Page 26 of Broken Skulls (Rebel Skull MC #7)

Chapter Twenty-Five

Elizabeth

“ L et’s go. The guys should be there by now,” Jesse says, pulling me from the floor.

Her and Lily talk quietly outside the car before they join me inside.

“What Katie said about JD,” Jesse begins to say, pausing to light a cigarette, “I’m afraid it’s true. JD has lost his mind. The guys had to keep him tied up. I just wanted to prepare you.”

I focus on the dark road ahead of us.

“If they wouldn’t have, JD would have ripped that asshole to shreds with his bare hands,” Lily tells me, giving my knee a gentle squeeze.

Our lights shine over a tall chain link fence that surrounds an abandoned building. A couple of bikers wave us through the gate. My pulse picks up when I see Jacob sitting on the ground, his hands tied behind his back. He doesn’t look up as we pull to a stop near him.

Dirk and Dan hug their women as I stand awkwardly beside them, my gaze never leaving Jacob.

I know why it’s hard for him to look at me.

Jackson wraps his arm around my shoulder. “He’s inside. Do you want to see him?”

It’s then Jacob raises his head, his eyes locking on mine. Silently, a promise passes from him to me.

He has me.

“Untie him.” I point to Jacob, making sure Jackson understands I don’t mean the evil man inside.

“You sure? Because it took five of my toughest guys to control him. He’ll be inside and have that fucker dead in under thirty seconds, and that will be the end of it. You won’t get to see dear old Mr. Baxter alive.”

“I’m sure.”

Jacob’s gaze leaves mine briefly to pass over his friends. His jaw is working hard, and I know I’m asking a lot of him. He wants the man who hurt me dead, but I also trust him. He’ll let me lead.

When the ties are loosened, I walk over and take his hands in mine, running my thumbs over the torn skin along his wrists. He fought hard.

“Will you go in with me?” I ask softly.

He nods, unable to speak.

It’s quiet inside. Men are scattered about, some on their phones. All pause to nod at us as we pass. Anthony is standing outside a door, and I know that’s where he is. The man that stole everything from me … almost down to the last drop of my sanity, but Jacob saved it.

I stare at the doorknob. Anthony steps in front of me, blocking my view.

“I’m sorry,” he says quietly.

Jacob grunts.

“No one has anything to be sorry for, except him.” I motion toward the door.

Anthony takes my face in his hands. “Danielle is on her way. She would like to see you.”

It’s then I notice the painting.

Jacob squeezes my hand.

Mr. Baxter painted it the first time he let me see where the blood he used to paint with came from.

I’m frozen in the doorway, staring at the girl’s hair hanging over the edge of a cold silver table. Is it Danielle? I can’t be certain, because she doesn’t have a face …

“Beautiful isn’t she,” Mr. Baxter says, pushing me from behind toward the dead girl.

My skin is already crawling with the thought of her blood on me.

“This one is fresh, if you know what I mean.”

“Is it ..?” I run to the sink on the other side of the room, emptying my stomach. Oh my god.

“It’s not who you think it is, but she does look a lot like your friend. Well, she used to. She came in this morning. Perfect timing for our next painting. I thought it would be nice to paint straight from the source. You don’t mind, do you?”

When I turn around, Mr. Baxter is rubbing his hand over the girl’s leg lovingly.

He has tortured me in many ways, but this … this is more than my brain can process.

“I can’t …” I begin to stutter, backing from the room.

“Kneel,” he orders sharply. He looks away from me, so sure I will obey. He watches his own hand as he slides his palm up the woman’s torso, stopping over her left breast.

Slowly, I fall to my knees. The floor is cold, the room is cold, the look on his face … cold.

“Don’t look away, or you might find yourself in her place.”

I watch in horror as he picks up a knife and places it against her chest. My eyes blink closed for a second, but only a second, because I’ve learned Mr. Baxter keeps his promises.

A few minutes later, he steps toward me. “Hold out your palms.”

Reluctantly, I do as he asks. My brain shuts down completely when he places the girl’s heart in my hands.

I’m pliable as he moves me around like a doll. He positions my hands over my heart, warm and beating hard beneath my skin. Hers is cold and sticky against my breast.

Blood continues to trickle from her body, his paintbrush frequently dragging through it before being meticulously brushed across my skin.

Anthony snaps in my face, pulling me from my mind.

Jacob’s hand strikes like lightning, wrapping around Anthony’s throat. “Don’t do that again,” he growls.

Dirk and Jackson move toward us, but I stop them with a look.

“Jacob, it’s okay,” I say, prying his fingers from Anthony’s neck.

Anthony just smiles at us. He is the calmest, yet craziest man I’ve ever met.

Jacob releases him, his eyes resting on me, concern pulling at his brows.

