Burning Kiss

by Angela Addams

  Sean Ray had killed her. After he’d raped her. After he’d stabbed her and pounded her head against the side table. She’d been in a coma. Two months laying with her eyes closed. With little hope. And then she’d died.

  And I’d pushed it all down. Deep down. History forgotten. Rewritten. I could almost hear her voice in my head. Laughing at me for not realizing it sooner. Trauma did that to people. It made them do crazy things. She was gone and I couldn’t accept it.

  I felt the loss of her like someone was reaching in my chest and squeezing my heart, digging fingers and nails into my body and shredding me. Agonizing couldn’t describe it. I couldn’t relive that night. Not again.

  The police had come just in time to save me. They’d come when Sean Ray had been about to do to me what he had done to Kassey. He’d wanted me to begin with. Had taken Kassey because she was there.

  It had been my fault. If only…if only…

  Her temple had hit the corner of the nightstand, crushing her skull and embedding fragments into her brain. The doctor had told me that, while she lay there in the hospital bed, brain dead and being kept alive by machines. He’d said she hadn’t suffered—most likely she wouldn’t have felt that hit or anything after it.

  She hadn’t suffered? Like he forgot about all the rest of it. That she’d been tortured for hours. Raped. Sodomized. Cut. Stabbed. Strangled. But she hadn’t suffered when she’d been made brain dead. Fuck him.

  Tears filled my eyes. I couldn’t go back to this. The grief. I remembered it. A cold blanket of deep dark pain. I’d arranged her funeral. I’d stood there and watched them lower her casket. I’d cried and cried. My life was over. The light that had guided me was gone. I couldn’t handle the despair of knowing she would never smile at me, would never hug me, would never help me see the bright part of anything ever again. How could I exist when she didn’t?

  It was too much. That kind of grieving. No one could survive it.

  And so my brain had conjured her. I understood the psychology of it. I’d manufactured her so that I wouldn’t have to face the reality of a future without her. It was a delusion that comforted me.

  What was terrifying was how deep that delusion went. I’d manufactured conversations that never happened. Imagined hugs. Believed I’d been visiting her at rehab. Had discussions with her doctor. All things that hadn’t occurred.

  And god, I missed her. The aching was bad. So profound that it felt like what I imagined a heart attack would. I almost wished I could bring her back again. But I knew it wasn’t right. It wasn’t helping me in the end. And I’d found other ways to cope. Alternative methods of getting that grief and anger out.

  I checked the time. One-thirty. Two hours since I’d left Kassey in the passageway. Two hours and I felt the withdrawal. I ached for her. Wanted to curl up into a ball and sob my way through life. But Kassey wouldn’t want that.

  That kind of coping wasn’t healthy either. We don’t give up. We don’t lay down and die when things go wrong. No, Kassey, we don’t. Not unless someone murders us.

  Kassey was dead.

  Sean Ray killed her.

  A rapist who I’d failed to rehabilitate.

  Old methods that didn’t work.

  But I had new methods now.

  I leaned up against the bar, drink in hand, assessing the potential targets of the night. This club was different from the last one. There was a massive dance floor jam packed with people, only one floor where everyone congregated. The music peppy and the crown looking very hipster and young. Like university young. It was an interesting demographic for my study. Frat boys didn’t do so well in the morals department based on the studies I’d read.

  I knew I was being reactionary. The booze helped me be numb. The hunt would help with the anger.

  Kassey. Kassey. Kassey. I’m so sorry. I can’t live without you. I can’t.

  I gulped back the lump in my throat. Sucking down a sob. I took another sip of my drink, felt the burn all the way down to my stomach. I needed to feel the satisfaction of scaring a rapist tonight. I needed it like a fix. That would make me feel better. It had to. I was living still. I could have a purpose. Even if Kassey never knew.

  I thought I saw her. Just there in the crowd. Dancing. Her blond hair shimmering. Body moving to the beat. I closed my eyes. No. I can’t go there anymore. I can’t do that willingly. Only crazy people did that kind of coping. The delusional kind. I wasn’t crazy. I was grieving. Right? That’s what was wrong with me.

