The words hung there for only a split second before Donaghy jumped to his feet. Jackson felt victory surge through him as he anticipated the attack. At his sides, the guards readied themselves, knowing that they were responsible for keeping the Regulator’s son from getting hurt.
Before the fighter could move, though, Dragon grabbed his arm. “Thank you for letting us know.”
Donaghy’s body stiffened even more and his hands clenched into fists at his sides. Jackson waited, knowing that the fighter wanted to rip him to shreds. Praying the fool would go for it. That he’d be so torn up by grief he wouldn’t be able to think straight. That he’d rush across the room and the guards would be forced to take him down.
Jackson grinned, waiting. Daring the fighter with his smile.
To his disappointment, Donaghy let out a deep breath and sank back onto the stool. Dragon finally let him go and Jackson resigned himself to leaving the bar, the guards following close behind him.
No matter. He would have Donaghy soon enough, and this way the man would have the chance to hear about Meg’s close call from the night before. It would also give Jackson time to heap more hurt on top of the pain the fighter was already feeling. Then, when Jackson was finally ready to take him, Donaghy would be that much easier to break.
Jackson left the guards and headed back to the lab, knowing that he had work to do if he was going to fix the newest strain of the virus. They needed to make the hybrid zombies tougher. Less susceptible. He needed to find a way to make them killing machines after their hearts had stopped beating.
He had a lot of work to do.
He found it impossible to focus, though. Between thoughts of the flu his father had unleashed on the settlement and images of what Donaghy and Meg might be doing while Jackson left them to their own devices, he couldn’t get his brain to shut off. The thought of trying to sleep was ridiculous. He’d never be able to relax enough. The idea of taking the fighter now crossed Jackson’s mind, but part of him wanted to wait until after Meg found the body of her blond crewmember. It had been preserved until the right moment, and then dumped in an alley the trash crew would be working on. Right where Meg was sure to see it. He didn’t want to risk her not seeing the body, and he knew once she did, she’d realize the fighter’s hours were numbered.
Jackson wanted to surprise Meg, so he waited until he was certain she had left Dragon’s Lair for the night. He took more guards with him than necessary. Not because he thought the fighter might get away, but because he wanted everyone at the bar to know that Jackson Star had the entire settlement at his disposal.
Just like he thought, Meg was gone when they barged into the bar. The guards grabbed Donaghy and shoved him to the ground while the waitresses and Dragon looked on, helpless to do anything about it. The fighter struggled as the guards held him against the filthy stone floor, a knee in his back and his face pressed against the ground. He fought as his wrists were bound behind him, not giving an inch in his struggles, but also not getting anywhere. And then he was jerked to his feet and turned to face the door where Jackson stood with even more guards flanking him.
“Perfect.” The word purred from Jackson’s mouth as he stepped forward, grinning. “It’s come to my attention that you’re supposed to be on your way to Key West. Apparently, though, your guards have met an untimely end. We wanted to make sure you had a proper send off.”
He didn’t wait for a response before turning around and heading out the door, barking for the guards to follow. Donaghy was dragged after him, still struggling and barefoot.
“Tell Meg I’m sorry,” he called over his shoulder just before he was pulled from the bar.
Heat moved through Jackson at the words, and the second Donaghy was pulled into the back of the waiting truck, he nodded at the guards. The man in front of the fighter kicked him first, right in the stomach, and a second blow quickly followed, getting him in the back. He tried to curl into a ball only to have a third man punch him in the eye, and the sound of bone hitting bone was like a sweet symphony to Jackson.
“Enough,” he said even though he would have loved to see more of the asshole’s blood shed. “We need him in one piece.”
Jackson climbed into the cab and they took off. Already he was imagining how sweet it would be to watch this man suffer as the virus worked its way through his body. If only there was a way to ensure that the change would be agonizingly painful for him. Donaghy needed to suffer. Jackson needed to witness this man writhing in pain.
He would look into it.
When they arrived at the CDC, Jackson allowed the guards to drag the convict to the observation wing while he headed to his lab. Now that he had the man in his possession, Jackson needed to get some sleep.
Chapter Nine
His plan was falling into place. He had his newest test subject and soon he would have Meg in his custody as well. Her family was useless to him, but would be easy to take care of. He didn’t need them and the cells in the observation wing were nearly full. Jackson would have the mother killed, as well as the aunts and uncle, but he was considering keeping the cousin around. Charlie had appeal, and he’d spent hours fantasizing about what he could do to her. Having Meg in his grasp wouldn’t quench all his dark desires. The need was rarely silenced that easily.
The guards had gone off to get the family, so Jackson headed to the observation wing while he waited for their arrival. It was early morning, but both men were already up.
Donaghy jumped to his feet when he saw Jackson, but Axl didn’t move. The older man’s gray eyes were as ominous as storm clouds; the threat in them so thick that Jackson could almost feel it.
