Page 25

CHAPTER 24

S talker

There were two kinds of people in this world.

Good.

And evil.

I knew where I stood and had never truly attempted to be anything else. After all these years, I was still surprised I hadn’t been captured because of my crimes.

Not that I’d ever cared.

Nothing in my life had brought me happiness, including the money and glorious objects. Neither had sexual relations or business acquaintances. Even reconnecting with my brothers had only provided limited satisfaction, certainly not peace of mind.

I’d had nothing to live for.

Until now.

Only my beautiful Lady Butterfly was being threatened because of something I’d done. I’d been foolish if not stupid to think I could glean some of her goodness and only destroy David. My instinct had told me otherwise, but I’d tried to fit into the mold she wanted to paint me in.

She’d been attacked on the street.

I’d been unable to stay away, coming back to town and immediately following from her office to her late lunch. I’d wanted to cut the man right there, but it was too public and I’d would have needed to do so without taking any time with the deed itself.

After attacking Cassandra, David had finally ended up at a bar, the fucker feeling sorry for himself. Well, if he hadn’t fucked the wrong woman then he wouldn’t be in this place. It had been easy to hack into his computer with help from a very nice, highly skilled girl at Blackwell.

It had taken her all of ten minutes to discover what I’d needed to crucify him. Plus, there’d been extras. David the idiot had indulged in several affairs with older women. And they’d given him lavish gifts in exchange. A very bad boy indeed.

I could honestly not give a shit about his extracurricular activities, except he’d attacked the wrong woman.

My woman.

She was mine.

The moment he’d laid hands on her, I’d tossed out my moments of reflection and indecision. She belonged to me and anyone who dared touch her would face the devil himself.

I grinned as I eased from the Jeep, watching as he pulled into the fancy secure parking lot. As I tugged on the gloves, I watched as he stumbled from the driver’s side, dropping to his knees. Ouch. That must have hurt.

Not nearly enough.

At least I’d have a chance to feed my beast. Maybe that would bring some peace and quiet to my mind for a little while.

If not…

I smirked and walked away from the Jeep, heading across the darkened street. He had no clue I was following him. I remained in the shadows, waiting as he punched in his code on the secure front entrance. He tumbled in and I caught the door just before it closed, waiting for a full minute before heading inside. While he took the elevator to his condo on the third floor, I used the stairs, taking them two at a time.

I made it before he did, crowding the wall as he headed toward his door. He dropped his keys and I almost struck, but given it was barely after midnight, I was well aware I could have company and that was something I wasn’t in the mood to deal with.

He moved inside, barely pushing his door closed. I caught it as well, but he didn’t appear to notice or to care that he’d left it unlocked.

Perhaps because he was about to be sick.

While he rushed off to the bathroom, I closed the door behind me, moving into his lavishly adorned living room.

I had to give the man credit. He had very nice as well as expensive tastes.

All those generous gifts of money, trips, and even his high dollar Mercedes were also reflected in rare works of art. Maybe I’d need to get rid of my German vehicle. I certainly didn’t want to be associated with scum like David Foster.

The sounds he made were annoying, but at least he’d empty his stomach before I got to him. When I was certain he’d finished retching, I headed toward the bathroom.

As the son of a bitch clamored up from his position in front of the porcelain throne, I moved quickly, jerking him all the way up by his hair.

“What the fuck?” he hissed.

I moved the blade of the knife to his jugular. Goddamn, the man’s breath was foul.

“You should have heeded my warning, David. Now, that wasn’t very nice of you to threaten your ex. She believed in you. She thought you were a decent man when clearly, you aren’t. It would seem you enjoy fucking more than one woman at a time. If I were any other man, I’d cut your dick off.”

Maybe I still would. When I drove the tip of the knife into his crotch, he whimpered like a little kid, relieving himself in his expensive trousers.

“I didn’t do anything.”

Now he was slobbering. What was it about men when they were caught red-handed that they could never confess their misdeeds? That annoyed me almost as much as the deed itself.

“Of course you didn’t. What was I thinking? Perhaps we should just talk about this. But first, you need to take a look at yourself.”

I jerked him toward the mirror, pressing the full weight of my body against his.

He was blubbering, tears streaming down his face, but at least his eyes reflected the horror of what was about to happen to him.

“Now, I have a feeling you’re very sorry for treating Cassandra so badly. Aren’t you?”

“Uh… Yes. Yes, I am.”

“Well, then confess your sins. Did you attack her?”

“Um. Um. Um. Yes!” His admittance only came after I pricked his skin with the tip of the blade.

“Did you want to kill her?”

His eyes flickered in admission. I drove the edge of the blade back against his neck. Panting, beads of sweat were pouring down the sides of his face. “I…”

“Come on now. Tell the truth.”

