulling away, my brows knit together as unease began spreading through my veins too.
“I’ve been feeling it since we turned on that dirt road over a half-hour ago.”
So had I.
But I didn’t tell Xander that. I simply nodded my head in understanding and grabbed his face, pressing a hard kiss to his lips. Something about it felt like goodbye, the thought bringing heavy tears of grief to my eyes. I held them back, though, not wanting Xander to see how off this mission really felt.
“I’ll be back,” I said, pecking his lips one last time before slipping out of the car and creeping my way toward the church, wondering what I was going to find within those sacred walls that had both Xander and I so shaken up.
Watching Eden walk away from the car was no less painful than it had been for the last month. But as I'd said to her, something about today just felt...off. I wasn't sure if it had anything to do with her admission back at the hotel about Barry Donovan or not, but I was more anxious than usual. And for the record, Barry did in fact deserve what he got. It was karma at its finest, wrapped in the pretty little package that was Eden Scarsi. I hoped he was rotting in hell after what he did to all those children.
Pulling out my phone, I tapped my way to the one thing I knew would distract me, even if only for a little while. Mama. She answered on the third ring, her voice trembling as it always did lately.
“Hi, Mama.”
“How are you today?” she asked, dropping the volume on the television.
“I'm okay. Eden, um, went off by herself and I'm worried.”
“What are you worried about?”
“I don't know,” I said, scrubbing a hand down my face. “Her.”
“Oh, baby. I'm sure she'll be okay. She can't get into too much trouble asking around for her mama, right?”
I cringed, still feeling like fucking shit for lying to my mom. But I had to. The vague “I'm helping a friend” story didn't fly for too long and I had to give her something of substance, so I'd told her about Eden’s mom and how she was finally ready to find her. She wasn't too thrilled about me being away, but thankfully it paired well with the missing person’s piece flying around the country.
“Right,” I agreed, dejected.
“Do you know where she is, Xander?” she asked after a brief spout of silence.
“Yes.”
“Then go to her. I know you. You're going to sit there in that hotel, worrying yourself sick until you know she is indeed okay. Spare yourself the grief and go to her. She might need you anyway.”
That's what I wanted to do, but I'd always stayed in the car. I'd promised Eden I'd stay in the damn car and if I went after her, I could blow her entire cover. I could get her killed because I couldn't sit on my ass and wait like she asked of me.
“I can't, Mama. She said she wants to do this alone. I have to respect her.”
Mama sighed, and I could tell she was pinching the bridge of her nose. “I'm proud of you for that, baby. But if
this feeling becomes unbearable, please go. You never know what could happen.”
“I will.”
“Do you know when—”
“I don't,” I interjected, because I knew what the question would be. And unfortunately, the same was still the same.
“Okay. Well, call me if you need anything. I'm just going to put on a pot of chili and wait for Nancy.”
My stomach rumbled, despite the anxiety coursing through me. We’d been eating nothing but fast food and a big bowl of chili with sour cream, cheese, and tortilla chips sounded like heaven.
“Save me some?” I asked, and I could feel her smile.
“I'll cook you a fresh batch when you get back.”
“Sounds like a plan. Say hi to Nancy for me.”
“I will, baby.”
“I love you, Ma.”
“I love you, too, Xander.”
Ending the call with a sigh, I tossed my phone into the cup holder and melted into the seat, staring up at the stormy sky through the front windshield. It'd been sunny when we left, now though, it was almost ominous. That nagging, dreadful sense of impending doom felt like it was sitting right on my shoulders, adding to the heavy dose of unease churning my stomach. Mama was right. I was going to sit here and worry until I knew she was okay, and there was no way for me to be certain unless I saw her with my own two eyes. I didn't want to disrespect her privacy, or what's more, put her at risk, but I couldn't sit in here a second longer.
Three…
Two…
One…
Here goes nothing.
Stepping out onto the gravelly dirt, I closed the door as quietly as possible and poked my head around the van blocking the GranTurismo from view. There was not a soul for miles but the faint sound of music could be heard coming from within the church. With precise steps, I inched my way to the front doors, the music becoming louder, and jetted up the cobblestone steps two at time, flattening myself against the wall. I peered through the windows, but the colorful stained glass, fogged in effect, offered no insight as to what lay inside. I was gonna have to jump the gun and just go for it.