He stopped in front of Axl’s cell and stared, smiling. In a matter of minutes Meg would be here and Jackson would strip her bare, right here in front of her father and her lover. They’d be forced to witness her debasement. Forced to watch her initial humiliation. He could picture it now, the things he’d do to her. The tears. The begging. The terror and fear. Her father would be there to see it all, but he’d be unable to stop it. It would be glorious.
Jackson pushed the button for the intercom, breaking the barrier of silence separating him from Axl James. But he didn’t speak. He just stood there, staring at Meg’s father with an evil grin on his face. Waiting for the moment that would most certainly come. Jackson knew without a shadow of a doubt that the man in front of him wouldn’t be able to remain silent. He knew that Axl would break and ask, no beg to know what was happening with his family.
It took less than a minute. “Where are they?” he asked, wincing like he knew he was taking the bait Jackson had left and he hated himself for it. “Tell me.”
“On their way here.” Jackson’s smile grew until his cheeks hurt. “Guards are at your apartment as we speak, and you’ll be reunited with your family soon.”
He paused so he could turn to face the cell at his back, coming face to face with Donaghy’s cold stare. Jackson hated for the convict to be left out.
He pushed the intercom button. “As I was saying, Meg and the rest of your family are on the way.”
Donaghy growled and Axl’s gaze moved from Jackson to the fighter. There were questions swimming in Meg’s father’s eyes as he looked the other man over, but he didn’t say anything.
After a few seconds, his gaze was once again on Jackson.
“Don’t hurt her.” Axl’s words had no hope behind them.
“There’s no reason for you to be concerned,” Jackson replied. “I don’t intend to keep you in suspense. You’ll be able to witness the entire thing. Right here.” He stepped closer to Axl while shooting Donaghy a look to make sure he had the man’s full attention. “You’ll be able to watch as I take her. I’ll let you hear her cries. Your family, her mother, will all be right there—” He motioned to the hall behind him. “—watching. I know how close your family is, and I wouldn’t want any of you to miss the show.”
Axl’s Adam’s apple bobbed, but he wasn’t the one who yelled.
Curses came from the cell at Jackson’s back as Donaghy slammed his fists against the glass. “You son of a bitch! Don’t you touch her! I will rip you to pieces!”
Jackson grinned. “You aren’t exactly in the position to make threats.”
The fighter’s face was red, but in the cell across from him, Axl looked broken. He was still solid and broad thanks to the hard work he’d endured over the last twenty years, but right now his body was slumped, making him look his age more than ever before. Axl had been a driving force in the settlement for so long that he’d seemed almost immortal at times. Now, though, the lines on his face had deepened as if to illustrate the stress and violence and hard times he’d witnessed during his forty-five years on this Earth. There were dark circles under his eyes, and the lights above him emphasized the gray hairs dotting his head. He looked like he was on the verge of withering away, and even though a part of Jackson would have loved to see it, he knew that they needed Axl alive.
Before Jackson could say another word, the door behind him opened. Guards entered, but they were alone. No crying prisoners. No frightened and tear-filled eyes. Nothing but a group of guards who couldn’t even meet his gaze.
Something had gone wrong and Jackson would bet his life that it had to do with Angus James.
“Where is she?” Jackson growled, making the men stop in their tracks.
“The family was gone,” the man at the front of the pack said. He glanced up long enough to make sure Jackson wasn’t charging him before once again focusing on the floor. “We checked with the surveillance team. They left in the middle of the night, but there’s no mention of where they went and we haven’t been able to locate them anywhere.”
Jackson’s body was shaking so hard that he literally felt ready to explode. Not just with anger, but a real life explosion. One that would destroy not only him, but also the CDC and the wall surrounding New Atlanta, probably even the whole state and possibly the world. His face was hot. His blood was boiling. Tremors shook him until his teeth rattled and his vision blurred. He lost himself in the rage, and then something else took over. Something he’d always felt inside him, buried deep within and begging to get out. Something even stronger and more terrifying than the need.
He was in Axl’s cell before he knew what he was doing, and even then he couldn’t focus as his fists slammed into the other man’s face. Axl fought back, getting in a few good punches, but Jackson didn’t feel a thing. He couldn’t because he had left his body, been pushed out by the force that was now beating Axl.
Before long Meg’s father was unable to fight back. Minutes passed, although it felt like a fraction of a second to Jackson, and then Axl was on the floor, his face was bloody and swollen, and he was barely clinging to consciousness. A part of Jackson knew that he should stop, that they needed this man alive, but he couldn’t. He couldn’t make his body obey. He couldn’t stop.
There was yelling all around him. Donaghy from the other cell and the guards who had somehow managed to rouse themselves from their fear of the small man long enough to know that they had to stop this from happening. Jackson felt himself being pulled away, but once again he had no ability to cooperate. He took a swing at the guard behind him, his fist making impact and blood spraying across the cell. The other guards were there as well, trying their best to restrain him. To drag him away from the bloody heap that had once been Axl James. Jackson was gasping for breath, trying to regain control, trying to force the thing that had taken over his body to leave him.
