Killing Mary Jane: A Dark Romantic Thriller

by Amarie Avant

  Now she repeated herself, “I’m sorry, Mary Jane. I know that Wulf cannot be here.” Her voice tapered off. Ariel had never held so much power in her life since the Tiana Clement case. She sighed heavily. This was no longer about bringing down the biggest, baddest terrorist turned serial killer. This was about her broken word.

  Mary Jane glanced at her and then at the Associate Deputy Director, who was silently conversing with the Chief of Police, and then back at Ariel. “I thought–I thought… I agreed to go in and talk to Jake. There’s no need for guns and-and scaring Bree.”

  Ariel held her hand up to calm Mary Jane’s hyperventilating. She was numb about the entire ordeal. The young woman was in love with a man, and a bunch of bad dreams continued to tell her that Peter would break her apart with Dylan Wulf for good. She couldn’t help but try to explain. “Mary Jane, before it came to a hostage situation, using you to bait Woods was a risk I was willing to take. With a minor abductee, there’s no way my boss will allow you into that building. I appreciate your willingness to place your life in jeopardy, but it is literally out of my hands.” All we have now is prayer. My mother would want me to pray.

  The heartbreak that pierced Mary Jane’s eyes with an onslaught of tears made Ariel feel even worse. She needed a double shot of whiskey.

  Robertson explained, “In a matter of minutes, the plans have changed, Mary Jane. We can’t very well have you playing hero, with a kid’s life at stake.”

  Animosity rode along his tone, so Ariel spoke up, “The captain of the police force is best friends with someone in the FBI’s chain of command, and he’s been given a level of control in the situation. We’re going to get screwed in the ass since I just heard that Curbelo has successfully fled the country. Now, we’ve got a little kid’s life on the line.”

  Mary Jane scoffed, “But—”

  “Trust me, I don’t like it.” Ariel placed her hand on Mary Jane’s shoulder. “And I haven’t forgotten what you said about the dreams and Jake murdering Officer Wulf. Neither I nor Robertson are calling the shots anymore.”

  The barracuda stepped up to Ariel again. “Are you deaf? You are now a liaison, Juarez, Robertson. Get ‘er out of here, now!”

  The only association he had with Mary Jane was a frown. He did an about-face and headed toward the FBI trailer with his friend in tow.

  “Wait.” Mary Jane followed his retreat. “I have to go in and talk to Jake.”

  His pale blue eyes turned in her direction for the first time. Ariel took a gulp. She’d just been demoted to ‘liaison’, which meant she could only give intel when spoken to. Yet, Mary Jane had the balls to make an order.

  The Assistant Director growled, “Not today!”

  Mary Jane started after him. Ariel grabbed her arm.

  “I can make him listen, Ariel. I can make Jake listen. Can you get that asshole to stop for a second, so I can tell him?”

  Robertson smiled faintly. “There is a four-year-old girl being held hostage by your friend, Mrs. Grienke.”

  She and her partner exchanged glances. Ariel shook her head. He’d always thought that the Mary Jane angle wasn’t a good one, but Ariel knew it was off with her head when all was said and done. But Robertson was taking it too far.

  “As a liaison, I’ll try to mention that, Mary Jane. I’ll be back in a few minutes. Stay by the chopper.”

  Ariel moved with purpose toward the trailer. She held her head high, though her fellow agents probably were highly aware that she had been dismissed. This was by no means the end of her on the Grienke/Woods case.

  There was a young girl that needed to be saved, and Ariel wasn’t counting another body today—not unless that body was Jakob Woods.

  There were women around the world whose minds would be slowly transitioning as they recalled where they came from. All this ‘sweep it under the rug’ bullshit was going to come back and bite us in the ass. And she’d be there to fix things. The stakeholders were going to follow her lead once she told them exactly what mistakes they’d made in brainwashing the girls again.

  A million women…yes, that number was outlandish, but the truth was just as dire. And she’d given her all from the start. For Tiana Clement. For Whitley Rodgers. “I’ll be damned if I’m somebody’s fucking liaison.”

  She gripped the handle of the FBI trailer and entered.

