Wicked Little Words

by Stevie J. Cole

  It's all moot at this point. I'm bloodthirsty, blood-starved despite my kill on the side of the road. With the potential of being caught looming and the only woman I've ever loved ripping the charcoal heart out of my chest, I don't give two measly fucks anymore. Let me die a murderous legend. I guarantee my books sell ten times better than they already have. When they know that the murders were real and they can quietly live in sick fascination of my work, hiding their true selves from everyone, I will live on forever.

  Before any of that happens though… I'm going to kill everyone. Starting with Chastity, then Janine, then I'll play with Miranda and her lover just a little bit. I'll make them fuck for me. Not with his dick though—that'll have been long cut off, seared with a blowtorch to stop the bleeding. No, he'll fuck her with a loaded gun—maybe a machete. The one thing that is certain, as certain as the setting sun, is that they will pay, and they will feel my wrath.

  Chastity climbs quickly into my car, shutting the door and eyeing the interior. "A Range Rover. Nice!" She slips a hand on my leg, and I nudge it away. Her gaze falls on me, a confused expression on her face. "Everything okay, Taylor?"

  "My name's actually not Taylor," I say, my eyes still on the road. "It’s EA Mercer." I wait for reaction but get none.

  "It's not surprising. A lot of people go by different names." She slips her hand onto my knee again, and once more, I brush it away. "Seriously, what the fuck?"

  Her bitchy tone makes me want to slam her head into the dashboard until it's painted with brain matter.

  "Fuck is exactly right. That's all I want tonight."

  She looks around, finally realizing we aren't going to our usual motel. "Where are we headed?"

  "To my house," I say, pulling the Range Rover onto the highway. "So the name EA Mercer doesn't ring a bell, huh?" I look at her, my eyes narrow, and she subtly backs away, a confused look on her face.

  "Should it?" she asks, looking once more at the passing pines and moonlit road signs.

  "It figures it wouldn't. People like you, Chastity, can't appreciate the art of the written word. God didn't gift you with that ability." I eye her up and down, my lip curled in disgust as if she had the plague. "He didn't gift you with much other than good looks and a tight pussy." I scoff and direct my attention back to the road. "And let me tell you, sweetheart, both of those fade, and as a fucking worthless street whore, I'm assuming they're going to fade real fast for you."

  She backs up all the way to the door. "I want out of this fucking car right fucking now!"

  "You're not fucking going anywhere." I shoot her a glare. "This is your destiny, sweetheart."

  She starts to tremble, slamming her hand against the unlock button, but nothing happens.

  A smile spreads across my face. "You think I'm that stupid? Childproof locks, my dear. Or slut-proof in this case."

  Pulling a fist back, she thrusts it toward me just as I pull a cattle prod from my side door compartment and hit her in the stomach with it. Her body thrashes, eyes rolling, then she slams against the dashboard. Her body is limp, her eyes still open and staring right at me.

  "Night, night, dear," I whisper, brushing her hair behind her ear before I turn my attention back to the dark, winding country road.

  “Eyes on Fire”—Blue Foundation

  I startle awake, and chills sweep up my spine. I'm still sore between my legs from Jax fucking me the other night, and I shift uncomfortably as my eyes adjust to the dark. But the second they do, I jump and scream.

  Edwin’s at the foot of the bed, one hand on the footboard, his dark eyes locked on me. “Didn’t mean to startle you.” A smile flickers over his face. “But we need to write. The inspiration’s just hit, and it’s…” A soft laugh bubbles from his lips. “Well, it’s the most inspired I’ve found myself in such a long time.”

  There’s a long moment of silence—maybe minutes—because the one thing I’ve grown certain of over the past day is that Edwin is not stable. And while I don’t want to be near him, it’s probably in my best interest to appease him in any way I can.

  “Uh, yeah, okay.” I toss off the covers and plant my feet on the cold hardwood floor. “Sure…”

  His smile deepens before he turns and opens the door. Wiping the sleep from my eyes, I stumble into the hallway after him with my stomach in knots. Edwin goes straight to the desk and turns on the lamp, then he pulls out my chair for me.