It didn’t work. Nothing worked. Then Jackson found himself on the floor in the hall, his face pressed against the cold tile while two men held him down. There were alarms going off and people running by. A doctor in a white lab coat ran down the hall to Axl’s cell. Jackson’s father was there too, yelling questions and cursing.
The thing inside Jackson slinked back into its hiding place and slowly he came back to himself. There was so much commotion around him, and with his face pressed to the ground it was nearly impossible to figure out what was happening. His body ached and his knuckles were sore and cut, bloody. Was it his blood or Axl’s?
Axl.
Jackson could only vaguely remember what had happened, but he could picture the blood perfectly. Could smell it still. The coppery scent was so sharp that it permeated the air around him. There had been so much of it. Was Axl dead? Could he have survived the attack? He’d put up a fight, but it had been short lived. Jackson knew Meg’s father was still weak from the drugs they’d given him, putting him at a distinct disadvantage. He easily could have been killed.
Jackson turned his head, trying to get a look at Axl’s cell from his position on the floor. The door was wide open and there were streaks of blood on the tile leading from the room to where Jackson was now. Voices echoed through the hall, calling to each other in panicked tones, his own father’s voice rising above everyone else’s as he demanded that the doctors save Axl James.
Someone knelt at Jackson’s side, blocking his view, and then a sharp pain poked at his neck. His head spun and darkness began to close in, snaking across his vision. He tried to fight it, tried to remain conscious, but the drugs they’d injected him with were too strong.
The last thing he heard as he slipped into unconscious was someone yelling, “We’re losing him!”
To be continued with Twisted Memories…
Thanks for reading! If you’ve enjoyed this book, please consider taking the time to leave a review on Amazon.
Acknowledgments
Once again the majority of my thanks goes to my readers. I know everyone is looking forward to the next full installment in the Twisted series, but I appreciate your patience and understanding as my family settles in after our move. As always, I’ll do my best to get it the next novel out as soon as possible, but my family will always be my first priority.
Big thank you goes to Jan Strohecker, Mary Jones, and Karen Atkinson for taking the time to search for typos. I do try every time to find them all, but editing is long and tedious, as well as very expensive process, and any help I can get is greatly appreciated. I just hope that readers can forgive the few mistakes they find and take the story for what it is, because I am only human and nothing I put out will ever be perfect.
Twisted Memories
Twisted Book Two
Published by Twisted Press, LLC an independently owned company.
This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places and incidents are fictitious or have been used fictitiously, and are not to be construed as real in any way. Any resemblance to person, living or dead, actual events, or organizations is entirely coincidental.
Cover Art by Kate L. Mary
Copyright © 2017 by Kate L. Mary
All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express permission of the author except for the use of brief quotations in a book review. For permissions contact: [email protected]
This book is dedicated to Angus James.
You’ve been the most enjoyable character to shape, mold, torture, and redeem. Thanks for coming to life so perfectly in my head.
Angus James
Twenty years ago…
He came to slowly, moving in and out of consciousness over several days, although at the time it felt more like several years. When he was out there was nothing but darkness piled on top of darkness, a never-ending sea of black that seemed to be trying to suffocate him, but when he was awake the world around him was blurry and unreal and felt more like a dream. Nothing made sense, and at first Angus had a hard time even remembering where he’d been the last time he was with it or why he’d been there to begin with. He couldn’t remember much of anything other than the fact that he was supposed to be saving the world, only he now felt certain that nothing was going to play out the way he’d expected it to.
Day five came and he felt more like his old self, although still a little groggy. The lights above him were
dim but still too bright for his tired eyes, and he had to blink several times to get his gaze to focus on his surroundings. But even when they came into view he couldn’t stop blinking, because nothing he saw looked familiar or answered any of his questions about what he was doing or where he was.
The room he found himself in felt like a different world. It was dimly lit and stark white, and the beep of the machines around him was unrelenting. He was so weak that it took almost all his energy to lift even one arm, and every inch of his body hurt like he’d been dragged behind a truck for hundreds of miles. He was strapped down too, making it impossible to stand even if he’d felt like he had the strength, and there were tubes coming out of both of his arms that led up to IV bags, as well as other sensors taped to his body.
Nothing made sense, but even before he’d come out of it completely, Angus knew that something had gone horribly wrong.
Time was lost to him. He had muddled memories of running toward the wall of Atlanta, and then the pain of being bitten, but the images and feelings weren’t sharp and he wasn’t even sure if they were real or how long ago it had all happened. It seemed like only hours had passed since he’d sacrificed himself for his friends and brother, but Angus instinctively knew that a lot more time had gone by. Just how much he didn’t know, and no one would tell him a thing.
They wouldn’t even talk to him. Men and women came into his room, most of them wearing white coats, and he hurled questions at them in a scratchy voice that sounded like a weaker and much older man than Angus James. But the people barely met his gaze, let alone answered his questions, and after a couple days he stopped asking altogether. Instead, he watched silently from his bed as the world moved forward around him, as people checked the machines and wrote things down, as they drew vial after vial of blood, injected things into his IV bag, and then once again left him alone.
Twisted World Series Box Set | Books 1-3 & Novella Page 43