  62

  Mary Jane started after Ariel, but Robertson grabbed her arm and yanked her back. “We’re not on the case anymore, Mary Jane, since we spent half our manpower and time searching for you.”

  “Please, understand that Woods is a very bad man. I know we haven’t gotten along,” Mary Jane spoke to Robertson before he could slip inside the camper where Ariel had followed the boss. “Please, if he sees Wulf, he’s liable to kill him and the little girl. I had a dream about it. Let me go in first!”

  “There’s nothing I can do. Now, listen to Juarez and don’t move a single muscle.” Robertson started for the stairs of the trailer.

  Eyes wide, she stared at the back of his head.

  Everyone had blown her off. Except for Ariel. Mary Jane had gotten the feeling that the agent had to prove herself as a woman. Wulf had called home last Christmas when he spoke with his family, and she’d heard Bree’s voice…well, that had caused her heart to take flight with worry.

  Mary Jane bit her lip, passing one zig-zagged cruiser and then another. She fidgeted with her fingers while moving around the SWAT bus.

  She ran.

  “Ma’am!” The shouting came a half second after.

  A slew of officers tailed her to the barricade. A few yards away from the building, they fell back in order. There was no time to rationalize why they chose not to continue after her. Besides the imminent danger or their own orders. She hurried toward a rusted door and crept inside the abandoned factory.

  It was dark. Her eyes widened then squinted, and her vision adjusted to the lack of light.

  Mary Jane took a deep breath of air, moist with contaminants. The faint sound of water dripping slowed her heart down, and Mary Jane tiptoed toward Jake’s voice.

  Mary Jane’s eyes widened in horror upon seeing Bree. The rope engulfed and was bounding her about the chest and legs was thicker than her arms. Bree sat on the floor in the middle of old bins and other factory equipment. Mary Jane hurried over without a thought besides helping her.

  The girl’s eyes were wet with tears, and the brown pupils held no glimmer of hope.

  Intuition caught up. Mary Jane put a finger over her lips and finally looked around her. Jake was nowhere in sight. There were crates and bins cluttering the room. She bit her lip and ducked down while moving toward the girl.

  “Bree,” she whispered in a soothing voice as she knelt on the floor, “I know your uncle Dylan.” Mary Jane smiled as hope washed over Bree’s face. It instantly vanished. “Do you like ice cream? How about Dylan and I take you to get some ice cream after you see your parents?” she asked, trying to get the little girl to reclaim just a seed of faith. Just a smidgen made all things possible, and she needed Bree receptive to orders if need be. Not hollow and timid with fear.

  The sound of a gun cocked back so close to her ear made Mary Jane flinch. With a heightened level of awareness, she cautiously looked over her shoulder slowly to see Jake. He wore army fatigues. He’s ready for war.

  “Hello, Jake.”

  “Hello, Mary Jane.” His voice reminded her of sweet tea and a summer breeze. His gun never left the back of her ear as she stood straight, arms up. “What are you doing?”

  Though she looked dead ahead, Mary Jane gulped. “I just want to get this little girl to safety. That’s all.”

  “Where’s Wulf?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “I have to kill him and the kid,” the gun went back to Bree, “or you, Mary Jane. Let me kill them, please. And we can go.”

  “No!”

  “Don’t do this.” His honey-brown eyes warmed over once more as he glanced at her.


  “It’s the dreams, isn’t it?” Mary Jane slowly reached out to touch his shoulder. It was a calming movement but the gun went to her chest. Keeping the focus on her and not Bree was exactly what Mary Jane needed so she held her composure.

  His voice was filled with regret. “The dreams won’t stop, MJ. You…you’re supposed to be my target.”

  She thought of the right words to say. The dreams had taken root into her mind, making it so much easier for her to leave Wulf last night. That was, until she told him she might be pregnant.

  “You don’t have to kill anymore, Jake.” She needed him to remember the man he’d been for her very own sake while saving her from Beasley and Peter.

  As her hand caressed his cheek, Jake’s eyes stopped on hers. Dark eyes consumed with death, he uttered each syllable slowly, “I-refuse-to-stop. It’s the kid and Wulf or you. MJ, I swear, I refuse to murder you, unless you force me to!”

