Sweetest Obsessions - Anthology

by Anthony, Jane

  Was Carter following them?

  Believing that he was was the only thing that was keeping Rose sane.

  Or at least, holding it together.

  Barely.

  Surely he had heard enough of what was happening to know that she needed him, and as long as the phone was safely in her pocket, then he had a way to track where she was and where Lincoln was driving them.

  Rose wished she knew what to say to Lincoln to get him to realize that what he was doing was crazy, but she was afraid that opening her mouth was only going to make Lincoln mad. Staying silent was definitely the safer option. All she had to do was sit here and wait for Carter to catch up to them.

  Because he was coming.

  He had to be.

  “We’re going to be happy together,” Lincoln said, taking his eyes off the road to glance over at her. “Just the two of us. It’s everyone else who keeps messing everything up. When we’re alone, everything will be okay. No, better than okay; everything will be perfect.”

  “Perfect,” she echoed because she could see he was earnest and she didn't want to remind him that things wouldn’t be perfect. He was kidnapping her. How could anything be perfect after that?

  How hadn't she seen that Lincoln wasn't who she thought he was?

  She had known him since they were children. What had happened to him to make him become this monster who had killed Evie and Nathan and was going to kill Carter? At least Carter was safe. Lincoln hadn't killed him, and when Carter did catch up with them, he’d be armed with a gun, and to the best of her knowledge, Lincoln only had a knife. Hopefully, that meant things would end quickly and without anyone else getting hurt.

  “You’re not going to hurt me, are you?” The question tumbled out before she could stop it.

  “Hurt you?” Lincoln sounded offended. “Why would you think that?”

  Rose wasn't sure how to answer that, so she didn't say anything at all.

  “I love you, Rose, you know that.” He reached out and touched her hand. The second he made contact with her skin, an icy cold rushed through her veins, making her shiver. It was like she could feel the evil inside him when he touched her.

  Now she had to grieve two people she had loved—Evie and the friend she had thought Lincoln was. Both losses would be hard to deal with, for very different—but equally as traumatic—reasons.

  “Rose? You know that I love you, right?” he repeated.

  “I know that you love me,” she repeated. That was true, in a way. Lincoln truly believed that he loved her.

  “Good,” he nodded, satisfied, and returned his hand to the steering wheel. “Because I think I’ve proved my love for you.”

  “Is that why you-you killed Evie?” She had to force the words out. “Because you think she hurt me?”

  “No. That was an accident. She stumbled onto something she shouldn’t have, and I didn't know what else to do with her. Otherwise, I would never have killed her because you loved her. She was your best friend.”

  And yet, he had killed her anyway, knowing how much it would hurt her. “What did she stumble onto?” She may as well get all the information she could so that Carter would have enough evidence to keep Lincoln in prison for the rest of his life.

  “Nothing for you to worry about. And you don’t have to worry because I won't be doing that anymore. I don’t have to.” He looked over and gave her a smile that Rose assumed he thought was sincere and full of love, but really, only creeped her out.

  Her stomach began to churn.

  She was scared and revolted by Lincoln’s behavior, and she just wanted to go home.

  They rounded a large bend and her stomach lurched.

  “I’m going to be sick,” she said, pressing a hand to her swirling stomach as though her touch could force it to settle.

  “What?”

  “I’m serious, Lincoln. You know I get carsick. Pull over; I’m going to throw up.”

  Since they had been friends most of their lives, and he knew that she did indeed often get carsick, he immediately pulled the car over to the side of the bridge they were crossing.

  As soon as the car came to a stop, Rose jumped out, dropped to her knees, and emptied the contents of her stomach. She retched over and over again, until her stomach cramped and her whole body was shaking.

  She just wanted Carter.

  Where was he?

  14

  “He’s trying to leave town. I don’t like where he’s headed. I hope Jade has those roadblocks set up.”

  “I would never doubt Jade.”

