Chapter Twenty-Five

Jacob

Dinner was bittersweet. Alana said all the right things, went through the correct motions, and even prepared a meal unlike any I’d ever had before. The two of us, eating the results of her culinary art, in her kitchen, was comfortable, sweet, and family-like.

It didn’t erase the fact I knew it was bullshit.

There was only the connection, nothing beyond. I could see it in the slight warmth of her eyes and the way she answered my questions too sweetly. Although she maintained eye contact, she never really looked at me. I was crazy, I knew it, but I couldn’t let her go. I would never be able to, and maybe that’s what was between us. The fact she didn’t love me was the elephant in the room, pressing his fucking foot into my chest and forcing blood into my lungs. Maybe she was right and I was obsessed with her and she couldn’t love me. Maybe I was idiotic for believing that showing back up in her life meant everything would be okay.

Still, if she wanted to play the perfect housewife, so be it. I’d bank on it. As she cleaned up the remains of our dinner, I grabbed her cell phone from my pocket and put it on the counter in front of me. At least we’d see how invested in this act she truly was.

“Call in for a few days. Don’t want them worried about you not showing up.”

Her hands stilled in the soapy suds, and I bit back a smile.

Gotcha.

But I was on the side of fucked up enough to enjoy our push and pull. To like the idea of breaking her down and forcing her to face what we shared. She wanted to play a game, then I’d be willing to play along with her and see who would come out on top. I let the smile peek through as she rinsed the last dishes and turned around.

“Okay. That would work. I’d be coming back from the conference as far as they are concerned.”

“Conference?”

When she narrowed her eyes before smiling brightly, I knew she’d let me in on too much.

“When I take my victims, it either coincides with a conference I’ve been scheduled to attend in advance, or it’s during times I have light casework in the building,” she answered.

“The perfect alibi. Makes sense. That’s the one thing easier about killing the way I do. I don’t have to check in with anyone, I’m a ghost. No one knows me, I’ve got aliases, and I never leave any evidence behind.”

“But after being in the system, they have to have files and information on you.”

I lifted her phone and held it out to her. “We both know Child Protective Services has too many kids to keep in line after they’ve gone through foster care or have been adopted. They can be good people, but there are too many children and too few workers. Make your call.”

She took the phone from my hand, and I pulled mine out too. Her eyes darted to the screen as I laid it on the table and opened the gallery to bring up photos. I kept my eyes on her as I swiped the screen through pictures of her files, bloody workstation before I’d cleaned it, and the image of the location listing. A pinched state of her lips was all the evidence I got that my threat of revealing her had sunk in. She pressed a few buttons on her screen and put the phone to her ear. It was late, so I didn’t expect anyone to pick up, but the message would be enough.

“Hey, Vanessa, it’s Nila. I’ll be taking a few days after returning from the conference. Move my appointments from this week to next or call them to reschedule for a better day. I’ll be available by cell if you have any questions.”

I shook my head at her last sentence, and she rolled her eyes before speaking into the phone once more.

“On second thought, I’ll be available by email.”

She hung up before I could say anything. “Give me back the phone,” I gritted out.

“Look, I’ve never been completely unavailable to my patients. There are emergencies and the like that come up.”

“Then you could have referred them to another doctor.”

“This isn’t a damn hospital, Jacob. Some of my cases have long histories and don’t deal well with new people. I’ve worked my ass off to get where I have with them. It’s more natural to keep myself available if they need me.”

I chewed on her explanation for a moment. I didn’t like it, but it was plausible. “Emails attached to your phone?”

“Of course,” she said.

“Fine. I’ll scan them first and will type for you if you are required.”

“Jacob.” She sighed my name and I liked it. Wished we could do this more. Fight like a normal couple. Fuck like the dark pair that we were and maybe kill a few assholes who deserved it. Was that too much to ask?

“What is it?”

“This thing we are doing? It’s not going to work, you know? Eventually, we will kill each other. I can’t be caged. I can’t be owned. That is something you’ve never understood.”

“I don’t want to just own you, Alana.”

She harrumphed and stared at me.

“I don’t. I want to free you.”

“You have a funny way of showing it.”

“Let me ask you a few questions, and if you are honest, completely honest with me, I will let you go.”

“You’re lying.”

I shook my head. “I’ve never lied to you. Ever. You are the one person in my whole life I’ve never lied to. And if you give me this, I’ll walk away. I swear it.”

She looked at me, peering into my eyes. I wondered if she thought she could read my thoughts. I knew she would fail. I knew she would turn away. Because somewhere, deep inside of her, she didn’t want me to go. She couldn’t.

“Okay,” she said. She sat primly on the stool across from me and folded her hands on the countertop.

“Do you enjoy killing, Alana?”

“Yes,” she answered quickly. Tension sat in her stiff shoulders and focused gaze, but she relaxed at my question. Even she knew there were some things she’d fight to tell me.

“Do you think you could ever be normal? Loved for who you are?”

The tension came back as she rolled her shoulders. “No and no.”

She was answering but gave nothing else away. I shook my head, smiling sadly. A twinge of loss filled my heart. She was right in front of me, but the girl who’d helped me kill my father, stole my heart, and kissed me with such passion, was gone. I saw it now, and I ached for her. This woman was destruction’s roadmap, and she had no way to navigate back to who she’d been. Perhaps I didn’t know this new her. I didn’t know how to bring us back around. I knew I would try. I would give everything to keep her. Time. We needed time.