  How could she be dead when I’d just been talking to her? Holding her? How could she be gone? Just gone.

  I gave my head a hard shake. Breathe. Be present. Focus.

  I glanced up, noting the catwalk balcony that ran the length of one side. Things were probably a little quieter up there, definitely darker. Might be a good place to lure someone later. I took a long lingering drink, gaze roving, searching for just the right—

  Someone bumped into me, sloshing my drink a little. Before I could utter a protest, whoever it was had disappeared and I was left with booze running down my chest.

  With a curse, I downed the rest of my drink, set it on the bar, then beelined for the back wall where the washrooms were. After a quick dab and wipe, I got the worst of my drink off my body. I hardly remembered getting ready when I dressed for the night. I checked myself in the mirror. I’d opted for the same low cut outfit I’d had on at the club from the other night, but had gone for a purple shoulder length wig. Same boots. I checked my weapons. Knife ready to go and my purse with gun safely tucked inside. I had to give myself credit—it worked well for the young vibe of the club and I’d already been attracting some attention from the men. I just needed to find the right kind of attention.

  As I left the bathroom, a wave of dizziness hit me so hard that I actually stumbled, hitting the wall, hands out to hold myself up. What the fuck? I reached up to touch my head, the world was definitely spinning.

  Jade. Kassey’s voice in my head. Time to go. Time to go, Jade. Now.

  I went to take another step and slumped a bit, dragging myself along the wall, my legs trembling.

  A firm hand gripped my upper arm and suddenly I found myself sandwiched against two bulky bodies.

  “You’re done here for the night.”

  I squinted up at the one who spoke, my eyesight growing dim, my brain barely registering that I’d seen that face before.

  29

  From the darkness came pain. I moaned, nausea rolling through me. My body was moving, rocking, something being wedged deep inside.

  “Nooooooo,” I moaned again.

  A heavy hand squeezed my breast, a gruff chuckle from lips I couldn’t see. “You aren’t all powerful now are you, bitch?”

  “Y-y-you d-d-ddrugged.” My teeth were chattering so bad that I could hardly get the words out.

  “You made it too easy. Thought you’d fool me with your wig? Fucking cunt. As soon as I saw that dress I knew it was you.”

  “F-f-f-fuck you,” I slurred.

  “Fucking right.” He laughed, a hard hateful laugh. “Who’s dickless now, bitch?”

  He was on me, in me, ripping me open, tearing me apart and I could do nothing to stop him. I could do nothing to fight him. What a fool I’d been.

  Whatever he’d given me pulled me back, darkness flashing across my eyes. He could do anything. He could kill me. And I almost wished he would.

  “I found her like this!” A frantic voice fluttered to my awareness. “I checked for a pulse then called you!” Silence for a moment. “She was strung up. I just untied her. That’s all I did.”

  Hands on my throat, touching me again. I tried to swat them away, screaming as my body became mine again.

  “Calm down, calm down. We’re here to help.”

  I squinted, the light like a thousand blazing bulbs. Where they touched was pain. Fiery lashes of the worst pain.

  “She’s one big bruise. Looks like lacerations, possibly a stab wound below her ribs. Get the IV in. W
e need to get her loaded. The police will want a rape kit done.”

  “No, no.” I hadn’t been raped. I couldn’t have been. I was too smart. Too strong. “Let me go home.”

  A soft warm hand touched my forehead. “It’s okay, honey, you’ll be okay. We’re going to take care of you.”

  I couldn’t see, my eyes so fuzzy, tears burning as they seeped out. I’d miscalculated. I’d been stupid. Shouldn’t have worn the same dress. Shouldn’t have hit another club so soon. Should have been more alert.

  I couldn’t say how much time passed. There were waves of consciousness mingled with horrific dreams. They rolled together as one seamless series of images so that I didn’t have an idea of reality and imagination. My throat was raw from screaming. That was real. And the pain, that was real too.

  “Jade,” a familiar voice whispered to me, coaxing me out of another nightmare. “Wake up, sweetie.”

  I cracked my eyes open to see Steve’s face hovering there, smiling at me, welcoming me back. But I couldn’t hang on. I was so sleepy and the dreams were beckoning me.

