Chapter Five
Dexter
Ishift my wide gaze to Claudia, expecting her eyes to hold the same amount of excitement as mine. I’m not sure if anything happening is real or a figment of my imagination, but I do know one thing: I haven’t experienced anything this thrilling in years. Just the thought of getting caught has my cock pressed against my trousers and my heart leaping in my chest. I miss the adrenaline that comes from doing what I like when I like. Conformity has never been a part of my life. I like things messy. I like things complicated. I like my world completely fucked up.
The thrill scorching my veins fades when my wide gaze locks on Claudia. Her eyes aren’t carrying the same eagerness as mine. I can’t even see them since she is cowered in the corner, rocking like she’s seconds away from a meltdown.
I glare at her like she’s an illusion, my response the same I gave when she entered my room nearly thirty minutes ago. I thought she was a mirage, a byproduct of the trillion sedatives the staff pumped me with when our tussle earlier today turned violent. I am so out of my fucking mind, I spent half my night talking to the dragon tattoo on my shoulder, unhappy at its attempt to bite me.
It was only when Claudia’s fruity shampoo lingered into my nostrils did I realize I wasn’t delusional. She was hesitant to release me from the restraints Lee and his minions used to contain me. Rightfully so. Even though my brain felt seconds away from exploding in my skull when I pinned her to my bed, my body didn’t respond with anywhere near as much disdain. My cock was hard as a rock, my relief in the shower this morning a forgotten memory.
Although pissed at my body’s response to Claudia’s nearness, it can be easily excused. The longer I stalked her, the more intriguing she became. Usually, I read women like open books, the joy of discovering their every secret has been revealed in under an hour. That hasn’t happened with Claudia. Even watching her like a hawk the prior six weeks hasn’t unraveled the woman behind the muted stance. She’s not just an onion; she’s many layers of fucked up.
There is only one thing I’ve unearthed: Claudia isn’t mute because she can’t speak. A million thoughts streamed from her eyes when she glanced at the magazine article last month. She just prefers expressing herself without words. For the most part, I find her quirks amusing. But right now, I don’t have time for humor.
I always knew Claudia was my ticket out of here; I just had no clue she was also the key. I shouldn’t be surprised. There was something in her eyes last month that warned she was a game changer. That doesn’t necessarily mean starting a new game; it could merely mean she is initiating an old one—one I’ve been waiting years to finalize—one I can’t wait to get back to.
After pinning her to the wall by her throat, Ashlee was hesitant to interact with me. But once I supplied her enough benzos to take down three grown men, she miraculously became less reluctant. She filled in the gaps Claudia’s eyes fail to reveal.
Just like me, Claudia isn’t here because she is psychotic. From what we can gather, she merely obsessed over the wrong man. That’s why she reacted the way she did when she saw the magazine article last month. The man she wants had his arm wrapped around another woman—a petite blonde the report stated was his wife and the mother of his two children. His name is Nicholas Holt. He is the lead guitarist of Rise Up—the same band Marcus is a member of.
Although shocked about our bizarre connection, I have no intention of aiding Claudia with her dilemma. I’m merely continuing the game I initiated weeks ago. Tonight’s development is the last piece of the puzzle. I didn’t bite Lee because I wanted my brain drained. I did it because I knew Claudia was watching. She can’t articulate it, but I know she’s grown fond of me the past few weeks. I can’t blame her; when I bring out the charm, the ladies don’t stand a chance. Her arrival at my room in the middle of the night confirms my assumption she’s right where I want her.
I had hoped she’d save me tonight, which in turn would expose the locksmith capabilities Ashlee informed me about earlier this month. I just had no clue Lee would take my maiming so harshly. He’s grown severely agitated the past four weeks. I can’t blame him. Every time he gets within sniffing distance of Claudia, either Ashlee or I stop his fantasies from becoming reality. He’s nervous, which is dangerous. You can’t get an edgier man than one who’s been deprived of touch. I know this firsthand.
Ignoring my heaving stomach’s demand to dispel the slug sitting in the bottom of it, I get back to the task at hand. The little vein in Claudia’s neck flutters when I scoot closer to her. “One more lock, Claudia, then we’re out of here.” I purposely include her in my statement, hoping my false promise will have her agreeing to my suggestion more quickly. We don’t have time to dawdle.
