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“Evening, officer. You got a problem or something?”
Ah. The sound of nerves hidden beneath the bravado that comes with thinking you’re untouchable. I get that a lot as a cop. I enjoy it, too, especially when I’m about to prove that no fucking one is untouchable with the right motivation.
He’s a dead man walking. He has no clue, but that woman’s ass was the last one that he’s going to ogle, and the world will be better for it when I’m done.
The revenge belongs to my angel. I could kill him right here, right now, disposing of his body in such a way that no one will ever trace it back to me. As satisfying as that would be for me, Angela needs closure. More than that, he needs to know exactly why death has come for him.
So, instead of making it a quick death, I give him my most charming smile. I tip my cap, shielding the predatory look in my gaze as I shake my head. “Not at all.”
He scoffs and starts to pass me by. As he does, I clap him on the shoulder. From the outside, it’s a friendly gesture.
At least, until I reveal the injector I had tucked in my palm. One quick jab and I unload the entire sedative into the prick before he even feels the sting of the needle.
It works as quickly on him as it did my angel. I calibrated the dose for his size, his weight, and while his first reaction is to curse at me, then shove me away, it isn’t long before he starts stumbling down the sidewalk.
I’m right there, the kind-hearted cop, ready and willing to offer a shoulder for him to lean on. And when his legs fail, unconsciousness taking him over, I drag him the rest of the way to my truck.
Anyone watching might see a drunk getting a ride home. Just like I planned.
Santorino slumps forward in the cab, head mashed against the dashboard. He’s gonna have one hell of a crick in his neck when he wakes up. Of course, that’s going to be the least of his worries, especially since I made a pit stop at a florist on my way into Fairview.
It’s a four-hour drive back. He slumbers completely unaware through all of it. More than once, I have to resist the urge to open the door and shove him out. For taking advantage of my angel before I was there to protect her, he would deserve it.
I manage to refrain from putting my hands on him until I’ve parked my truck and unloaded his deadweight from the cab. Because I couldn’t care less what it does to him, I drop him to the ground, dragging him through the mud to the back door.
And since I have to wait for him to wake up anyway, once I get him inside, I decide to finally take some of my frustrations out on the worthless piece of shit.
I move him to the bathroom. It’s a lot easier to clean up blood in there.
14
ANGELA
When the door to the basement finally opens, I’m surprised by how much I’m looking forward to seeing Burns.
After those two days he was off that we spent together, going back to spending hours upon hours on my own has been hard. The TV Burns brought me helped a little, but it’s really just another reminder that I’m by myself. It shouldn’t matter. I’ve been basically alone for as long as I can remember. And yet… I think I can get addicted to the way his attention on me is so all-consuming. Like I matter.
Like I’m the only one who does.
Ever since the nightmares began, though, I’ve barely seen him. He leaves right after breakfast, and comes back to the cabin well after dark. He won’t tell me exactly where I am—he just says it’s the hills—but I did get him to tell me that it’s an hour’s drive from Springfield. Based on how many hours he’s been gone, either he’s picking up overtime at work—or something else is distracting him.
Maybe evensomeoneelse…
It’s absolutely insane to be jealous that my captor isn’t spending time somewhere else. I know that.
Does that stop me?
No. Not even a little.
I jump up, about to cross over to the stairs—
“Why are you doing this? I never did anything to you.”
“Shut it,” snarls Burns, “or I’ll throw you down the steps. Got me?”
“What? You wouldn’t dare!”
This is Mason Burns. Of course he would.