“I’m ready to see him now,” I say.

He takes my hand, giving Anthony one last glare before ushering us in the room.

As soon as I’m standing in front of Mr. Baxter, I realize I’m anything but ready. The door closes behind us, and it’s me, Jacob, and him.

Mr. Baxter smiles at me.

I wait for Jacob to attack him, but instead he relaxes against me, hugging me tight from behind.

“Do you like my gift?” he asks.

The gravel in his voice makes my stomach clench.

Mr. Baxter laughs. “No one has given her a better gift than I have. Isn’t that right, Lizzie?”

Jacob stills.

I still.

He can’t mean …

“She’s beautiful, isn’t she?” Mr. Baxter continues. He relaxes in the chair despite being bound.

My heart is threatening to beat out of my chest.

“Your looks, my talent …”

“No,” I whisper.

Jacob squeezes me tightly around the waist. “Don’t let him in your head,” he whispers.

This makes Mr. Baxter chuckle loudly. “I’m so deeply embedded there that she’ll never get me out.” He levels an evil stare at Jacob.

"The baby wasn't yours …” I hear myself say.

His gaze leaves Jacob to narrow on me. “You lie, Lizzie. You know what happens when you lie.”

This time I laugh. I throw my hands out and spin in a circle. “I don’t see any of your torture devices here.”

“Have you seen any of our daughter’s paintings?” he asks me. “She’s a very talented artist.”

My heart skips a beat.

“Did you know that her entire college career was paid by a generous anonymous donor?”

How did he find out about her?

His evil smile widens. “Don’t worry. While her mother lost her mind, her father made her into something great.”

“You’re not her father,” I repeat, backing into Jacob. “It was Dr. Williams,” I lie.

“Dr. Williams is a pig. Don’t disgrace our daughter by claiming such a thing!” Mr. Baxter barks, making me jump.

My head falls in submission, and my knees wobble with the need to fall before him.

Jacob senses the change in me. He turns me in his arms, holding my chin between his thumb and finger.

Mr. Baxter continues his rhetoric. “Did you really think I believed your parents sent you to school in Italy? You were never that smart, Lizzie.”

He’s known from the very beginning. I kept quiet about Dr. Williams, about him, for nothing.

Jacob shakes me. “She’s safe.”

I swipe at my eyes. He’s right. She’s safe, but I was na?ve and thought I’d outsmarted him. I won’t make the same mistake twice.

“Can you get Jesse for me?” I ask Jacob.

He looks over my shoulder at Mr. Baxter. “I don’t want to leave you alone with him.”

“I’ll be fine.”

He gives Mr. Baxter a warning glare before leaving the room.

I turn around slowly. We stare at each other. “Did you talk to her?”

He doesn’t answer.

“She might have your talent, but she will never be like you.”

“You’re so sure.”

“She paints sunsets and dragonflies, and –” I say, holding up my hand, “she uses paint.”

The smirk on his face makes my stomach drop.

“Did you talk to her?” I ask again, more desperate than before. My gut churns at the thought of him anywhere near her.

“Kneel, and I will answer you.”

As much as I hate it, I do it for her.

Anything for her.

He leans forward as much as his binds allow. His nose brushes over the top of my head as he inhales my scent. “You and our daughter are the only living things I’ve ever loved.”

I close my eyes and bite the inside of my cheek so hard I taste blood. To a bystander his sentiment might sound sweet, but what he means is that he loves dead things, and we are the only two living things he’s ever loved.

He must smell the blood pooling in my mouth and his nose slides down, hovering by the corner of my lips. “Such a good girl. So loyal,” he whispers. “I know you’ll be loyal to our little girl, too. You’ve always protected me and her from the world.”

That’s not what I did …

Her. I protected her . I wasn’t protecting him. Was I? No. It was always for her. He’s fucking with my head.

He enjoys my internal struggle.

“I didn’t talk to her,” he whispers. “But that doesn’t mean she isn’t like me.”

There is no way. She’s sweet. I saw her with my own eyes. I talked to her. She’s not evil. She’s beautiful …

I open my eyes, leaning away from him.

He’s still gorgeous, his dark hair now peppered white. My gaze bounces over his face. He’s just a man. A sick, sick man. I always wondered why he left me alone and never pursued me. Now I know. He’s delusional. He thinks I’ve been protecting him.

“I did it for her … not you,” I choke out, standing.

Jesse and Jacob return. She walks around Mr. Baxter, letting her blood red nails trail through his hair as she assesses him. “Why is it always the pretty ones?” she tsks.

He leans away from her. Mr. Baxter doesn’t like being touched.

Jacob wraps his arms around me, resting his chin on my shoulder.

“Mr. Baxter is an artist, too,” I tell her.

