Perfectly Toxic

by Kristine Mason

  He shrugged. “We should still go through Lola first. But Ian might know some people. He could also worry about exposing ATL, which none of us wants.”

  No, they didn’t. Some members of their team had criminal records.

  “We could ignore it,” he said.

  “Just pretend Noah wasn’t kidnapped, held against his will and used as a test subject?” She nodded. “We could.”

  “And, if we called Lola and she gave the green light to investigate, how would you keep your involvement with ATL from Cash?”

  That was a huge problem. “He’s quitting the repo business.” She toyed with her sunglasses. “I’m moving back to Tallahassee.”

  “I see.” Harrison stood, took a few steps from the table, then came right back. “Are you serious? What’s wrong with you?”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  He tapped his fingertips to his head a few times. “Think. You’re going to give up everything we have going in the Everglades to move back in with a man who went back into a business that nearly paralyzed him.”

  “Did he tell you?” she asked, stunned. Cash never talked about the accident with anyone outside his main circle. Even then, he was tight-lipped.

  “Yeah, when we had a beer at the bar last night. Then I told him he was stupid, and that I didn’t blame you for walking.”

  She gave him a small smile. “Dang, Harry, you’ve got a set on you.”

  “If you make a hairy balls joke—”

  She wrinkled her nose. “That’s just gross. Now sit down and tell me why you’re flippin’ out.”

  He rolled his eyes, and sat. “I just told you. Mel, men like Cash don’t change. If he quits the repo business, he’ll find something else to do that’s dangerous. Like go into the ghetto and pick random fights.”

  Her stomach knotted. “I don’t want to hear this.”

  “Because you know I’m right.”

  “Shut up. I love him.”

  Harrison reached across the table and settled his hand over hers. “I don’t know about that kind of love. You’re my friend. I don’t want to see you hurt. If we get involved in this case, I’m afraid you’re going to get hurt either way.”

  While she understood where Harrison was coming from, he also didn’t understand the bond between her and Cash. He was right about one thing—after all the crap she’d given him about the repo business, Cash was going to be angry about ATL.

  She rested her cheek in her hand, and held Harrison’s with the other. “My conscience says we call Lola. My head tells me we pretend this didn’t happen.”

  “I’m wrestling with the same. We could flip a coin.”

  “So the fate of future test subjects will rely on a quarter toss?”

  “That sounds bad.” He let out another sigh. “Let’s call Lola and let her decide. If she says no, we walk.”

  “Fair enough.” She let go of his hand, and waited while he placed the call. As the phone rang, he put it on speaker and set it on the table between them.

  “Hey, Harrison,” Lola answered, worry in her voice. “Don’t tell me something else happened with Mel’s—”

  “Lola, yeah, Mel’s here with me and we’re on speaker.”

  “Hi, Mel.”

  Mel raised a brow at Harrison. “Did you tell her about Cash?”

  “No. I told her I hated it here. I wanted Shane to fly me away from crazy town. But that was before Cash and I had a beer.”

  Lola cleared her throat. “Listen, guys. We’ve got a bunch of tours running, so if it’s nothing important, let’s catch up when you come home tomorrow.”

  “It’s important,” Harrison said. After he told her about Noah, the phone went silent. “Are you still there?”

  “I’m here. I need to call Ian about this. Remember, we get paid for the cases he assigns us. But I don’t like knowing there’s someone out there possibly turning humans into lab rats. The question is, how do we find this woman?”

  Harrison lifted a shoulder. “If she’s hitting homeless shelters, I can go undercover.”

  Mel didn’t like that idea. At all. Harrison had a backbone, but he was a computer geek, not a trained fighter like Vlad, Shane or Ryan.

  “When you call Ian,” Harrison continued, “ask him if he could ship us the GPS chip they used during the Honey Badger case.”

  That investigation had been the one where Harrison and Vlad had met. Together they’d put an end to a mass murderer, and secured their future with Ian and his agencies.

  “Last I heard, the chip was in another round of testing,” Lola said. “But that’s not a bad idea. The problem is, Madeline might not return to the same shelter.”

