“Who was it?” She turned looking in his direction.
“Do you need to tell me something?” His gait in her direction was more like that of a primal predator stalking his prey than it was the mere walk of a man. The look on his face had changed like an impending storm that was usually just below the surface and now on the forefront, threatening to unleash all of its fury.
She had been so taken aback by the look in his eyes that she hadn’t noticed what he was carrying: yellow roses. The ominous energy they brought with them made her hackles rise.
“Set them down; they’re from him.” If she was honest with herself, she wanted the flowers and the darkness they brought with them out of her house.
She watched Jericho as he strode into the bathroom like a man with purpose; as if the professional part of his nature had kicked in. The years of training always showed up when it came to matters like this—muscle memory. She knew he was going to get disposable gloves. She poured their coffee and walked over to the table. She watched as he carefully opened the envelope and a flash drive fell out.
“Wait a minute. Read the note first.” Maybe it would help prepare her for whatever was on that flash drive. She knew somehow there was a message to the roses and even the color of them had been chosen with care. Anything she’d ever learned or seen on television pertaining to stalkers showed them as people with purpose. Nothing was irrelevant. If they’d taken the time to choose a victim, they damn sure had the aspiration to research every move they made concerning them. She listened as Jericho read the note.
Yellow roses… Angel, you’re a smart girl. These roses have meaning, but you already know that. Some cultures believe they represent friendship and joy, but we both know my meaning is much more menacing. These flowers represent betrayal, jealousy, and your infidelity.
You betrayed the oath you made when you became a nurse. You’re supposed to heal, not kill.
Have you talked to your friend Jenny lately? Don’t worry, I talked to her for you. If you’re going to be a serial killer you have to do it right. You need a name for yourself—I have one, it’s No Mercy. You gave me the idea with your high morality opinion of yourself; you call murder mercy killing to ease your conscious. I just tell it like it is.
That little flash drive will reveal my true intent. Because unlike you, I don’t have the need to glamorize what I do. I am at peace with the beast inside me.
No Mercy!
“Sonofabitch. He’s got her. He’s got my friend, Jericho.” She sat frozen in guilt, worried that she was to blame for the danger her friend might be in.
“Let’s watch the flash drive first, Angel, before we make any suppositions. Get the evidence and go from there.”
She watched horrified as her suspicions were confirmed. Angel helplessly stared at the screen at the masked man and her friend that desperately needed her help.
“She’s beautiful, isn’t she?” He used the large hunting knife he held in his hand to lightly trace over her face. “Personally, I like the terror in her eyes at the thought of her face being scarred. Knives are so much more personal… unlike guns, where there’s just a pop, and it’s over. With a knife, it’s close enough to them to smell their fear.
“Now… here’s what we’re going to do. You have forty-eight hours to go to Agent Turner and his partner and confess you killed that woman or I’m killing her. Nurses will continue to die until you admit what you’ve done and until the world knows that you’re no better than I am. You, young lady, are a serial killer. At least by the time I’m finished with you, you’ll be one. I know all that shit about killing three. But let’s face it, it’s all about motive, and you enjoy killing. So, as far as I’m concerned, you’re a serial killer, and right now my opinion is the only one that matters.
“Oh, and remember… No Mercy!”
“Oh God! What are we going to do, Jericho?” Part of her wanted to put her head in her hands and cry, but another part of her was pissed and wanted to get even—the biggest part of her. This bastard had crossed a line. Something in her had changed, and killing him might be the only solution to the problem he represented. If that bastard thought he was going to take her family down, he had another thing coming.
“We’re going to take this to Agent Turner and then we’re going to pin the killing on Mr. No Mercy.” She thought she heard him wrong when he said it. “I know what I’m doing, Angel. You’re going to have to trust me on this one. I know I’m asking you to do something foreign to you, but I’m telling you I’ve got your back like no one has ever had your back.”
“Rene… When I ask you to do something, I expect obedience—quick, swift obedience.” David circled the bed where he had his lover tied down spread eagle.
“I know it’s hard for you to get it through that thick skull of yours that I’ve taken back my dominance, but I think you need to come to grips with the fact I won’t be changing my mind anytime soon.”
She shook her head back and forth frantically, moaning through the gag that he’d placed in her mouth as the soft hum of the vibrator came to life when he turned it on. He surprised her when he circled it around an exposed nipple rather than placing it between her legs. Though the vibrator was nowhere near her clit, the sensation shot straight down to her core. His finger trailed down her abdomen and slid through her now moistened slit.
“Your body tells me everything I need to know. I don’t need to hear you tell me a damn thing; it’s why I gagged your ass. You’re lying to yourself, and you’re lying to me too. Until you admit you like the fact I’ve taken back over, you will not climax.” The soft whir of the machine was now strategically placed on her clit as he finger fucked her; never removing his eyes from hers. When her hips began bucking, and she was getting ready to climax, he stopped.
