by Barker, Kira
“I don’t need second chances,” he ground out, sounding vaguely pissed now.
“But don’t you want to start over?” I asked. “Move to a new city? Get a job, meet a girl, have a family? You could never have that with me. Most of all, you can never have me.”
I knew I was on the right track when he stared at me for a full ten seconds before he found the words to reply—and again, they were not what I’d expected.
“What exactly is it that I need to do to show you that I’m worthy of your love? Do you need me to sacrifice something? I gave up everything for you. Do you need me to swear my undying, everlasting love for you? You have it. What more? Do you need me to kill for you? Is it that what made you flip? That he killed that girl, for you?”
So much for hoping that there was a single normal soul left in my circle of acquaintances. I was starting to see why Brigitte preferred to keep to herself.
“Are you insane? What are you talking about?”
Adam’s eyes narrowed. “You know exactly what I’m talking about. I’m not stupid. I can add two and two together. He didn’t call you over to that cabin to fuck you. He ordered you there so you could watch him take care of the only competition you will ever have. So you’d know just how dedicated he is to you. And then you cleaned up together and dumped her in the woods, to send the crime scene investigation team on a merry chase. That still doesn’t change the heart of the matter: he killed her, for you.”
I stared at him for several seconds straight, unsure what made me more uneasy—his assumption, or the fervent tone of his voice.
Exhaling slowly, I shook my head. “He didn’t kill her.”
Rather than get angry with me, Adam smiled. “There’s no need for you to lie to me. You know that you can always trust me. Always could. I have your back, Penelope.”
I only had a split-second to weigh my options, but it wasn’t hard to come to a decision. There weren’t many things I could still do to save what little good there was inside of me, but ridding him of that obsession he seemed to have developed with me was something that I could do—and I owed it to him. I was doomed, whether I got convicted or just had to live with my own guilt. He could still save himself.
“Adam, listen to me. Darren didn’t kill the girl. They will never get a confession out of him because he didn’t do it. He could take a polygraph, or they could pump him full of sodium pentothal, and his answer would still be the same. He didn’t kill her. I did.”
I’d hoped that the confession would at least alleviate some of the guilt choking me up, but it didn’t. It also didn’t have the expected effect on Adam. He looked neither convinced nor horrified.
“You’re lying,” he said. “You don’t need to. I told you, I don’t carry a wire. And I’m not here to report what you said back to Eva. When will you finally trust me?”
“Didn’t you listen to what I just said? I killed her! I killed a helpless, naive woman! And the only reason for that was because I was mad at her because she kept fucking my husband!”
I knew that I was talking way too loudly, but with the sun setting and the night’s cold returning, we were almost on our own out here, with the wind tearing my words from my lips as soon as they came over them. Adam still had a belligerent look on his face, so I went right on before he could accuse me of lying again.
“Don’t you see? You’ve lost. I will never love you, because I love him. You said you would do anything for me? Well, that’s how I feel about him. And he does about me, only that he sees me for who I really am. You don’t. You still think I’m like some child lost in the woods, just waiting for someone to take her hand and lead her back to safety. I’m a monster. I’m a killer. I am his perfect wife, don’t you get it? I guess it was always in me, just buried beneath all the training and hidden away, but he saw it in me. He did everything he could to bring it out. And now it’s out in the open, and I’m kind of relieved. Yes, it’s sick, and it’s twisted, but at least I don’t have to hide from the world anymore. Because I have him, and he accepts me. He loves me. You just love the version of me that you always wanted me to be. The friend with benefits, the casual lover, a promise for more when suddenly I became dependent on you. But that’s not really me. That’s not who I am. That was the role I played, for you. Because you paid me, with money, company, the possibility to let my guard down to a certain extent. True, I didn’t just do it for you but also for myself, but that version of me? She doesn’t exist anymore. She died down in that basement. Same as all the other versions of me died there, until all that was left was me. Me, who was ruthless enough to stab him in the neck. Me, desperate enough to smash her own hand to escape. Me, using you to get away clean. Only that it wasn’t enough. I need him, just like I need air to breathe and food to sustain me. There is no room for anyone else. So do you finally understand what I’ve been trying to tell you since Agent Smith found us? There is only obsession left inside of me—obsession with him. Not you. Never you.”