  Carter twitched at the quiet sound of the voice coming from the phone sitting on the passenger seat. He forgot he wasn’t alone. That Jade’s friend Miles, the computer geek, was with him, directing him to Rose. He didn’t say much, besides turn here, or turn there.

  When Miles said Jade’s name, he spoke so softly. It’s as if he hadn’t meant to talk about her at all. He was right. Carter didn’t doubt Jade either.

  But they were dealing with a madman. Lincoln was unraveling. He didn’t trust him one bit. Just the slightest provocation, and he could hurt Rose. Carter couldn’t hear much. The phone was muffled by Rose’s pocket, but he didn’t need to hear what was being said. He just knew. Lincoln was unstable, and he had to catch up to them before she disappeared from his life forever.

  The road they were on didn’t ease his worries or calm down his racing heart. If anything, it ramped it up to dangerous levels. But no matter what, he had to keep his cool. He had to stay focused and in control. Rose needed him.

  As Carter took the large bend ahead of him too fast, he barely had time to slam on his brakes before he would’ve hit the car sitting on the road.

  Bridge, more like it.

  Tires squealed. His heart pounded. His hands were clenched tightly on the steering wheel.

  He sat frozen for a second as he saw Rose kneeling on the bridge on the passenger side of the car. Lincoln stood in front of the car, just a few feet from Rose.

  “Give Jade my location. Hurry,” he said quietly, barely moving his mouth.

  Lincoln stared hard at him, not moving. Carter didn’t want to give away he was talking to anyone. One wrong move and he’d make a grab for Rose.

  Rose, wide-eyed, looked like a statue bent on the ground, as if she were holding her stomach. He held her gaze for a brief moment, trying to reassure her with one simple look that he’d get her safely out of this situation. Then he turned his eyes back to Lincoln.

  He had to get out of his car, but he had to do it fast before Lincoln reached Rose.

  He’d have to pull his weapon out.

  He might even have to shoot Lincoln in front of Rose.

  But he’d do anything to keep her safe, including gunning down one of her best friends, who just happened to be a killer. A brutal, sadistic killer.

  It wouldn’t be that hard to shoot him, especially since he put his dirty hands on Rose.

  Letting the steering wheel go, he put his hand on the handle of the door, his eyes intent on Lincoln as he opened the door. Lincoln took a step toward Rose.

  Carter didn’t take his time after that. He whipped out of his car, gun in hand, aimed directly at Lincoln as Lincoln made a mad dash for Rose.

  She didn’t have time to react as Lincoln pulled her roughly to her feet, shielding his body with her in front of him, moving them around the car and to the middle of the bridge.

  Carter didn’t lower his weapon, but he changed his aim. He didn’t have a clear shot, and he wouldn’t shoot until he was a hundred percent positive he could hit Lincoln without hurting Rose.

  “Let her go, Lincoln. You don’t want to hurt her.” Carter spoke quietly as he moved closer to them.

  Lincoln took a step back for every step he moved closer.

  “Don’t make me hurt her, Detective. I love her, but I won’t let you have her. She’s mine,” he growled as he squeezed her shoulders hard, pulling her closer to his body.

  Rose whimpered at the harsh t
ug, yet said nothing else, her eyes pinned steady to his. Carter wanted to hold her gaze. He wanted to reassure her with everything in his heart that he’d get her out of this, but he couldn’t lose his focus. He couldn’t lose his control. Because staring into her eyes only made the pain slicing him inside break open to unbearable agony. Especially when Lincoln made her cry out in pain.

  Carter’s gaze darted to the opposite side of the bridge Lincoln was getting dangerously close to. He’d have nowhere to go soon. He wouldn’t be able to back up much farther. His fear for Rose overrode his fear of actually standing on a bridge. Half the time he drove over a bridge, he was tempted to close his eyes until he reached the other side, which was impossible when he was driving himself. Most of the time, he held his breath the entire time, until he was safely back on the road.

  He hated bridges. Because they had water below them. And nothing good ever happened when he was near a body of water.

