This is for her. I think it always has been.
I turn away from my indecision. The air flows in and out of my lungs easily on the walk back.
I will finish the job for my Little Bird.
I’ll chase away her demons.
I will make sure we’re safe from the law.
I’ll stay with Rylan long after this job is over, here or wherever we end up.
It takes a while for me to get back to the RV park, and when I do, I’m exhausted. I want nothing more than to crawl into my bed and sleep straight through till the sun blazes in the sky.
“That’s one mighty determined look on your face, boy.”
I reach for my gun. It’s my gut reaction.
“Fuck, Willy. Goddamn it! What the hell are you doing outside my place this late?”
“I’m closer to Louise when I’m under the stars.”
I drop my hand back to my side, and both Willy and I pretend like I didn’t almost shoot his ass.
“You have the look, Callen. You’ve been knocked off your feet by a woman.”
“Rylan is a knockout.” That’s an understatement. Despite all the trouble she’s caused.
“You’ve had a change of heart about your relationship with the girl being destructive?”
“I’m still not certain it isn’t. Honestly, I’m probably more convinced it is. But it’s worth it.”
I sit next to Willy, who scratches his chin and studies me closely. It’s only then that I realize I’ve grown used to his intrusions.
“Sometimes, something better is built on top of the destruction of what stood before.”
Guilt washes over part of me because Willy has no idea what he’s encouraging.
“I’m not so sure you’d feel the same way if you really knew me.”
“I know you better than you think. The world isn’t black and white. There is no such thing as definitive good and evil, boy. I’ve walked the earth long enough to learn that ten times over. You and that girl are good for one another. I could see that the first time I saw you together. Treat her well and heal the broken parts of her soul. She needs it. I could see that right away, too.”
“She’s strong. She’ll heal on her own, but I’ll hold her for the fight.”
Rylan doesn’t need anyone to survive, but with me, she’ll live.
And that’s what keeps me going.
Rylan
Planned.
Plotted.
Schemed.
Laurence Rawlings has round-the-clock protection service. A squad car has been parked outside his house and follows when he leaves, which isn’t very often. There is always a glitch, though. Nothing is ever perfect, and the same can be said about his police security. Callen has been casing the situation, noting the routine, and searching for a weakness. There is a ten-minute window where Laurence is vulnerable. It’s a tiny opening in the early afternoon for Callen to work with.
Any minute, Laurence will be ours. During the officers’ shift change, there is a fault in their rotation. Consistently, there is a ten-minute gap between when the morning officer leaves and the night detail arrives. Evidence has been planted in a security box that frames Elena for all five murders. Once Laurence is dealt with, Callen will initiate the chain reaction that points the finger in her direction. All we’ll need to do is pull the trigger, and she’ll fall.
I’ll have an alibi, but Elena won’t.
Our plan has already been put into action and it takes effort for me to hide my excitement.
I’m in Vanessa’s office. I called her to meet with me for a follow-up, a one-on-one appointment, under the pretense that I’m simply continuing with my progress, but I can’t focus.
“Rylan, are you okay?” Vanessa questions.
“Huh? What?”
“You seem distracted. I asked how you’ve been since your sessions ended.”
“I’ve been doing well. Tatum and I are still friends, and I haven’t had any outbursts.”
“Well, that’s good. Are you still using the mediation techniques? Journaling?”
I smile as brightly as I can. “I am. They really do help. I had a question about whether you think adding a high-intensity workout to my program would help.”
We chat, and I pepper her with questions that will keep me in her office for as long as possible. She’s encouraging, and I fake pride about continuing to work on managing my anger triggers. It takes hours for me to exhaust all my talking points, but I’ll hand it to Vanessa; she never tries to kick me out.
When I leave, I get twenty bucks out of the ATM down the street, and the machine gets me on video. Then, I go to the grocery store, pick up food for the week, and keep my receipt. The shift change should have happened hours ago, but I still go about my day, cataloging my whereabouts. I go to a new gym I’ve been meaning to check out. They are offering free guest passes this week. I sign my name into the ledger at the front desk and sit in the locker room for an hour before signing out.
Almost as soon as my foot hits the sidewalk, police cars zoom by me. Their sirens are at full volume, and the blue and red lights shine brightly in the darkening sky. My bet is that they just figured out that Laurence is no longer safe in his house, and I picture their frantic search as I head to my car, which is in a parking garage that has video surveillance. Then, I head home.
A squad car is outside my house when I get there. I saw that one coming, and I invite the officers into my home, which has already been cleaned of any evidence that could incriminate me. The newspaper clippings have all been burned, and that spare room now looks like the perfect guest quarters. I even brought my notebook filled with letters to Aria over to Callen’s. I have nothing to hide. After offering the two officers something to drink, I take a seat in my living room, unaffected by their hostile auras.
“Ms. Pierce, can you account for your whereabouts today?” the slightly taller and rounder cop to my left asks.
“I had an appointment earlier, and then I ran some errands. Why?” My tone is smooth, and there isn’t an ounce of defensiveness in my voice. It seamlessly appears that I’m none the wiser to why these officers were waiting for me outside my home.