It creeped me the fuck out that it was those words that came up with all the rest—those words that were so similar to what Darren had been muttering when he’d had his little homicidal breakdown—but they were true. Everything I said was true.
And, finally, I saw the truth sink in as Adam realized that he could never have me. That he could never be with me. It hurt more than I liked to admit to see that special kind of betrayal and agony in his eyes, but it had to be done. It was my burden to carry. It was my obligation to cut him free.
He didn’t say anything but started shaking his head, trying to deny what could no longer be denied. I tried to reach for him, but he shied away, anger leaking into the mix of emotions his features so openly displayed.
“You are such a fucking cunt!” he pressed out, tears brimming in his eyes.
There was nothing I could say to defend myself, so I didn’t. I also didn’t repeat that I was sorry, because it would have been a lie. I didn’t like hurting him, but it had to be done.
That thought could have come straight from Darren’s book, too.
Shit.
“Go home,” I told him when it became apparent that he wasn’t going to do so unprompted. “Go back to your goodie-two-shoes agent and let her comfort you. Kiss away the pain. Go hunt down some bad guys. Erase another kind of evil, seeing as you can’t undo this. Just, go. You’ll see, time will heal all wounds.”
Rather than heed my advice, he continued to glare at me, making me somewhat uncomfortable now.
“You don’t have the slightest clue what you’re talking about,” he ground out when he found his voice again.
“Maybe, maybe not,” I admitted. “Doesn’t change the fact that there will never be a future that includes you and me, together.”
More staring, until he looked away, but his gaze snapped back to mine almost immediately.
“I didn’t want to believe it when she accused you of getting that girl killed, but she knew it, right from the very start.” I presumed that he was referring to Agent Smith now. “That’s why she never liked you. She has a good sense for people. That’s what makes her such a good leader, such a stellar investigator.” Another pause, and when he half turned away now, his eyes remained downcast. “It’s all my fault. I was the one who told her she could trust you. Because I was stupid enough to fall for your guise. Should have known better. They told me at the final psych eval that I had a weakness for damaged goods—“
I didn’t know what exactly about his mumbling it was that tipped me off, but suddenly, that last piece of the puzzle fell into place.
It made so much sense. Of course it did. It was the one thing I should have suspected months—no, years—ago, and it explained everything. The weird camaraderie between him and his team of handlers. The fact that never, not a single time, he’d slipped up and talked about any of his “operations.” That although we’d been careful enough that even Darren hadn’t been able to track us, Agent Smith had found us in the middle of bumfuck nowhere.
“Quan
tico or Langley?” I asked, my voice hardening.
His head whipped around, a quizzical look on his face that cut right through his hurt and grief. “What?”
“You heard that right. Is it the fucking FBI or the CIA that you’re working for?” Not as an asset—but as an agent.
Adam opened his mouth as if to deny it, but then closed it. There was no real change in his demeanor, but suddenly, he seemed to slouch less, stand up straighter.
“FBI,” he admitted, not even having the decency to sound chagrined. “I’ve been working for the cybercrime division since they recruited me straight out of college. You just blew my cover that I’d been keeping active for almost a decade.”
Longer even than we’d known each other—but it made sense.
“Why?” was all I managed to ask. My mind wasn’t exactly blank, but it was impossible to make sense of the deluge of paranoia that my thoughts had turned into.
Adam—if that even was his name—swallowed.
“We have been working this case for years. Years, do you understand? We had to watch and stand by idly while he killed nine women. Nine! We got so close a few times that we thought it almost impossible to lose. And, finally, when after years of trying to lay false leads and subtle manipulations he finally comes for you, you have to up and ruin the entire operation!”
