by Liz K. Lorde
Knowing that I didn’t have much time, I scrambled from all fours into a dead sprint for the pipe. Something sharp went into my left foot, which I assumed was a small piece of glass, and the urge to yelp was immediate. Fighting that, I grabbed the pipe at it’s head with both hands. I gripped tightly and held in a breath.
If he hadn’t heard my fall, I couldn’t let him catch wind of what I was doing now. Tugging at the pipe, I could feel it breaking free already. After each motion, I whipped my head between the door and what I was doing, the blood pounding in my ears.
Changing tactics, I sat down on the floor hastily, putting my feet up against the filthy, blue paint chipped wall. Bracing myself, I pulled on the pipe, loosening it further until it finally snapped off, only being held on by what little remain attached.
Getting up off of the floor, I gave the pipe a final yank, the metallic sound of it filling the air as I ripped it.
Moving hastily over to the wall, I positioned myself next to the door, waiting patiently for the bastard to come back. I gripped the pipe at both ends, lining it up horizontally and trying to picture where his face would show up when he opened the door. Every moment that I’d seen him flashed through my head as I mentally traced where the pipe would need to meet his face.
I would only get one shot at this.
The thought of screwing things up was working through my every thought, and watching for that door to open became my only purpose in life.
Another good minute passed – or I thought it had been that long – at least.
The Wolf opened the door, and when it creaked open just enough for me to fit the pipe through it, I wound the implement back and thrust it as hard as I was able. I felt the pipe connect with the man’s face, bashing into his forehead and making him ferociously curse.
Stepping through the doorway, I gripped the pipe like a baseball bat as I watched the injured killer stumble.
“Salope putain!” I didn’t know what that meant, so I took it as a personal invitation to swing wildly at his face. When I lashed the pipe at him, he covered himself, making it hit his hand.
Something crunched beneath the pipe, and he screamed out loud once more.
Unrelenting, the blood pumping hot in my veins, I attacked him again, striking at his head. This time he collapsed to the dirty floor, and I ran like a bat out of hell through the abandoned warehouse.
The place was dimly lit by hanging bulbs, and there were forklifts scattered around the sprawling room. Rows upon rows of shelves towered above me, maybe as tall as nine or ten feet and they were cluttered with old, unopened packages. I made my way through two rows of these metal and wood shelves, turning my head back quickly to look for the Wolf.
He hadn’t moved just yet. But I thought that I could hear him groaning.
Running out from the aisle, I glimpsed what looked like a loading area for trucks that was closed off. But there was a broken window that looked wide enough for me to crawl through.
Rushing towards it, my bare feet moved against the concrete floor, and I maneuvered past one of the forklifts in my way. My head was starting to feel light from the sense of impending doom. I closed the distance between the window, and practically ran into the wall that housed it.
Taking the pipe in my hands, I looked away and smashed what glass remained, shattering it. The glass shot outwards, and I heard the angry roar of an engine outside, but I was so focused on what I was doing it was only a distant thought in the moment.
I chucked the pipe through the window, and put my hands on the base of it. Picking myself up, my heart pounding with the thought of the Wolf catching up to me, I jumped through, cutting up my hands and back as I slid, falling onto the ground outside. I nearly fell on my ass, but managed to stick the landing on my feet.
The perimeter was gated, but I knew that I had to put as much distance between that psycho as possible. So without a plan anymore, I ran as fast as my body would allow, exhaustion starting to get the best of me. I could feel my hair sticking to my face now from the sweat.
There were two abandoned trucks by the loading bay I’d seen earlier, and a myriad of rusted shipping containers lit up by silver moonlight.
I ran up to the front gate only to find it locked by a series of thick chains and two locks. Shit. There was barbed wire all over the fence, and I let my eyes wander all around, trying to figure out the best way to scale it.
The sound of an engine roaring around the corner filled the air again, and a rush of hope pounded into my head. I couldn’t even stop myself from smiling. If I could just flag them down, I could get the fuck out of here.
