“She’s the one that got away.” He laughed, a rumbling sound . . . like someone with a cold.
The laugh washed over her and threw her back to her apartment lobby as The Strangler sat on her chest while he carved her face. Stella clenched her teeth together to keep them from chattering.
CHAPTER 21
“How did she get away?” Stella couldn’t keep the breathlessness from her voice.
Daniel shrugged. “I can admit I was sloppy. An opportunity presented itself and I unwisely took it. You see—” He finally turned completely and faced her, but his eyes were unfocused. With a melancholy wistfulness, his face took on a faraway look.
“—I saw her standing there, at the on the ramp in the garage, and she was the most beautiful thing I’d seen.” Wistful with longing, his voice filled the small space. “I wanted her, not to hurt,” he said quickly, “But to keep. I wanted to keep her . . . but she ran.”
Hard blue eyes shifted to her. Once a warm deep blue, they had changed into the same cold blue eyes she stared into as The Strangler tried to end her life.
And she was trapped in her kitchen with him.
“You shouldn’t have run, Stella. I just wanted to touch you.” He came to her with an outstretched palm. “You’re a legend, you know. Can I touch a legend, Elyssian, please?” His voice broke on the last word.
Sobs squeezed her throat closed. Tears blurred her eyes, but she could see his palm coming toward her. Rough callous’ touched her face, caressing her cheek and wiping her tears.
“Don’t cry, Stella.” He brushed her neck, slid his rough hands down her shoulders and bare arms. She didn’t resist when he pulled her into his embrace and buried her face in his chest.
He stroked her hair and back. “It’s okay.”
Daniel brought her chin up and smoothed the hair away from her wet face. His lips traced the scar on her face. “This was meant to be. You, me and our unfinished business.”
Heavy hands encircled her neck and thumbs found her pulsing carotids.
“Why?” She hiccupped.
He paused and took a deep breath. “Why you or why everything?” His brows furrowed as he pondered the question. “Because. It’s what I wanted to do. I think I was born too late. I should have been born in Roman’s time, hacking my way through the battlefield. I’d have met him as an equal and killed him with honor. I told you the truth when I said I wanted to keep you. I wanted you first, before Roman stole you.” He pressed against her carotid artery
Light headed, his words made no sense. Colors danced before her eyes. She didn’t fight back. Hands at her sides, she accepted this final defeat.
“Do you think we might of . . .” He appeared to search for words. “. . . had a chance?” His lips brushed against her forehead. “If you had met me first?” He shook his head. “If we met differently, nicely . . .” His voice drifted away.
An opening?
“If I had known you were Elyssian, I never would have hurt you. Do you understand?”
Stella nodded.
“I’m sorry.” He kissed her lips tentatively.
The hands around her neck tightened again.
Survive Stella. Survive at any cost! Roman’s voice burst in her head.
Her hands rose. Carefully, she touched his cheek and pulled his head closer, to slant her lips across his. Her mouth opened. She milked his lips into hers and felt his confusion in his frozen hands. The pressure on her neck stopped and turned into a shy caress.
She moved her shaking hands from his hair, down his back and pressed her body into his. He pulled away sharply and grabbed her chin. Eyes narrowed, he studied her and she him.
Something slithered behind the blue irises and his eyes took on a faint glow.
Everything in her wanted to run. Instead, she swallowed the lump of fear lodged in her throat and said, “If things were different . . . maybe we w-woulda had a chance.” Her hands were steady when she trailed them from his back, around his waist and up his chest.
Beneath her hands nothing beat. Ignoring the terror lodged in her chest, she moved up to his face and ran a finger across his lips. “We could have a chance now. Just the two of us. The way you wanted it.”
Stella brought his face down to hers and kissed him again. Daniel pulled her into in his arms, molded her to him, his erection a thick wedge between them. “I never would have run, if I had known.” She tried to whisper, but ended up croaking.