  The gun left her head. Mary Jane stumbled in front of Bree. With as much conviction as she could muster, she shouted, “Listen here, Sergeant Woods, you’ve been reassigned!”

  He didn’t seem convinced.

  “Sergeant Woods.” She spoke with the force she remembered her father would use. His words came to mind. There had to be truth in them when he’d jokingly ordered Elena around before she went on vacation and became timid. Or the stories of war he’d tell when Mom wasn’t around to complain. Mary Jane knew some soldier lingo. She knew how to use certain words to her advantage. “Your mission is over, Sergeant! Stand down! Do you understand?”

  Something in his stiff mannerisms indicated that she’d gotten through to him. That maybe whatever curse or scientific spell Peter put on Jake had been tampered with. The brain is a flexible and strong muscle, but how was it that she so easily learned about her past? Mary Jane didn’t know how many years Jake was under the influence of Peter. She determined that the length of time had something to do with it.

  “Listen to me, Sergeant!” she shouted.

  Bree had further retreated into a shell. Her lip quivered and there was not an ounce of hope in her big brown eyes.

  “No.” Jake shook his head. He clutched a hand at his brain but held his gun steady at her chest.

  Mary Jane drummed up more of her father’s old war sayings. The crude jokes that many army men knew became second nature as she spoke of the enemy. She willed something, anything to slow his mindset, but in the end, Jake held steady.

  “Just kill me,” Mary Jane said, simple as that. There’d be no assistance from a sniper since the building had no windows. At that very moment, she knew breaking through his resolve would be two steps past impossible. He’d been fucked with for too long. And Ariel had explained that Jake was never a good guy to begin with.

  “Kill me.” Her voice rasped. “Just me. Nobody else has to die but me.”

  “No.” He shoved Mary Jane so hard she fell.

  “You want to kill me, Jake, do it.” Her voice faltered as Jake pointed the gun at Bree. Tiny sobs made her heart crack even further. On her hands and knees she crawled. For the first time in her life, Mary Jane desired to be happy, and even more, she longed for a future. She took Bree’s hand and they both stood, as she concentrated on a small dream of happiness. Wulf was outside, probably trying his damnedest to get inside. To save Bree and her.

  “Close your eyes,” Mary Jane spoke softly to Bree, and then she stepped before her again.

  Bree’s sobs were silent. Her tiny body vibrated against Mary Jane’s back. Mary Jane gripped the barrel of Jake’s nine millimeter and planted it square in her chest. Eyes glossed over, she said, “Do it. Complete your mission. The dreams will cease once you finish your assignment. My bad dreams will stop too.”

  She’d dealt with Peter Grienke’s dreams long enough. The hold he had on her was already more than she could bear. If her death meant Wulf and Bree, who’d just started to live, would be safe, then she readily agreed.

  Jake took a deep breath.

  Don’t sleep. Don’t sleep. Don’t sleep. Don’t dream. Don’t dream…Those thoughts plagued her again, making it easier for her to goad Jake.

  “Pull the trigger, soldier!” Mary Jane screamed at the top of her lungs. “Complete your fucking mission!”

  Bang!

  63

  One Week Later

  The sweetest aroma wafted from the kitchen. Cinnamon, vanilla, and pure sugar interwove with the sound of humming. Brenda placed another piece of French toast on the tall stack, while she hummed an old hymn.

  Wulf leaned his shoulder against the wall, legs locked about the ankle, as he took a sip of freshly brewed coffee. His demeanor was detached, though he did his best to be appreciative. He had lots to be content about, such as Bree’s smile as she and her brothers took turns licking the batter for the cinnamon buns.

  “Big brother,” Shelly said from behind him. She came up beside him, placing her arm around his waist. “Don’t come over to my house with such an ugly mug for a face.”

  He chuckled, shaking his head. “Better?”

  “He is so nonchalant about everything,” Brenda said. “Well, I’m going to feed you breakfast and send you on your way.”

  Today, Wulf planned to visit the Portman home. When he’d mentioned it to Brenda the other day, she’d told him to come by for breakfast with the family first. Wulf slid into the breakfast nook with the first family he had ever known.

