He walked back to the bed and yanked the knife out of Warrant’s leg, ignoring the muted scream of pain. Climbing on the bed, he settled one shin over Warrant’s legs, his other boot coming to rest alongside the man’s side. Leaning forwards, he dragged the tip of the blade up the center of Warrant’s chest, leaving a swath of red behind as the steel dug through flesh. “Wonder if you have a heart inside there.” Cold fury possessed him, stripping everything away except the pounding need to make this man pay. Skipping the neck, he placed the blade crosswise between Warrant’s teeth and pressed down. The tender skin at the corners of the man’s mouth split like soft cheese under the pressure, runnels of blood making their way down his cheeks. “Wonder if you understand how your mouth displeases me.”
Warrant was heaving side to side, and Owen had to steady himself with a palm on Warrant’s neck. He dug under the flopping jaw and closed his thumb and fingers, using a modified version of the blood choke hold for a few seconds until the man stilled. Head tipped to the side, Owen applied the tip of the blade to Warrant’s left eye, digging it out of its home until a fragile stalk of flesh was all that held it in place. A twist of the blade severed that, and he plucked it out of the air, holding it in front of Warrant’s remaining eye, so it was the first thing the man saw when he came back to consciousness a few moments later. “Here’s lookin’ at you, you piece of trash.”
The man’s terror rendered him mindless, bucking hard and fast, twisting to throw Owen’s weight off him. The sounds coming from behind the sock stuffed in his mouth weren’t words but an eerie, undulating wail. Owen nearly toppled to the side when the man’s writhing efforts dislocated his other shoulder, the pitch of the cries increasing at the added pain. Owen rode it out for another few seconds, then shook his head, bringing the blade down to swing in a short, stabbing motion at Warrant’s neck, impaling him and angling the blade to sever the outer carotid artery. With the blade still in place, most of the blood poured inwards, following the exposed and penetrated trachea to the lungs. Red liquid frothed out of the wound within seconds, air mixing with the blood to create a fine mist Owen couldn’t entirely avoid.
Between the rapid blood loss and the liquid-filled lungs, the end came swiftly for Warrant after all.
Owen swiped at his hands and arms with the edge of a blanket as he verified there wouldn’t be any surprises with the body. When he removed the knife from the wound, he found the covers of the bed underneath the man’s shoulders were saturated, dark with blood that had escaped while Warrant’s heart still beat. Shiloh’s blood was separate, and Owen found himself glad the little girl’s pain wasn’t touched by that of the pervert. He peeled back the man’s eyelid, finding the sclera of his remaining eye bloodred with burst veins. The cornea was already growing cloudy, all spark of life and intelligence fled.
Owen brought his head up, twisting to look directly into the camera. “Show’s over, folks. If you’re watchin’, this is me puttin’ you on notice.” Enunciating carefully, he promised, “You cannot hide from me. I will find you. And when I find you.” He glanced down at Warrant. “I’ll kill you, too.”
Camera off, Owen documented the setup with photos from his phone. There was a tablet on the shelf underneath the filming equipment, and when he touched the screen, it woke with a browser already opened. He recognized the URL as a node on the darknet where one of his personas had spent considerable time, emulating the kind of sick bastard Warrant would be drawn toward.
That would be his target. That’s where I’ll find the rest of the like-minded sons of bitches.
He powered down everything and stowed the pieces in his pockets, not taking the time to make a more permanent home in the backpack he wore underneath the jacket. It was the work of moments to cut away the bloody evidence Shiloh had left behind, and deal with the parts of Warrant that might have touched her. Too bad I didn’t realize I needed to trim the fat until after he was dead. The heavy copper smell had become insidious, and Owen needed fresh air more than he needed to secure things per protocol. He already knew where he’d be hunting.