“We have to leave. I know a place,” Daniel whispered. He took her hand and dragged her a few feet into the living room.
“I need to get some things,” she said, stalling. Her empty duffel bag rested in a corner of the room. While he watched, she packed anything her hands touched.
“No, this is wrong.” He tore the half-filled bag from her hands and threw it across the room. “I’m dumb. But not that dumb. The only person you will ever want is Roman.” He scowled with glowing eyes and twisted lips.
She made a fist and threw everything into a punch to his throat. Gagging, he staggered back. She picked up her lamp and smashed it into his head, sending him crashing into the wall.
She should have run, but false bravado made her grab her gun case. Two minutes, that’s all she needed.
No, one minute! God grant me one minute to put a bullet between his fucking eyes.
Unzipped, her hands rushed in and touched steel. The cold gun in one hand and the clip in her other. Slap it in. Chamber a bullet. Safety off. Too many things to remember!
His arm closed around her throat and started to drag her up. Stella dropped her only chance to survive. Dangling, she slammed her elbow into his ribs. The grip on her neck slackened. Her foot brushed his knee. She kicked and connected with a welcoming crunch.
“Uggh!” He threw her on the ground and fell back.
On her hands and knees, she scrambled for the door. Daniel grabbed the back of her jeans and hauled her back. She reached for the only thing she could, the futon. Made of brass she prayed it would give her some purchase. It didn’t. He dragged her and the furniture across the room.
The futon banged into the heavy wooden chest that served as her coffee table. Her sweaty hands slipped off the warm metal arm and scrabbled across the chest. Her fingernails gouged the cheap wooden surface leaving bloody tracks in their wake.
Hector’s gift rolled across the chest.
Again, his hands closed around her throat. She stretched, reaching for the gift she initially refused and only accepted out of politeness. Fourth of July danced before her eye. She pressed on, straining forward, increasing the pressure on her neck until darkness colored the edges of her vision. This was her last hope. Without it, she was dead.
The mace rolled in her sweaty hands. She gripped the canister a second before the cold metal cylinder slipped free and twisted the top, but the safety cap wouldn’t budge.
Darkness tunneled her vision, pulling her into an eternal abyss. Frantically looking for the nozzle, her hand worked the top. One finger finally found the toggle trigger as darkness swallowed her. With her last bit of strength, Stella aimed above her head.
Two blocks.
Roman saw the cab before the squeal of tires reached him. Just before metal slammed into him, he jumped and landed on the hood. Then rolled off and onto the street. Breaks squealed as cars avoided flattening him. Gathering his senses, he laid still for a few seconds before lunging to his feet. Pain streaked down his side, he stumbled and braced himself against a parking meter.
“Mister, are you okay?” Hands reached out to steady and guide him back down to the ground.
He shook them off and ran.
Roman exploded into the lobby of her building and ran to the elevator. Prepared to run the ten flights up her apartment, he ran to the staircase and had the door open when the elevator dinged. He entered the elevator.
I should’ve run the stairs, he thought as the elevator rose in agonizing increments. Caged in a box, he was stuck until the door opened. Stuck. 5, 6, 7 . . . Roman
watched the floors tick by.
Ding.
He flew out the elevator and down the hallway to her door. He didn’t knock, but threw his body into the metal.
Once. Twice.
Daniel dropped her again and clawed at the pepper spray coating his eyes. She landed on her hands and knees. Sucking in painful threads of air, she lay on the ground, knowing time was her enemy. Daniel screamed above her, his hands scouring his tearing eyes.
She couldn’t wait for her lungs to get enough air or her vision to stop swimming. She had one opportunity. When he lunged for her, she took it.
Center mass, as hard as she could, she kicked him. His arms cartwheeled. He stumbled back, tripped over the discarded duffel back and fell into the window. Glass shattered, the old wooden frame crumbled under his weight, but Daniel’s fingertips gripped what remained.
