Killing Fear pb-1

by Allison Brennan

  “You thought you were better than me. That you could get rid of me. Never, Robin. From the moment I saw you, we had a bond. I would have been the best lover you ever had. I would have taken care of you. I’m rich, Robin, and I was rich then. Still, you shunned me. For what? A loser cop?”

  Slowly, she breathed in through her nose as the pain dissipated.

  “I’d have preferred to have William watch me fuck you then kill you, but he’ll have to live vicariously. I’ll make a tape.”

  He pulled out a digital video camera from his bag. He placed it on the table and brought her over to the living room-only feet from the front door.

  That was his plan all along. To kill her where Will would walk in and find her. Right here, in his house. Romeo finding Juliet.

  She couldn’t let it happen like this. If Glenn was going to kill her, she had to find a way to get out of Will’s house. She didn’t want him to be tormented by her murder for the rest of his life, like she’d suffered after Anna died.

  Only worse. Because Will loved her.

  She glanced at her painting that hung on Will’s wall. It was a beach scene, one of her favorite to paint. Vivid shades of blue and green, rolling waves, a bright sky, and a couple holding hands in the heat of the afternoon. It reminded her that what had been lost was now found. He’d chosen one of her favorites.

  She didn’t want her blood on that painting. It may be the only thing Will had to remember her by.

  “For seven years I’ve been planning how to make you pay for your testimony, Robin. You pulled my name out of thin air after seeing that worthless sketch. If anyone should be dead, it should be you. I should have killed you when I had the chance: in the bar when you and William went at it like a couple of rabbits. Is that what turns you on? Sex in public?”

  Glenn restrained Robin by wrapping her wrists together with duct tape, then using a rope to tie her wrists to the coat closet doorknob.

  She kicked at him, barely made contact, and he laughed.

  “I hear you’re scared of the dark, Robin.” He flipped off the entry light and they were plummeted into darkness.

  She screamed until another piece of tape was stuck to her mouth.

  “All you needed to do was come home with me.”

  Her shirt tore, and a sharp pain crossed her body from her navel to her breast. She couldn’t scream, but her back convulsed in pain and her legs scrambled. She pulled herself up, but with her arms tied to the door she was stuck.

  “All you had to do was let me fuck you. You would have liked it. Brandi used to beg me for more. She couldn’t get enough. She was devastated when I broke up with her. But you knew that, didn’t you? Your friends told you everything. Did Brandi tell you how she liked being tied up and spanked? Did Bethany tell you how she liked it from behind? Did Jessica tell you how we had sex in your apartment when she was on break? Anna had given her the key.”

  Robin tried to ignore Glenn. He wanted to torment her emotionally. The pain across her midriff stung, but began to subside.

  “The only thing I regret was not videotaping my kills. My mistake. I won’t make it again.”

  He put the camera on her face, the video flash almost blinding her. “That’s good. Show me your fear, Robin. Show me your pain.”

  He poured bleach over her new cut and her body convulsed, moving as far away from him as she could. Tears streamed down her face.

  She felt the duct tape slip. Just a fraction. She had hope. Maybe her sweat was loosening it, or the rope was cutting into it, or both. Something was giving, and in the dark Theodore might not notice.

  She twisted her wrists together, felt the tape slip a little more.

  Glenn set the camera up to one side, the light on her body, not her face. He stood and seemed to be pacing, but she couldn’t see him. Then his voice came from halfway across the room. “I wanted to take you. For me. All me. When I fucked Sara, I pictured you. I put her dress over her head and it was you. When I fucked Brandi, it was you. Always you. You wouldn’t get out of my head. You’d bewitched me, I couldn’t stop seeing you and I hate you for that. I couldn’t stop coming to RJ’s. And then you spurned me. Treated me like I was some substandard pervert while you were ripping your clothes off for horny men who jerked off in the bathroom thinking about you!”

  His voice grew closer, louder, and he kicked her in the thigh. She sucked air in through her nose, a mewling noise escaping from her throat.

  “The whore in Mexico, I thought of you. I fucked her hard and wanted to choke her to death because of you. I hate you. I hate you for forcing me to take chances. If it weren’t for you, I would be halfway across Mexico by now. If you would just get out of my head, I’d finally be free!”

  Robin yanked one raw wrist out of the makeshift restraints as Theodore’s shoe connected with her stomach. The wind was knocked out of her and she couldn’t catch her breath.

  Then he was on top of her and whispered in her ear, “When I killed Bethany, I told her it was because of you. When I killed Brandi, I told her you were fucking the detective in charge. That it was because of you that she had to die. Because you treated me like scum. When I am the smartest person you have ever met.”

  Robin’s other wrist slipped free. She clasped her hands together, pulled them back like she was holding a baseball bat, and as hard as she could swung her fists into the side of his head.

  She won that round through the element of surprise.

  Run, Robin!

  He grunted, shifted just enough that she could slide away.