“Please, David.” Through the gag, it came out more like a pleading moan of his name that wasn’t audible, yet he knew. He could understand everything she was trying to say because he knew her like no one else ever had, or ever would. Something had happened to him, and it wasn’t him being a switch; he wasn’t a man who was in the habit of going back and forth from being a submissive to a dominant. He had changed. He didn’t know how, why, or when, but he had changed. He was a man who needed to be in control, and that’s exactly what he was doing, taking control.
“Not good enough,” he answered stubbornly. There was no humor in his expression. She would give what he wanted, or she wouldn’t climax. “I’ve got all day and night, Rene.” She knew by the tone of his voice and his direct manner that he meant business.
She knew him well enough to know that he would spend the rest of the day and into the night tormenting her if necessary. Her eyes pleaded, and begged, saying much more than words ever could. It was the reason he loved to see her gagged and strapped down, under his control. Her body and her eyes were begging in a way her vocal communication never could. It was a beautiful thing to see his woman unable to communicate in any way but to plead with her moans and her eyes.
“Good girl.” He slowly trailed the vibrator back over her clit. This time, when her hips began doing that beautiful telltale dance, he let her climax. She had given him what he wanted: herself.
It didn’t matter how much their relationship might change and evolve throughout the years. One thing remained the same: their connection. They had a deeper bond than most couples because of them working together and living together. Where many couples would kill each other if they are around each other day in and day out, it would kill them to not to be. It was all they knew; total immersion that went far beyond any job or living situation. They were immersed in each other. There was no separation. They walked as one, each knowing what the other was thinking. They could bounce off of each other in an interrogation room like nobody’s business—one starting out and the other jumping in until the perp didn’t stand a chance. Both of them knew they would never have that with a different partner. They were a living example of what most people covet: they were soul mates.
“I bet you had no idea that nurse you work with is a cold blooded killer. I don’t know if she’ll admit to it or not, but your life depends on it.” The killer’s words were more like a taunt than a statement.
“I don’t believe you. She could never kill somebody, especially a patient. We’re sworn to heal, not hurt.” Jenny shuddered as he traced a knife over the blouse she wore. His manner was taunting in nature, poking and probing. He even went so far as to slice through a button. She jumped at the sound of it popping off and onto the concrete flooring. It was all part of his little psychological game. There would be sounds, smells, and memories that the trauma would seal into her psyche. Years from now, if she lived, she would carry triggers of his making. That kind of power was intoxicating to a man like him—a sick deliciousness that the normal person, who wasn’t psychotic, would find despicable. What society would deem as cruel and inhumane was entertainment to him.
“She does it under the guise of mercy killing; it’s how she makes herself feel better about it. That doctor did all the killings but one. She did that one. You know, that’s the thing about being the hospital janitor… no one notices you. You didn’t even know I worked at the hospital. I saw her the day she stole those drugs, and I watched her shoot them into that old woman’s IV. She never even saw me. Of course, she had no idea I was watching her through a hidden camera I had placed in the room; looked just like an alarm clock on the woman’s bedside table. I learn something from every kill. Now we just have to see if your colleague has learned from her mistakes. You know it’s very important to learn from hindsight rather than living a life of regret. It’s all about the attitude. If you make up your mind to learn from your mistakes rather than living a life of regret and depression, you’ll be successful in your ventures.”
“Joe… you don’t have to do this. If you let me go, I won’t tell anyone. I swear I won’t.”
“This isn’t about me, it’s not even about you, it’s about that lying bitch Angel—she’s a fucking hypocrite.”
The only thing Jenny could do was to hope against hope that Angel would admit to a killing she hadn’t actually committed. No one would believe her anyway. They would know she confessed to it because she had to in order to save her friend. The only question was, would she think of that before the forty-eight hours was up? There was no doubt she’d be willing to do anything to save her friend—she hoped.
“There’s no other way, Jericho. If I don’t admit to killing that woman, Jenny will die. I can’t have that on my conscious. What the fuck was I thinking when I did it? I know what I was thinking… I was thinking she’d be bankrupt by the time the hospital was done with her—millions of dollars left in bills, plus all the grief the family would be left to deal with. She was going to die anyway. It isn’t like I just killed her for meanness.”
“That’s why they call it mercy killing.”
“You’re pissed.”
“What the fuck do you expect, Angel?!”
“I expect you to support me the way you said you would.”
“I am supporting you; just because I don’t have an ear to ear smile while I’m doing it…”
“Fuck you, Jericho!” She ripped the sheet from around her legs and made an attempt to jolt towards the bathroom. His arm shot out lightning fast like some mechanical arm set on warp speed.
“Not so fast. Where the fuck do you think you’re going?”
“Anywhere away from you,” she hissed through clenched teeth; like some feral cat that had been backed into a corner and now it was looking for a way of escape.
“You can’t undo this. If we go to Agent Turner and show him the flash drive, he isn’t going to think you’re guilty because you came to them. If you don’t and they get a lead about you, then they’ll be more inclined to believe it’s a possibility.”
