I started to feel weak. My struggles grew less and less as I lost all strength in my body. Eventually, my hands dropped to my sides and my legs fell numb.
My vision faded in and out. He moved his hands from my mouth and lifted me up into his arms, holding me close to his chest. There was that strong, leathery cologne again, and I could see his blurred face hovering above me.
He whispered, “My love, we’ve finally been reunited.”
“No…” I whimpered and tried to fight, but my body wouldn’t obey. I was as limp as a ragdoll, and now he was free to play with me.
He started to carry me away. I fought to stay conscious, but it was useless. “Am…Amber…” I groaned. “Where…”
“Shh,” he hushed me.
I drifted off for a moment, but pushed even harder to stay conscious as I felt him place me on a hard surface. Panicked, I commanded my eyes to open, my body to do something. I just couldn’t move.
He’d drugged me again.
I heard a car door shut, and my body rattled as he started to drive away. Oh no! Vincent was taking me.
Mason, I hope you’ll come save me.
Rough, skeletal hands stroked my cheek and I heard a haunting piano melody. A classical piece. My eyes fluttered open. I looked up at a dark ceiling; the room appeared old and shadowy. There were no windows, candles providing the only light.
I winced when I glanced around and caught my stalker’s face. It really was him, the man from the fundraiser. Roman was Vincent.
He moved his head slowly from side to side, studying me. Strands of his messy black hair dangled over his menacing dark eyes, and his thin lips curled slightly into a pleased smile. His skin was as pale as before with splotches of dark spots on his neck.
He looked so simple; regarding me in such a sincere way that it was hard to believe he’d been tormenting me for the past few weeks. Then a treacherous grin stretched his lips, sending a new and bigger wave of fear all over my body.
Vincent braced forward to touch my cheek again. I recoiled and tried to get away. That’s when I felt the restraints and looked up at my hands. They were tied on each side to the headboard, and my legs were spread apart and bound at the foot of the bed.
Teary eyed, I gazed back at my captor, my body shaking nonstop.
“Sorry about the chloroform,” he said sweetly, rising from the bedside. “It was the only way I could take you with me without a fight.”
Vincent walked over to an old wooden table where he had the white, scented candles burning. He poured water from a jar into a glass and strolled back to me.
“Where’s Amber?” I asked through trembling lips. “What did you do to her?”
Sitting down on the side of the bed again, he held the glass to my mouth. “Drink it.”
I shook my head.
His muscular face twisted in anger. “If you don’t drink it, I’ll go back for Amber and finish her off.”
“Okay,” I said quickly. “I’ll drink it.”
“Good.” A smile reemerged as he put the glass to my lips and helped me drink the water. My lips quivered so much I spilled some on myself.
Vincent moved the glass away and wiped my mouth with his hand. He stood and wandered over to the table to put down the glass, and then he picked up a remote and switched to a more romantic number.
“You must have a lot of questions,” he said, watching me over his shoulder. “I’ll tell you whatever you want to know now.”
I kept my eyes on him as he walked to the armchair on the right side of the room and sat down. “You made me very angry when you refused to go back to our home. This was supposed to end last night, you know. I was going to tell Amber that there was someone else and let that be that.
“Then when I was driving her home, she started questioning me about the leaf pendant she’d found while snooping in my car. Nosy bitch. After that, I knew it was only a matter of time before she figured out that I was your stalker. So, I drugged her and tied her up somewhere safe. Whether she lives or dies depends on how this day ends for you and me.”
“She has nothing to do with this. Please let her go,” I begged.
Vincent scoffed. “The only way I’ll do that is if you choose me.”
“What?”
“Choose me.” He pushed up from the chair and sidled over to the bed. “Love me, Bristol. Leave Newport with me.”
I observed him for a moment. One wrong word would make him snap. I had to play it right. I’d watched enough thrillers to know how these deranged men operated. All I had to do was tell him what he needed to hear.
“I’ll leave with you, Vincent. Just please let Amber go and promise me you won’t hurt anyone else.”