“What time was your appointment and where?”
The shorter, leaner officer keeps quiet while his friend runs things.
“Noon, with my counselor, Vanessa Sharpe, at the Canter Building, off-campus.”
“Will Vanessa corroborate that?”
“I’m going to go with yes. I was there, so I don’t see a reason she wouldn’t.”
The officer glares at me, obviously not amused by my nonchalance.
“And after, where did you go after?”
“To the bank, the grocery store, and then the gym.”
Both officers move closer, still standing instead of sitting, even though I offered them a seat.
“Do you have any proof for your whereabouts after you left your counseling appointment?”
“Proof?”
“Were you with anyone? Talk to anyone? Maybe you kept a receipt from your day?”
“Um, yes, I think so.” I stand to retrieve my purse from across the room. “I usually keep my bank receipts, and the one from the store probably landed somewhere at the bottom of my bag. Let me check.”
The officers follow my movements, as if I’ll attack at any moment.
I bring the purse back to my couch and search for the receipts like I don’t know exactly where they are. “Yes, here they are.” I pull the crinkled pieces of paper out for the officers to see.
The two men inspect them like they hold secrets far greater than their standard black-and-white information.
“Oh, and I signed in at the gym. I suppose you could check with them.”
After a few more questions, they make their way to the door, seemingly disappointed with their finds. I can’t help but have a little smug satisfaction, but I do a good job of hiding it from the officers as they exchange pleasantries with me before they cross the threshold on the
ir way out. They don’t go far though. Their cruiser leaves my driveway and parks just off my property, facing the front of my home.
I go about my night, business as usual. I make dinner, pretend to be interested in a television show, and get into bed.
It’s only after I’m completely hidden from prying eyes that I let the anxiousness surface. I toss and turn, jittery and unable to sleep. The jeans I’m wearing cut too tightly around my legs. The buttons on my shirt become restrictive. The house is silent, and I strain to pick up every possible sound. Just when I think I can’t take the waiting anymore, it happens. A creak of the floorboard, the quiet swing of my bedroom door being opened, and the clearing of a throat.
“We need to go. Quickly.” Callen’s whispered words have me sliding from my bed.
He takes my hand in his, and we leave my house through the back door. Together, we run through yards and cross a few streets. Callen’s truck waits for us, parked in the shadows. Neither of us speaks until we’re comfortable in our seats, and the truck is in drive.
“Are you positive we couldn’t have been seen leaving?” I ask him while looking out the back window.
“This is what I do, Rylan. We’re fine. No one will know you left your house tonight.”
“Did you have any trouble at Laurence’s?”
“None.”
We stop at a red light.
“Kiss me,” I demand.
Callen leans over the armrest, and his hands warm my cheeks while his lips press against mine. Death lingers from his lips. It’s coming. One more, the final kill to put this to rest. I moan against his mouth. Visions of blood and pain fill the forefront of my mind. Callen’s kiss and Laurence’s coming death have my panties wet.
The light turns green, and we move forward—to Hartford.
The highway is relatively free of travelers, and we make it to the twenty-four-hour low-budget storage facility without incident. Still, I scan the area around us as Callen opens the door to the unit.
One short stuttered inhale and a rushing exhale.
“You’re welcome, baby,” Callen gloats.
A wicked smile lights up my face. My man couldn’t have given me a better present.
“Thank you. This is perfect. It’s exactly how I imagined it.”
Tears fall from Number One’s eyes, his expensive trousers are stained with his own piss, and he tries to push the gag from his mouth, which is pointless. He ignores me and watches Callen, as if he’s the bigger threat. I have news for him. Laurence has no bigger enemy than me. He’ll be sure of that after tonight.
“Do you know who I am?” The words seethe from my tongue.
Laurence nods affirmatively. His spit coats my fingers as I remove the gag from his mouth.
“I’ve waited for this for years.”
“You have the wrong guy. I never hurt anyone. I swear.”
Tsk. Tsk. Tsk.
“It isn’t in your best interest to lie to me, Laurence.” I inch my way closer to him, and the tarp under my feet crinkles. “You and your friends stole the best person I’ve ever known. I couldn’t even go to her funeral. How could I when they never even found her body? Does any of it bother you?”
“You have this all wrong.” He continues the innocent act.
“Do I? You went on a date with Aria Martin, and you were a complete ass. You didn’t like that she didn’t agree to a second date, did you? You weren’t used to hearing the word no. She bruised your ego, didn’t she?”
“I never asked her for a second date. When she didn’t put out, I wrote her off as a prude. I wasn’t going to waste my time with some childish girl looking for a fairy tale.” Laurence immediately seems to regret his words when he glances nervously at Callen.
“Don’t look at him. Look at me! You’re dealing with me!” The order from me causes Laurence to slowly turn his head my way. I can see the resentment in his eyes about the way he’s being spoken to. “You have control issues. Don’t you, Laurence? It bothers you that I’m in charge here.”
“You won’t get away with this. The cops are already on to you.”
