Contradiction in Terms (Angel of Death Book 2)

by Suzanne Steele

  “It ensured me getting employment in the hospital.”

  “Why did you want to work at the hospital so badly?”

  “So I could follow her.”

  “But, why?”

  “I have my reasons.”

  “So, you don’t want to tell me?” Jenny sat against the wall with her legs pulled up against her; as if hugging them to her body comforted her in some manner. She didn’t shrink back when he leaned down in front of her, facing her eye to eye.

  “A captive always bonds with their captor and vice versa—the more I tell you about why I do the things I do, the more we bond. Is that what you want?”

  “Well… it’s not like I have anyone else to talk to.”

  “You will soon, very soon. I have my reasons for everything I do, and that’s all you need to know.”

  He stood up; looking down on her as if he had some type of superiority over her. She took a chance on asking him for something that would help her escape; even if it was just mentally.

  “Can you bring me a book?”

  “I’ll do you one better than that; I’ll bring you someone to talk to.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  Angel used the drive to work as a time to at least attempt to mentally compartmentalizing the cluster-fuck of confusion her life had become. Talking her husband into letting her go to work hadn’t been an easy feat.

  She enjoyed working nights. There was something peaceful about the ominous blanket of darkness that shrouded the city; it fit right in with the new reality she had been forced to accept: that she was completely comfortable with killing. At first, she thought it was guilt that plagued her, but with each passing day, she was coming to the conclusion that fear of being caught was the sentiment she was experiencing.

  She pulled into the parking garage, and the emotion of fear quickly turned to one of frustration over the fact she had to go all the way up to the third floor to get a parking spot. How in the hell can we be so busy at night? She parked in the middle of several cars and a van next to her. She looked over at the van, making certain there was no one in it. Some part of her saw everyone as a predator; maybe killing had changed her. The fear she felt most certainly didn’t help her. It was bleeding over into other areas of her life.

  She opened her car door and walked to the back of the SUV, opening the hatch door to conceal her purse in a hidden corner that she used when she went to work. She felt vulnerable leaving it in the hospital with everything that was going on. She got the lanyard that held her keys and placed it over her neck, tucking them safely inside her hospital scrubs. She had no way of knowing she wasn’t alone.

  Watching her vulnerability through the darkly tinted back van windows sent a pang of excitement and power straight to her predator’s cock. She never saw him quietly exit the van, and by the time she felt the needle pinch, it was too late. He quickly tossed her into the van’s side door, using the vehicles to block the view of the surveillance camera. The license plate cover he used and the fact he normally drove a different car to work ensured anonymity.

  Jenny would be so happy to have her friend to talk to. She had voiced the fact she was lonely in a roundabout way when she said she had no one to bond with. He wasn’t concerned that she wouldn’t continue bonding with him; he’d studied up on Stockholm syndrome, and bonding with her captor was a given.

  “I know you’re well aware of what’s going on. I thought it would hold better meaning if I used succinylcholine—it’s what you used to kill that poor old woman; you should be ashamed of yourself.” He made a tutting noise as if it would add more meaning to his assessment of her lack of morality. “Of course I didn’t give you enough to kill you. I’m doing this for Jenny because we’re bonding, and I’m having second thoughts about killing her. Why should she have to pay for your sins?”

  The drug he had given her was a neuromuscular blocking drug. She could hear everything he was saying, and she would still be able to feel pain, but she was paralyzed to do anything about it. Oh, the power of having her completely aware of what was going on, yet she was unable to do a damn thing about it. Now that… was real power.

  Jericho had used every argument he could to keep her from going to work. It wasn’t until she pointed out that her life needed to seem normal, so Agent Turner and his partner Rene didn’t get suspicious, that he relented. Now that he couldn’t contact her, he was second guessing that decision. Arguing with a woman as strong-willed as his wife was pointless, but… there was always the basement, and if it meant saving her life, he’d resort to chaining her ass down. There was no need in his mind to defend his actions of keeping her safe, no matter how drastic the measure that needed to be taken might be. It might be fun.

  Sometimes she turned off her phone at work because they didn’t like cell phones in the hospital. He wasn’t aware she’d been stashing her purse in the SUV since they realized the man who probably had Jenny worked at the hospital— especially a man with access to keys. No locker would be safe—factor in a pair of bolt cutters, and nothing was sacred; certainly not her privacy. As a last resort, he called the hospital to make sure she’d arrived safely.

  “Jericho… I’m so sorry. We’ve paged her twice, and she’s not answering.”

  “Did Joe Monroe come in today?”

  “Hold on, and I’ll check for you.”

  Jericho paced as the moments went by; dragging on like hours. The sick feeling he felt in his gut was quickly followed up by the guilt of letting her talk him into going to work.

  “Jericho, he called in sick today. What’s going on?”

  He knew he couldn’t talk about an ongoing investigation, and he was forced to gloss the matter over.

  “No. Everything’s fine. Could you have her call me when she gets in? Maybe she’s just running a little bit late.”

