Held & Pushed (2 book bundle) (45 page)

“And how
do you suppose you’re going to keep me from it?”

“You seem
to be unable to get off that table. But if you’d like to try, I’ll wait. Go
ahead, Ron. Try to get off that table. If you do, I’ll stand here and let you
kill me. I won’t run and I won’t fight back.”

He did
nothing.

“Go ahead.
I won’t wait forever.”

He jerked
against the straps, pulled as fast and as hard as he could, but achieved
nothing. When he’d tired himself out and gave up, I nodded.

“Yeah.
That’s
what I thought.”

From
between his ankles on the embalming table, I picked up the blowtorch and a copy
of
Held
. I held them up high as I
walked toward him so he could see what I had in my hands.

“What are
you doing with those?”

“I’m doing
what should’ve been done a long time ago. I’m destroying them. I’ll also be
destroying you. And the best part is I’ll do them both at the same time.”

I flicked
the igniter on the blowtorch and watched the horror sweep across Ron’s face as
he saw the blue flame shoot out the tip of the torch.

“Nicole—”

“What’s
the matter, Ron? Are you afraid I’ll do to you what you’ve done to so many
others?”

Unable to
control myself, I lowered the blowtorch slowly toward his abdomen, letting him
feel the heat of the flame while he shifted uneasily on the table and pulled at
the restraints.

He yelled
my name, as if that would do him any good.

Just
before the flame touched his reddened skin, I pulled it away. He relaxed a
little but continued to wince from the pain of the burn.

“It
could’ve been worse, Ron. I could’ve touched the flame to you.” I hesitated
before adding, “Like this.” I reached out and touched his belly with the fire,
smiling as the screams erupted from him and his flesh melted.

“Or maybe
like this,” I said as I reached out and touched the flame to first one nipple
and then the other.

The light
brown skin turned red instantly and rose up in a grotesque bubble, the skin
destroyed forever. Fortunately for Ron, forever wouldn’t be that long.

With the
lit torch in my hand, I waited for the screaming to die down. When it did, I
gave in to the urge to taunt him a little more.

“Well,
Ron. You always wanted me to carry a torch for you. I bet you never thought
it’d be a blowtorch.”

“Fuck you,
you heartless bitch. If I get up from this table, you’ll be dead.”

“If you
get up from that table, I’ll be surprised.”

His chest
heaved as he again began to struggle with the restraints.

“Are you
ready to watch your work burn? I am. I should’ve done this a long time ago.”

“I don’t
fucking care. Burn it. There are plenty more where that came from.”

“What—you
mean the stockpile you keep in your office? Those are going too.”

“That’s fine.
They’re still published. You can burn every copy I have. People will still be
able to purchase them.”

“You’d
think that, wouldn’t you? But no, I’m afraid not. See, I didn’t just read the
files on your computer while I was in your office. I did a lot of research.
You’ll be happy to know, or maybe not so happy to know, that I took the liberty
of
unpublishing
every one of your books.”

The look
on his face was priceless.

“Oh yeah.
Thank
you for self-publishing them. Had you done it any differently, I wouldn’t have
been able to do it. But you did, and I did, and well, let’s just say that in a
year’s time, no one will even remember your name.”

“You filthy fucking whore.”

“Are you
done with the name-calling? Because I’m ready to light this disgusting thing and
watch it burn.”

I brought
my left and right hands closer together, touching the flame to the book. When
the two joined together, the paper ignited, and the flame crawled up the edge
of the pages.

“Isn’t it
beautiful?” I asked, watching the pages curl and turn black.

At the
sight of a fresh batch of tears in his eyes, I laughed.

When the
flames got too close to my fingers, I bent down and placed the book on top of
the others. It was a pile of books that was stacked high beneath the stainless
steel embalming table.

“What the
hell are you doing?” Ron asked gruffly.

“Ridding the world of evil.”

“I’m not
the only evil in the world, you know. Even if you get rid of me and my work,
there are others out there, many of them far worse than me.”

“That may
be true, but this is definitely a step in the right direction.”

I stood up
and took a step back, turning off the blowtorch and watching as the stack of
books caught on fire.

It took a
minute for Ron to realize what was happening to him, but when he did, he began
to howl.

“Nicole,”
he shouted. “Let me off this table. Put out that fire. Nicole!”

It would
be a lie to say I didn’t enjoy watching him struggle in a failed attempt to
free himself from the very device he created to restrain people. I certainly
did love a good case of irony.

“Have you
ever heard of The Brazen Bull, Ron?”

He only
yelled louder.

“It was a
torture device designed in ancient Greece. They were really on to something,
those Greeks. Of course I don’t have a hollow metal bull in which to stuff you,
but I do have a metal table. Who knew buying that table would come back to bite
you in the ass? Or in this case, burn you in the ass?” I laughed at my own joke
and at the way Ron was writhing in agony on the table.

“It burns,
you bitch. Get me off here!”

“You
better get used to it, Ron. Where you’re going, you’re going to burn for a long
time.”

I stood
watching the books burn, planning to watch until Ron was dead, but when the
smoke grew heavy and thick, I started coughing too much to remain in the
basement. There was no way I was going to chance dying of smoke inhalation
alongside him.

Not yet
ready to leave the basement, I bought a little more time by pulling my t-shit
up to cover my mouth as I backed away from the table, stepping closer to the
stairs behind me. It was morbid of me to want to watch such a horrific thing,
but I felt it was necessary. This was what Dr. Loyd would call closure.