  “She might if she’s worried Noah went to the police,” Mel suggested. “Her and her partner could attempt to go to Hope House to find out if Noah made it there, or if anyone is looking for them.”

  “Good point,” Lola said. “But I’m not comfortable with Harrison going undercover. I think we should bring Vlad in for this—if Ian approves.”

  “Vlad?” Harrison shook his head. “Yeah, a six-foot-six Russian is the perfect candidate. Let the woman take me, then send the muscle.”

  “He has a point,” Mel said, even if she hated to see Harrison put in a situation where he could be the subject of sadistic experimentation.

  “Okay, I’ll check with Ian. Even if he says no, I suggest getting Noah to a hospital. I agree, the police likely won’t become involved, but at least he’ll have the proper care. I’ll call you back.”

  The phone went silent. Harrison picked it up, then tapped his hand on the table and stood. “We should ask Noah if he heard where Madeline was heading for her next test subjects.”

  “Let’s wait until we hear from Lola,” she said, part of her hoping their boss would give them a big fat no-go. If they tried to find Madeline, she would have no choice but to tell Cash about ATL. The other part of her wanted to investigate the hell out of this. She’d grown up poor, but had been lucky enough to have a roof over her head, even if it leaked. Cash had grown up with nothing, too, minus the love of a parent. They both knew people who’d been so down and out they’d had no choice but to live on the streets. Madeline was going after the forgotten, the ones most people turned a blind eye to or sloughed off as drug addicts or alcoholics who’d made their own bad choices. Even if that was the case, no one deserved to be treated the way Noah had. And if Noah was telling the truth, Madeline and her friend had murdered Troy.

  “I wonder if Madeline is already on her next shopping trip,” Harrison said with heavy sarcasm.

  “What’s with you? You’re really ticked off about this. We’ve worked plenty of cases together and I’ve never seen you this way.”

  “It’s like we talked about last night with Bobby…I grew up with nothing. I knew people who lived on the streets. So, this rubs me wrong. It also pisses me off that no one thinks I can do anything outside of typing on a laptop.”

  She stared at Harrison, really looked at him. He was more passionate than she’d realized. She always thought he was cute, in a boyish way, but when his temper was high, he had a different air about him. More masculine. For whatever reason, he always seemed smaller to her, but these past two days, she’d noticed his height, his broad shoulders. She supposed even a guy ranging around six-one would look small next to Vlad.

  “None of us think that,” she said. “The difference between you and Vlad is that he’s a killer, you’re not. Personally, I’d like you to stay just the way you are.”

  “Thanks.” He gave her a shy smile. “I hope Lola doesn’t take too long. I don’t want her calling when Cash is around.”

  “If she does, you take the call, then tell me about it later.” She rested her head in her hand again and thought about what Harrison had said regarding Madeline’s ‘shopping’ trip. “Wouldn’t you love to be a fly on the wall when Madeline and her partner discover Noah escaped?”

  He let out a low whistle. “I’m betting that won’t go over we
ll. Considering what she was filling Noah’s head with, she’d probably say…”

  PART III

  “I am a serial killer. I would kill again.”

  —Aileen Wuornos

  Chapter 8

  The House of Archer, Bower, Georgia

  Saturday, 7:36 p.m. Eastern Daylight Saving Time

  “SON OF A bitch.”

  Adeline threw a pillow across her room, then paced in front of the mirror. “I’m going to find him and cut him,” she said to the walls, and fisted her hands. “I’ll start with his testicles.” She paused and tapped her chin. “Maybe I’ll make him eat them.” Grinning, envisioning the pathetic bastard choking on his own balls, she sat on the bed. She would make Noah—test subject number two—hurt. Badly. Noah would truly understand the meaning of pain when she was through with him.