  A weapon. Where did he put his knife? That bag of his. On the table. It was closer than the kitchen.

  She scrambled to her knees and crawled. Her hand brushed against the bottle of bleach.

  “Bitch, I’ll slice your throat-”

  She pulled herself up the wall, bottle in one hand. She moved to the right, toward him-hoping he’d think she was still moving toward the kitchen. The video camera light was aimed on the other side of the room, making this side even darker in the shadows.

  She hit the light switch, blinking in the brightness, startling Glenn enough for her to splash bleach at him. He couldn’t get his arms up fast enough to block most of the cleanser from hitting his face.

  He screamed and paused only momentarily, blocking the front door. She ran toward the back, ripping the duct tape off her mouth so she could scream.

  He was right behind her.

  Will didn’t wait for backup.

  It was him and Blade. The rest of SWAT was less than five minutes behind, but five minutes was the difference between life and death.

  His house was dark, a faint, foreign light filtering through the closed blinds. What was that?

  But other than the light, he could see nothing unusual about his place. Had he been wrong? Had Glenn deliberately tricked him? Had he wasted precious time by coming here first?

  Suddenly, the interior lights went on. He heard a deep, guttural cry-a man? — then, as his hands were on the doorknob, a piercing female scream.

  Gun out, Blade at his back, Will kicked open his own door and went low and to the right. Glenn had a knife in his hand and was about to throw it at Robin’s back as she ran toward the rear of the town house.

  “Down!” he yelled.

  Robin dropped to the floor at the same time that Glenn spun around and aimed the knife at Will. He and Blade fired simultaneously.

  One bullet hit Glenn in the arm, but he’d anticipated the gunshots and dove behind Will’s couch.

  Did Glenn have a gun?

  “Robin! Stay down!”

  She crawled in the kitchen, behind the counter. As long as she didn’t move, Glenn couldn’t see her, Will hoped.

  Robin didn’t say anything.

  Will looked around and saw the blood in the foyer, bloody handprints on the white walls. The smell of bleach permeated the room.

  How far had Glenn gone? How much blood had Robin lost?

  If Will went for Robin, Glenn could kill him-e
ither by shooting him, or throwing a knife.

  Blade was behind a table he’d flipped on the right; Will was in the narrow hall off the foyer that led to his upstairs. He could see the couch Glenn hid behind, but he couldn’t see the kitchen.

  Could Glenn see Robin?

  “Come out with your hands up!” Will shouted.

  The low voice of laughter made Will’s blood run cold.

  “Not exactly how I planned it,” Glenn said, “but she’s still dead.”

  Will’s ears buzzed.

  “Will!”

  He heard Robin from the kitchen. She sounded strained, but she was alive. Alive, not dead. Glenn had wanted him to react, to do something rash.

  “You’re not going to leave alive unless you throw your weapons out and stand up, hands behind your head.”

  “She is dying, Will. I sliced her from her navel to her breast. She’s bleeding to death. I can sit behind here all night long. By the time you have the courage to come for me, precious Juliet will be dead in a pool of blood on your kitchen floor.”

  “Don’t, Will,” Robin called from the kitchen. “Don’t listen to him. He’ll kill you.”

  She didn’t sound herself, but that could be from fear.

  Will stared at the bloody handprints. So much blood. Too much.

  Robin was alive now, but for how long?

  He glanced at Blade. Held up his fingers. On three, cover me.

  Blade nodded.

  One.

  Will glanced around the corner. A small spatter of blood was next to the couch where his bullet had hit Glenn in the arm.

  Two.

  He pictured the layout of his kitchen, the likely place Robin would hide-behind the center island. It was a solid block of wood.

  Three.

  Blade fired rapidly over the table while Will rounded the corner and skirted along the wall toward the kitchen.

  A hand with a knife came over the top of the couch aimed right toward him.

  From Will’s left, gunfire. He jumped, turned his gun toward the sound.

  Robin, white as a ghost, leaned against the wall, firing directly behind the couch, emptying the.45 into Glenn who still cowered there.

  The knife fell.

  Robin slid slowly down the wall. Will quickly glanced at Glenn-he was dead, his eyes staring at the ceiling.

  “Blade!” Will shouted and motioned toward Glenn’s body.

  He holstered his own gun and knelt at Robin’s side, gently resting her body on the carpet.

  She struggled to get the words out. “Is he-”

  “He’s dead.”

  “You sure?”

  “Absolutely.”

  “Good.”

  She closed her eyes.

  “Robin, don’t go to sleep.”

  “I’m okay.”

  He almost laughed. “You’re not okay.” Glenn hadn’t been lying when he said he’d cut her chest. Blood seeped from the red wound, but it was her arm that he was worried about. Blood rapidly flowed from a two-inch cut on her arm.

  He tore off his shirt and wrapped it tight around her forearm, then pulled his T-shirt over his head and applied pressure to her chest.