“Fine. Yes, the bitch ruined me.”

His words were slurred, but I understood them completely. “See, that wasn’t so hard. Was it? Just look at yourself, David. You stink. You need a shower and a shave. Hell, you need a priest, but I doubt even God could help you right now.”

“Please. Don’t kill me.”

“What would you prefer I do, cut your nuts off? That might work.”

It seemed as if he was debating the choice. I chuckled. At least he sensed I was serious.

“Please.”

“Please, what? Give you another chance to be a decent human being? Or please castrate you? I don’t think learning decency is possible with you. In fact, I know it isn’t. So here’s what I’m going to do. I’m going to make life much easier on all those women you lied to and help ease the pain from the fact your life is ruined. Would you like that, buddy?”

The expression on his face was pathetic. They all were when it got to this point. I swore to God. This wasn’t nearly as much fun as it used to be.

But it was a job that needed to get done. “I guess the cat has your tongue. Huh? Should I cut that out too?”

Now I was belaboring the point. Sadly, I had other business to handle, including talking with my brothers about our dear old dad.

What a shame I couldn’t take more time, but at least I’d made my point.

“I’m sorry, David. I really am, but as your judge and jury, I’ve found you guilty of being a despicable human being. For that, I sentence you to death.”

The blade was sharp, easily cutting through his carotid artery. Before he had time to bleed out over everything, I tossed him into the bathtub. I remained just long enough to watch as the light slowly began to fade from his eyes.

I couldn’t call the act satisfying at this point, but at least I’d done my job. I’d protected her. I’d made certain my Lady Butterfly wouldn’t be accosted by this piece of trash ever again.

As blood soaked his clothes, I wiped the blade on his nice, clean towel. The ugly stain would be a reminder that people should never fuck with me.

* * *

Cassandra

I wasn’t typically the type of woman who feared many things. I’d been threatened on numerous occasions. I’d had protective services once or twice at the insistence of the higher-ups in the office.

Phone threats were typical, emails a constant, but I’d never taken the warnings too seriously. People loved to hide behind a computer screen or by disguising their voices.

Even then, I hadn’t been worried because I was doing my job and that’s what I was brought up to do. However, neither my personal space nor my reputation had ever been in question or pushed in any way.

Until now.

David had issued the threat, and I knew the man well enough that he would follow through with his nasty statement.

For several reasons, that put the fear of God into me, including whether past cases would be questioned. It was a remote possibility, but David was a vindictive son of a bitch.

It was late. I’d remained at the office until well after hours, fearful David would be waiting for me at my condo. At least we had decent security where I worked.

I’d even gone in through the back of my brownstone, determined to skulk like I was guilty of something. I’d thought about contacting Wilder more than once, but I didn’t have his phone number. I had no way of getting in touch with him.

Yet somehow, my instinct told me he was still watching, protecting me, and if anyone dared attack, he’d cut them down. The thought was way too comforting for a woman sworn to uphold the law.

Wilder also didn’t have a single personal social media page I could find. Sure, there was a LinkedIn listing regarding his company and a website with contact directions, but I refused to try to contact him through either one.

I’d never felt so alone in my life. Plus, I couldn’t talk to anyone about my concerns, other than that David was a nut case. I’d need to offer details about my other life and that just wasn’t something I was prepared to do.

Now I sat in front of my laptop, where I’d been for almost an hour, staring at the screen. I didn’t know why I was having an issue removing all evidence of Sugar Babies. Perhaps it was because the money had been incredible or pretending to be a vixen had offered me both freedom and peace.

Or maybe just like Wilder had suggested, I had a darkness buried inside that could consume me if not exorcised. I’d believed my entire life in the notion of justice.

But I’d learned justice had a sharp edge, cutting deep when I’d lost control of it.

I’d mistakenly thought the light needed to abate the darkness I hungered for was all about convicting the bad guy. Over the last few hours, I’d hit replay on certain things Wilder had told me. I’d also come to accept that Sugar Babies had been a small taste of dark kink.

Then there’d been the hunt. While the act itself had been exciting, it was the mental exercise and images of what the hunt could have been that had risen to the point of being incredible.

And I wanted more.

Wilder offered the opportunity for endless opportunities.

At least he had until he’d shut me down.

Was I mourning the loss in some crazy way? Maybe so.

I took another gulp of wine as I chastised myself and my hesitation for the tenth time. This was ridiculous. I was a professional, an attorney who fought wrongs. Not that what I’d been doing was wrong, but there were some who wouldn’t see things my way.

I was so damn close to a promotion. So very close.

Hissing, I finally pulled up the site. As soon as the home page flashed across the screen, I found myself smiling. Really? The page was dark and alluring, just like the thought of providing a show had been for years.

