Page 23 of Vile Pucker

It wasn’t like I was stealing anything. Not really.

My need was definitely greater than anyone who raced a BMW against Gabriel.

“I’d like to schedule a call with the top brass at the HNL,” Lucian said, coming up behind me. “Are you ready for Gabriel’s first therapy session? I’ve always been impressed by your conviction that everyone can be helped by therapy.”

That conviction seemed incredibly foolish and misguided now.

“Didn’t you see himchargeat me yesterday?” I hissed. “How dare you even suggest I be alone with him?”

Lucian’s face didn’t change.

“That was very out of character. He doesn’t usually seem affected by women.”

“You seriously expect me to sit here and tell you he isn’t a psychopath?”

“I thinkyou’llbe doing that,” he said smoothly. “Have a few sessions with him. You’ll see.”

What else was Lucian covering for?

The hairs on the back of my neck stood up, as the energy in the room changed. Suddenly I couldn’t breathe.

I felt him behind me, my skin breaking out in goosebumps as the molecules between us charged with electricity.

“Don’t go—” I started to say, but Lucian had already turned away.

Gabriel smelled like heat and smoke, the wicked scent of his cigarettes making my nose sting.

He ran a hand up my back, then tangled it in my hair, raising a heavy handful so I could feel his breath on my neck.

I shrieked as I heard him spit, landing directly on my neck, then dripping down the back of my shirt.

“Right here,” he said in a domineering voice. “I could put a tracker right here. It took me a few minutes to find you, and that would be unnecessary with a tracker. I’d know where you were at all times.”

I choked out a gasping breath.

If I ran, how far would I get?

It was just a house. A very old house. And a lake out front. And a long driveway through some trees.

If I could somehow get out of the house. . .

There was no reason to fear there was. . .anything in the woods.

What about all those poor women, though?

But there was no reason to believe the killer was still lurking out there.

Maybe it had been some drunken tourist.

Maybe.

I tried to shake the fear away, but it clung, like a funk, like a miasma stuck to my skin.

What if the killer was. . .closer to home?

My skin crawled as Gabriel spit again. Then again, as he rubbed his deranged insanity into my skin.

I could still get away, I reminded myself. I can’t give up hope.