  “I’m sure that’s what it is. I’ll have her call you when she gets here.” It was the receptionist’s effort to put Jericho’s mind at ease and hers too. God knows you guys see enough trauma and chaos to think the worst. He knew what their professions did to a person’s psyche, how it changed you and made you so aware that the bottom could fall out at any moment.

  Jericho hung the phone up, convinced of the fact that a killer had his wife. He was looking for a ghost. A man operating under an alias, who had used a fake address and may or may not be mentally unstable.

  He pushed down the wave of panic that was threatening to invade his level head; it was the reason they didn’t want agents working on cases that involved family. If they thought he wasn’t going to work this case because it was too close to home, they had another fucking thing coming.

  Chapter Fourteen

  He felt like a child trembling with excitement. The prospect of giving his little pet a present made him happier than he initially thought it would. Of course, he’d never suspected he’d make a new friend when he abducted Jenny, but as fate would have it, that’s what happened. He gushed, feeling like a schoolboy smitten with a girl in his class. She’d be so happy.

  He tossed her over his shoulder and fumbled with the keys he kept clipped to the side of his pants. He finally managed to get them unhooked. He decided it might be better to take her around back and go through the basement door. Even though he didn’t have any neighbors, it was still the smart thing to do. And he, by any standard, was smart. After all, he’d pulled off the perfect crime, and he found a new girlfriend in the process. How many guys could pull something like that off?

  He whistled as he made his way into the basement where she was. He hoped she was still awake so he could see how happy having her friend was going to make her. Of course, he’d have to be careful about how he killed the bitch because he didn’t want to hurt his sweet little pet. Timing would be of utmost importance, but he’d get it all worked out; they could work through it together—like a couple.

  She could hear his footsteps on the concrete; her hearing and other senses had been amplified since she’d begun this nightmare. She did have one
thing going for her: with each passing day, she could see his reservation waning. The look in his eyes was a dead giveaway that he was the one who had bonded. She had managed to convince a madman that she too had bonded. It would mean the difference between life and death, but it was a thought she pushed out of her head; the death part of it anyway.

  The clomping of his feet gave away the jingling of keys; those fucking keys he kept hooked to his side that always announced his coming. Thank God he’d never tried to fuck her. Just the thought of it made her feel like she could throw up in her mouth. Tricking him into believing she was bonding with him had been the hardest lie she’d ever had to tell. But once again, it came back to the matter of life and death. The primal need to survive showed up in a fight or flight behavior. Sure, the fight was mental, but she was fighting… and it was all that mattered. She refused to be anyone’s victim.

  She’d wondered in the past if she could kill someone. She didn’t anymore. Not after living in this hell house. It wasn’t that he had been cruel. It was that the sonofabitch had taken her independence, and she hated him for it. She’d never been the type of woman to let a man take her will. And this one was doing it without her permission—it was a transgression she wouldn’t forgive.

  The scraping of the heavy metal door against concrete brought her out of her thoughts. When she did look up, her worst fears were confirmed. Her captor had brought her best friend to her.

  She could tell by the look on his face he had done this for her. It sickened her to think she had put her friend in this situation. He had taken her seriously when she said she didn’t have anyone to talk to. The man may have been feigning to be mentally challenged, but he was for sure certifiable crazy. She’d worked with what she had: him.

  “Look what I got you.” Angel’s head made a terrible thud noise when he tossed her down like a ragdoll.

  “Be careful!” Jenny looked at him with an angry expression of “How dare you. You clueless sonofabitch!”

  “I’m sorry,” he mumbled, much like a child who was being reprimanded.

  “What did you give her?” she asked him when she noted there had been no response to the pain.

  “Succinylcholine. I thought it was poetic justice after the way she killed the patient who was under her care. You know that’s what she used, right, succinylcholine? It’s a terrible way to die—absolutely terrifying when you realize you’re suffocating and there’s nothing you can do about it. I studied up on it. Plus, I figure when they do inventory and find two batches of succinylcholine gone, they’ll blame her, and you and I will be home free.”

  You and I? Are you fucking kidding me?! “It’s two vials, not batches.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “It’s. Two. Vials. Not. Batches.”

  The fact she was disgusted with him went right over his head. This guy was delusional; his narcissism was his worst enemy—he couldn’t see past the nose on his face. Everything was all about him. She shook her head, resigned to the fact that he wasn’t worth thirty minutes of trying to reason with because he’d never get it anyway.

  “You didn’t give her enough to kill her, did you? Because I’m going to be really mad at you if you did.” She chastised him like you would a child, and to her relief, it worked. The look on his face as he answered her was like he was reassuring her he hadn’t.

  “I only gave her a tiny bit. I promise.” He shook his head back and forth dramatically like it would help solidify his honest answer.

  Great… a fucking pinky promise. She knew she had him by the balls and went with it.

  “Leave her there and go get us some food and water. She’s going to need it to absorb that shit from her system.” When he left the room, he did something he’d never done before. He left the door open.

  Angel waited until she knew he was gone to let her friend know the drugs had worn off. It hadn’t been easy to have her skull crack against concrete, but she knew she had to convince him she was still helpless. “Listen, Jenny, he’ll be back soon. It’s evident he likes you. His beef is with me. I need you to move quickly. If you can do that, we may stand a chance of getting out of here alive.” Jenny shook her head yes, and Angel began working on the plan; a plan she hoped would gain them their freedom.

