Chapter Twenty-Eight

Nila

I’d already missed work for four days. Submissive. Meekly obedient. Passive. I became submissive to Jacob, yielding to his demands and desires. As much as I wanted to fight back, to control him, part of me like submitting to him. Part of me liked letting go of control for the first time in a very long time.

Could I trust Jacob? I didn’t know yet. I couldn’t deny he was sincere in his desire for me, his want for a life with me.

And that freaked me out.

I could control many things: the way the blade cut across skin, the fear of men, the ability to seduce. But Jacob, oh Jacob, there was something out of my control when it came to him, whether I wanted it to be or not.

As his blade marred my skin, I knew I was so far out of my comfort zone, but watching the blood droplets come to the skin, seeing his brand on me, I was intrigued by the idea of giving myself over to him. It was foreign and yet … it was right.

I still couldn’t believe I’d told him about Peter. That I trusted the information to him, especially after he admitted to gathering evidence against me. Even though he’d forced the information from me, somewhere inside of me I wanted to tell him, to confide in him. Safety hadn’t been part of my life. Always the good girl. Always the good friend, therapist, daughter, sister. Never evil. Never dark. And now I had someone who knew everything about me—good, bad, and ugly—and he accepted me completely.

I once had a mission, but Jacob had turned it completely upside down, and here I was, flipping eggs like a housewife.

“Over easy?”

“Hmm?” Glancing up from the newspaper, Jacob regarded me with a look that had my insides quivering.

“Are over easy eggs good?”

“Sounds delicious.” With a lick of his lips, he returned to his paper, leaving me to get my hormones under control. Jesus. The man had taken me captive, took advantage of me and fucking branded me, but I was swooning after him like a lovesick teenager. I needed to get control of myself.

Plating our eggs and toast, I crossed over to the table and served him.

“Thank you, baby.”

“You’re welcome, Jacob.”

We sat down to eat as if we were a normal married couple. But we weren’t married, and we sure as hell weren’t anywhere near normal. We were completely and utterly fucked up beyond repair. Jacob’s father had done a number on us, and we would never be able to return to what we once were.

“Jacob?”

“Yeah?”

“How do you think your life would have been if you had a normal father?”

“I don’t know. I never really thought about it.”

“Did you have any interests when you were younger?”

“Usually when I developed an interest, Father would shut it down quickly. I guess, if I thought about it, I would’ve gone to school. Maybe been a football player. I was always interested in sports but never got to play them.”

“I’m sorry.”

“What for?”

“That you weren’t able to have a normal childhood.”

“You did. That’s enough for me. Tell me a happy moment, Alana.”

“Happy?”

“You do remember what that means, right?”

“Of course I remember what it means. I’m just not used to it.”

“Think about it.”

I tried to think of a happy moment. I had so many growing up, until I was taken. I used to love life, live for all the moments that came along with it. But once I returned to my family, things were different. I’d changed, and so had they. My disappearance took a toll on all of them, not knowing if I was dead or alive. My brother grew up quickly after my disappearance. My mom totally shut down, became dependent on pills. My father? He was broken, shattered, relying on alcohol to dull his pain. I had gone from a happy, loving family to a fucked-up situation to a fucked-up family.

“Ten.”

“Hmm?”

“I was ten. My dad took us to the circus. It was my first time at one and I was scared of the elephants.”

“Scared of the elephants?”

“Don’t judge me. They were huge.”

Letting out a laugh, Jacob’s eyes lightened as a smile came across his face. He was handsome when he smiled.

“Anyway, my dad took us to the circus. We all laughed and spent time together. Dad bought me this jumbo cotton candy and a huge inflatable unicorn, and I got to see little dancing monkeys. It was amazing seeing all the animals. But I loved spending time with my family. Being together.”

What I didn’t tell Jacob was it was one of the memories that kept me going when his dad locked me in a cage. I didn’t tell him how I would picture myself right there in that red and white circus tent, the smell of popcorn and hot dogs wafting through the air and sticky cotton candy on my fingers. I didn’t tell him how much I loved that purple and blue unicorn, how I slept with it every night, and once I was too old for it, it became a permanent fixture on my dresser. Because, even two years later, it was still inflated.