  The nightmare began as soon as my eyes closed. He had my gun pressed to my head, one minute shoved in my mouth, hammer cocked, taunting me as he let one of his body guards take a turn. I hurt so bad I wanted him to shoot me. But he just laughed at my terror and my pain and urged his buddy on.

  The knife, my knife, sliding between my ribs had ripped a scream that should have alerted someone. But the gag made me choke on it instead. He’d wanted me to die there. He’d left me to bleed out.

  “Jade!”

  I blinked my eyes open, wide awake suddenly, the fog clearing. Arthur sat at my bedside, his face drawn with concern.

  “Wake up!”

  I rolled my head so I could see him, frowning, not understanding. “Where am I?” I tried to croak but I couldn’t speak.

  “You’re safe, honey. No one’s going to hurt you here.”

  “I made a mistake, Arthur. A terrible mistake.”

  “It was a calculated risk. You did the math wrong.”

  I frowned, struggled to focus. His face was blurry, fading in and out. “I failed. I’m weak.”

  “No honey, you’re a warrior, and you’ll get your revenge. You always do.” He leaned over me and I felt the warm press of his lips on my forehead. “Remember?”

  He gave me peace. He gave me strength.

  My next dream was a memory. Sean Ray holding the knife he’d used to stab Kassey dripping with her blood. He was pointing at me and he was laughing.

  “You think you’re so smart huh, Doc?”

  “Sean, why are you here? Why did you do this?” I couldn’t understand it. I’d spent months talking to him. Listening to him. He’d cried with me. He’d changed. He’d changed. I’d changed him. Fought for his parole.

  “Always looking down at me. Beneath you right, Doc?” He crowded me into the corner, his lips pressed close to mine. His breath smelled of garlic and beer. Blood splattered on his face. His eyes were red rimmed, crazed. “I came for you. I came to fuck that condescending smirk right off your face. But she was here instead.”

  “Nooooooo.” I could see her over his shoulder. She wasn’t moving. Kassey. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. “Don’t do this. Let me get her help. Please.”

  He followed my gaze, looking over his shoulder then back at me with a smirk. “Too late for her. I fucked her. I stabbed her. And then I realized it wasn’t you and I fucked her some more. She’s as good as dead, Doc. Nothing you can do.” He lifted the knife to my throat. “And you’re next.”

  “Jade. Jade. Wake up. Come on, girl. Wake up.”

  I opened my eyes. Squinted into the sun.

  “That’s it, Jade. Come back.”

  It was Kassey’s voice. Her blurry face hovering.

  “You’re not real.”

  She came into focus, a wide grin breaming at me. “No, I’m not.”

  “I’m dreaming.”

  “You’re coping.” She kissed my forehead and I swore I could feel it. My eyes burned with tears.

  “I can’t keep doing this,” I croaked. “I can’t keep talking to you. You’re not real. It’s not healthy.”

  She snorted then sat next to me, entwining her fingers with mine. “Oh and hunting potential rapists is?”

  “I-I-I thought…I didn’t…”

  “Jade, I’m not here to talk you out of it. I’m just your subconscious, right? I don’t exist because I’m dead.” She leaned closer. “But you know. You have to know, that if I were alive, I’d never blame you. I’d never think that what happened was your fault.”

  “You would. It was my fault. What happened was unforgivable.”

  “You can’t control the actions of men. Not Steve. Not Sean. Not even the fucker who’s murdering those girls. You can only control what you do now.”

  “I miss you.” My heart hurt so bad. “I need you. I do stupid things. Dangerous things. How can I keep going when you’re in the ground?”

  She leaned in again. Kissed my lips. “You just have to get over it, Jade. You have to or it’s going to get you killed.”

  This time, when I went under, the nightmares stayed away.

  “Bill, what’ve you got for me?” Eddie’s voice was a comfort as I slowly came out of another sleeping jag. “Blood everywhere? Like what are we talking, arterial spray everywhere?” He paused, then sighed. “Okay, so our crime scene has just expanded. I’ll be over there in an hour, keep me posted, would ya?”

