by Jane Blythe
Of course, this was pointless.
“Ma…Mango?” he called into the darkness. Apparently, now that he wasn’t all gung-ho about sex, he was struggling to see.
She switched on the light. “Not Mango, I'm afraid,” she corrected him.
He blinked at the sudden light, or the aftereffects of the drugs, or that he was quickly losing blood. “Wh…who are you?”
Ignoring him for the moment, she removed the collection bag from the end of the tube and put another in its place.
“Pl…please,” Roman sniffled, tears already streaking his face. “Don’t hurt me. I’ll give you whatever you want. Money—I can give you money—as much as you want.”
Rolling her eyes at the pitiful display, not only was Roman a repugnant sex addict, he was also a crybaby. “Unfortunately for you, what I want can't be bought,” she said simply.
“What are you going to do to me?”
She cocked her head to study him, trying to decide if he was stupid or if the question was shock-induced. “I'm going to kill you, of course.”
Her brazen answer seemed to catch him off guard; he stuttered and stumbled over some words, opened his mouth to scream, changed his mind, and burst into noisy sobs instead.
“Why are you doing this to me?” he moaned.
“Because you're a cheater.” Rage started to bubble inside her, and that didn’t bode well for Roman Hitacheel. “And cheaters cause more damage than they could ever know.” This was her new personal crusade. Her life—and her sister’s—had been ruined because of adultery. Biting her lip to keep her anger in check, she removed the second full blood collection bag, and replaced it with another. “Last one,” she assured Roman who was starting to grow woozy from the loss of blood. Three was realistically all the blood she could take and still make sure that her subject was with her. She had brought additional bags full of blood with her in case they were needed.
Finally deciding that he should scream for help, Roman opened his mouth and prepared to yell. She merely chuckled. And before his shock-jumbled brain could produce a sound, she had tape over his mouth. Petrified little squeaks still emerged, but the sound wouldn’t have even carried to the bathroom let alone to the other hotel suites on this floor.
Tuning out Roman’s muffled screams, she wondered again if she was doing the right thing.
She was conflicted.
He had told her that once she started killing, she wouldn’t be able to stop and she hated to do anything that would prove him right.
But what else was she going to do with her life?
She needed a purpose. A goal. And this seemed like the best fit.
As the third bag filled, she removed it and proceeded with the final stage. “Sorry,” she murmured to Roman, “this is going to hurt.” She didn’t like deliberately inflicting pain unless she was personally invested in her victim. And with Roman she wasn’t. He disgusted her, but other than that she didn’t burn with a specific hatred toward him. Standing on the bed, she spread his legs; she needed access to his genitals. His eyes grew wider than she would have thought a pair of eyes could go.
Roman mumbled something through the tape that she thought sounded like no, and wiggling desperately. Again, this was pointless. The fact that his top half was taped to a bed severely limited his maneuverability.
Raising her leg, she stomped her foot down as hard as she could against his groin. Dry retching, he began to cough and splutter and groan in agony, writhing pathetically. The pain and the blood loss should leave him incapacitated enough for her to move him without risk. So, moving quickly, she cut the tape, lay him down on his back, then wrapped more tape around his chest, arms still at his side, this time wrapping the tape around the base of the bed. She also removed his gag, as she would need access to his mouth.
Then she sat back and waited.
When Roman was back with her, now too out of it to question her motives or pepper her with pleas, she continued. Tipping the blood she had collected into a large jug, she kneeled on the mattress beside Roman’s head. “You’re a cheater,” she reminded him matter-of-factly. “Cheaters cause devastation to their families, and sometimes this leads to bloodshed. Better that your own blood be shed than those who it is your job to protect.”
With explanation out of the way, she held the jug above his mouth. Understanding what she was planning on doing, Roman clamped his lips together. She merely pinched his nose closed, waited till be had to open his mouth to take a gasping breath, and then begun to pour the blood down his throat. Immediately he choked, coughing and sending blood splattering out. She didn’t stop, pouring quicker than he could swallow, so blood soon began to go down his windpipe rather than his esophagus.
In minutes, he had drowned in his own blood.
She thought it was a fair death.
His blood was shed so no one else in his family would have to shed their own.
As she dressed, Isabella Everette thought it was a night well spent.
* * * * *
10:11 A.M.
“We should celebrate.”
Sofia Everette heard her boyfriend’s words, but they didn’t penetrate the jumble of thoughts in her head.
It had been almost five months since her life had been turned upside down, and as much as she had thought she was looking forward to this day, longing for it even, it had left her feeling oddly empty.
“Hey,” his hand gently grasped her shoulder. “Did you hear me?”
Detective Ryan Xander was studying her with anxious blue eyes. They had met five months ago when someone was murdered on her family’s estate, but she had known of him, and been attracted to him, long before then. Back before they had gotten to know each other, Sofia had thought he was adorably handsome. He had astonishingly bright blue eyes, an endearing smile that brought out his dimples, silky soft blond hair, and he was tall and muscled from hours spent working out. To sum it all up, he was heart-meltingly gorgeous. Now that she knew him, Sofia knew that his good looks didn’t even come close to matching his good heart.