Jacob being who he was couldn’t leave things be. Where one question was, another would follow. Like a dog looking for a bone, Jacob sniffed things out. In another life, he could’ve been a detective instead of a murderer.

“I want to hear about RJ.”

I raised a brow at him. “Jacob, we’re having breakfast. What do you expect us to do? Discuss torture techniques over coffee and eggs?”

“I asked, didn’t I?”

“Fine.”

“Go on.”

RJ … RJ … RJ. I held a fond spot for the man in my heart. My first torture. My first bloody kill.

“He was local. A traveling salesman. He was never in town for too long. Around the same time he was traveling, a string of unsolved murders cropped up. Never in one place but always the same M.O. You may have seen it on the news. The Time-Traveling Killer?

“Yes. It was all over the news. Everyone knew about it.”

“What they didn’t know was that he was a patient of mine. He kept it under wraps, paying in cash. The moment he offered cash and wanted to go by an alias, I knew he had secrets to uncover, but I didn’t know exactly what they were.”

“When did you know?”

“About three months into our sessions.”

Four Years Ago

Patient Notes: RJ Campbell goes by the alias of Kenneth Scott. Confident, to the point of delusion, and speaks in a way to appear smarter. His predilections were singular, but he hid them well.

The urge to kill was burning me from the inside out. It had been too long—two years since I’d killed Peter. I had taken my time researching and maintaining my cover so when the time came, no one would even suspect me. And now I was a licensed therapist.

“Miss Winters, your next patient is here.”

“Send him in.”

RJ Campbell, known to my secretary as Kenneth Scott, had been coming to see me for three months in between his traveling schedule. Kenneth was charismatic and suave, but he had secrets. Dark ones. The demon in me longed to know them all. I wanted to eat his sins and watch him bleed.

As he walked in, I noticed the cut on his lip first. Second, I noticed the scratches on his face. A long-sleeve shirt in summer? Something wasn’t adding up.

“Have a seat. Would you like some water? Tea?”

“No, thank you.”

“How have you been since we last talked, RJ?”

“Fine.”

“Just fine?”

“Yeah. Just fine.”

“RJ, this doesn’t work unless you communicate with me.”

“I’m paying you, aren’t I?”

“Yes, but—”

“But nothing. I’m paying for your services, so I’ll answer however I want.”

“Once again, RJ, it does not work like that. I’m a therapist. You can either open up to me and be polite when I ask a question, or I can fill your spot with a patient who needs my help.”

“I didn’t say I didn’t need your help.”

“You don’t say much of anything when you’re here. That’s what needs to change. Where were you this week?”

“Detroit.”

“Ah, Michigan. Do you like doing so much traveling?”

“I prefer it, actually.”

“Where’d that split lip come from?”

“Got hit.”

“I see. Did you have someone look at your face?”

“No need.”

“RJ.”

“No. You don’t need to know everything about me, and you sure as hell don’t need to know my personal shit. Mind ya own business, doc.” The sophistication he usually spoke with had completely faded from his tone.

“Hey! What did I say about being polite?”

“Oh, fuck you.”

Getting up off the couch, he carried his weight as if he were a second away from hitting someone. Pulling my door open and walking out, the sound of the slamming reverberated around the room.

Dammit, all the progress I started to make with him was gone. With another half hour to kill before my next patient, I turned to the newspaper.

TIME-TRAVELING KILLER STRIKES IN DETROIT

Detroit. The Time-Traveling Killer had been killing women for the last nine months in different cities, usually a week to a week and a half apart. Aptly named the Time-Traveling Killer, not only were his kills in different locations, his victims were dressed from all different eras as if a vintage shop had been robbed. And now my patient, a salesman with all his secrets, just admitted he was in Detroit and looked as if he was in a fight.

“What did you do after you started to piece the clues together?” Jacob questioned, pulling me out of the story

“I turned to my patient notes to see if there was a pattern.”

“Was there?”

“Every location RJ dropped into conversation had been a location where the killer struck. Once I knew that, I began investigating him more thoroughly and started uncovering skeletons from his past.”