  Damn it. She fell against the mattress. Everything had been going perfectly. She’d had the test subjects and even Rodney under control. Now Rod was downstairs in the parlor drinking bourbon and convincing himself they were doomed. “All doomed,” she said, mimicking Rodney’s deep voice. They were fine. Noah wouldn’t be once she found him. The two new subjects they had secured in the attic bedrooms wouldn’t, either. But, she’d have to wait to play with them until after Rodney had calmed himself. She knew just the way, too. She’d wait until he drained some of the bourbon first. God forbid he let his guard and stupid conscience down for a bit to have fun. All he was concerned about was making her better.

  She pushed off the bed and approached the mirror again. “What if I like who I am?” She reached behind and unzipped her sundress, then let it pool to the floor. After adjusting the straps of her bra, she eyed her reflection. Her breasts were still larger than usual, thanks to the baby. Same went for her curves. She liked how she looked. Liked looking voluptuous, and knew Rodney liked it, too.

  It was a shame she’d had to push out a kid to get a curvy body.

  Since she broke the baby, she knew Rodney would never let her have another. He’d use every precaution possible the next time they had sex. If they had sex. The man needed to send his morals to hell and fuck her. She knew he wanted to, could see it in his eyes. God, how she loved the battle he waged with himself. The lust was there, along with hunger. He would stare at her with a molten combination of love and hatred…mmm-mmm. She slid her hand between her legs, then quickly fisted it as frustration and need magnified the outrage of Noah’s escape.

  The dimwitted ass had screwed up everything. She reached behind, unhooked her bra, then tossed it in her drawer. After taking off her panties, she slipped a flimsy, see-though nightgown over her head, then used her fingertips to give her curls a little volume.

  She stared at her reflection again. Rodney had refused to have sex with her since she’d found out she was pregnant. God forbid a psychopath beget another one. Tonight, that changed. She needed him, not because she was upset about Noah’s escape, but because she knew sex could convince a man to do just about anything.

  Poor Rod. She might have been a virgin their first time, but there’d been others since him. She hadn’t graduated with a four-point average because of her strong study skills.

  She looked to the mirror and made her best frowny face. Made her chin tremble as if she were going to cry. Happy with the results, she headed for the door. Once she was in the hallway, she paused at the main staircase leading to the second floor and attic bedrooms. God, how she wanted to go play with their subjects. If she did that, Rodney would know the truth. She couldn’t have that. Not yet. For now, she had to convince him they needed to bring home more subjects. They also needed to retrieve Noah.

  She knew the chances of finding the homeless man were slim to none. While she was concerned about Noah going to the authorities, she doubted anyone would believe him. Well, unless they found out Rodney lived here. After all, he had made the cover of Time. This would be the argument she’d use tonight. They needed to diffuse the situation before the law came knocking on their door.

  She continued down the hallway. When she reached the parlor, she paused at the open doorway. Rodney sat on Gramma’s hideous floral sofa, his head down, a tumbler in his hand. She put on her frowny face again, and gave a soft rap against the doorjamb. “Rod?”

  He straightened, and turned. His gaze drifted from her mouth to her breasts. “Go to bed,” he said, taking a drink and keeping his focus on her breasts.

  “I can’t sleep. I’m so worried.” She stepped into the parlor, then slowly walked toward him, giving her hips a slight sway, drawing his attention to them. To the possibilities, if he would stop being so damned rigid. “Come to bed with me. Please. Just for tonight.”

  He dropped his gaze to his glass. “I can’t,” he said, his tone filled with anguish.

  She closed her eyes, fed off the agony, the torment that must be tearing him in two. He wanted her, she knew he did, saw it in his eyes. But his morals, his concern for her mental health, stopped him from taking what he wanted.

  She shot her lower lip out and forced her chin to tremble. “Fine. But I’m warning you now that I’m sleeping with a knife under my pillow,” she said, and turned away.

  “No knives. What if you mistake me during the night?”

  “That won’t be a problem since you don’t bother to come to bed with me. I’m worried about the other subjects. Now that Noah has escaped, I’m terrified one of the two men we brought home today will, too.”