The black vehicle came into view, it’s painfully bright headlights making it hard for me to see. “Hey!” I yelled, waving my hands wildly; what where they doing here? A dark thought ran across my mind, and I wondered in that brief, terribly joyous period if the Wolf wasn’t working alone.
Whoever it was, they had to have seen me. They honked the horn, and after that warning, the car barreled forward at an alarmingly fast rate.
My eyes went wide and for a heartbeat, it felt like I couldn’t move. My legs were jelly, and my mind was mentally spent from before.
Instinct kicked in and I dashed out of the way, the car smashing through the front gate - causing the fence to rupture. The chains rolled off from the window of the car and went through the air; the locks clattered against the floor and the car drifted hard to the right, with tires screeching as it came to a stop.
The driver’s seat door opened. It was a black Lincoln Town Car, one that I hadn’t seen before. My heart nearly stopped at the sight of a deeply concerned Michael standing there with a gray pistol in his hand. “Jane!” He barked, and he didn’t have to say another god damn word.
We ran for each other, and within the span of a few seconds, I was back in his arms, clinging onto him for dear life. He embraced me so tight that it kind of hurt, but I couldn’t care. I breathed him in and fought back at the urge to sob. “What happened?” Michael asked with worry, and he asked it again but I just squeezed onto him tighter, burying my head in his powerful chest. “Jane, I’m so sorry,” he murmured, “what’s going on?”
“I-I can’t explain it, and I’m so sorry. I love you so much.” I tried to tell him but my mind was going a mile a minute.
“I know,” Michael breathed, a protective look glimmering in his eyes. “I love you too – but you need to focus. What’s going on? You’re bleeding for Christ’s sake.”
“There’s some fucking, god damn psycho, and, and he was going to kill me. He’s-- he’s killed so many people.”
Grim understanding swept over Michael’s face, and he knew just how serious I was. He must not have known exactly how much danger I was in, but it was a good thing that he brought a weapon. “Get in the car baby,” he instructed, kissing the crown of my head. “Right now,” he ordered. “You’re safe, alright?” He assured. “You’re safe now.”
I didn’t want to leave him, but I nodded my head and moved over to the passenger door. Still filled with adrenaline, I swung it open and shut the door behind me, watching Michael through the rear window as he spotted the broken out window that I’d made.
Chapter 26
Michael
Moving through the warehouse I kept my eyes peeled for the filthy scum that put his hands on my girl. If it hadn’t been for Romero and the tracker on Jane’s watch, well, it terrified me what might have happened to her.
Better make this quick. Those wounds didn’t look good.
I kept my Browning 1911 380 Black Label at the ready, moving steady and checking the corners, moving through rows of dilapidated shelves. When I neared the end of a row, I looked for shadow’s moving on the ground from the yellow light above. Moving quickly was important, but moving carefully mattered more so.
Where are you hiding.
Bringing myself to the end of the row of shelves, I pressed my shoulder up against the hard corner, trying to gauge a feel for the room. I’d been within inche
s of taking a man’s life before, but never had to kill.
Springing out from the shadows, I drew a bead in front of me, trying to find where this psycho went. Near an opened door I saw fresh droplets of red that went towards the front of the building. Turning my head to check behind me first, I advanced forward to the old and dirty metal door. Giving it a push open with my foot, it creaked and revealed a couple feet of rope on the floor, along with more blood.
When I was sure the room was empty, I spun on my heel and wondered if Jane’s assailant had somehow slipped outside. The thought gnawed on my mind in those precious seconds, as I moved to the far right of the spacious room. If she were in trouble, she would have honked the horn or gotten the hell out of there.
Should have brought more than one gun.
While moving to the opposite end of the room, I checked between the rows of boxes and various items. Still nothing. I crept my way along the last row on the right, where there was nothing but a wall to my side. I hugged along it, stepping to the very end, once more looking at the floor for any moving shadows.