  Elena stood at the screen door of her house. Today, she looked Wulf in the eye. “Good morning, Mr. Wulf.” She offered the faintest smile as she unlatched the lock. “Please come in.”

  “Thank you.” He stepped inside, feeling self-conscious for towering over her in such small confines.

  “Mom, who is at that door?” a familiar feminine voice called out from down the hall. After a few seconds of light footsteps, Wulf stood face-to-face with one of the most beautiful sights he had ever seen. Megan Portman was just as gorgeous as his Mary Jane, yet her eyes didn’t light up.

  “Oh, Dylan. You’re here,” she said.

  Wulf wasn’t able to discern her feelings because Mary Jane’s father stood in the hallway.

  “Wulf, step into the kitchen with me,” Vincent commanded. The thinning of the back of his head became Wulf’s instant line of vision, prompting him to follow.

  Down the hall Wulf went. The white walls were all covered with family photos. He stopped in front of a photo of Mary Jane at a chess tournament. She wore a denim button-up, like one would in the nineties. Two long, thick pigtails lay over her shoulders, and her eyes made Wulf fall in love with her all over again. Confident, twinkling dark brown eyes.

  Feeling Vincent’s stare, Wulf turned to walk again. They stood in the kitchen. The door to the backyard was open, and bright light streamed in through it and the windows.

  Vincent gestured for him to have a seat. Vincent didn’t sit. Wulf didn’t sit.

  While Vincent posted against the dining table, Wulf leaned against the counter in front of the dishwasher.

  Vincent rubbed a hand over his mouth before meeting Wulf eye-to-eye. He folded his arms to stifle some of the emotion he was feeling, and then spoke. “I misjudged you. You’re all right in my book.”

  “Thank you,” Wulf said, knowing full well that they’d gotten as close as compliments would go as far as Vincent was concerned.

  “Now, what are your intentions?”

  Laughter blossomed from the back door, washing away the sound of Vincent’s interrogating demeanor. The sun beaming inside the windows and door added an effervescent glow to the kitchen. Magnetized by the sound, Wulf stepped toward the door. His breath caught as he watched Mary Jane. She stood in soot-covered overalls that almost masked her voluptuous curves in front of the open hood of a ‘67 Mustang. A smudge of dirt coated the slender angle of her jaw.

  Wulf’s gaze narrowed as he saw Keegan lean against the side of the car. His smile mirrored hers. They were so happy together.

  Setting aside his broken heart, Wulf tur
ned to Vincent and said, “Looks like MJ is doing well here.”

  “Mallory,” Vincent corrected.

  “Yes. Mallory. I have a few of her things in my trunk. Anyway, here’s a letter from a friend of hers in Arizona.”

  “And that’s all?” Vincent asked.

  He gave a curt nod before turning on the heel of his boots and stalking toward the front door.

  He couldn’t hate Keegan Little as the memory of Mary Jane and Bree coming out of the warehouse dashed before his face. A lone sniper had finally infiltrated the air shaft and taken the final shot that murdered Jakob Woods. All in all, Mary Jane was the hero. Who didn’t love a hero?

  That night Agent Juarez allowed Mary Jane to leave her sight with a damn near blood oath that she’d stay in the general vicinity. Mary Jane had asked Wulf to take her home. There were no words exchanged regarding what she meant by home, and the timeframe of how long she meant to be home. Well, the sight he just saw confirmed that this was where she planned to stay. He’d been a pussy, just bringing the letter from Glenn into the house, hoping on a whim that she still loved him.

  Granted, he’d left the boxes in the trunk in hopes that they’d take them to the home he desired to share with her. When Wulf had reached out to Tito about Glenn’s letter a few days ago, Tito said he’d have an older cousin drop off everything. Little did Wulf know, Tito had felt remorse about taking the knickknacks he and Mary Jane left at the villa since their purchases blended in with the rented furniture. If Tito hadn’t mentioned the letter in the first place, Wulf didn’t know how long it would’ve taken him to come by. Shelly had forced him to search for closure when he thought Mary Jane left with her sister and Keegan. Of course, he had questions. Well, just one question.

  Was she really happy here?