Kissing the Killer(27)

I sat up straight, terror lancing through me chest. “Where’s Brooks?”

“He’s out.” The man advanced toward me. “I’m Abram, in case you didn’t know. Do you remember me?”

I nodded, too afraid to speak.

“I was the man who helped kill your daddy. Remember your daddy? Me and Brooks put bullets in his body and watched him die on that filthy mattress.”

“I don’t care about that,” I said.

“No?” Abram stopped near me, looming over me with this strange smile. “You should care. He was your father.”

“He was a piece of shit who abused me.”

“Yeah. I can still see the shiner. Looks a lot better now, though.”

“What do you want?”

“I thought I’d check up on you. How’s Brooks treating you?”

I knew this was a trap. I knew he wasn’t here to check up on me. Abram was here to kill me, and then he was going to kill Brooks.

I couldn’t let that happen. I didn’t know when Brooks was getting home, but I had to stall Abram for as long as possible.

“Help me,” I said suddenly, leaning toward him. “Please, you have to help me. That man said he’s going to murder me. He’s been doing horrible things to me.”

Abram looked surprised. “Has he now?”

“Please, please get me out of here,” I said, trying to lay it on thick.

He grunted. “He said he’s going to kill you?”

“Slowly. He’s sick. He likes hurting me.”

Abram slowly sat down on the couch next to me. “Okay, okay. It’s okay. I’m here now.”

“Please! We have to get out of here.”

He sighed, and then his hand shot out, slapping me hard across the face. “You stupid bitch,” he said as I recoiled from him. “Don’t fucking lie to me again.”

His face was twisted into a disgusting sneer. He’d gone from creepy but not unpleasant to terrifying in only a few seconds. My face stung where he slapped me.

“What do you want?” I asked him again.

He laughed. “You keep asking me that. I want Brooks to follow the rules. I want you to be dead and gone.” He stood up again. “But it doesn’t look like I’m getting what I want.”

“Why do you care what Brooks does?”

“Because we work for an organization,” he hissed, suddenly angry. “Because that organization exists only because we all follow the fucking rules. Brooks isn’t above that.”

He came at me again, and I tried to run. I got up and tried to dash past him, but he laughed and shoved my side, sending me careening against the couch. I rebounded and got back to my feet, but he was on me already.

He grabbed me by the arm and flung me down to the ground. I hit with a thud and gasped as he kicked me in the side. I curled up into a ball, knowing that if I fought, it would only be worse.

This was what my father used to do to me. I’d thought I was past this, but apparently not. Maybe I’d be doomed to find the worst men everywhere I went, men who wanted to hurt me just because they could.

He stood over me, laughing.

“What’s the matter, Emma dear? Are you upset?” He kicked me again, and I gasped, pain flooding my body. “Does this bother you, getting hit? I thought you’d be used to it by now.”

Anger flooded through me. I grabbed onto his leg and tried to punch him, but he kicked me away again, laughing.

“You sick bastard. Are you here to kill me or are you going to just hurt me?”

“Why would I kill you? No, I’m not here to kill you. I’m here to force Brooks to kill you. Then I’m going to kill him. Would you like to watch that?”

He laughed this sick, twisted laugh as he grabbed me by the legs and pulled me into the kitchen. He pushed me onto a chair.

“Stay,” he said.

He left the room. I waited a second before making a dash for the door.

I felt him on me before I could even touch the handle. He threw me to the ground and loomed over me. “I told you to stay. This is going to be worse for you now.” He kicked me again and again before dragging me back to the chair.

He used a length of rope to bind my hands and my feet. Once he was done, he sat down and sighed, smiling at me.

“Now the boring part,” he said. “We wait for poor Brooks to get home. I bet he’ll be very surprised to see you this way.”

“Sick bastard,” I said.

He smiled hugely. “Keep it up and I’m going to scar that pretty face.”

I kept my mouth shut, and inwardly I was flooded with fear. This man was sick, a violent and abusive bastard. I couldn’t believe that Brooks worked with him. They were nothing like each other. Brooks didn’t enjoy hurting people, and definitely didn’t hurt women, while this bastard seemed to enjoy every moment of my captivity.