Claudia shakes her head as rapidly as her body trembles. Well, I think she’s shaking. With how twitchy my body is as it struggles not to overdose on the lethal mix of sedatives Lee gave me, I can’t be sure. I feel like my brain has been replaced with dark, moody clouds. I’m equally spaced out on drugs and adrenaline.
After a quick head shake, I return my eyes to Claudia. Feeling my stare, she sheepishly peers at me through a sheet of mousy hair. The submissiveness in her eyes is the equivalent of seeing flashing lights when I’m driving drunk. It sobers me up in an instant. It also makes me as hard as fuck. If I weren’t conscious this is my only chance to escape, I’d fuck the goodness straight from her marrow, only stopping once every inch of her body is covered with my cum.
I freeze, disturbed by my thoughts. What drugs did they feed me?My brain is sliding out of my ears, yet all I’m worried about is being served my last rights. I didn’t play nice for years to let little Ms. Psycho’s fruity shampoo and big, innocent eyes unravel me. I’ve got revenge to exact. Little bastards to save. I don’t have time for this shit.
“If you don’t do this, Claudia, we’ll get in trouble. Is that what you want? Do you want to make the guards mad? I might not be able to save you from Lee this time. He’s growing impatient.” My words are more angry than sincere. I’m not angry at Claudia; I’m pissed at myself. I’ll never forfeit a game, but the drop of her pouty lip as she stares at me in fear makes me want to call time out.
I suck in a deep breath, the distress in her hooded gaze thickening both my blood and my cock. Her big doe eyes would inspire a saint to sin to save her virtue, but I see a patch of darkness beneath her wholesomeness that reveals the saint’s plight would be made in vain. She’s already danced with the devil, and she came out the other end smiling.
When Claudia shakes her head, advising she doesn’t want to get in trouble, I clasp her hands in mine. Her body responds the same way it did when her nipples brushed my chest. She blossoms under my touch—whether intentional or not. Given the situation we find ourselves in, her body is very responsive, so imagine how receptive it would be outside of these circumstances?
I grit my teeth, warning my mouth it better articulate the right set of words before muttering, “Just one more lock, then we can go home. You want to go home, don’t you, Claudia? Back to the man who’s waiting for you?”
I doubt Nick is waiting for Claudia. If it is the standard groupie/bandmate stalker case regularly seen on TMZ, he’s probably already forgotten who she is. But if it gets me closer to escaping, I’m not above using her “condition” to my advantage.
I hit a bullseye when the color on Claudia’s cheeks doubles as her chest swells high. Her response shouldn’t piss me off, but it does. I’m a competitive man—even when it’s against a man I have no right to compete against. Nick might be friends with the bane of my existence, but I have no qualms with him. As long as he doesn’t get in the way of me keeping my promise, we’ll have no issues.
Claudia’s eyes bounce between mine for the next several seconds as she contemplates a response. I’d shake her to hurry her up, but the last thing I want is her hollering at the top of her lungs before she’s unlocked the gun case we’re crouched next to. If it were an electronic lock, I would be in within seconds, but this is an old-school lock that would take me over thirty minutes to crack. I don’t have thirty minutes. I don’t even have thirty seconds.
“You can trust me, Claudia. I’ll never hurt you.”
Fuck—the drugs messing with my head are so potent, even I’m on the verge of believing my slurred promise. Claudia glances up at me like I am a god. Although it’s a look I’ve been given many times before, it feels different coming from her.
Hopeful the drugs fucking with my head aren’t causing me to misinterpret the silent questions streaming from her eyes, I confirm, “Just this one last lock, then you’ll be free. You can go home.”
Her lips twitch like she wants to speak, but not a syllable escapes her mouth. She doesn’t need to talk for me to understand her, though. Her scoot to the gun cabinet I’ve been eyeing as intensely as her shapely frame expresses more than her words ever could.
“Good girl,” I praise when the tall black locker pops open only a few seconds later.
I’m so spaced out on personality-altering drugs, I slap my hands on her cheeks and plant a sloppy kiss on her lips.Meds musts be at play or why would I continue praising her like she’s a queen?