“Did he come back to you for another session?”

“Surprisingly, he did.” I sighed, taking a minute to process my thoughts. “He hadn’t been happy with me and how I handled his case. He was pissed I was digging. He had his last session with me and then I had two patients after him. By the time I finished that night, he was waiting for me in the shadows. He thought he could sneak up on me in the cover of darkness. Little did he know, I lived for it.”

“What happened?”

“He didn’t know I always kept mace on my keychain and my car key between my fingers, so when he stepped up behind me, I maced him in the eyes and stabbed him straight in the eyeball with my key. Once he was doubled over in pain, I opened my car door, shoved him in, and handcuffed the bastard.” Looking at Jacob, I could see the lust written all over his face. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

Smiling, he answered, “You’re pretty fucking badass. It’s sexy.”

“Oh hush.”

“No, really. Thinking of you one-upping a guy double your size is hot as shit.”

“Oh really?”

“Seriously. You getting the best of some poor fool, and as he’s bleeding at our feet, I fuck you, so his last thought is of me sliding into you? Sounds like an epic time. Now, tell me the rest.”

Four Years Ago

Motherfucker. I wasn’t ready. I had a plan, but the bastard couldn’t wait to try to get the jump on me. Hearing him groan in the backseat, I drove faster. My only thought was getting to the warehouse.

Once I was there, I reached into my glove box to grab a syringe. “Always be prepared” was my motto.

Bringing it with me, I opened the back door and jammed the needle right into RJ’s neck. That would knock him out for a while and give me adequate time to drag his heavy ass into the warehouse and set things up.

I had purchased the warehouse six months earlier in preparation for when a moment like this would come. Secluded, soundproofed, and all set to go, I was ready to break the building in.

Dragging RJ inside, I deposited him onto a bed with metal railings so I could chain him up. I cut off his shirt and removed the rest of his clothing. Naked and bared to my gaze, I thought of how to begin. Taking a page from my captor’s playbook, I attached nipple clamps to him and started to drip hot wax down his abs. As he stirred from his stupor, he woke to me leaning over him, the hot wax sliding down and covering his body.

“Oh good, you’re awake for the fun.”

“What the fuck, bitch?”

“Says the man who tried to take me from my office. How does it feel to be on the other end?”

“You’re a fucking cunt.”

“Oh no, honey, I’m your worst fucking nightmare.” And with that, I picked up the whip from the table next to me and began wailing on him. Hit after hit, his skin turned pink, and he clenched his eyes tight to keep from crying out.

“Do you like being hit by a woman?”

No response came from him. I was in control, I was powerful. This is what killing gave me. I took the sharpest knife from my table and, beginning at his groin, I started cutting his leg from upper thigh to knee. Slash after slash. Some thin, some deep.

His screams were perfect. They made my insides clench and the darkness inside me dance in glee. I was doing it. Finally. I was making this man bleed by my hand. His screams were so tortured, raw. I loved it. Every single moment of it.

“Tell me your sins.”

“Huh?”

“Tell me your sins or face your next punishment.”

He was barely coherent, but when the threat of more torture hung over him, his words came flowing.

“I killed them. I killed them all. I dressed them up. I posed them, and they were all were mine. They were magnificent. My work isn’t finished. It’s not finished!”

Too bad he would never have a chance to finish his work. At the last moment, with my face right in his, his eyes boring into mine, he heard my words.

“This is for the girls you destroyed. Your sins are not forgiven.”

And with a slash from one side of his throat to the other, he died.

“You’re beautiful.”

“I told you how I tortured and killed a man and you think I’m beautiful?”

“Your madness is exquisite. Your darkness is gorgeous.”

“I think only you can appreciate those things in me.”

“My opinion is the only one that matters,” Jacob murmured, leaning in to kiss me. His lips on mine were pure perfection, a heaven within our personal hells. Pulling back from the kiss, Jacob whispered, “Let’s go hunting. I’m in the mood to kill. I want to see you bloody.”

As my lips curled into a wicked grin.

Oh, Jacob, you sure know how to sweet talk a girl.