He wore an unreadable expression as he drank me in. I wasn’t sure what was going on inside that sick head. His quietness was terrifying, so much so that I winced when he spoke again. “You must think I’m stupid. Don’t try to use that pretty head on me, Bristol. I can see the truth in your eyes. You would do anything to protect the people you love, even lie to me, just like Savannah.”
My forehead wrinkled. “Who’s Savannah?”
He appeared so sad then, glancing away. “My first love. She—” He stopped and spun back to me, saying instead, “It doesn’t matter, you won’t love me.”
“Love is a growing thing,” I replied, trying to steady my nerves. “You can’t force someone to love you with notes and gifts, or even killing your competition.”
“I killed the wrong guy,” he grunted, backing away from the bed. My stomach churned when he returned to the table and picked up a knife.
“Are you familiar with mummification?” he asked while scrutinizing the tip of the blade. “It’s an Egyptian ritual. I’ve been watching a lot of them lately. I don’t know why they stopped doing it; the process is quite…fascinating. Perhaps I should try it on Mason Daniels. I’ve been thinking of special ways to end his life.”
Oh no. Not Mason.
My heart felt like it was about to burst out of my chest. Vincent turned to leave. I called after him, “No, wait.”
Looking at me sideways, he asked, “Why should I?”
“What’s your real name?” was all I could think of.
He arched a brow. “My real name?”
“Y-yes,” I stammered, then bit my bottom lip to calm down. I continued in a more even tone, “It’s the first step…in getting to know someone, and you want me to love you so let me know you. Tell me who you are. Tell me about the first time you saw me. What made you fall for me?”
I seemed to have convinced him, because he paced back to the table and set down the knife.
Sighing, he said in a soft tone, “My name is Roman, but I prefer Vincent, like that well known actor. I noticed you have a few of his movies on DVD.”
Creep! He knew every little thing.
“The first time I saw you, Bristol,” he went on, “you were having an argument with your ex-boyfriend down by the bay. He’d upset you so much that you stood there for a while crying. Even when you cried you were beautiful.”
He stared at me in awe, and then moseyed over to the side of the bed and sat. It took all I had not to grimace when he touched my leg. “I remember wishing it was me who was your boyfriend. I’d work so hard to always keep you happy, to never make you cry.”
“That was four months ago,” I murmured, remembering the fight. I’d been upset with Tyler because he’d forgotten my birthday and instead of spending the night with me, he’d wanted to go to Providence to watch a basketball game with friends. “You’ve been watching me for four months?”
He smiled while nodding his head. “I knew that in time you’d see he didn’t deserve you. The wait was dreadful though, so much that I wanted to confess my love on the day you bumped into me.”
I bumped into him?
“You don’t remember,” he said, noticing my confusion. “You were so sad that day. I discovered what Tyler had done, so I went and bought you the first rose. Knowing you were hurt, I
understood that you needed time to heal.”
My god! I should have looked up that day. Damn it, why hadn’t I looked up? It wouldn’t have come to this had I seen his face then.
“You’re such a caring person,” Vincent said. “So driven, strong, and always so nice to everyone.” He stopped and chuckled to himself. “It was really hard to keep away. I was drawn to you, Bristol, like a moth to a flame, and the more I learned about you the more jealous I became of everyone, especially Tyler.”
“But I broke up with him, you didn’t have to kill him,” I whimpered.
He twitched his mouth, upset. “He kept bothering you. He wouldn’t leave you alone,” he said in his defense. “You had a history with him, Bristol. I couldn’t risk you going back to him.”
“I wouldn’t have,” I retorted.
Vincent smirked. “Right, because of Mason.” He stood. “Don’t worry. I’ll deal with him shortly.”
“Look, you don’t have to hurt anyone else,” I told him, fighting the urge to scream and curse at him. “You have me now, Vincent. I won’t let anyone get in the way. Never again.”