  “After you, my dear.” He brushes his cold hand over my shoulders as I take my seat, and my skin prickles.

  I turn the computer on and wait for the program to boot up. The entire time, I feel him staring at me. I swallow before turning to face him.

  “You are beautiful, Miranda.”

  “Thanks,” I whisper as I direct my attention back to the computer screen.

  “Beautiful little Miranda…” A short, ominous laugh rumbles from his chest, sending my heart into a panicked sprint. The program pops up on the screen, and Edwin begins to type. “Now, pay close attention.”

  She has no idea the ways in which the universe has lined up. No idea what a trivial piece of the puzzle she actually is. And that is exactly the way I want it. I want her to wonder whether I intend to kill her or whether I want to keep her. Forever. And ever and ever….

  The typing stops. I can’t force myself to look at him because I can literally feel him staring at me, so I keep my eyes trained on the screen. On that flashing cursor. On the word “ever.”

  “Dear Miranda… tsk, tsk, tsk, what ever shall I do with you?” The legs of his chair scrape over the floor, and I cringe. “Water?” he asks as he makes his way through the living room toward the kitchen.

  “Uh, yeah.” I clear my throat and make a conscious effort to keep my voice from shaking. “That’d be great.”

  I watch as he rounds the corner, and the very moment he disappears, I open my email and type Jax’s contact into the recipient line.

  Please come get me. Edwin’s scaring me.

  I press Send, but the email remains on the screen, the cursor now turned into that little blue circle that keeps cycling around. I hear the door to the fridge shut. Footsteps. My heart is in my throat, pounding so hard my vision pulses. Come on. Come on. I attempt to close the browser, but the entire screen is frozen.

  “I think we’re at the climax of the story and we can—” He stops mid-sentence.

  I close my eyes, wanting to burst into tears because I know he’s seen the email message that is still centered on the screen.

  “Well.” He places a bottle of water in front of me. He doesn’t say another word, simply turns around and crosses the room. He stops at the front door, pulls a key from his pocket. It’s now that I notice there’s an exterior lock on the inside of the door, and a knot forms in the pit of my stomach. Edwin locks the door. “You just don’t understand, Miranda Cross. You really don’t.”

  And with that, he disappears down the hall.

  “R&R”—The Classic Crime

  Leave it to me to find the type of woman who's going to sneak out on me in the middle of the night. I've sent a few texts over the last two days, an email too… still nothing. I try to tell myself not to relentlessly check my phone and inbox, but it's a losing battle.

  It couldn't have been the sex. I'm talented at very few things in this life beyond police and military work, but sex is definitely one of them.

  I read her breathing patterns, her facial expressions, how her toes curled. I made sure to get it just right. Slow when I needed to go slow, when she was just about there, hard and fast to take her the rest of the way. I'm all about satisfying the women I'm with. Seeing them come and puddle into the mattress in a state of complete euphoria is everything. Them getting off gets me off.

  So no, I won’t even entertain that thought. My best guess is that she just played me like a dude. Fucked me and left me. Back to writing. Back to EA.

  He's a legend, beyond rich, and considering she only spent one night with me, I guess he’s a better lover too.


  The email on the screen, which I've read at least twenty times, makes it perfectly clear I was played, and I was played hard. But at least I can say I got EA Mercer's girl. That's something. I read it one more time for good measure, a masochist to say the least. I revel in the pain.

  I don't know who the fuck you are, and to be perfectly frank, I don't give a fuck. You need to stay away from Miranda. She's mine. I've seen the emails between you two. I know she's been seeing you. How does my dick taste by the way?

  It stops now.

  No more phone calls, no more emails, no more fucking visits. She's getting her own fair share of shit for her transgressions, but I'll tell you, you will get much worse if you come near her again. I will fucking destroy you. Do you know who the fuck I am? Do you know the power I hold?