  How did he get Rose safely off this bridge and out of Lincoln’s arms?

  “Lower your weapon, get back in your car, and drive away,” Lincoln said with a sneer, his hands tightening on Rose’s shoulders once again, “or you won’t like what I do next.”

  Carter would never walk away. Not from Rose. Not like this.

  He was prepared for anything.

  “That’s not happening. Let her go.” The gun in his hand shook as he caught Rose’s gaze, the terrified look in her eyes. Slamming his direction back at Lincoln, his hand steadied. “We both care about her, Lincoln. I know you don’t want to hurt her.” His expression turned fierce. “You want to hurt me. So let’s fight like men. Let her go.”

  He didn’t know what else to say, what else to do to get Lincoln to release Rose. As soon as he had a clear shot, he’d take it. But he wouldn’t get one until Lincoln either repositioned Rose, or let her go.

  He wasn’t shy to fight him either. He would gladly fight Lincoln with fists, pound fist after fist into him until all his anger and rage for hurting Rose was satisfied. And he probably wouldn’t be satisfied until he beat Lincoln to death.

  Sudden laughter filled the air as Lincoln hit the side of the bridge wall. “That’s tempting, Detective. So tempting. But that’s not happening either.”

  They were at an impasse.

  With the crazy, manic look in Lincoln’s eyes, Carter knew whatever was on his mind would not be a happy ending. Someone was going to die on this bridge.

  But that someone would not be Rose.

  Lincoln wasn't stupid.

  He knew how this was going to end.

  He also knew that it wasn't going to end the way Detective Dixson wanted. He loved Rose, and he wasn't going to let anyone take her away from him.

  “Why did you kill Evelyn?” the Detective asked, his gaze locked firmly on his own.

  “Because she saw something she shouldn’t have,” he said simply. While that was completely true, he hadn't planned on kidnapping and killing Evie; it had happened entirely by chance, and he didn't feel guilty about it. He had to protect himself. If life had taught him anything, it was that if you didn't look out for yourself, no one else was going to.

  So that was what he had done.

  “She found out about the other women you were keeping prisoner. Sex trade, right? You were pimping them out, getting paid by men who liked to rape helpless young women.”

  Rose stiffened in his arms at Carter’s words.

  When he heard it said so bluntly, Lincoln supposed he ought to feel bad about it. What the detective had said was correct. He had been keeping those girls in the basement underneath the bar and taking money in exchange for men having sex with them.

  “You killed them when they got too old.”

  Although that had been a statement not a question, Lincoln nodded. “Sometimes, but not always. The pretty ones I was able to sell on to someone who wanted a more permanent arrangement.”

  “Why?” Rose whispered, trying to twist in his grip to look at him. “Why would you do that? I don’t understand. You know what happened to me and Evie and all those other girls at Nathan's house. And I know what happened to you. They raped the girls and beat the boys. Why would you do that to those poor girls?”

  “I was sick of being the victim, I was sick of not getting what I wanted,” he answered. His whole life he had been the victim. Before being removed from his home and put in foster care, he’d lived in poverty so that his good-for-nothing father could drink away any money they got. He’d never known his mother. She split or died before he was a year old. He had no siblings, no one to commiserate with when his drunk father got angry.

  He was picked up by the cops one day when he was six, running his usual con to try to get enough food to eat to survive. He’d go to the supermarket and follow a family around, pretend he was with them, stand in line with them, they’d think he was with the family behind them, and that family would think he was with the one in front of them, and he would sneak something from the cart. If it hadn't been for that scam, he would have died long before he was sent to foster care.

  If that had happened, he would never have met Rose.

  “You were his favorite,” he said quietly, thinking of the first time he’d seen Rose. Even as a child she had been stunning, with the mass of dark curls and the bright blue eyes. Ever since that day, he’d known that she was going to be his, but no matter how hard he tried, he could never seem to get her.

  Friends.

  She only wanted to be friends.