Terrence was still where Owen had left him, sitting on the ground, but now with the other children gathered close. Their murmuring voices trailed off as they saw Owen stride out of the cabin, closing the door carefully behind himself. Their hands clutched possessively at the necks and hems of the shirts they now wore. Boys all, the ages ranged from the barely-teen of Terrence to a skinny child who looked no older than six or seven. There were so many of them, it boggled the mind. Owen and Alace hadn’t been able to find documentation for all the kids, just the ones acquired through the organization they’d dismantled.
Owen didn’t speak but lifted a hand in a wave Terrence returned, the kids swiveling en masse to track Owen’s movements through the yard. He stopped at the tree line and used the drone’s cameras to study the clump of children, then swept the forest all around the cabin. He turned off the broadcast, and the dogs immediately returned to the front of the clearing, milling through the children.
Owen turned and walked up the road, triggering a single signal from the tablet to the satellite Wi-Fi, and from there to a server in the darknet cloud. Upon receiving the affirmative notification, the man he’d paid extremely well to manage some of the information would begin placing calls. With his voice masked by a variety of technologies, he would emulate a dozen alarmed citizens from several different counties, making it impossible for the authorities to ignore the calls for help.
Within an hour, Owen anticipated the clearing to be awash in lights and people.
Within an hour, each of those kids would be headed to a better situation.
Within an hour, Terrence would stare into the concerned features of a social worker, and he’d tell them everything.
Owen’s job was to be anywhere except here by that time.
***
Alace
“Beloved?”
Eric’s tone was cautiously questioning. Alace looked up from where she was shoving her feet into her shoes to see him standing, holding Lila.
“We’re going home.” She waited for an argument, an unexpected tightness in her muscles easing when all Eric did was nod in understanding. “The doctor agreed there’s no medical reason to forbid the discharge. We’ve been here long enough for Lila to have that second blood test they said was required, but beyond that, it’s not necessary. She’s healthy, and so am I.” Alace focused on her shoes, working one heel up and down until the edge of the shoe unfolded, fitting itself more comfortably to her foot. “I wanna go home, Eric. I wanna be home.”
He drifted closer, fingers of one hand sliding through her hair in a possessive move that soothed her. Eric leaned down and passed their daughter to her arms, then kissed the side of Alace’s face tenderly. No longer questioning, his voice held nothing but support as he said, “Then we go home.”
Not for the first time, Alace was bowled over by how well Eric simply got her and understood what made her tick. There was limited security at the hospital, mostly focused on preventing a mismatch between mother and baby, or for restricting overeager visitors. It was probably fine for what they were doing. It is fine, she reminded herself. But the level of security the hospital might be comfortable with and what would allow Alace to sleep at night—vastly different things.
“Do you have what you need?” He hefted the bag she’d already packed and looked around the room. “Are they bringing a wheelchair?”
“Yes, on the wheelchair. Grundella gnashed her teeth at me to ensure I wouldn’t try to walk out under my own power.” Alace grinned. Grundella was her name for the troll. The daytime nurse assigned to Alace’s room hadn’t been impressed by her increasing demands to leave the hospital. She’d muttered and mumbled about new mothers not understanding the demands of infants, and had stalled initiating the call for the promised discharge until Alace had finally used her cell phone to contact the doctor herself. “Also yes on the question about being packed up. What you’ve got is everything. My g
o-bag from delivery and the welcome to motherhood gifts from the hospital.”
Lila made the tiniest sound, and Alace shifted her gaze down into her daughter’s face, feeling a return of the stupefied smile she wore every time she was near the baby. Which was all the time. Eric had taken his opportunities to hold their daughter while Alace had napped, because he’d quickly recognized Alace wasn’t easily giving up her girl for anyone, not even her daddy.
“Mother said she’ll be here as soon as possible from Malibu.”
Alace trailed the back of her finger across Lila’s cheek, ignoring the statement for now.
“Mrs. Ward?” The squeaking shuffle of rubber-soled shoes in the doorway signaled the return of Grundella.
Alace looked up and frowned.
“Where’s the wheelchair?”
Grundella smiled toothily, red-tinged fleshy lips spreading across her face. “I’ve requisitioned one, but it could be a bit before it’s delivered.”