“I thought you’d be excited to finally have the cast off your leg,” Ryan continued.
“I am,” she replied, pasting a smile on her face to try and convince him. She was pleased to be free of the bulky cast she’d worn on her leg since her accident five months ago. It had been a long, slow recovery—all because of her sister Isabella. Thanks to the fact that Isabella had been poisoning her for months, her body had become weak. Meaning it had taken her longer than the average person to recover from the injuries she sustained in her fall down the stairs. She had spent several weeks in the hospital as the doctors dealt with the poisoning, concussion, broken collarbone, dislocated shoulder, and badly broken leg that had required multiple surgeries and the insertion of a metal rod.
Even now, five long months later, she still wasn’t completely better.
However, it wasn’t her painstakingly lengthy recuperation that had her feeling drained and shaken this morning; it was because she felt like she had just lost her last connection to her sister, her only remaining family member. Her sixteen-year-old half-sister, Isabella, had completely lost touch with reality and embarked on a killing spree that left their grandfather, father, uncles, aunts, and both their mothers dead.
Sofia hated what Isabella had done, but she still loved her sister. She wanted to help her, but Isabella was gone. Ryan had been searching for her, using every resource he had at his disposal, but so far they hadn't managed to locate her. It scared her to know that Isabella was still out there, most likely still killing people. But now that her cast was off it was like the whole horrible nightmare was behind her. That should be a good thing, but now it was like Isabella was behind her, too—drifting farther and farther away. Sofia was scared her sister was too far away now to ever find again.
“What’s wrong?” Ryan knew her well enough not to be fooled by a fake smile and slowed the car so he could focus more attention on her.
“Nothing,” she lied. Ryan h
ad worried about her enough the last five months; she didn’t want to worry him further.
It had been a long road for him, too. It hadn't just been physical injuries that she had had to recover from; there were emotional ones, as well. Isabella had revealed to her that the man she had grown up thinking was her brother was, in fact, her father. Logan had been only fourteen when she was conceived. And he had raped her mother—Logan’s stepmother.
Just thinking about it gave her a headache.
Everything had happened so fast. The murders, her whole family killed, learning that she was the product of a rape. It had felt so surreal at the time. And it had taken a while to sink in. When it finally did, it had hit her like a ton of bricks. Still weak and in pain, and basically stuck in bed because of her broken leg, she had fallen into a shell-shocked depression. She had stopped eating, barely slept, and she hadn't wanted to see anyone. Ryan had been right by her side the entire time supporting her, offering his unconditional love, and pushing her to start seeing a therapist to help her deal with things. She had started to heal and slowly she had begun to get better.
“What’s wrong?” Ryan repeated. “The truth this time,” he added with a raised blond eyebrow.
She didn’t want to lie again. “It’s just that…I just…” She tried to put the mess of emotions swirling inside her head into words. “I guess I'm just tired,” she finished at last.
Ryan didn’t buy that. “Sofia, what’s bothering you?”
“I don’t want to talk about it.” She met his eyes. “Please.”
“All right,” he reluctantly conceded, the concern in his eyes obvious. “Later, though.”
She nodded her agreement, since she knew Ryan wasn’t going to take no for an answer, and he would push her until she opened up to him, just as he had many times before. As much as she fought it, she usually felt better after she and Ryan had talked things through. Right now, though, she just had to sort out her feelings before she could share them. Sofia wanted to focus on something else. “What were you saying about celebrating?”
“We should do something to celebrate you finally having your cast off. What about dinner tonight?”
“Restaurant or with your family?” Sofia absolutely loved Ryan’s family. Every single one of them. His parents, Travis and Jacinta, reminded her of exactly what good parents should be. And she was already closer to Ryan’s brothers than she’d been to her own: Jack was bossy and opinionated and a cop, and Mark was a doctor with four little kids.
“I was going to say romantic restaurant—just the two of us—but I can see from the look on your face that you want to have dinner with my family.” He grinned at her.
“Your family is the best.” Her smile faltered a little. “They’re the family I always wished that I had. I wish they were my family,” she said, with a tiny hint of desperation.
“Sofia,” Ryan’s voice turned firm, and he reached for her hand, “my family is your family now, and they always will be. They adore you, but not quite as much as I adore you,” he teased gently.
She knew that what he’d said was true, and she allowed his words to soothe her. Sofia knew she and Ryan were going to get married one day, have a family of their own, and grow old together. And she knew that Ryan’s family loved her as much as she loved them.
“Dinner with my family, it is,” Ryan groaned melodramatically, pulling into the driveway at her house—more their house now. Ryan had moved in when she was released from the hospital. It had been both a personal and practical decision. She had limited movement and needed someone to help her with the basics, like showering, getting dressed, and cooking. She had also needed the emotional support. So as much as Ryan being there helped with all those things, they both also knew that it was what each of them wanted. It was the beginning of being a couple.
“Thanks,” she smiled at Ryan.
“Anytime,” he smiled back. “Wait for me to come and help you out,” he ordered.
She rolled her eyes; she hated it when Ryan ordered her about, even though she knew he only ever did it when he thought it was in her best interests. Deciding to humor him, Sofia stayed put till he came around to her side of the car and opened her door.
