Taboo Unchained(59)
“You are a menace, Margarite. You're dark, yes, but you're also twisted. And I find you obnoxious, even more so than my other clients. You're in pain, and you're suffering, and you also are interestingly perceptive.” My mind immediately flashes to Audra, giving me a moment of pause as I trace the tip of the blade against Margarite's lips. She flicks her tongue out against the sharp edge, purposely cutting herself. “But not perceptive enough. I'm not in love.” I draw the knife away and rise to my feet, tucking my erection back into my pants. I can see the moment Margarite registers the situation.
“Lucas,” she warns, her voice taking on a dangerous edge. “Don't you dare. Don't you fucking dare. I stare down at her frizzy blonde hair, her lime green eyes, her angry grimace.
“I'm not in love, but I also don't want to be here. I don't know why, but I do owe it to myself and my clients to find out. Until then, I won't be scheduling anymore sessions.”
“Lucas.” Another warning. I walk around Margarite and slice the bindings on her ankles first, and then her wrists. The second that tape is undone and she's in the process of wiggling free, I walk out of that house and I don't look back.
After all, I have a mystery to unravel.
Lucas Carter isn't ready to die just yet.
Tonight at six. Don't bother coming if you're late.
This is the text I send to Audra the next morning; I get no reply. It doesn't matter though because I know she'll come. She's too interested not to. I still haven't the faintest idea what her request is going to be, but that doesn't matter either. I'll get to it when I get to it.
I set the cans of paint on the floor and let my head fall back with a sigh. The front door is open, not as an invitation, but because I'm unloading supplies onto the tarp in my back bedroom. Oh, stop. Fresh paint, a tarp. It certainly sounds like the future scene of a crime, but I'm not quite that stupid. If I planned on killing anyone, I'd find a garbage strewn alley somewhere. Right now, I'm simply … remodeling. The menial tasks required for installing new hardwood floors, painting, putting in baseboards and crown molding, these take the beast and force him back a step. I need that right now, time to think. Besides, if I'm not visiting clients, I need to be careful he doesn't get out.
I shiver and turn around at the sound of soft footsteps.
Robbie Carrell appears in the entrance to my hallway wearing a gingham print dress in black and white. The sleeveless slip of fabric shows off her gently sloping shoulders and lightly muscled arms, tightening over her chest and hanging just low enough to be tasteful. Mmm. Audra Holiday could certainly use a lesson in fashion from Robbie Carrell.
I cross my arms over my chest and lean back, watching her with a focused gaze, waiting for her to speak first. After kicking her out last night, I have no clue what her attitude towards me might be. And I should have no desire to find out. I like Robbie, I do, her innocence is appealing, and the brightness of her soul is a shimmer against the dark splotch of this world, but nothing can ever come of it. She likes me; I like her. That's all there is to it. I'm a dangerous mind with a horrible job and even worse hobbies. I've killed many men and lost an only love. Robbie Carrell needs someone who can give her that ordinary life that so many crave, that simple lull of days that fades into an easy end. A life with me would be nothing of the sort. In short, I digress. Robbie Carrell. Here in my hallway. What on earth does she want?
“Hi, Luke.” Goose bumps eat across my skin. Luke. Why does she have to call me Luke? I let my eyes flutter closed for a moment before opening them and looking back in her direction.
“Hello, Robbie.” My voice garners a similar reaction from her, making her skin ripple as if I've physically brushed my fingers down her arms, put my mouth to hers and tasted that honied sweetness. Fuck. I can feel my cock rising to the occasion. Never one to let an opportunity pass him by, is he? Unless you count Margarite Simmons and before that, Robbie's second offer of sex. Perhaps you're not as sexually motivated as you once thought, Lucas? “What can I do for you?”
Robbie snorts, like I've said something amusing, and holds up a blue flyer covered with terrible black and gray clip art. The words BLOCK PARTY stand out from the rest of the poorly designed stationery like a bleeding flesh wound. My mouth tightens as I push away from the wall.
“My parents sent me over here to invite you to the next block party.” Robbie pauses. “Even though you never come,” she adds, casting her gaze away as I approach and reach out for the paper. I make sure our fingers touch, so I can see her reaction to me, so I can feel better about the fact that she didn't come over here of her own volition. Silly, Lucas. And you're upset about this? You should be overjoyed. Most virgins would be here clinging to your chest and preaching love and marriage. The thought makes me shudder, so why does the fact that Robbie's not doing that bother me so much?