  There was a bounce in his gait as he made his way up the steps. He had a girlfriend, and he’d made her happy. Even though she did get a little mad about the girl bumping her head, he could still tell she was happy.

  He hadn’t planned on falling in love with her when he took her. He’d read stories about captives falling in love with their kidnappers, and he’d fantasized about it. But now it was real. He couldn’t believe it. Jenny was beautiful. She could have any man she wanted, and she chose him. He’d been smart enough to work things out perfectly, and she developed Stockholm syndrome. He wasn’t mentally challenged. He was a fucking genius. Served all those people who thought he was uneducated right; yes, he’d show them. When he pinned all of this on Angel, and he and Jenny ran off into the sunset, she’d be so proud of him—proud, and in love.

  He opened the cabinet and got out two plates, his best china. It was time to start treating his beloved pet better. He grabbed a loaf of bread, opened the refrigerator, and got two glasses, lining it all up on the counter. He was going to make her a special lunch: sub sandwiches, pickles on the side, and a glass of milk; she needed her vitamins. The smile on his face was so big he felt like his face would crack.

  It was all too good to be true, but it was true. He had finally met his soul mate. He was so happy he felt like he’d bust. He grabbed the lunchmeat out of the refrigerator and cut the bread, spreading mayonnaise on it. He carefully placed cheese and meat on the bread, alternating cheese, then meat, cheese, then meat. He took extra time making certain everything was perfect.

  Angel moved quickly even though her head still felt she was in a fog. The pain from her head bouncing off concrete didn’t help matters either. She had one chance to get them out of there alive, and she was going to have to move quickly to make it work.

  She reached up, grabbing a bobby pin from her hair and bit the plastic tip off. She hoped like hell what she was getting ready to do would work. She could feel her hands shaking while she bent the small tool. She then took the straight end and inserted it into the upper portion of the lock. Next, she bent the bobby pin into an S shape. Angel added tension and pressed the device towards the cuff’s direction of travel. In this case, it was counterclockwise. It was different depending on the company that manufactured them. She willed her hands to stop shaking when she heard the basement door open.

  “Oh fuck, please hurry up.” Jenny could feel the fear blooming in her chest like it wanted to grow until it took over her faculties.

  Angel forced herself to stay focused as she moved it back and forth just enough to press against the locking mechanism and free Jenny. She had just enough time to tell her friend to fake being cuffed before she laid back down on the concrete like the drugs still had her incapacitated.

  “I thought we could have lunch together.”

  Jenny’s heart felt like it was beating out of her chest. She was sure he could hear it thundering as her blood raced through her system at a rapid pace. Good God, could somebody die from fear? That was when she noticed he had used glass plates.

  “Oh, what pretty dinnerware.” She smiled convincingly. She said her next statement so Angel could purposely hear it from where she was on the concrete, still playing a very convincing game of possum. “I’m so flattered you trust me enough to use glass.”

  “I wanted to show—” was all he got out of his mouth before Angel came up off the concrete and sprayed him with the mace she carried in her scrub pants—he never saw it coming. Screams of agony ripped through the air like some demon possessed soul being delivered from the ghosts that haunted them. It wasn’t enough to spray him with mace. She grabbed a plate, broke it against the wall, and sliced his throat so fast he never anticipated it. Only time would tell if it was d
eep enough to bleed the life out of him like a stuck pig.

  Jenny was grateful he’d given her clothes back to her in an attempt to win her over. She’d seen it; the transformation of him being willing to do anything to keep her happy, and she’d played it to the hilt. She wished she could stay and watch the bastard die. At this point, she’d made up her mind that even if Angel did kill that woman she’d never tell—the secret would go with her to her grave.

  Angel reached down, grabbing the keys he kept at his side. He’d left the door open, and she knew it was because Jenny had convinced him she was bonding; the girl was smarter than Angel had given her credit for. Angel led the way going up the steps. She’d been coming out of the drugged haze when he pulled her from the van, and she watched the way he’d brought her in and down to the basement.

  “Where the fuck are you going?” Jenny asked, almost panicked at the thought of him still being alive, when instead of going to the front door, Angel went up the steps to the second floor and began opening doors.

  “Just go with it”—she took a second to look at her friend— “the less you know, the better off you’ll be.”

  “I don’t care if you killed that woman. If you did it, I know she asked you to. But you’re right. I can’t testify to what I don’t know.” She was thinking out loud—thoughts jumbling together like some cluster-fuck of mental mayhem brought on by fear.

  “Exactly,” Angel looked over her shoulder answering. When they came to the one door that was locked, she grabbed the keys trying them. The ring had so many keys on it that she was beginning to get nervous. She had no guarantee the madman was dead. Finally, after five tries, a key worked and the door opened to an office—exactly what she was looking for, an office. This guy had a video of her killing a woman, and she needed to find it if she had any hope of going back to her normal suburban life—two point three kids and an SUV was sounding real fucking good right now.