Stella watched as his fingers, slippery from the mace and his tears, slipped from the last bit of smooth frame before he fell through.
Roman barged through the door in time to witness Daniel’s dive.
He rushed to Stella’s crumpled body. He turned her over. Her eyes were open, but dazed. Stella didn’t need him to rescue her. She saved herself.
He went to the window to make sure. Ten floors below, amidst a growing crowd of spectators, was the body of a once trusted brother.
Daniel.
A wailing police car screeched to a halt inches from the spectacle. He picked Stella up from the floor and laid her on the futon. Daniel’s handprint showed red against her pale skin. Again, Fate conspired to rob him of what rightfully belonged to him. This time Fate failed.
She lived.
CHAPTER 22
This was how they met, Roman thought, standing beside the gurney. They’d come full circle. Their relationship began inside a hospital and would end in one. His promise to protect her meant nothing. She would never forgive him for not knowing what Daniel was.
“I brought a viper into my home, held the beast close to my bosom, gave him camaraderie and love. I trusted him completely, and he tried to kill my heart.” Wearily, he collapsed in a nearby chair.
Were there more vipers nesting in his home, waiting to hurt him through her?
The experiment was over. This false brotherhood he created out of a need for family, he would kill them all before he allowed this to happen again.
His body clenched in silent fury and he struggled to control the darkness that threatened to launch him out of his chair and wage war on those he loved. The bed rail cracked beneath the pressure of his hands as his heart numbed into a block of ice. He pushed his head into the mattress. “Not here, not now,” he chanted, struggling to reign in the violet urges dragging him toward madness.
Fingers lightly skimming the surface of his hair broke through his rage and sent a rush of warmth into his chest. He jerked upright when they grazed his nape and met her gray eyes.
Stella opened her mouth. Instead of words, a croak came out.
“D-don’t talk. Don’t move, let me get the doctor.” He pressed the call button.
Her hand wandered to her throat. Thin and raspy, her voice was but a mere thready whisper.
“Shush, don’t hurt yourself.” He tried to stop her again, but her eyebrows knit together while her lips pressed into a firm line. She took his face in her hands and brought his ear to her lips.
“Where am I?” she croaked.
“You’re safe in the hospital.”
She shook her head, tears rolling from her eyes to her temples and into her hair.
He brushed her tears away. “I’m sorry. This is my fault. Daniel nearly—” his voice cracked at the enormity of what he had almost lost.
“He’s dead?” Terror contorted her voice and body. Her fingernails dug deep into his arm.
“Yes.” He nodded, trying to calm her.
“Really?” Eyes watering, they pleaded for conformation.
The image of his unnaturally twisted body on the bloody pavement would stay with him forever.
“He’s gone, Stella. He can never hurt you or anyone else again.”
“Lever! Where are you?” McCabe demanded.
“I’m over here,” Lever yelled. “Away from you,” she finished with a mumbled. “Shit, you sent me over here. Where else would I be? Search over there, out of the way, outta my sight. Well, I’m over here searching,” she groused, stomping through the bushes.
Once again, Roman Nicolis and McCabe were the bane of her existence. A vague description of a man and woman fleeing Central Park after an emergency call about a wild animal loose in the park, fitted Nicolis and Stella Walker, and of another man escaping arrest. The task force cleared out of headquarters and headed up town. Hours later they found blood and nothing else.
“Lever! Get off your ass and escort the evidence to the crime lab,” McCabe yelled loud enough for everyone to hear.
Though her eyes shot daggers, she sucked in a strained breath, and bit her tongue. Her back in a bundle of knots, she stretched, twisting from side to side. It didn’t work. Bending low, she assumed the downward dog position and gave her back the stretching it truly needed, and spotted a dark bundle between her spread legs.
She grabbed a thin branch and foraged through the bushes until she hooked something. Carefully, she stood with a jacket dangling at the end. “Tell me I can be this lucky.”
“Lever!”