  A siren sounded in the distance.

  Blade came over. “He’s dead, Hooper.”

  “Damn straight,” Robin muttered. “I didn’t practice at the range every week to miss.”

  “This doesn’t look like your gun,” Will said.

  “He left it on the table.” Robin’s voice was weak.

  “Ambulance?” Will asked Blade.

  “On the way.”

  Robin’s face was cut and bruised, blood coming from her mouth and one ear. She was having a difficult time breathing.

  “Hang in there, Robin.”

  “I’m not going anywhere,” she said faintly.

  “You’d better not.”

  “You bought my picture.”

  At first Will didn’t know what she meant. Her left hand vaguely pointed toward his living room wall. He looked, saw the beach scene he’d bought last year after hearing her work was available at the gallery.

  “I thought it would look nice in my place.” That wasn’t the total truth. “I missed you, Robin. Looking at it every day reminded me of you.”

  “I love you, Will.”

  FORTY-TWO

  Two weeks later

  Will watched Robin closely to make sure she didn’t overdo it. He hadn’t wanted to come to the wedding-Robin had only been out of the hospital for a couple days-but she’d insisted.

  “Carina is your best friend. You can’t miss her wedding.”

  By the look on Robin’s face, the formal Catholic ceremony had been lovely. Will didn’t pay much attention to it, watching Robin for signs of fatigue.

  “Stop it,” she said as they walked into the reception at the Kincaid family house an hour later.

  “You want to go home?”

  “No. Stop treating me like I’m about to break. I’m okay, Will. I’ll let you know if I need to go home, I promise.”

  He relaxed. Some. “If you promise.”

  He’d almost lost her. Again. She’d lost so much blood after the showdown with Glenn.

  But that was over.

  Nick and Carina came up to them shortly after the newly married couple arrived in the backyard. “I’m so glad you came,” Carina beamed at Robin. “You haven’t met my husband, Nick Thomas.”

  Robin smiled. “The wedding was beautiful.”

  “Thank you,” Carina said.

  Will hugged his partner. “You’ve never looked more gorgeous, Cara,” he said affectionately. He shook hands with Nick. “Congratulations.”

  “It was perfect,” Carina said.

  “Almost,” Nick said, his face clouding a bit. “If only Patrick could have been here.”

  Carina nodded. “I prayed every day that he’d be back up and around in time for my wedding. We even considered postponing it, but what would that do? Put Nick and me on hold on the slim chance that Patrick recovers? When? This month? This year? Five years from now?” She glanced at Will, her dark eyes glistening. “Don’t wait, Will. Love, and life, needs to be your priority.”

  She took both Will and Robin’s hands into hers and squeezed, then walked off with Nick to talk to the rest of the guests.

  “Robin-”

  “You don’t have to-”

  “Shh.” He looked around the crowded backyard. All the Kincaids were here. Even Dillon Kincaid’s elusive twin brother hovered around the periphery. All Will wanted was a quiet place to talk to Robin.

  “Come with me,” he said, finally spotting a place to escape.

  In the side yard, wisteria climbed a trellis, giving privacy to a bench. Will sat Robin down, then knelt in front of her.

  She grinned. “Don’t do that, Will.”

  “What?”

  “You’ll get your pants all dirty.”

  He shook his head. “I love you, Robin.”

  “I know. I love you, too. We’re missing the-”

  “Shh.” He cleared his throat, glanced up, saw the scar on her throat.

  Theodore Glenn almost killed her. You almost lost her, Will. Why are you wasting time now?

  “Marry me.”

  Damn, that came out pathetic.

  “Is that a proposal?”

  He ran a hand through his hair. “Yes.”

  When she didn’t say anything right away, his heart skipped a beat. “We can wait-” he began.

  “I don’t want to wait. Of course I’ll marry you, Will.”

  He sighed in relief, pulled a small box from his pocket. “I’ve been carrying this around with me for the last two weeks. I was going to ask you to marry me when you were in the hospital, but that wasn’t really romantic. This isn’t all that romantic, either, but-”

  “It’s the perfect time,” she said, grinning like a kid, as she took the box from his hand.

  Her face lit up when she opened it. The solitary deep blue sapphire sparkled in
the sunlight. “Oh, Will.”

  “I remember once you told me you thought sapphires were prettier than diamonds. But if you want a diamond, I can trade-”

  “Stop right there. I love sapphires. And I love that you remembered.”

  Tears coated her eyes.

  “Don’t cry. I can’t stand to see you cry.”

  “They’re good tears.”

  “I didn’t know there was such a thing.”

  She nodded, leaned forward, and kissed him. She tasted like heaven. And she was going to be his wife, his friend, his lover. Forever.

  FB2 document info

  Document ID: fbd-b1044a-577a-9f40-71b7-05cd-a772-e313c5

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  Document creation date: 10.11.2012

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  Document authors :

  Allison Brennan

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