This was nothing less than passive resistance to something the woman didn’t like. The nurse could conceivably drag her feet until Lila needed feeding and changing, and then it would be dinnertime, and afterwards there’d be yet another reason for Alace to not leave. Heart pounding at the idea of spending one more night in the hospital, Alace took a calming breath and cleared her throat. “Eric, love, the rules were I can’t walk out, correct?”
“Alace, I’m not sure—”
“I am. I can’t walk out, not and have the discharge be a normal one.” She didn’t want any scrutiny applied to her life in any way, and Grundella had made vague threats about calling social services if Alace walked out against medical advice. She didn’t know if the woman could actually do such a thing but had decided to adhere to the rule she followed of better-safe-than-sorry. “Wanna run the bag down, and then come back and pick me up?” She angled her head to see Eric’s face. He was losing a fight to control his expression, corners of his mouth lifting slightly. “Literally?”
“Whatever my babies need.” He stepped to the door and forced Grundella backwards into the hallway. Reaching behind him for the doorknob, he glanced back at Alace and winked. “Back very soon, beloved.”
Her attention returned to Lila, Alace smiled as she whispered, “If you ever have a sibling, we’re doing a home birth.”
She didn’t know what Eric might have said to the overbearing nurse, but the door remained closed until he returned, wheelchair in hand.
“You ready to blow this Popsicle stand?” Alace smiled at him, nodding at his question. “Then, milady—” He parked the chair close to where she sat, locking the brakes. “—your humble chariot awaits.”
“God, you’re so corny.” His hand on her elbow steadied her as she stood and turned, backing up a half step to reseat herself in the wheelchair. “All part of your overwhelming charm.”
“Good to know you still think I’m charming.” Eric bent close and pressed his lips to hers, gazes locked. He was smiling as he pulled away. “You’re so very stuck with me.”
“You say that like it’s a bad thing.” She rebalanced Lila in her arms, bringing the blanket up over the baby, tucking her close. “I happen to like being stuck, but only with you.”
“Then that’s lucky for me.”
Alace glanced around the empty room as they swept through the door and into the hallway. Earlier, she’d requested the nurses rehome the vases of flowers that had crowded her room, gifts from Eric’s family, friends, and professional acquaintances. The nursing staff hadn’t delayed, placing the arrangements with patients who didn’t have any. Sans cards, of course. Those were packed in the bag Eric had already taken to the car.
Grundella stood at the central desk along with a handful of other nurses, hers the only unsmiling face. Eric paused next to them when the woman stepped forwards, and Alace was about to request he continue when she saw the paperwork she held. Grundella—Jessica—crouched next to the chair and extended the folder. “There’s a printout for a checklist of things we’d normally go through every few hours, just to make sure the little one’s okay. I’ve put coupons in there for some supports you might find helpful, and at your husband’s request, signed you up for diaper delivery. Babies go through a lot of diapers and wipes.” Jessica smiled, this expression transforming her face, and Alace watched, fascinated as compassion and encouragement surfaced in place of the disappointed scowl she’d grown accustomed to. Jessica continued, “There’s a hotline number you can call with questions, but I’ve also written down my cell phone number for you. Call me any time, Mrs. Ward. Lila’s a gorgeous little girl, and she’s lucky to have you for her mother. Be well.”
Stunned at the change in the nurse’s attitude, Alace accepted the paperwork and settled back into the chair. It took a moment to find her voice, but she eventually murmured a quiet, “Thank you.” The other nurses all wore identical expressions of amusement, and slowly suspicion bloomed inside Alace.
The elevator was nearing the main floor when she twisted around in the chair and looked up at Eric. “What did you say to her?”
He threaded his fingers through her hair in that way she loved. “I merely reminded her that you were a best-selling author who may choose to memorialize these moments in one of a couple different ways. Asking if she wanted to be the villain or the hero jarred her loose from that bulldog stance she’d adopted.” He shook his head. “Honey versus vinegar, no big deal.” The elevator slowed, and he bent to again press his lips to hers, the sway and dip of her belly not entirely due to the mechanical movement. “Let’s take our little girl home.”