She continues to stare at him. “So, he’s responsible for the painting outside?”

“It’s his most prized piece.”

“Clever, a painting inside a painting.” She squats in front of him, tapping her finger over her mouth. “Would you like me to recreate it?”

Mr. Baxter and I continue to stare at each other.

He turns his focus on her, giving her an evil smile that would make most people recoil, but not Jesse. “I would love for you to use my blood to paint her. What a wonderful way to die,” he says.

Jacob remains calm, but I can feel him tense against me.

She tips her head back and laughs loudly. “You’re delusional if you think I’d torture that poor woman any more than you already have. Besides, I’m not going to paint her. You are going to be the center of attention in this piece. I’m going to call it “Death of an Asshole.” She looks over her shoulder. “Bring the painting in.”

Jacob doesn’t hesitate. He steps away and hauls it inside the room. Jesse places it against the wall beside Mr. Baxter.

“Believe it or not, but I have also painted with blood.” She studies his painting as she continues to speak. “It’s not my favorite medium.” She drills him with a look that scares even me. “Have you ever killed anyone, Mr. Baxter?”

He turns away from her.

I shiver against Jacob. He gives me a gentle squeeze.

“No,” he answers.

His answer surprises me. I thought …

“Hmm, interesting.” She pulls her lighter from her pocket. “So basically, your claim to evil is that you’ve decimated corpses and tortured a young girl. What a tough guy. Picking on people who had no way to defend themselves.” She thumps him on the forehead to get his attention. “Aren’t you going to ask me if I’ve ever killed someone?”

He ignores her.

“Hey, JD, have I killed anyone?”

“Yeah,” Jacob sighs. He’s getting impatient with the game.

Jesse claps. “JD, have you ever killed anyone?” she asks.

“Even Elizabeth has killed someone,” he groans. “Let’s just get on with it already.”

Mr. Baxter remains quiet, and for the first time ever, I see fear in his eyes. He’s just now realizing he’s met a group of people who might be crazier than him.

Jesse’s fingers dance over the painting of me on my knees. She uses a fingernail to trace over the flowers he had painted on my skin with the dead woman’s blood. “What medium do you think I should use?” she asks Mr. Baxter.

He closes his eyes but doesn’t answer. I don’t think she was expecting him to.

“I know.” She snaps her fingers. “My wood burner would be perfect. It will make lovely lines over your skin. Is there electricity in here?” She glances around, looking for an electrical outlet. When she finds one, she backs out of the room, pointing at Mr. Baxter. “I’ll be right back. Don’t go anywhere.”

As soon as the door falls closed, he looks at me. “You would have the father of your child burned and murdered?” he asks, as if it’s the most ludicrous thing in the world.

I don’t answer.

“You need to let me go right now, Lizzie. This has gone on long enough.”

He’s right.

Jacob laughs. “She’s not Lizzie anymore.”

Mr. Baxter glares at Jacob. “You’ve always been my good girl. Until you met him,” he sneers, spit flying from his mouth.

Something inside me snaps … until I met him.

Him.

I turn in Jacob’s arms. “Until I met you,” I whisper over his lips, my fingers tracing the gun he has shoved in the back of his pants. “You severed his hold on me, but I’ll always be broken, Jacob.” My voice cracks, and I glance toward the door suddenly wanting to run.

Jacob wraps his fingers around my throat and forces me to look at him. “I want you exactly as you are.” He stares at me for a long moment before his lips descend on mine. So warm … so alive.

I’m tired of living in the morbid world Mr. Baxter drug me into. I may be broken, but I’m not dead.

My fingers wrap around the gun, and I slowly pull it from Jacob’s pants. He smiles against my mouth. I don’t need Jesse to torture him. I just need him gone.

I point the gun without looking, lost in the world of Jacob’s lips.

“Lizzie,” Mr. Baxter says in warning, his voice rising several octaves.

Jacob breaks the kiss, and spins me around, steading the gun in my hands. I stare at the man who stole my life, feeling the warmth at my back from the one whose returning it.

“I hope all the dead woman you abused are waiting for you on the other side to escort you to hell,” I say.

His eyes widen, and that’s how they remain when the bullet rips a hole through his neck. His blood sprays over Jacob and me.

We stand there for a long time. Minutes, maybe hours. I don’t know.

The door swings open. “Goddammit,” Jesse whines, stomping her foot. “I was looking forward to burning this asshole.” She steps around us to stare at the dead man.

“Come on, baby. Let’s go home,” Jacob encourages, directing me out of the room. He stops and turns back to Jesse. “Burn that thing, will ya?” He nods toward the painting.

She sighs. “I guess it’s better than nothing. Can I burn him up too?”

“Sure,” Jacob tells her.