Apprehensive, he screwed up his features and sank back on the bed. “You really mean it?” he asked, leaning over to graze my cheek with the back of his hand.
I swallowed hard and nodded while whispering, “I’m yours.”
A smile slit his lips. Vincent slowly caressed my leg and trailed his hand up my thigh. “It means a lot to hear you say that, Bristol. I’ve waited so long for you to realize that it’s me you should be with.”
He leaned forward and kissed my cheek. I squeezed my eyes shut as he whispered, “You’re the girl I’ve wanted all my life. You accept people for who they are. You’re not concerned with status or material things. You’re happy as long as you’re loved, and that’s why I chose you. I want to give you that. Will you let me?”
I had to get my hands free. I had to keep playing this game.
Trying hard to relax my thrashing heart and steady my body, I held his gaze while whispering, “Yes.”
Vincent’s face lit up with delight.
He believed me.
Bile rose to my throat when he lowered and pressed his lips to mine. It took all I had not to barf in his mouth.
He needed to believe he had control of me. If I was going to live, I had to lose myself to him.
When he swept his tongue across my mouth and parted my lips, I did the most disgusting thing I had ever done: I allowed him to slip it inside. I wanted to bite it off and spit it back down his throat so he’d choke on it, but it was the only way to get free. I had to subdue my revulsion and play along.
Groaning, Vincent began touching my chest while he kissed me harder, smothering my mouth. He crawled on top of me and started kissing my neck.
He respired heavily on me, his breath a mixture of wine and peanuts. I grew even more afraid as I felt his hardness against me.
“Hmm…um…hey…” I mumbled, my voice soft and sensual.
Vincent stopped and pulled back in confusion. “I thought you wanted me.”
“I do,” I said with a fake smile and gestured to my bound hands. “Not like this.”
His eyes flicked to my restraints, then glanced back at me, hesitant. Vincent climbed off and treaded over to the table, turning his back on me. His head shook, as if he were deliberating.
“What’s wrong?” I asked, fearing he’d discovered my act.
Spinning around, he shook his head in disbelief. “No. You’ll change your mind. You’ll run away like Savannah.”
That name again.
I didn’t question him about her. I dismissed it and kept going. “No. I won’t run, Vincent. I promise. Now please untie me.” I added in a flirty tone, “So I can give you what you deserve.”
Hearing that, he chewed the corner of his bottom lip in lust and his eyes floated over my body, undressing me. He raked a hand through his messy hair and exhaled severely, still hesitant, but also wanting to trust me.
Vincent came back to the bed. “I’ve wanted you for so long,” he said, sounding eager and desperate for affection.
“And you can have me,” I assured him. “But please untie me so I can touch you.” I spoke in a desirous way to persuade him more. “Please, Vincent. Let me touch you.”
He brightened up, convinced. “All right.” He began untying my ankles first.
I settled my thoughts to come up with what to do once he freed me, then remembered something I’d heard in a movie: The first strike should be big enough to either knock out the enemy or buy you time.
Vincent removed the rope from around my ankles. When he reached up to untie my right hand, I prepared for the attack.
He lingered over me with my other hand still tied. It looked like he was going to kiss me again. I couldn’t stand having his lips on me another second, much less feel his tongue in my mouth.
I had to strike now.
With all the strength I could muster, I socked him hard.
“Ow!” he wailed. The hit sent him falling over my legs. I lifted my right and kicked him off the bed.
“Uh—Bristol—you!” Vincent groaned in pain on the floor and struggled to compose himself.
I hurried to untie my hand. Finally freeing myself, I sprang from the bed and bolted across the room to the rustic wooden door. I turned the latch and ran out of the dark room.
“Bristol!” Vincent called after me.
There were dark stairs outside. My heart boomed in my ears as I raced to the top. There was another wooden door. I could hear Vincent scrambling around downstairs.
No time to lose. I quickly opened the door and ran inside the room, almost fainting when I saw what was plastered across the white walls.