An unfamiliar car purred alongside the curb, engine idling where it was parked in the half-circle drive in front of the hospital entrance. Eric pulled a fob from his pocket, and the locks beeped in a muted and well-mannered tone. Alace stared at the car, then made a show of looking around for the SUV Eric had owned since before she’d met him. Alace had been through a dozen cars in the same time, acquiring and discarding the kind of nondescript junkers she’d needed for her gigs. Eric had held tight to his aging SUV, and she’d often seen him patting the hood affectionately as he approached or left the vehicle. He grinned at her, the slightly embarrassed expression making his already ridiculously handsome face even more so.
“What’d you do?” She remained seated, keeping her gaze on his face as he bent to the side and locked the brakes on the wheelchair, then moved around to crouch in front to flip up the footrests. “Eric?”
He ran a hand through his hair, that damned sheepish grin staying in place on his face. “OJ wasn’t a good choice for us anymore.”
Alace jerked her head back, the movement startling Lila, who shifted underneath the protective blanket. She soothed the baby absently, her gaze staying on Eric’s face. “Your SUV was named OJ? After the most famous slow police chase in the world? Why did I not know this? That’s the best kind of fodder for blackmail. I feel like I should have known this, Eric. Kinda betrayed right now, honestly.”
“I just—” He swallowed hard, making a thick sound in his throat. “I can’t let anything happen to you. You or Lila. This is a super safe car. Todd helped me out with all the research. He got recommendations from all kinds of people.”
“Todd.” Eric’s best friend wasn’t Alace’s favorite person. “Helped with research?” He tipped his head to the side and nodded again, slower. “In the past twenty-six hours?” Which was how old Lila was. The newborn blood test had to be performed no sooner than twenty-four hours, which was the only reason Alace had agreed to stay at the hospital as long as she had.
Understanding dawned in Eric’s eyes, and he huffed a laugh, shaking his head in a definite no. “Not the past day, no.” He stood, opened the back door of the sedan, and reached for Lila, gently taking her from Alace’s arms. “It’s been on order for nearly two weeks and at the dealership for the past three days. I wanted—” He bent far into the car and tucked their daughter into the rear-facing seat in the middle, carefully bringing the straps down over h
er shoulders to lock them into place. Withdrawing from the car, he left the door open and turned to face Alace. “To surprise you.” He threw both hands up to shoulder height and shook them like a cheerleader’s pom-poms. “Surprise!”
Alace laughed aloud as she accepted his assistance rising from the chair. Not that it was needed, necessarily, but it felt nice to be cosseted for now, a reaction to Eric’s tender care swelling inside like a warm balloon of happiness. “You’re such a goofball. Color me surprised, mister. Also, I concur with the selection. This is a great car. Made from metal instead of plastic, it’s not quite a tank circa the 80s, but it will definitely hold up in an accident. The safety rating doesn’t lie.” She settled into the seat beside Lila, lifting her feet into the car. Eric leaned in to buckle her seat belt as she was reaching out to uncover Lila’s tiny face. “I would have helped research, you know.” She made a face and inched forwards to touch her lips to Eric’s nose. “Todd? Really?”
“When are you going to let go of your annoyance with him?” Eric didn’t wait for an answer before closing the door. This was a long-standing argument at this point, stemming from Todd’s behavior a few months ago after he’d asked for assistance with an issue. His constant calling and requesting reassurance afterwards, pelting her with questions, persistently demanding to understand things she’d made damn sure he’d never truly know about—all of that had been more than enough to sour Alace’s attitude towards Todd.
Alace noticed Jessica had followed them down and was standing next to the wheelchair, now speaking earnestly to Eric. He took something from her and shoved it into his jacket pocket, backing away with a brief wave of a hand.
An Embarrassment of Monsters: A Dark Romantic Suspense Novel (Alace Sweets Book 3) Page 10