Page 87 of Good Girls Beg

"I would have been right," I said. "You are crazy." Was there a knife block around here somewhere? Maybe a rolling pin. How far would I get if I made a run for it?

"Crazy is also not an official psychiatric diagnosis," Victor said. "Would you like something to eat?"

"After the way that turned out last time, no thank you," I said.

"I have apples." He stepped over to the fridge and pulled one out. Then a couple more. "The skin is intact." He started to juggle them, tossing them so high they almost hit the ceiling before dropping back down onto his hands.

"Here." He threw one at me so fast, I barely had time to raise my hands and catch it before it hit me in the face. He didn't seem to notice. He bit into one apple and put the other one back in the fridge.

I carefully examined the apple before taking a bite. I had to admit it was tasty, juicy and helped to wash away the lingering taste of whatever he drugged me with.

"What is the official psychiatric diagnosis?" I asked. That seemed to be an area of expertise.

“A bunch of things." He crunched into his apple. "Diagnosed a few years ago. Sometimes I can't sit still. I have to do things, you know? I had to bring you here and put my mark on you. That's me though, not my conditions. I have no filter. Probably wouldn't use it if I had one. Honestly, the first time I saw you in that restaurant. That was before this mania hit." He was talking so quickly, I struggled to follow.

"Why do they think you're a predator?" I asked. "How many women have you drugged and brought here?"

He cocked his head, his brow creased. "Let me think back for a moment." He straightened his head up and grinned. "Just you. You're the first woman I ever looked at and knew you were mine. You might have noticed, I'm known for being impulsive sometimes. No regrets though, because here you are."

"Okay, but I might go to the police," I said. "Aren't you worried about that?"

At the same time, I knew what happened to people like him. The police wouldn't be gentle. Should they be? Why was I feeling sympathy for a man who kidnapped me?

"I'm more worried about being locked in the basement," he said. "It reminds me of my low days. Dark, cold and…" He shook his head. "You don't want to hear about that. It's depressing. Should we have sex now?"

I almost choked on a piece of apple. He was going to give me whiplash.

"I'm not having sex with you, Victor," I said. "What I'd like right now is to go home."

"Back to those three men?" He looked disappointed, bordering on angry. I should be careful where I stepped. I didn't know if he'd become dangerous and what it would take to push him over that line. I'd rather not know.

"You didn't tell me why they thought you were a predator," I pointed out. "I should be running for my life, not sitting here talking to you." I swung my legs under the table a couple of times, decided they'd hold me before I slid off the table and onto the floor.

"It was a misunderstanding," he said easily. "They thought I got angry and killed an innocent person."

"And you didn't?" I asked.

"Oh, I killed them. They weren't innocent though." He nodded once.

I would have taken a step back, but the table was right behind me.

"You killed someone?" I should get the hell out of here right now.

"Yes, but they weren't innocent," he said, as if that was the most important point here. "They were doing bad things to…to children. I don't like it when people do that."

"Isn't that what the cops are for?" I asked.

"He was a cop," Victor said softly. "They would have protected their own. Turned a blind eye." He brightened up and added, "Don't worry, I gave him two blind eyes before I cut his throat." He seemed very pleased with himself.

"I think I should go now," I said, inching toward the door.

"You know I'd never do anything bad to you, don't you, Curly?" He seemed hurt that I was so eager to leave.

"You kidnapped me," I said. "How do I know you aren't going to kill me?"

His shoulders sagged. "I did the wrong thing. I should have sent you flowers." His gaze dropped towards the tiled floor. "I couldn't give you flowers when I was locked in a basement. Could I? I couldn't have sent you flowers after all." He sighed hard out his nose. "I should have told you to leave me there so they could kill me."

"I'm sure they weren't going to kill you," I said, not sure at all.