She shook her head as if doing so would make the nightmare go away. If she could go back—turn back the hands of time, she would. It wasn’t worth it; sacrificing her own family so someone else’s would be saved. It hadn’t seemed like that when the dying patient had asked to be relieved. No wonder they called it mercy killing; it was the only murder that pulled at your heartstrings, compelling you to do something so horrible that you would never even think about it under normal circumstances. The answer to the problem was as horrid as the first deed, but justifiable—murder the man who had taken her colleague as insurance. Did two wrongs make a right? If it meant saving her family, it damn sure did. Jericho’s voice seeped through her thoughts like sun filtering through tiny cracks in a blind.
“There’s no other way to do this. We can’t find a man who doesn’t exist in less than forty-eight hours.” He touched her arm, and it was a tender touch that translated as an understanding of her plight.
“What if they ask me to take a lie detector test? I’d fail.”
“I’d show you how to pass it.” When he saw the quizzical expression on her face, he answered before she had the chance to ask. “When I got into the agency I had to take one. One of the questions was if I had ever done drugs; I smoked pot all through college, didn’t quit until Quantico.”
“So how’d you pass?”
“I took a valium before I took the test. The key to telling an effective lie is to lie to yourself first. Lie… until even you believe it.”
The four of them sat around the table staring at the video on the flash drive. Even though Jericho and Angel had already seen it, the video was still compelling in nature. It was the definition of surreal, like some bad dream you couldn’t shake off because it had imprinted its nasty message on your brain. Angel had heard before that when you watched something, you could never un-watch it. Like a stamped imprint on her frontal cortex, she would carry it with her forever.
When it was finally over, and she felt like the heaviness in her chest had lifted enough for her to breathe, she looked over at Agent Turner in an effort to get some kind of read on him. She wanted some hint of what his take on this was. He leaned back and intertwined his fingers behind his neck, stretching his legs out and crossing them at the ankles like he was settling in for a long line of questioning. Great, just what I need, another alpha male who’s set on getting to the bottom line of truth.
“Well, it’s evident the man has singled you out because your husband is an agent.” She took a chance against all odds and breathed a small sigh of relief. When she looked at the other agent, Rene, her poker face didn’t put her mind at ease. Women didn’t trust other women. It was the law of the jungle, and her face clearly revealed that at that moment, that was the situation they were in.
Jericho’s voice cut through the skepticism like the blade of a warrior coming to her rescue; she welcomed his valiancy even though she would never consider herself to be any man’s damsel in distress. This was a situation in which she would welcome any help.
“My sentiments exactly, agent. This freak has somehow found out she’s married to an FBI agent, and now he’s trying to pin his crimes on my wife.”
“Then that means he’s come into contact with her somehow.” Rene’s comment did nothing to masquerade her skepticism. Whether the guys could see it or not, it was evident to Angel. Angel willed away the awkward feeling she felt with this woman she needed to convince; any thought of inability to do so would mean failure. Rene was smart, and she would pick up on even the most subtle of body language. It was what these agents were trained for, and if being married to an FBI agent had taught her anything, it was that it was nigh impossible to lie to them. Rene’s next comment surprised her.
“We need to do extensive checks on any of the hospital employees—look up any arrest records.”
“They won’t hire any employees who have a record; they’re even subjected to pop-up drug tests periodically.”
“We can find out things that are hidden. You’d be surprised to see how far people will go to keep secrets.” Rene’s gaze was piercing as if she could see right through Angel. Once again, she forced her herself to appear no
rmal. She was relieved when agent Turner spoke up.
“Well, that’s where we’ll start then. I’m certain with all three of us working on things we should be fine.” He directed his attention in Angel’s direction. “You need to be proactive. Watch the people around the hospital. If someone gives you pause, pay attention to your gut. Let your husband know immediately.” He paused, taking a moment to study her before continuing. “Do not make the mistake of underestimating this man. You are dealing with a stalker; a man who could possibly be a serial killer.”
Chapter Nine
Jericho wasted no time when they entered the house. He knew Heath would be at the babysitter’s for the next few hours, and he had every intention of taking the opportunity to deal with his wife.
She immediately saw the predatory look in his eyes and began backing away from him. She only succeeded in allowing him to pin her against the wall. He wrapped his hand around her neck and allowed his fingers to trail up and down each side, touching her as if he was moving up and down a statuesque piece of art in admiration. Though his eyes held the unmistakable hue of a hunter, he looked normal to the outside world and kept his true nature hidden from prying eyes. He didn’t fool her one damn bit; she’d seen glimpses of his brand of crazy. It was as certain as the fact he was standing in front her right now.
“I know why he wants you. Do you?” He didn’t give her time to answer the rhetorical question. “He’s a predator, no doubt, or he wouldn’t have seen it.” She wasn’t aware that he reached in his pocket until he whipped the knife out with the precision of just that: a predator. He sliced through buttons as he spoke in a tone so soft that it would be misleading to the average person. The tip of the knife pricked just enough to remind her of other times he’d given into his love of knife play. “You. Are. Prey. The thing about you is you’re strong. Most prey is just so needy it isn’t fun. When you find fighting prey, strong prey, shrewd prey, then things become so much more interesting.” He poked the tip of the knife into her clavicle just enough to let her know that even though he was in the mood to play, he wasn’t playing.
Contradiction in Terms (Angel of Death Book 2) Page 3