When I rounded the corner, a figure jumped at me, and before instinct could kick in and have me squeeze the trigger, I was tackled to the ground.
I hit the floor hard, and a round popped off, clipping the man’s shoulder, spurting up red over my face. In the ensuing tussle, he wrested the gun from me, sending it sliding some feet away.
He was tall. Lanky. Not without muscle, but nowhere near as strong as me. My heart was thumping, and the blood in me was running hot.
This man nearly took Jane from me.
For that, I’d make him pay dearly.
He had something sharp in his hand, some kind of red blade that gleamed from the poor lighting of the abandoned warehouse.
It went right for my neck, but I sent a hand up to his throat, trying to squeeze the life from him and keep it away from me. His golden hair swayed along with him, the first sheens of sweat forming on his forehead and skin. There was a murderous look on his face, and if I hadn’t been so thrilled on taking the man’s life for what he did - I would have been normally terrified.
“You like picking on girls?” I asked him through grit teeth, struggling to push away his free hand that tried to keep me pinned. “Prison’s too good for you,” I spat.
He wouldn’t last much longer.
“This is none of your business,” the man hissed through his chapped lips. “This is my work,” he insisted, realizing that the blade would never reach my throat. With that in mind, he changed tactics and pulled his hand back, stabbing at my forearm.
Pain burned through me where it stuck, and I groaned, but it only served to piss me off more. When he stabbed a second time at me, I flung him off of me in one motion and moved on top of him as he was rolling to get up.
Not happening.
I kicked him while he was downed, shoving the end of my foot into his ribs and knocking the wind from him. Not letting him get up, I shoved him onto his back and straddled him, snapping his wrist and hearing it crunch like a twig in my hands. The man writhed and yelled in agony, and he dropped the blade no matter how badly he wanted to hold onto it.
“This is for you being so fucked up,” I barked, throwing a forceful hook at his face, a rush of endorphins blooming in the back of my head. “And this is for Jane,” I launched another punch at the man’s face, this time with the whole weight of my body, nearly falling off of the psycho’s person as I did.
I sucked in a breath and swept my hair back, trying to calm my overloaded nerves. His face was well and bloody, his nose broken, and bruises were already starting to form.
Picking myself off of him, I slunk over towards the gun and scooped it up, turning back around and standing over the downed madman. “Don’t waste your breath begging. You’ll need it where you’re going.”
The last thing he saw was the flash of my muzzle.
Chapter 27
Jane
We got back from Michael’s mansion around five in the morning, just an hour or so before the sun was to rise. His butler Redwood was a trained physician, along with all of his other skills it would seem, and for that I was thankful, because even with the low dosage of pain meds that I was given I still felt these phantom pains.
The way that scalpel raked across my skin. It made me shiver just to think about it.
Michael squeezed me in his arms tighter while we laid together in my bed. I was able to make out the stitch-work and butterfly-bandages on his left forearm, the wounds serving as a dark reminder of our ordeal.
“Ow,” I squeaked, his hand having touched me in the wrong place.
“Sorry,” he gruffed, “arm’s killing me.”
“How did you know that I was in trouble?” I had to resist the urge to bite him in that second.
Michael ran his hand through my hair. “The tracker on your watch,” he whispered, “I was worried. And I missed you, and with you being all the way over on the other side of town at night... I thought maybe Ligotti was crossing you.”
“I’m glad you were still looking out for me,” I told him, leaning my head back into his chest and looking up into his comforting green eyes. “I felt terrible for what I did. After our fight.”
“I’m sorry, Jane,” Michael put his hand over my heart, feeling it beat with his. “I should have trusted that you were doing what you thought was right. For me. For us.”
“You were right to be mad.”
“I’m not mad anymore. I’m just glad that you’re alright,” he kissed above my eyebrow. “Can’t believe he... did that to your dog, for not looking at him.”
I gripped his hand tighter, hating how I could have been so fooled and hurt. But Michael was here. My rock. “I don’t want to talk,” I confessed to him, we’d already discussed it enough for one day. “I want to move on,” I turned around and climbed up him, kissing at his lips.