Her shoulders slumped. A growl started low in her throat, but she buried the building anger. “A lady didn’t get angry. Only upset.” Her mother would say while making her practice her pageant walk.
“I need to get some sleep.” She yawned, running a shaky hand through her messy hair. It was a bad sign when she started thinking about her mother. “McCabe, I found something,” she yelled.
Stomach leading the way, McCabe sauntered over. “Yeah, what?”
“Someone’s jacket, under this bush.”
“You check the pocket?”
“Getting to it.” She slipped on a pair of gloves. “There’s a wallet.” Excited, she pulled the leather billfold free and opened it. “Holy shit.” She handed it over to McCabe.
“Isn’t this poetic. I got the bastard.”
He got the bastard?
“Hey, this just came over the radio. Someone took a header outta Stella Walker’s apartment”,” an officer said, walking over to them.
“Who?” Lever and McCabe asked at the same time.
“Don’t know. Dispatcher didn’t say.”
Lever followed McCabe to the car.
“Whoa, you’re not going anywhere. I’m leaving you in charge of the crime scene. Escort the evidence to the lab and don’t fuck it up, Lever. Got it?”
Her hand rapidly beat against her thigh as she swallowed the anger. “Yes, sir.” A tired grimace stretched across her face as she watched her tormentor leave.
Don’t think, she ordered herself. It was easy with the EMTs hovering, poking, and ordering her to the hospital. At that time, she didn’t have enough energy to fight them. Now, flat on her back in the ER once again, shutting her eyes and pretending she hadn’t killed a man moments earlier, seemed like the perfect way to go.
But then, like a movie flashing across the inside of her closed eyelids, she saw him—Daniel—standing in front of her, telling her everything she needed to hear in order to get her alone. And she fell for the load of shit he shoveled, all to escape Roman. Did the rest know Daniel was The Strangler and threw her to him like a bone? Fuck. It didn’t matter ‘cause she was a willing victim.
Willingly, she placed her life in the hands of her killer. A man Roman called his brother. She snapped her eyes open. Roman hovered, watching her.
Her thoughts turned into a Gordian knot. How did she get here? The ambulance, the elevator, the apartment, Daniel.
The fall. In vivid detail the attack replayed in her mind.
Afterward, she woke, embraced in familiar arms, staring into his rugged face—a face she once loved—Stella felt the hard mu
scles surrounding her and the strong heartbeats beneath her hand. His strength poured into her.
“Let me help you, take care of you.”
She didn’t say yes, but she didn’t say no.
“We need to get her to the hospital,” an EMS tech urged.
He carried her from the apartment. Cradled in his arms, his heat seeped into her frigid body. In the elevator, his chest pillowed her head. When he finally placed her on a stretcher and moved away, bereft, she longed for his return, yet stopped herself from reaching for him.
“I’ll be right behind the ambulance.”
The slam of the double doors jarred her already wrecked nerves, ended the conversation and her view of him.
Laying on a gurney in a tiny room in the E.R. in stark clarity, the entire evening and all its events traipsed through her mind. Down a crooked path, her thoughts dragged her in a backwards dance, first to Daniel, then her sprint through the maze, the argument with Roman, meeting Bianca and finally, her night with Roman. Her hospital door creaked opened and her heart tripped, she braced for another attack.
The curtains parted and a nurse entered with a yawning intern close on her heels. The intern spoke a litany of medical jargon Stella had no hope of understanding and she didn’t have the energy to stop him. Roman grabbed him by the lapels of his wrinkled white lab coat and dragged him to the other side of the curtain.
“Give her what she needs so I can take her out of here.” She heard Roman whisper to the man. The monitor next to her went into overdrive.
“Ma’am, calm down,” the nurse said beside her.
They stepped back inside.
“I’m not going with you,” she blurted through a raw throat when they returned.
“Stella—” Roman started with a heavy sigh.
“No, from the moment I met you I’ve done this your way and this is the result,” she whispered hoarsely.
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