Blood Kiss (Savage Security Series Book 1) (22 page)

Mary looked around the tiny bathroom. He’d covered everything with plastic sheeting. He’d thought this through. Planned it all. He was going to kill her with as much regard as one kills a mosquito.

Alisha heard the insane conversation in the other room. She didn’t know how long she had, but she wanted to make good use of her time. With her feet still tied to the wrought iron footboard, she worked at the knot. She couldn’t make it budge. She had to think.

Slow down.

She took a deep breath and tried to focus.

She looked over her shoulder to the bedside table. The knife sat there, mocking her. There had to be some way to get it.

She lay back on the bed, her feet only letting her get so far. She stretched, but the knife was out of reach. She cursed under her breath.

She couldn’t wait for Mike to rescue her. She had to save that woman. She had to save herself.

There had to be some way to get the knife. She plopped back on the pillow in frustration.

The pillow! She sat up and grabbed the pillow. She stretched and put the pillow behind the knife. She pulled the pillow towards herself. Nothing. The knife didn’t budge. She cursed and tried again. The knife fell with a soft thud onto the carpet.

Hope filled her. She stretched, her torso hanging off the bed while one hand clutched at the bottom sheet to keep her from falling. The rope bit into her feet, but the knife was just an inch out of her reach. She sat up, scooted to the end of the bed and pushed the rope further down around her ankle, trying to give herself a little more wiggle room.

She stretched back across the bed, gripped the bedsheet with one hand and leaned over. She inched her fingers across the carpet. One fingertip made contact with the butt of the knife. She silently prayed for help.

She stretched a little more and another fingertip reached the handle. She dug her nails into the grip of the knife and pulled. The knife inched closer. She worked more of her fingertips onto the handle and pulled again. The knife slid across the carpet. She grabbed it, and pushed herself back up onto the bed.

She scooted to the end of the bed and slipped the knife between the coils of rope. As she sawed, she heard a scream. She looked up. Fear froze her for a moment, and then she went back to maniacally sawing away at her bonds.

Pacey should have knocked Mary out earlier. He wouldn’t have had to deal with her shit or put Alisha through the stress of seeing her. Mary screamed when he’d shoved her into the bathtub, but he guessed that was to be expected. He chuckled at the sight of her knocked out body crumpled in the tub. That scream was probably that last sound he’d hear from the bitch.

She’d left a blood smear on the shower wall. He’d have to be sure to clean that up before Alisha saw it. He was thankful he’d thought of the plastic sheeting. That would make the clean-up much easier. Most of the mess would be contained in the bathtub, which he planned to thoroughly bleach. He’d just keep Alisha out of the bathroom for a while. Besides, they would spend their time in bed. He couldn’t help but smile.

Alisha finally cut through the rope and freed herself. She rolled her feet, trying to get the blood to return to her tingling toes. When she stepped off the bed, her feet felt thick, heavy. She wiggled her toes and felt the tiny zips and zaps that accompany the feeling of one’s feet being asleep.

She tiptoed over to the phone on the bedside table and dialed 911. Alisha set the phone on the table, letting it ring on the other end. She didn’t wait for someone to answer. She didn’t want to take the time, but she hoped that the dispatcher would send someone. They were supposed to. She also hoped that Mike was on his way. She wasn’t sure how long she could survive in Pacey’s insane world. 

Clutching the knife to her chest, she crept to the bedroom door. She stopped at the hallway and listened. Pacey was humming, and she heard the sound of cloth tearing. She stepped into the hallway and stopped beside the bathroom door.

She realized that she’d never be able to sneak up on him. Plastic sheeting trailed out of the bathroom and into the hallway. She took a deep breath, gathering up her courage, and peeked around the doorframe.

The entire bathroom was covered in plastic sheeting. Pacey was on his knees, hunched over the bathtub cutting away the woman’s clothes. She was out cold. Alisha saw the blood smear and noticed the blood streaks in her hair.

Pacey cut the fabric of her shirt and bra and let her breasts spill out of the cups. He lifted her away from the tub and pulled the bra and teddy bear scrub shirt away and tossed them on the floor beside him. He carelessly let her fall back against the cold tub. Alisha cringed at the sound of her head plonking hard against the tub wall.

Pacey was doing this all wrong. If he ever needed to get rid of someone again, he’d have them undress themselves first. Cutting away someone’s clothes was a pain in the ass. He should have had her strip and then shove her into the tub. He paused for a moment and stared at the shower wall, as if reading a helpful hint there.
Did she need to be naked? If the lye dissolves bones wouldn’t it also dissolve cotton?
He snorted at his idiocy. Oh well, the first time always has some glitches.