I could maybe have dealt with the deceit of him not letting me know what was going on—but setting me up like that? That was miles beyond what I could have understood, or forgiven.
“You fucking sicced him on me?! And you knew what had happened to all those women before me? I thought we were friends!”
It would have been so much easier if his eyes hadn’t been brimming over with emotion right now.
“You were a prostitute. He killed prostitutes. It was the logical conclusion. Had to be done.”
“But—“ I cut myself off there, because really, I had nothing I could object with. It was all too much. It cut too deep. Way too deep. It was even worse than the revelation of just how deranged Darren really was—because with him, there had been signs, even if I’d ignored them. But Adam? Adam, who had, not twenty minutes ago, begged me to give up everything and elope with him—again?
“I never wanted you to get hurt in the crossfire. I knew you were crafty. Resourceful. With you, we had a real chance to catch him—“
“Then how is it possible that he still drugged me and tied me to that chair? How?!”
His eyes narrowed with anger rather than widened with apology.
“Because you fucking deserved it, you cunt. I gave up everything for you, and you didn’t even give me the time of day. You betrayed me. You betrayed my love for you, long before he twisted you into what you are now. I didn’t even have to do anything, just watch you doom yourself. I knew that there were other whores out there. Better suited for the job, more pliable and open to suggestions. Only that you got away, and then we were forced to switch course. If it had been just me, I would have thrown that door right back in your face. But Eva had the idea that we could use you to draw him out, so that’s what we did. And then you got that girl killed, too. Killed her yourself. You’re such a fucking disgrace, it sickens me to think that I ever wanted to fuck you, let alone did.”
So much for feeling bad for him. But it was my own fault. I was a gullible fool—and that’s what happens to gullible fools. They not only fell for one deranged psychopath. No. They had an entire collection of them around.
I could have said many things—and if I’d had a can of Mace with me, I would likely have used it now—but what I settled on was a simple, “You and me? We’re through.” With that, I turned around and started walking toward the street, intent on not looking back.
“Don’t you fucking dare turn your back on me!” he shouted.
I took another step, but just couldn’t let this go. Glancing back, I have him my blankest stare.
“Or what? You’ll rat me out? Your girlfriend got a fucking statement from me where I explained in minute detail what happened to all those women that came before me—and that didn’t help you one bit. Your word? About a conversation that I will deny ever took place? You don’t stand a chance. You call me a liar? You’ve seen nothing yet. Provoke me, and you’ll find out just how well connected Darren Hunter is, and how far he will go to save his wife. Or just appease her, when she’s miffed about something small like deep and utter betrayal. You are the one who should watch out. Take care that you do.”
He didn’t reply, so I left him standing there, fuming quietly.
Damn, but now I really needed a drink.
Chapter 22
It wasn’t that late yet when I waltzed into Brigitte’s boudoir, but I found her wearing a satin lounge robe and fluffy slippers, the getup enough to make me do a double-take. Rather than ask, I went for the bar, poured myself some whisky and chugged it down like my life depended on it. My sanity probably did.
“Well, good evening to you, too,” she snarked after me, regarding me with a snide look when I turned to face her. “What did darling Darren do this time to upset you? Is the next future Mrs. Hunter already lined up?”
Irritation zinged through me at the sheer preposterousness of that suggestion, belatedly making me realize just how much things had shifted between Darren and me in the past days. I shook my head, letting my breath out in a slow but noisy exhale, before I poured myself another one.
“Not him. But I’m starting to question why women ever thought that putting up with men was worth it. Except for earning money, and maybe to ensure the propagation of the species. I think we should switch to the turkey baster method for that. It’s so not worth it all.”
Brigitte joined me, sitting down on the bar stool with more grace than should have been possible. I still had so much to learn from her.
“If not him, who got under your skin then?”