Just for kicks, after navigating to my profile, I searched the files until I found the original video from almost ten years before. The moment it began to play, I sat back. After a few seconds, I pressed my hand across my lips.

That was me.

But it wasn’t me any longer.

The woman depicted on the screen was so young, perhaps too na?ve to understand what she was doing.

Or the darkness she was sliding into.

The masks then had been cheap, purchased at a local five and dime, the lingerie the same. Yet the smile on my face was telling.

I’d been thrilled to find an outlet for intense cravings I’d had since I could remember.

I almost shut the damn thing off, but kept going, flipping through several others until I came to the last video I’d posted only a few days before. The difference was astounding.

With the wineglass in my hand, I began to delete the videos one at a time. There was a strange feeling of death in performing the action, a horrible sense that I was losing a part of myself.

Only minutes later, I was close to ending my second illustrious career when a brief sound caught my attention. I glanced toward the bottom right corner of the screen.

I’d been sent a message.

Both eagerness and apprehension stilled my system, even catching my breath. Other than in the beginning of my journey with the website, I hadn’t allowed myself to stay online long enough to have conversations. It hadn’t mattered they were anonymous or that chatting would produce additional sales. That had been deemed too personal.

Too obtrusive.

Since nothing had changed, why was it that I found myself rereading the message more than once?

You’re so beautiful in your videos. You remind me of a colorful butterfly on a spring day.

The name on the screen was The Stalker .

I was instantly on edge, pulling away as the words settled in.

A butterfly.

As a slight chill formed in my hands first, followed by my feet, I realized it was possible the person sitting at another computer in an unknown destination was Wilder.

For some reason, I glanced around the room, goosebumps popping down my arms.

There was no one close, no shadows indicating a hidden guest. I was certain of it, yet I still had the feeling of being watched.

Leaning forward, I held my hand over the keyboard, loathing how much the message had affected me.

Answer? Don’t answer?

I had mixed feelings, but my usual curious self refused to ignore the message.

Thank you. Who do I have the pleasure of speaking with?

Do I really need to tell you?

Yes, you do. I like knowing who I’m playing with. I was surprised I was being flirtatious.

My screen name should tell you everything you need to know. I rid the world of unwanted souls, those who don’t deserve to walk the earth.

I shrank back even more. The person on the other end had to be Wilder. A rush of warmth pooled between my legs. I was about ready to respond when my sixth sense told me something was off. Why would a man like Wilder Blackwell play this kind of game? Besides, how had he learned I had an account on Sugar Babies?

The cold chill swept into other parts of my body. I suddenly didn’t like this at all. Was this David trying to lure me into something even more scandalous? But why the odd nickname?

I’m sorry, but I was just about to retreat to my boudoir for the evening. Perhaps we’ll talk again.

His answer came quickly.

Dance for me. Show me just how beautiful you really are.

I licked my lips, glancing at the window as if I expected to see Wilder’s face peering in. There was nothing but a slight glow from a streetlight yards away from my front door.

I sat back, debating how or if I should answer.

Screw it.

I almost provided the answer he was looking for when that tiny nagging sound of my inner voice reminded me why I’d logged on in the first place. I couldn’t allow myself to get caught up in pretending.

Not tonight. Perhaps another night.

Why was I bothering at this point? Because something drew me into the moment as creating the videos had since the beginning.

Do not get off this computer! You don’t want to disobey me. You know what happens to bad little girls when they don’t obey their masters.

The message was startling.

“Fuck you,” I whispered. Wait. The man was toying with me. On purpose.

It also made me… wet. What the hell?

I shifted back and forth, my pussy clenching. Was this Wilder’s latest game?

Another test even though he’d all but forbidden me to participate. Hmmm… I took another sip of wine, my instincts telling me if I had been allowed to return to the game, I’d need to keep the man on his toes.

I wish I could, Stalker, but this bad girl needs her beauty sleep. Maybe I’ll come out and play next time.

Before I changed my mind, I shut down the chat session first, allowing my finger to hover over the delete button for the video. After taking a deep breath, I found the courage to do so.

I shifted the cursor on the trackpad to my profile, clicking on my masked photograph.

Delete Account.

I took another deep breath, only it stagnated in my chest. This was the right thing to do.

If you disappear, I will find you. Then you won’t like what happens next.

Whoa. The words were as off as the message.

What if it wasn’t Wilder?

The message had popped up a split second before I hit the delete button.

Instantly stiff, I closed my eyes and confirmed the deletion.

When I looked again, the screen had disappeared.

So had a significant part of my life, but I knew it was past time to move on. Risking my career just wasn’t worth it.

Besides, there were one too many freaks out there.