“You ready?” Ryan asked.
She nodded slowly. She was a little tentative about walking on her own for the first time. Of course, her doctor had made sure she could walk before letting her leave, but that had been different. She’d been in the hospital, so if anything had gone wrong, there were doctors to help her. If she fell at home, she could hurt herself all over again. She still didn’t have a lot of strength, and her leg hadn't been used properly in months, so it was extremely plausible that it could give out from underneath her.
“A little scared?” Ryan seemingly read her mind.
She nodded again.
“Take it nice and slow,” he reminded her.
He handed her the walking stick the doctor had given her to use after graduating from both the wheelchair and crutches. Hopefully, she’d soon be down to nothing but her own two legs.
Wrapping his arm around her waist, Ryan eased her down to the ground, keeping his arm there until she was steady. Then he released her, pushed the car door shut, and headed for the house.
“Wait,” she called after him, panicked, sure that she would fall if she tried to walk on her own.
He paused. “Sofia, you can do this. I saw you do it at the hospital. You're not going to fall.”
“Ryan,” she begged, tears tumbling down her cheeks.
“Come on, cupcake,” he encouraged, “I'm waiting right here for you.”
She whimpered, trying to catch her breath enough to try to take a step. Her body had let her down a lot over the last year. Being poisoned by mushrooms had led to nausea, vomiting, dizziness, dehydration, fatigue, and overall general exhaustion. She had been prone to frequent fainting spells and learned to distrust her own body.
“I can't do it,” she protested.
“Yes, you can,” Ryan contradicted, holding his arms out as one would ready to catch a toddler learning to walk. “Just come to me.”
Gathering all her willpower, Sofia clutched the walking stick and forced her good leg to take a step. Then holding her breath, she cautiously dragged her bad leg up to meet it. Surprised when she remained upright, she looked to Ryan, who was watching her closely, ready to help her if she needed it, but wanting her to try it on her own. With renewed confidence, she took another step, and then another, and before she knew it, she was halfway down the path.
When she reached Ryan, he wrapped his arms around her waist and lifted her off the ground, spinning her in circles.
“I did it,” she grinned, stupidly proud of her small accomplishment.
“I never doubted you for a moment,” he grinned back. “Okay, now…” He paused as the phone in his pocket buzzed. He pulled it from his pocket, and his face grew instantly serious. “It’s Paige,” he told her setting her back down on the ground, but keeping her held against his chest, his arm around her waist.
“A case?” she asked when he hung up.
“Yes. Are you going to be okay here on your own?”
It must be a bad case judging from Ryan’s distracted tone. “I’ll be fine,” she assured him.
“Okay, I gotta go. Call Edmund if you need anything because I might not be able to answer my phone,” he reminded her.
“I know the drill.” Ryan had taken a couple of months off work after her accident, but he had returned eight weeks ago. He’d worked several cases since then, so she knew that he wasn't always able to answer calls.
“All right.” He released his hold on her and was almost to the car when he stopped and came back. “Sorry,” he apologized, tipping her face up to kiss her. “I’ll pick you up for dinner at eight.”
Waving goodbye as he drove off, Sofia said a prayer for the family of the victim in Ryan’s new case. She knew from firsthand experience what an overwhelming shock it was to be thrown totally unaware and unpr
epared into the middle of a nightmare from which there was no waking. She hoped the family had the strength to get through it.
* * * * *
12:00 P.M.
“Hey,” Paige greeted him.
Ryan half heard his partner but was too lost in thought to reply. He hadn't wanted to leave Sofia alone; it had been a rough couple of months for her. She was still recovering both physically and emotionally. This morning she’d surprised him with her fears about walking on her leg without the cast. He hadn't realized just how much she had grown to distrust her body, as though it were an enemy that could turn on her at any second. Walking away from her had gone against his overwhelming instincts to protect her, but by coddling her in this, it wouldn’t have helped her long term. She needed to regain trust in herself so she could keep moving forward. There were still things she needed to process, most notably her parentage. She hadn’t opened up to him about that yet.
Still, Ryan was sure he could get her to eventually.
He wasn’t good at knowing the right thing to say and do when someone was struggling emotionally. No, he corrected himself, that wasn’t quite true. It was more like he wasn’t confident enough in himself to do or say the right thing when someone he loved was suffering. Sofia had helped him a lot, probably more than she believed he had helped her. She understood that he felt guilty and responsible for his fiancée’s suicide three years ago, even though his logical mind knew it wasn’t his fault. But Katrina had been depressed, and he hadn't been able to help her. Sofia, on the other hand, reminded him on an almost daily basis that he helped her more than she could ever put into words.
Over the last five months they had both learned a lot about each other and themselves, and he was excited that their relationship continued to move forward…
“I said, hey!” Paige punched him in the shoulder, not soft but not too hard either.
He focused his attention on his partner. “Sorry, I was distracted. Hey.”
Calm brown eyes studied him. “What’s wrong with Sofia? I thought you’d be excited she was getting her cast off today. Did something go wrong? Is she okay?”