“While I appreciate your concern, it’s unnecessary.” I wave my hand in the air to signal my dismissal. “Tell me the truth about what happened to Aria and tell me quickly before I lose my temper.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Laurence lies to me.
Callen steps forward, but my hand gently pushes against his chest. Laurence is mine. I need to handle this.
“Baby, I got this.” I palm his cock through his jeans.
“You people are sick,” Laurence utters.
I give Laurence a sweet smile. “You have no idea how twisted I am, but you’ll find out.”
I hold my hand out to Callen, and it’s as if he can read my mind because he begins to root through his bag. His eyebrows pull together while I impatiently wait. He shuffles through the bag like any one of the items in there won’t do the trick.
“Callen?”
“My boning knife isn’t in here.” He continues to search. “I guess it must be in the truck.”
We’ll find the damn thing later. Now is not the time for taking inventory.
“Give me the bag, please, baby.”
Callen hands it over, and I’m delighted to open it. Once I do, I check out what he brought me to work with. Shiny metal catches my eye. Goose bumps pebble my skin as I pull out the large hunting knife. Laurence screams when I take a step his way. Callen moves and covers our captive’s mouth with his hand. When I’m close enough, I sit on Laurence’s lap and press the knife against his chest.
I want to humiliate Number One. I want him to be desperate for his death when I finally give it to him. I want him to pay. Meticulously, I cut his clothes from his body. His limp cock hangs uselessly between us. My hand turns red from my grip on the handle of the knife. The weight of the weapon is heavy as I press the blade against Laurence’s chest. The fingers of my other hand follow the trail of blood that seeps from his split skin.
I lean down and whisper seductively in his ear, “Tell me the truth, or I’ll stick this blade up your ass and fuck you with it.”
Then, for good measure, I slowly push the blade into his shoulder. Callen’s hand is hardly a match for the strength of the scream that erupts from Laurence’s chest.
I rise from his lap and demand answers. “Speak. The truth.”
“We killed her! All right, are you happy? Is that what you wanted to hear?”
“Is that what I wanted to hear? Do you think I’m happy about being in the same room as the man who took Aria from me? Why did you kill her?”
His lips press together, so I twist the knife, scraping against bone as I do.
“It was an accident!” he screams. “We just wanted to scare her. Teach her a lesson about the power chain on campus. A girl like her doesn’t say no to men like us. She needed to learn. We just planned to rough her up a little and have a little fun with her. But things spiraled out of control.”
He stops, but I need more. I need him to tell me everything.
“Go on, Laurence.”
“The guys and I…we just sort of fed off one another. Each one of us pushed to see who would take it further. We didn’t stop. We never stopped. One thing led to another, and then hours later, we realized she was dead. I don’t even know when she died or how long she was dead before we noticed. After a while, the whole thing wasn’t even about her. We’d entered into some kind of pissing match with each other, and no one wanted to be the first to back down.”
My stomach threatens to revolt, but I push down the rising bile.
“You hurt her physically?” I can’t hide the sadness in my voice.
“Yes.”
“You raped her? All of you?”
“Yes.”
“And you got rid of the body?”
“My father did. I went to him after I realized what we did.”
“Where did he put her?”
“I don’t know. He never to
ld me. I never asked.”
“You didn’t care! You didn’t ask because you didn’t care! Your daddy was there to clean up your mess, and that was all that mattered to you. She was a person with a family and people that love her, and her body was never returned to them—to me.”
“I’m sor—”
I spit in his face. “Don’t you fucking dare. Don’t apologize to me. You aren’t sorry for what you did. You’re sorry you got fucking caught. If you were sorry, you would have come forward before we got here.”
He looks at the floor and closes his mouth.
“Were there others?”
“What?” He looks confused.
“Were there others you or your friends hurt, raped, or killed? Have your fathers or the police continued to clean up your messes? Was Aria a one-time thing, or was she the first?”
He doesn’t answer, which is all the answer I need.
“Callen, gag him. I don’t want to hear anything else he has to say.”
He does so, and then we stand, facing one another, in that dirty storage unit.
“Take his words away with your touch. Wash away his filth from me, please.”
Three steps. That’s how many it takes him to reach me. His strength and captivating energy pull my dark thoughts away from Aria and the brutality she suffered.
Languid sweeps of his tongue.
Rough nips from his teeth.
Warm lips on mine.
I pull back and look into Callen’s intense eyes. “I want him to die slowly.”
“Stab him a few more times, but be careful not to hit anything major, or it’ll be quick.”
I straighten my legs, and Callen lets me go. With my feet back on the floor, I move toward Laurence, who is panic-stricken. He doesn’t move an inch as I slide the blade from his throat to his shoulder. The way his body shakes rattles the knife in my hand.
“Here?” I ask Callen, indicating where the sharp end touches his skin.
“Yes, right there,” he croons.
I push the knife slowly, relishing in the way it cuts through his muscles. Blood seeps out from the fresh wound when I pull out. The knife leaves a trail of blood as I move it over his flesh and stop at his hip.
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