I was
watching the smoke billow up and envelope the table when the stack of books
beneath it tipped over, sending flaming paperbacks sliding across the concrete
floor. In a matter of seconds, the cardboard boxes stacked against the wall
ignited and began to burn.

Soon, the
entire back wall was on fire, the sound of the flames crackling as it consumed
everything in its path. The flames spread across the wall, eating up insulation
and wooden support beams as it went.

The smoke
was thick throughout the basement now, but before I left the room, I wanted to
look at Ron one last time.

Through
the dense gray air, I couldn’t see him. The smart thing to do would be to turn
around and get the hell out of the house. But I don’t always do the smart
thing.

I took a
step toward the embalming table.
Then another.
I
lifted my foot to take one more step.

That’s
when Ron’s hand wrapped around my ankle.

I gasped,
sucking in more of the smoky air than I wanted to.

Coughing
to rid my lungs of the toxins I’d breathed in, I pulled back on my leg, trying
to break free of Ron’s grasp. He couldn’t possibly have much strength in his
hands. The restraints had cut off the circulation long enough to cause
significant damage. It should’ve been easy for me to pull away, but it wasn’t.

The harder
I pulled, the tighter he held on. Then I felt his other hand wrap around my
ankle.

“Bitch,”
he shouted. His voice was hoarse now, but it was every bit as strong and
threatening as it had always been.

In that
second, I wondered why the hell I hadn’t thought to put metal handcuffs on him
too. I should’ve realized that the heat of the fire below the table would
weaken the leather straps, allowing him to break free and roll from the table.
It could prove to be a costly oversight.

I sucked
in one last breath before letting go of my t-shirt. I held my breath and bent
at the waist as it fell away from my mouth.

From this
new position, I found myself underneath the thick black cloud of smoke that had
filled the basement. I could now see Ron clearly. Unable to walk because of
what I’d done to his feet, he laid face-down on the concrete floor. Illuminated
by the orange glow of the fire, I saw his naked body, covered in severe burns.
The burns were so bad in
places,
the flesh had peeled
away in large folds. On each of his shoulder blades, I could see all the way to
the bone. Yet he clung to my ankle as if nothing was wrong.

Unable to
pull free of his grasp, I was left with no other choice.

Gripping
the blowtorch firmly in both hands, I raised it and lowered it quickly, again
and again, bringing it down hard on Ron’s skull. Over the roar of the fire, I
couldn’t hear the crack of the bones as they broke, but I felt it with each
blow.

It took
three hits from the blowtorch for Ron to release his grip on my ankle, four for
his hands to fall limply to the floor. But I didn’t stop swinging the blowtorch
until the tenth strike, when I was finally out of breath.

My body
craved air. I needed to take a breath, but the basement held no more clean
oxygen for me to breathe.

In the
time it took me to bash in Ron’s head, the cloud of smoke had grown lower. I
now had to drop to my knees to have any chance at all of catching my breath.

Flat on
the floor, I crawled across the basement, dragging my weary body to the stairs
that led up to the first floor of the house, coughing the whole way.

I crawled
up the steps, through the thick black smoke and out of the basement, leaving
the door open behind me.

The first
floor of the house hadn’t yet filled with smoke, but it was filling up quickly.
I stood up and doubled over in a coughing fit that I was sure I wouldn’t
survive, and then I headed outside, toward fresh air and freedom.

I picked
up the duffle bag on my way through the patio door, which I also left open to
ensure the fire didn’t burn itself out. Much like me, the fire needed oxygen to
survive and I was going to make damn sure it had plenty.

Even if
the fire did manage to lose oxygen and burn itself out, that was okay. The
basement was destroyed enough to suit me. Ron was absolutely dead.

That was
enough.

∞

From Ron’s
house, I drove to the nearest motel, coughing as I went to expel from my lungs
the soot and smoke that I’d inhaled. I paid for a room in cash but took in
nothing except for a pair of jeans and socks, a blouse and bra, and my tennis
shoes. I wasn’t staying. I just needed somewhere to take a long, hot shower and
wash away the noxious and pungent odor of smoke.

After
changing into the fresh set of clothes, I carried the dirty, soot-covered
clothes back out to my car. I stuffed them into the duffle bag with everything
else I’d taken to and from Ron’s house.

Behind the
motel was a large dumpster. I threw the duffle bag in it and got back in my
car, feeling like a weight much heavier than the duffle bag had been lifted
from my shoulders.

I wasn’t
worried about anyone finding the bag. If someone happened upon it and unzipped
it, they’d discover two changes of clothing, a set of tie-down straps, and
various other nondescript items. I’d left the bottle of Chloroform in Ron’s
house, so there was nothing in the duffle bag that would make someone
think
it had been used in a crime.

Assuming
the police ever did come to see me, it wouldn’t be to arrest me. It would be to
let me know that Ron was dead. That is, if they did their job. I didn’t expect
to see or hear from them, but if I did, I would act surprised and grateful,
maybe even relieved, which wasn’t a stretch of the imagination. I really was
relieved. So relieved in fact that as I drove across the city, back home to
where Wade and Mason were waiting for me, I actually smiled.

There
would be no more panic attacks now. No more sleepless nights. No more looking
over my shoulder. He was gone for good. I had made sure of that. I could
finally put the trauma behind me and move on with my life. The first step was
to have dinner with my husband and son. The second step was to return to the
fire station in which I’d left Austin and do everything I could to find him and
bring him home, where he belonged.

Where we all belonged.

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