  He drained the rest of the bourbon. Then his face twisted in anger. He threw the glass against the ugly, weathered fireplace. As it shattered, he gripped her by the arms. “No knives.” He pulled her close, until they were nose to nose. “You wanted this. It was all your idea.”

  “No. I just wanted you. But you couldn’t let that happen because you’re too worried about fixing me. Why can’t you just love me for me?” she asked, playing off his emotions.

  He rested his forehead against hers, and shook his head. “It’s not right. Wanting to be with you is not right. You have to know that.”

  Oh, she did. She just didn’t care. “We love each other.” She held his face in her hands. “Who cares what anyone else thinks? Who cares that I’ve been accused of murder? No one but you and I know the truth.”

  He lifted his head and searched her eyes. “But that’s just it. You’re a murderer. Now I am, too. My God, Adeline. I love you.” He grabbed the front of her nightgown and tore it from her body. “I want you. God, how I want you,” he said, cupping her breasts.

  Taking a calculated risk, she stepped back and covered herself. “Come to my room. Show me how much. Stay with me tonight and make sure I’m safe.”

  He looked away from her body. “No. Go to bed.”

  Moral prude. “Fine. I’ll go to bed alone and masturbate like I’ve been forced to do since you won’t come to me.” She started for the door, then stopped when she reached the threshold. “I’m going to Tallahassee tomorrow. Don’t try to stop me.”

  That should light a fire under his ass. She headed down the hallway and back to her bedroom. She really did intend to go to Tallahassee. Noah was homeless, where else would he go but back to the shelter? Although there were others in the area, and he could have walked off in the wrong direction and wound up deep in the forests leading to Appalachia, she needed to know. Had Noah told the police? If so, had they believed him? Would shelters throughout the state be on alert?

  She’d disguised herself with a blonde wig when she’d gone to Hope House, just like today when she’d hit the homeless shelter in Atlanta. Noah had been so doped up when he’d been at the House of Archer, she doubted he could describe Rodney or what she truly looked like.

  Still, she wasn’t ready to call it quits yet and didn’t want one homeless dick screwing with her plans. So, with or without Rodney’s consent, she’d head for Tallahassee.

  She entered her room, didn’t bother putting on another nightgown, then crawled into bed. With the extra padlocks—something they hadn’t added to Noah’s
room—securing their latest guests, she wasn’t worried about them killing her in her sleep. Plus, they’d strapped their subjects to beds, rather than chairs, to avoid the same mistake they’d made with Noah. Yeah, she wasn’t worried about the subjects, she was worried whether or not Rod would cave in and come to her.

  Minutes passed. The wood floor outside her bedroom creaked, signaling Rod had followed behind. But would he go to the other room, or join her tonight? Anticipating his arrival, needing sexual release anyway, she slid her hand between her legs and touched herself. She was a woman of her word. She had told him she’d masturbate if he wouldn’t join her, and that was exactly how she wanted him to find her. Taking pleasure. Alone. Knowing the sensitive and sensual side of him, he would respond to this.

  When the door to the room opened a crack, sending in a small stream of light, she moved the covers aside hoping he could see what she was doing, then put on a show for him. She didn’t have to look at him to know he liked what he saw. His labored breathing said it all. Then the door closed. Close to orgasm, she continued anyway, until the mattress dipped.

  She stilled her fingers.

  “Don’t stop,” he said, moving a hand over her breasts, then down further until his fingers joined hers.

  “Will you stay with me?” she asked.

  “Yes.”

  She smiled.

  The strong scent of bourbon tickled her nose as Rodney moved over her. “I love you,” he said. “I’d never let anything happen to you.”

  She touched his jaw. “I know.”

  “And we’ll discuss Tallahassee in the morning.”

  She helped him pull his shirt over his head. “Why not now?” she asked, in a teasing tone.

  “I don’t want to talk,” he said, then kissed her.

  Cash and Mel’s House, Tallahassee, Florida

  Saturday, 8:07 p.m. Eastern Daylight Saving Time

  “I still think you should’ve told him,” Harrison said to Mel when Cash went inside to grab a few more beers for them.