“Adam,” I ground out.
Her eyebrows shot up. “Your hacker?”
Turning to face her, I stabbed the air between us with my half-empty glass. “The FBI agent, as it turns out. Who has been part of an undercover operation for the past decade. That’s two years longer than he’s been living next to me, just if you were wondering. The entire time, they were building up their case against Hunter, only that he was apparently too careful and crafty to leave enough traces so they could convict him. Oh, and it gets better still. For fuck knows how long they’ve been trying to shove me in his way so they’d have a better chance at catching him red-handed. Maybe even literally so, seeing as Adam was only too happy to let me take the fall because he was pissed at me because I refused to fuck him one last time. So, yes, that hacker is right at the top of my shit list right fucking now.”
She blinked rapidly, processing the news—and my most epic slip-up, as I belatedly realized—but before I could try to defuse the mess I’d just created, she angled over the bar for a tumbler and pushed it toward me. “Pour me one, too. And make it a stiff one. I think I’ll need that now.”
I did, but couldn’t make myself catch her gaze as I waited for what she was about to say next. With my mind in tatters, it was hard to focus on one possible catastrophe over the others.
“So he did kill them,” she finally prompted, the tiniest catch audible in her voice. When I cast her a sidelong glance, she held it—and there was a lot less horror or judgment in it than I’d expected. I left it at a jerky nod—what else was there to do or say? Brigitte mulled that over for a moment, her eyes inadvertently snagging to where my mangled hand was gripping the glass. “I take it you learned that in a more hands-on kind of way than just overhearing something you shouldn’t have?”
I weighed what to tell her, but, really, it was all the same now. And I realized I really needed to tell someone—and she was the only one I trusted completely at this point.
“That really was self-inflicted, although I might have hashed over a few details about the circumstances.” I briefly debated how much of that to divulge, but decided to stick to t
he pertinent parts only. “He had me tied up in his basement for a couple of days. Right next to the taxidermy masterpieces he’d turned his previous brides into. I found a weapon wedged into the frame of the bed that I used to stab him in the neck after I lured him into a false sense of complacency by, well, I guess I should say when we consummated our marriage. That took him out, but I was still cuffed to the steel frame of the bed.”
Her eyes flickered up to my face, and back to my hand.
“So you smashed it to escape?” she guessed.
I inclined my head. “I ran. I couldn’t go to the police because I knew that I’d be dead before they could even call a lawyer for me. Adam helped me escape. Until, apparently, he got tired of not getting any from me and figured that I still had a few more weeks of use in me. Not that he confirmed it, but how else would his teammate have tracked us down when no one else could?” I sighed, my frustration so palpable that it was hard to breathe through it. “I’m such a fucking nitwit. Gullible. Naive. Just too plain stupid to make it.” Right then I wished I was a smoker. I could have really needed a cigarette.
Brigitte didn’t contradict me—her silence spoke volumes—but when I glanced back at her, she was still the picture of calm and composed.
“I killed her, you know?” Might as well confess to that, too. “He goaded me on for weeks. I didn’t plan it, mind you. But she came at me, and something inside of me snapped. Cracked her skull open on the bathroom floor where we’d been rolling around like the fucking cunts that we were. Wanna know what Darren said to me when he saw her lifeless body lying there with me perched above her? That he’s proud of me. Fucking proud of me.”
Still she didn’t speak up, but that was more a blessing than a curse.
“After that, it only made sense to throw my lot in with him. I mean, he’s insane. I’m insane. We’re both obsessed with each other. Guess if we stay together, at least no one else is endangered to fall for either of us and find a grizzly end.” I wondered if I should tell her about what he regularly did for Alison, but that might be pushing it. I already didn’t know whether Darren would tolerate her knowing. Then again, he probably guessed that she knew. Brigitte had a reputation of being level-headed and smart—and knowing what secrets to keep was part of that, or else she wouldn’t be around anymore.