He leaned back on his hunches and admired his work. Mary lay there topless. Her boobs sagged, and her nipples were perched near her navel ring. A slight roll of fat circled her belly. He’d remembered how he used to enjoy pulling on that navel ring with his teeth and how she’d grind her pussy against him.

He admired her now the way one does their first car. She’d been his first, and he’d always remember that. She’d given him many a fun ride, but her body was clearly showing wear and tear and needed to be replaced. He smiled as he thought of Alisha and how her body would react to him. He was ready to take her for a ride.

In the planning stages, he’d wondered about the best way to kill Mary. A gun? A knife? Poison? He finally settled on a knife. It was relatively quick and quiet. He looked around, patted his pants, and realized that he’d left the knife in the bedroom. He placed a hand on the bathtub for balance and stood. The plastic crinkled under his feet as he headed towards the hallway.

Alisha’s heart pounded. She heard the plastic crinkle as he walked. Did he know she was out here? She stopped breathing. She squeezed the handle of the knife tighter, like a boa squeezing its prey.

He stepped into the hallway, and she lunged at him.

The movement in his periphery startled him. He twisted his body and raised his arm to deflect her, but the knife sliced his arm. He looked at the cut. It wasn’t deep, but blood wept from the wound. Anger boiled in him. The bitch cut him!

Alisha saw the rage flash in his eyes as she raised the knife to stab him again. Pacey lunged at her. He grabbed her arm and slammed her against the wall. Lights dazzled before her eyes as her head made contact with the wall.

He gripped her wrist and repeatedly slammed her arm into the wall above her head. She tried to keep her grip on the knife, but with each slam against the wall, her grasp weakened. The knife eventually fell to the floor.

“Bitch!” he seethed. “Look what you did to my arm!”

His breath washed over her face as his spittle landed on her cheeks. Instinctively she turned her face from him, desperate to separate herself from him. With his body pressed so close to hers, and her arms restrained against the wall, she did the only thing she could do, she slammed her knee into his balls as hard as she could.

He buckled over, releasing her wrists as he groaned in agony. She jabbed her elbow into his back and ripped his gun from the back of his pants. She racked the slide, determined to shoot him.

The sound of the gun slide focused Pacey. Without hesitation, he shoved his shoulder into her and tackled her to the ground. He landed on top of her, forcing all of her breath from her lungs as his weight crashed down on her. Their legs were a tangled mess. She kicked about wildly, trying to gain an advantage.

He felt the gun pressed between them. His hands warred with hers for control of the weapon. He was stronger than she was, and she felt the gun slipping from her grasp.

The shot nearly deafened her in the narrow hallway. She screamed and then tasted blood. The sticky substance oozed around her abdomen. Its warmth slid over her flesh.

Pacey gripped her chin and pressed his lips to hers.

She was too weak to shove him off.

“Of all the fucking times to be driving a fucking limo!” Mike cursed and slammed his hand against the steering wheel.

Jack ignored his outburst and continued to bark out directions. He’d wanted to drive, but Mike shut that down. So instead his job was to navigate so Mike could feel like he had some control in this fucked up mess.

The light turned yellow as they approached the intersection. Mike felt Jack’s eyes on him. He pressed his foot to the floor. The limo took off through the intersection as the light turned red. He barreled through traffic, maneuvering the oversized vehicle with the grace of a shark in a bathtub. Horns honked and soccer moms glared at him from perched high in their minivans.

“Two minutes,” Jack said. “Right at the next street.”

The tracker had stopped in a residential area. From the intel, the location was Pacey Parker’s house. Mike clung to the hope that she was there, safe and unharmed. He knew that hope was unfounded, but he was willing to cling to whatever he could at this moment.

Mike turned onto the street. Trees lined the sidewalks in the neighborhood. Children ran in the yards and rode their bikes. Mike slowed the limo. He wouldn’t risk hurting a child. “What number?” he asked.

“521,” Jack replied.

Mike pulled up to the curb in front of the house and stopped. It looked like every other house on the block. Nothing stood out about it that would make anyone think that a predator lived there. It looked average, just like the man himself. From the photo on Pacey Parker’s license, he was so average and nondescript that his presence could go unnoticed in a small group.

Mike bolted out of the limo and raced across the grass. He slipped his gun from its holster and held it down by his leg. Jack signaled that he would go around to the back of the house.

Mike gripped the door handle and turned. Locked. Not a surprise.

Windows lined the doorframe. Curtains covered the windows for privacy, but they did nothing for security. Mike slipped off his suit jacket and wrapped his hand in the material. He punched through the glass and cleared the shards out of the way. He dropped his suit jacket on the porch, reached inside, and unbolted the door.

Mike opened the door and stepped inside the house. He scanned the room and heard the sounds of a fight coming from down the hallway.