  “I was sick of being poor. I was sick of never getting anywhere with women. Combining the two seemed like the perfect idea. And it would have been if Evie had stayed out of the basement like she was supposed to,” he spat. It was Evie’s own fault that he’d had to kill her. And really, killing her had been a mercy. He’d been offered quite a large sum of money to sell her, but he hadn't been able to do that to Rose’s best friend. So when she’d managed to sneak out of her room, he’d taken it as a sign and killed her, disposing of her body the same way he’d disposed of the other women’s bodies.

  “Are there still women in your basement?” Detective Dixson asked.

  Lincoln was getting bored with this. He’d tolerated it this long only because he’d been waiting to see what the detective was going to do. It was clear now that the man only wanted to keep him talking for as long as he could, which probably meant that backup was coming.

  He wasn't going to prison.

  And he wasn't losing Rose.

  If death was the only way that the two of them could be together, then that was the road he would take.

  “Say goodbye, Detective,” he sneered. For once, he was going to come out on top. For once in his life, he was going to get what he wanted, albeit in consolation prize form, but still, he and Rose would be united in death and in whatever lay beyond.

  “Don’t do it, Lincoln.” Detective Dixson took a step forward.

  “I win.” He winked. Then in one smooth fluid motion, he threw himself and Rose backward, toward the edge of the bridge.

  He had no time to react, to fire off a shot, especially when Lincoln went over the side of the bridge first, Rose still shielding his body as she plunged off the side with him.

  Screaming her name, he rushed to the side of the bridge and watched as they both fell into the water.

  Deep, blue water.

  How deep? He didn’t know. But he was about to find out.

  Dropping his gun, he didn’t think about what he was about to do. He just reacted.

  Vaulting over the side of the bridge, his heart pounded, waiting for that moment when his body hit the water. He didn’t even flinch when his head went under. His mind didn’t conjure bad memories or see his brother struggling for air.

  He only thought of Rose.

  Plucking his head above the water, gasping for air, he looked around as he tried to keep himself to the surface, the water pushing him forward. It wasn’t a fast rushing body of water, but it was fast enough where he had to keep his arms
steady to stay afloat as he drifted down the river.

  He started swimming swiftly when he saw Rose about ten feet ahead of him, struggling to stay afloat. But he didn’t see Lincoln.

  “Rose!”

  She heard him calling her name, jerking her head in his direction. She tried to swim his way, but suddenly plunged below the surface.

  “No! Rose!”

  He swam faster, diving below the water. A few feet ahead, under the water, he saw her struggling with Lincoln, who had a firm grip on her arms.

  Images flashed before him.

  Charlie’s eyes round and wide as he pulled at his leg, his mouth pressed firmly closed, trying to hold his breath as long as he could.

  The fear etched in his gaze as Charlie tried to shove him away, pointing for him to go to the surface instead of trying to help.

  Those images looked just like Rose as she struggled with Lincoln. Her eyes round with fright, trying her best to fight back and get loose of Lincoln’s deathly grip.

  The difference between the two was he wouldn’t fail this time. He wouldn’t let her die.

  Swimming faster, he reached Rose, swinging a hard fist at Lincoln, hitting him directly in the nose. It was enough of a surprise that Lincoln jerked back, loosening his grip on Rose. Carter took the opportunity to pull her his way and shoved her toward the surface. He didn’t wait to see if she listened, hoping and praying she followed his instruction to get out of the water.

  She had to be needing air. Because he did. Holding his breath was getting harder and harder, but he couldn’t let Lincoln get away. Lincoln was obviously thinking the same thing, because he came straight for him, throwing a punch.

  Fighting underneath the water wasn’t the easiest, but he managed to dodge the punch. Before he could dodge another attack from the lunatic, Lincoln grabbed him by the shoulders, shoving him down. But Carter pushed back. They fought hard, struggling back and forth, holding each other down under the water, while trying to throw punches. The air in his lungs screamed at him to let it out, take a tiny breath. But he forged on, holding his breath, trying to get a good enough swing in as they fought.