  STAY THE FUCK AWAY FROM HER…

  EA Mercer

  NYT & USA Today Best-selling Author

  www.eamercerbooks.com

  "What the hell, man? You going home or what?" Tommy asks, startling me as he appears in my office doorway.

  I shake off the email. Removing my glasses, I rub a finger and thumb in my eyes. "Eventually. I'm dog tired. Just wanna go over this last case a little more." I motion to the file in front of me.

  "What are you thinking?" he asks, taking a few steps in and slipping on his coat.

  "Oh, nothing in particular. Just working on the why. Why him? Why there? What did this guy do to get his balls hacked off?" I ask.

  "Ex-wife, maybe. Current wife who caught him cheating?"

  "That's what I was thinking too, but his wife's been dead for three years. No girlfriend. And then there's the whole DNA thing," I say, shaking my head and exhaling a heavy breath.

  "Garcia said we should have the match for that second blood type any time now."

  "Another reason why I'm still hanging around here. We've got that match. We've got our killer."

  "Well, fuck, man, the dude's still gonna be dead tomorrow." He shrugs and smiles. "Go home and get some damn sleep."

  I roll my eyes, putting my glasses back on. "Have a good night, Tommy."

  He gives me a two-finger salute, makes a quick turn, and exits the office. Something I should be doing too, but I can't. Not just yet.

  I pick up the case file from my desk to go over it one more time, but as I do, I hear the ding of a new email come from the computer. Thinking of Miranda, my eyes dart up and catch the notification just before it vanishes.

  Miranda Cross.

  I click the icon, and the email comes up. I have to read it a few times to be clear of what I'm seeing.

  Please come get me. Edwin’s scaring me.

  My mind races over all the things that that could mean, none of them good. Maybe that's why she hasn't contacted me.

  I stand from my chair, stuffing the file in my briefcase then grabbing my leather jacket from the coat hanger, and I make my way out to my truck as quickly as I can.

  I'm fifteen minutes out, the thick forest making the night even darker. The moon is the only thing illuminating the small country road ahead of me. My nerves are stirring a sick feeling in my stomach, and I'm wishing I had at least brought Tommy with me. Something just doesn't feel right.

  My cell phone ringing from the center console pulls my attention. The screen reads, Asheville Police Department.

  "Hello?"

  Nothing.

  "Hello?" I repeat, louder this time.

  I hear a faint voice come over the line, but it’s too quiet to make out. I put the phone on speaker, lifting it high and watching the signal bars bounce between one and two.

  "Hey, you'll have to speak up. I've got shit service," I call toward the raised phone, an eye still on the road in front of me.

  "Peralta. Can you hear me?" Detective Garcia's voice comes over the line, still fuzzy and distorted.

  "Yes. Yes. Tell me you've got some good news for me."

  "Oh, I… something for… all right. You sitting down?" he asks. "You're gonna wanna be… this."

  "Fuck, man, I can barely make out what you're saying. Just fucking spill it already."

  "…second blood sample… from the truck came back… match. And you'll never believe who… is," he says, cutting in and out. He says something else, but it's too distorted to make out.

  "Garcia, you there?" I ask.

  "I'm here."

  "Who is it, Garcia? Tell me."

  "Well, you know that author you're so fond of…" he says before the line cuts off completely.

  Goose bumps race up my arms and legs. My mouth gapes, and the blood drains from my face as I process what I've just heard. It couldn't be. It must be a mistake.

  But then my thoughts stray to Miranda's email, her words sending my imagination into a tailspin of blood and carnage. Please come get me. Edwin's scaring me.

  I dial 9-1-1 and thrust my foot against the accelerator, racing along the narrow country road and hoping to God I'm not too late.

  “Big Bad Wolf”—In This Moment

  My palms are slick with sweat. Adrenaline buzzes through me, and my pulse drums in my ears. I glance at the bay windows that don’t open, my heart sinking into the very pit of my stomach. He’s going to kill you.