A fight was good. She was still alive.

A gunshot cracked through the air.

His heart stuttered as the shot reverberated through the house. He froze for a moment, and then took off as an eerie silence descended on the house.

Alisha lay in the hallway. The bastard was on top of her. Blood smeared her lips and ran down her chin. A red pool puddled in the carpet around their bodies. 

Mike had seen his share of blood. He’d dealt with the dying before. It was never easy. Some of them still haunted him. He tried to separate himself from them emotionally, as they lay taking their last breaths. That was the only way to get through it. But this time he couldn’t. She was wrapped too tightly around his heart. He’d vowed not to fail her, and yet he had.

Mike tossed the bastard aside. Jack flew down the hallway behind Mike and dragged Pacey away.

Mike knelt over Alisha. Her shirt was soaked with blood. He ripped open her shirt and looked for the wound. All he could think was that he had to stop the bleeding. Judging by the amount of blood that had pooled into the carpet, he could lose her before the ambulance arrived.

“Stay with me,” he ordered as his fingers pressed over her abdomen.

“I’m fine,” she stuttered, still trying to catch her breath. “It’s not me.” She sought out Mike’s hands and shook her head in frustration. “It’s not me.”

Mike paused when her bloodied hands grabbed his. His eyes locked on hers. “You okay?” he asked.
Was it possible?

She nodded. “It’s not me. The blood’s not mine.”

Mike looked at the two men in the hallway. Jack knelt over Pacey, trying to stop the blood that poured from his chest. Pacey wheezed and spewed blood as he fought for each breath. Jack caught Mike’s eye and shook his head. It didn’t look good for the bastard.

Mike wanted him dead, but he didn’t want Alisha to have to live with blood on her hands. He’d wanted to spare her that.

Alisha tried to sit up, but Mike held her down. He didn’t want her moving until she’d been assessed. “No, you shouldn’t move. Did you hit your head? Your neck?”

Alisha appreciated Mike’s concern, but she wanted to get that look of fear off of his face. “I’m good,” she assured him as she sat up. He grimaced at her, but she didn’t care. She pointed towards the open bathroom door. “Check on her. She’s in there. Pacey’s wife.”

Mike stood and walked into the bathroom. When he saw the woman, hatred for the man who could kidnap and destroy lives for his own selfish pleasure consumed him. He wanted Pacey dead. He wanted to kill the pathetic bastard himself, but it didn’t look like he’d have the privilege. If Pacey lived, he hoped the bastard was treated the way he treated the women in his life for the entirety of his confinement. That seemed a just punishment.

The plastic sheeting crinkled under Mike’s feet. He opened the closet and pulled out a bath towel. He gently placed the towel over the woman’s exposed chest. He took her limp arm in his and felt for a pulse. She moaned at his touch. Mike was relieved when he felt a steady beat.

Sirens sounded in the distance. It wouldn’t be long until they arrived.

Cole and the others from Savage Securities arrived too, each member of the team willing to do whatever they could. Mike was thankful for their support. Their presence allowed him to focus on Alisha while Cole and the others interacted with the police.

Between the ambulances, police cars, and the Savage Securities vehicles swarming the Parker house, the peaceful neighborhood sidewalk was lined with curious neighbors. Kids straddled their bikes or balanced on their scooters as they watched the first responders handle the situation at the house. Nothing this exciting ever happened in their little piece of suburbia.

Parents attempted to herd their kids away as the EMTs started rolling people out on stretchers, but that only made the kids fight harder to stay. As far as they were concerned, the scene was just getting good.

Mike rode with Alisha in the ambulance, but with the EMT there, he didn’t want to say much, and neither did she. He stewed in self-contempt as he rubbed his thumb gently over her hand and stared at the red, raw skin at her wrists. He didn’t want to think about Pacey, but he couldn’t help but wonder if the bastard was still alive.

“Thanks for coming for me,” Alisha whispered when they were alone in the private ER room. She felt so stupid. If she’d done what he wanted, she wouldn’t be laying in a hospital bed. And he wouldn’t have that look on his face.

Mike sat on a chair beside her bed. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there sooner.” Pain and frustration laced his voice. He stood and caressed her cheek. He wanted to wipe the regret and pain from her face. As far as he was concerned, he’d failed her. He’d let that bastard touch her. He hadn’t convinced her of the danger that she was in. He’d let her walk into a minefield when he understood how dangerous the territory was. She’d been too innocent to even understand what she needed to protect herself from.

The guilt in his eyes nearly killed her. She knew his history. The death of his sister. “I should have listened to you.” She sucked in her lip and fought back the tears, but she couldn’t fight hard enough. The tears fell.