Open mouthed, I peered around at the hundreds of pictures pasted all over the walls. I could make out every single one in the radiant sunlight coming through the window. Vincent had pictures of me walking along the bay, hanging out with my friends, going to work, at the café, with my parents, and even shots of me…naked in the shower.
I struggled to breathe, feeling like a fish out of water. The layout of the room looked similar too. It reminded me of the bedroom in my apartment.
“Bristol! You lied!” His voice echoed from the bottom of the stairs.
Getting over the frightening scene, I swiveled and locked the door I’d just come through, buying myself some time. Then I sprinted to the other door, unlocking it to hurry outside.
I froze as I stumbled into the living room, glimpsing pictures of Mr. Farris and his wife on the aged table by the tan sofa.
Christ! This was my landlord’s apartment on the first floor. Vincent lived with Mr. Farris. How were they connected? How did he get away with having pictures of me covering his bedroom walls, much less a love nest in the basement without Mr. Farris knowing?
I jumped at the sound of a door bashing in. “Liar!” Vincent’s voice bellowed from the bedroom. “You’re just like Savannah!” I dashed for the front door just as he ran out of the room.
“No!” I screamed, trying to unfasten the chain in time. Vincent caught me and tossed me away from the door. I ran into the kitchen and yanked out a knife from the cutlery block, pointing it at him.
Vincent came up to the island, laughing at my unsteady hands. “You naughty girl. You really had me fooled there for a second.”
“Don’t come any closer or I’ll—”
“Or you’ll what?” He smirked. Sliding his hand behind his back, he pulled out a gun and pointed it at me. “Put that down.”
Nervously, I set the knife down on the counter and held up my hands.
“You lied to me, Bristol.” He huffed and shook his head, seriously hurt by my deceit. “You were playing with my heart. You won’t ever love me. You will never love me. You can’t even stand me.”
“That’s not true. Just give me some time and I—”
“Enough with your lies!” he barked. “I’m going to punish you for making a fool of me.”
&
nbsp; I pleaded with him, “Please don’t do this.”
“Come over here,” he instructed, gesturing with the gun.
Slowly, I started to move toward him. I wasn’t fast enough so Vincent reached out and tugged me into his arms. He placed the gun at the side of my head and whispered, “We’re going back to the basement, and we’ll finish what you started.”
Tears started to trickle down my cheeks. I begged, “Vincent, please. Don’t do this to me. Please—ah,” I gasped at the sound of the door unlocking.
“Be quiet,” Vincent threatened. “Breathe one word and I’ll kill you.”
Mr. Farris cursed when he realized that the chain was fastened, preventing him from entering the apartment. “Son, open the door.”
“Son?” I murmured.
Vincent jerked me. “I said be quiet.” Then he called out to Mr. Farris, “Just a sec, Dad.”
Dad! Of course. Vincent’s eyes…that’s why they’d stirred me so much at the fundraiser.
I felt like such an idiot. It should have clicked when Mr. Farris mentioned that his son came around sometimes to take out his wife.
Why hadn’t I figured it out then?
“Move,” Vincent grunted. He shoved me to the other side of the door. Keeping the gun on me, he unfastened the chain with his free hand.
“What took you so long?” Mr. Farris snapped as he entered. His mouth froze wide open in shock when Vincent shut the door and he saw me.
Passing a nervous gaze between us, Mr. Farris asked, “What the hell is—” He stopped when he caught sight of the gun in his son’s hand. “Roman, what are you doing to Bristol?”
“I told you not to call me that.” Vincent placed the gun back at the side of my head, then directed Mr. Farris, “Go over there and sit.”
Terrified, Mr. Farris obeyed, moving to the sofa to sit down.
“Well,” Vincent jeered. “This is a problem. You weren’t supposed to be back yet, Dad. What am I going to do with you now? You’ve seen me with a girl that the cops are probably looking for.”
“Son, where did you get that gun?” Mr. Farris regarded Vincent with a pained expression. “Where’s your mother?”
Chasing Bristol (The Finding Trilogy Book 2) Page 18