“What happened to you when I was gone? Where did you live? How were you?”

“That’s more than a few questions, Jacob.”

“We’re almost done.”

“I went back to live with my family. Finished high school and was tossed from therapist to therapist until I learned to fake it. And then the town provided me with a full ride to college, so I took it and ran. After getting my doctorate, I opened my practice. End of story.”

No, it wasn’t. Those few scant sentences didn’t tell me if she had nightmares. They didn’t describe the struggles she had with fitting in. Or how she may have viewed the world. They gave me nothing of her. But she answered. She gave the truth, no matter how dry. So I asked the question I knew she wouldn’t answer, that she would refuse to give truth to, and our game tonight would be over.

“What would you need from me to love me?”

“To let me go.”

“No, that is what you want from me, so that you can escape. Not the truth. I’ll give you one more try.”

“Being free is all that matters to me, Jacob. When I was in that cage, I wanted nothing more than to get out. To get my revenge and go back to life. And when you put me back in that cage, I wanted the same thing.”

I looked her over, memorizing the emotion on her face—hope, anger, need, and the desperation in her eyes. All emotions that were directed at what she wanted, not what she needed. But I’d take her on her bed. And she’d cling to me. Bite me and make me bleed. She wouldn’t try to fight her way away. She wouldn’t scream and rage. When she called her job, she didn’t attempt to leave a cryptic message. By the time they came for her, or anyone heard that message, we would be long gone. And I think she knew that. No. She didn’t want to be freed from her cage.

I stood and paced around to her side. She pressed her hands on top of the counter, a slight tremor in her arms. It was probably hard for her, staying like that—not swinging, not fighting back. But her mouth was slightly parted, her chest rose and fell with rapidly, her pulse thudded in her throat, and her eyes dilated. She breathed me in as I came closer, and all those signs told me what she didn’t want to say aloud.

I pressed against her back and placed my hands on hers. We molded, fitting together and synchronizing. My heart galloped to match hers, my blood rushed, and I couldn’t fight the urge to run my teeth against her shoulder. She balled her hands, and I gripped her wrists to keep her in place. But she shifted, her head falling to the side, her eyes sliding closed. As a moan slid passed her lips, and I bit the soft flesh where her neck met her shoulder, I knew wildness and dark places. Blood and agony. Pain and pleasure. Need and craving. We were all of that, and she didn’t realize it.

“Alana,” I whispered against her neck, “you lied, and I’m going to keep you. What you need is not to be free. Cages are in the mind. It’s a state of being and you’re trapped there. Held in place by fear and fighting what you think will destroy you.”

She pushed against me, but I didn’t break my hold. “No, what you want is to be free, you’re right, but your context was wrong. You need to be freed. To be that bloody little sociopath that’s locked in your heart. You want to forget your worries, your cares, and your emotions for anything except the rock you’ll cling to in a sea of blood. I’m your rock, baby. The man who’s going to blow the doors on your fear wide the fuck open. Crack up the world and present you with its soft underbelly for you to gut. Because I’m the king to your wicked fucking empress, and I’m going to put you on that fucking throne.”

She moaned before she could cut it off, but I heard it. It sang to me. Lifted me up and sent me burning into the sun.

“I …” She cleared her throat and tried again. “I’m …”

She couldn’t finish her sentence and shook her head instead. I was afraid once too. Knew what it was like—the absolute terror of stepping too far into the darkness and losing that little bit of light. Letting go of the past so you could move on to the future. I knew it because I’d done it. The only memories I’d given a shit about had included her. The me before she was taken to my father’s home faded into the black void. She needed to do that. Let go of family and friends and the pretense of living normally. I’d help her. I’d teach her.

“In the orphanage, Dennis and Eddison were my worst enemies. Two fucked-up teens who liked to beat on me because daddy liked to fuck them over. Then they started fucking me, taking from me, because they liked the control and violence. They needed it. And I wasn’t strong enough. Losing you and everything else had broken me. I wasn’t strong enough to protect you, and I knew it. I raged about it, but I couldn’t get tough. It was like I needed you to set me off. So I used you. Found a way to pull you tighter and tighter inside until I finally snapped. Killing them was my first time after my father. No one has found their bodies yet. I guess if they figured it was me, they’d know to go back to the ranch and look there.”

Her head rested on my shoulder, and her nipples pressed against her apron. It was a fucking beautiful view. My little messy girl was getting hot hearing about death.

“Did they suffer?”

“More than Dad, I’d say. I took my time. I had days to work. Then I disappeared. Looking for you. Trying to find you. Always you. The talisman that made me strong enough to survive it.”

“You don’t love me, Jacob. Not really. You love the memory of me.”

I shrugged. “Maybe. But then two seconds ago is a memory. This morning is a faint thought. You’re a walking memory, Alana, and I’m okay with loving that.”

“It’s not enough.”

“Then we’ll make it, Alana. Fuck, we’ll beat love bloody and pull its fucking fingernails off. We’ll hold it down and strip it to tears and a visceral mess. We’ll fuck its head up until what we have is the only kind of love it understands. And then, Alana, love will mean us, what we are, what we’ve created.”

When I kissed her, finally, we were brand-new, a beginning. The fucking world opened and wept. Love needed to be terrified of us.