  I jump up from the desk, my chair falling to the floor with a loud bang. I take off down the hall and run into my bedroom. Edwin comes storming from his room just as I slam my door closed and lock it, pressing my back against it as I attempt to catch my breath. The door shakes behind me.

  “Miranda…” he says in a low growl. The door handle jiggles.

  My eyes lock on the window and I run to it then throw the curtains back. A small gasp leaves my lips when my gaze lands on the lock. I quickly turn it and try to push the old window up, but it doesn’t budge. “Fuck!”

  “Miranda.” There’s a loud thud behind the door. “I told you that when you find the person you love, you can’t ever let them slip away, dear.” Another wham against the door. “And—” He grunts with another whack at the door, this time wood splitting. The curved blade of a hatchet smashes through the door just before Edwin’s fist comes slamming through.

  I scream, tears pouring down my cheeks as I push against the damn window. “Fucking move. Open, goddammit.”

  I use all of my weight and the window barely lifts, the sill creaking as I glance over my shoulder. I watch his fingers grab at the lock and twist it. The door flies open and slams against the wall.

  Edwin’s face is splotchy-red, his eyes wide when his broad frame steps over the threshold and into the room.

  “Please…” I turn and place my back against the wall as I scoot in the opposite direction of him. “Please, Edwin… I…”

  “So you do beg,” he says with a laugh.

  He steps toward me and I clamber across the bed, nearly tripping when I jump to the floor. I just make it to the doorway, my fingers gripping the busted frame in an attempt to get into the hallway more quickly, but his hand grips my shoulder, yanking me back into the room. I trip and fall. My knees bang against the hard floor, pain splintering down my shins.

  “Please,” I whisper, knowing how cliché and pathetic it sounds, but when you’re at the mercy of another person, it’s the only word you can find.

  Edwin fists my hair and violently drags me to my feet with a groan. “I really hate to be like this with you. Really I do.” He shoves me by the back of the head into the hallway. “Walk. Don’t hesitate.”

  I’m in full on sobs when we reach the front door, and he places the key in the lock. The latch clicks, and that sound echoes in my mind, my knees threatening to buckle. The door swings open, slamming against the wall as the cold night air wraps around me, making my already tense muscles grow more rigid. Edwin pushes for me to walk down the steps, his fingers digging into my shoulder as he turns me toward that fucking shed.

  The wind picks up. The waning moon illuminates the heavy gray storm clouds, making them pop against the black sky. Twigs snap underneath my bare feet. Pebbles and rock
s cut into my heels. A low groan of thunder rumbles through the sky just as a few cold drops of rain hit my arms.

  “You know, Miranda, I thought you’d have figured this out by now, but sometimes, well, sometimes I guess fate doesn’t slap both people in the face hard enough, huh?”

  “What are you talking about?” I ask.

  He comes to an abrupt halt, and his already unbearably hard grip on my hair tightens, my scalp burning as several strands are ripped loose. My knees go weak, and I nearly collapse. Maybe I would have had he not had such a hold on my hair. Edwin tugs my hair and brings my face within centimeters of his. For a few terrifying seconds, all he does is stare at me, into me, through me. Part of me fears that, in this moment, he’s taken a piece of me, that he’s ripped a part of my humanity from me with that look alone.

  “You and I, we are one. We belong together. My words should be yours and yours mine. Fate put you here for me.” He inches even closer, his lips now resting against mine. “The sooner you see that…”

  His words are lost when he presses his mouth against mine. I attempt to pull my lips in tight, to resist him, but he twists and knots my hair. The second I go to scream, he kisses me harder, slipping his tongue inside my mouth.

  Before I can react to that, he’s backed away, a wicked smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “See?”

  And what do you do in a situation such as this? I try to think of a way to escape, but the thing is, I’ve read every one of the man’s books. Every last sick and twisted word. I know how his mind works, and sadly, I know there is no way out. There never is. In every book—there is never an escape.

  He keeps one hand tight in my hair as he pushes a key into the padlock hung from the door of the shed. The latch opens, and the lock falls to the ground before he opens the door and shoves me inside the pitch-black shed.