  “Eddie?” I croaked as my eyes adjusted to the dim light in the room.

  “Jade, you’re awake!” He moved closer, entwining his fingers with mine. I didn’t mind.

  His face was a comfort, too. Tears burned my eyes and I fought to hold them back.

  Big girl panties, Jade.

  “Hospital?” I asked, my throat raw, unused to making sound.

  He nodded. “Two days. You were in pretty rough shape but the doctors say you’re on the mend. No permanent damage.”

  “I was tricked.”

  “You were drugged. A pretty heavy dose of Ketamine.” Eddie sighed. “We’re waiting on the rest of the tests. You want to know the details?”

  I tried to nod.

  Eddie bit his bottom lip for a second, his eyes telling me how bad it was. “Rape kit isn’t back yet but they did find minuscule amounts of semen. No idea how many—”

  “Three,” I croaked.

  “Are you sure?”

  I gulped. “Yeah, positive.”

  “Okay, well they got sloppy at some point because there was trace amounts of fluid. Might be enough to get DNA and a hit if he’s in the system. You were found by a hotel maid at Easy Inn, bound and gagged. Beaten up pretty bad, stab wound to the side.”

  “Gun?”

  Eddie frowned. “We didn’t find a gun or the knife. Why? Do you remember a gun?”

  I nodded. My gun. The bastard had my gun and my knife. And my purse with my address. Fuck, he knew where I lived. I needed to find him. Kill him. Oh my god.

  Rage burned through me. I was vulnerable. I was a victim. I needed revenge and I’d kill for it. I would. “I need to get the fuck out of here.” I sat up, IV lines and sheets tangling me up and slowing me down.

  “Jade.” Eddie put his hand on my shoulder and eased me back. “You’re safe here. We’ve got a guard on your door and you’re not going anywhere until you heal a bit more.”

  I swatted his hand away. “You don’t know!”

  “No, I don’t, but you’re not fit to go anywhere.” He stepped back, hands up. “Leave this to my guys, Jade. They’re on the case and they’ll find the bastards who did this. They won’t get away with this.”

  Pain radiated from my side. I sucked in a short breath, dizziness made my eyes blurry. Exhaustion washing through me a second after that. I winced then eased back further. Eddie was right. I was in rough shape. Couldn’t go out and hunt. Didn’t even have my weapons. This feeling of helplessness was worse than any other pain though. M
y fear lesson hadn’t stuck. The guy I’d threatened had gotten revenge on me so my tactic hadn’t worked. I needed to revise my plans.

  “Why were you downtown? Do you remember why you were down there? Where you may have encountered someone who wanted to hurt you?” His voice cracked a bit. “I took you home. Why did you leave again?”

  He was acting like a detective but I could hear the pain, the questions that needed answering.

  “My head hurts.” I covered my eyes with my hand, wincing again as my muscles pulled the bruises I didn’t have the courage to look at.

  He waited a beat, as if he was going to probe for an answer. “I’ll get a nurse.” Then he was up and out of the room and I could breathe again.

  Did I know why I’d been targeted? Yes, I’d played a game and had underestimated my opponent. I’d been drugged, probably when I’d been bumped at the club. One of his bodyguards must have done it. They’d been waiting for me when I came out of the bathroom. I hadn’t stood a chance. I’d been so careless. So stupid.

  A wave of self-pity washed over me. Violated, beaten and worse—I’d lost and he’d won.

  I wanted to punch something, my fists clenched so hard that my nails dug into my palms. I’d never been a good loser. I’d known the risks but I thought myself above them. I was willing to accept the consequences to a certain extent. But feeling vulnerable, having that bastard possibly know where I lived… No, that was unacceptable.

  I pressed my hand against my eyes, the action strangely soothing. Keeping the tears at bay. I was stronger than this. I was a warrior. I would survive. I was equipped to.

  A horrible thought snapped into my head, making it pound even worse. What if I had instigated another rape? What if my threatening behaviour made my targets go after an innocent girl, seeking revenge? I gulped, lifted my hand from my head and sat up a bit. What if I was making the situation worse by playing my dangerous game?