He put a hand to the back of my head, grabbing my hair in his fingers, leaning deeply into the passionate kiss before pulling away and smiling. “I have a pretty good idea what you want to move on,” he teased, sending a hand down to my ass and squeezing firmly. “Don’t ruin your stitches,” he warned as my hand moved down to his dark stone-wash jeans, unbuttoning them and shimmying them off of his person. I handed the pants to Michael, letting him dig around through them for a condom and unwrap one while peeling off his lion design boxer-briefs.
When I took him inside of my mouth, I was able to feel him stiffening inside of me, tightness forming between my legs. I moaned against Michael’s erection with pleasure; just giving him that gift was enough to get my panties wet with excitement and raw lust. While I was taking him in my mouth, he removed his beige shirt, throwing it off to the floor while the LED lights of my bedroom gave me a proper glimpse of his pleased face.
One of his hands went to my head and pressed me down hard against him, holding me there and causing me to gag against him; my nose running with fluids just before I pushed back against his hand and unsheathing myself off of him. I smiled at him and wiped the saliva from my mouth, letting him roll the condom on his hardness while I stripped the heather-gray tee and black capris off of me. When he pinched the tip of the condom, and it was secure on his delightfully hard cock, I eagerly removed my black cotton panties, opting to keep my gray sports bra on while I crawled on top of Michael.
I was still sore from the previous trauma, but I wasn’t going to let that stop me from escaping all the pain.
He was my misery killer. And I burned to show him that.
Straddling him, he put his hand on his cock, and I helped to guide him inside of my slick womanhood, edging the head of his dick into my entrance. I sank down on him slowly, letting him enter my tight, soft linings. Pinpricks of euphoria started just behind my clit, and a warmth cloaked me from head to toe as I bobbed my hips down further, letting my pussy ease down halfway on to his cock – a moan of passion reverberating from my chest.
His hands moved to my hips, holding onto them firml
y. “Go slow, baby,” Michael crooned, feeling around my stomach and back as I rode him at a relaxed pace. I rocked my hips forwards and back, having his shaft press up against the spongy g-spot of my sex, sending waves of electricity up my spine.
“I love having you inside of me,” I whimpered, sending my hand up from the V section of his crotch, higher and higher still past his stomach, all the way up beyond his nipples and to the base of his neck. I dug my nails into his skin, riding him harder, riding him faster. I was putting everything that I was into this man. Into this moment. “Can I...” my fingers were aching to claw down him, and my nipples began to harden from the primal sexual energy.
Michael’s eyes glimmered with understanding, and he moved in perfect rhythm to my hips now. “Hard,” he commanded.
Oh fuck. Hearing his steely voice like that only pushed me closer and closer still to the edge of a beautiful oblivion; a sweet release that my body had been aching for since the last time that we were together. I raked my nails heavily and slow down his chest, grinding madly against him, feeling his cock stirring me up inside and soaking me with bliss. “I need you,” I cried out, shutting my eyes. “Need to feel you inside of me every day.”
“Every day,” he promised in a gravelly voice, pressing his hands tight against my ass. “I’m so close, Jane. Come with me.”
We called out each others name, our act coming to it’s glorious crescendo. I sank down on him for the last time, feeling the way that he pushed his cock deep inside of me – having it painfully press against my cervix; the walls of my pussy contracted, and my legs had miniature convulsions while he threw his head back against the bed in pure ecstasy.
His fingers dug into my backside hard, and I shuddered as the last waves of euphoria crashed against me. The dark tides of lust eventually subsided not ten seconds later, and when my body was finally ready to go limp, I collapsed on top of his magnificent chest. I’d worked up a luster of sweat, panting for breath against Michael’s throat; he still had quite a bit of energy left in him, only partially out of breath from bucking into me. His soft mouth worked at the side of my neck and it’s nape, sinking his teeth into me here and there, sucking now and again.