Blood Kiss (Savage Security Series Book 1) Page 21

  He sat beside Alisha. The mattress bowed slightly under his weight and forced her body to roll towards him. “Oh, oh, oh, my sweet,” he soothed. “You must call me Pacey.”

  He lay down and stretched out beside her, his face looking into hers as he gently cupped her cheek. “Or perhaps we can come up with a pet name that we both enjoy.” He could think of many names he wanted to call her. And he couldn’t wait to hear her calling out his name when she came. He couldn’t wait to look into those marvelous eyes as he rocked into her and felt her shatter around him.

  He loved her eyes. Most blue eyes were not as vibrant as hers. He could get lost in the depths of her azure pools. He rolled onto his side and draped one leg over hers so their hips were aligned. He wasn’t ready to consummate their love. He certainly wouldn’t do it in front of the bitch. But he did look forward to sharing all of himself with Alisha. He needed her to know his affection for her, and the proof of his love was expanding in his pants as he snuggled up next to her.

  As his blood rushed through him, he reminded himself to not be distracted by his carnal feelings for Alisha. He stroked away her tears with his knuckles. “You rest, my sweet. We’ll have time to catch up later.” He pressed a kiss to her lips.

  He was disappointed when she didn’t open her mouth to him. He wanted to taste her, to feel the warmth of her mouth as his tongue explored her. “I’ll be back. I just have one little problem to resolve.” He looked over his shoulder at the woman bound in the corner. “Then it will just be the two of us.”

  He pressed his hand to Alisha’s abdomen and admired the flatness of her belly. She was fit and firm, the opposite of his wife, the bitch. The bitch had been good for a while, but he was ready to trade up. He stood and gazed down at Alisha’s fine figure stretched out on his bed.

  “Pacey, please,” she pleaded. “My arms hurt.” Her shoulders burned and the pain radiated down her arms. How long had he had her like this, stretched out as if in some sort of medieval torture device?

  He looked longingly at her form stretched out on the bed. After being cramped in the cooler and then stretched out on the bed, her arms likely did hurt from being stretched above her head, but he wasn’t sure he was ready to release her yet.

  He looked at her and considered his options. He wanted her in a good mood for later, but he also wanted to keep her contained. She didn’t need to see what he was going to do in the bathroom. He wanted to spare her that. He loved her too much to allow her to witness such an offensive sight.

  “Please,” she whispered. “I’m in pain.” As she blinked, her lashes forced tears to fall down her cheeks. “I know you love me.” Her stomach churned on the words, but she only had to keep Pacey happy until Mike came for her. She still had her bra on, thank God. She prayed that he’d find her in time. “Please let me get more comfortable. I’m not going anywhere,” she promised. Alisha licked her lips and gave him a weak smile, hoping that he would give in to her pleas.

  Pacey loved her. Loved her more than he loved himself. He ached at the pain he saw etched on her face. “Okay, my love,” he said. He went to the dresser and picked up a knife. He held the blade up and looked at the woman on the floor. She eyed Pacey and shook her head. Alisha lifted her head as far as she could to get a better look at the woman, but the angle was bad.

  Pacey sat on the bed and trailed his finger up the soft flesh of Alisha’s arm. He slipped the blade under the plastic zip tie. With a quick flick of his wrist, he cut the plastic and her arms fell free. He set the knife on the bedside table beside the gun.

  Tears streamed down Alisha’s face. She didn’t know if it was from the pain in her arms or the fear engulfing her, but she was certainly out of control. She sat up and rolled her shoulders. She rubbed her wrists where the plastic had cut into them. The skin was red and raw. Hatred began to replace the fear, and determination to survive consumed her.

  She looked up at Pacey as she rubbed her wrist. “Thanks,” she said. She quickly eyed the gun on the bedside table. It was a Glock.

  Pacey hated seeing the red marks around her delicate wrists. “I’m sorry,” he soothed. He took her wrist in his hand and brought it to his mouth. He pressed her sore skin to his mouth and tasted the saltiness of her flesh.

  Alisha wanted to hit him. Punch him in the face and break his nose, but her feet were still tied to the bed. She’d never reach the gun, even if she dazed him for a moment, so she sat there, letting him lick her. She fought the urge to throw up.

  Pacey gazed into her eyes as he tongued her wrist. She tasted better than he imagined. There was a time when he got hard tasting his wife, but the bitch didn’t do it for him anymore. Now he needed Alisha. Now he understood what love really was. He saw it in Alisha’s eyes.

  “You wait here, my love.” Pacey nestled Alisha’s hands in her lap. “I need to speak to this lady.” He looked over his shoulder to the cow huddled in the corner. Then he reached over, grabbed the gun and slipped it in the space between his pants and his back.

  “Is that your wife?” Alisha asked. She hated the sound of her voice, all shaky and pathetic. The woman huddled in the corner looked vaguely familiar. Alisha thought she recognized her from the staff holiday party last year. Now tears streaked black mascara down her face. Blue scrub pants with a multi-colored teddy bear scrub shirt reminded Alisha that she was a nurse. “She’s a nurse right?”

  “You don’t need to worry about her,” Pacey bit out. He hadn’t wanted Alisha to see the bitch. He didn’t want anything to mar their coupling. “I’m going to take care of her,” he said.

  Alisha noted the cruel edge to his voice. “She looks scared,” Alisha said. “Maybe you should let her go. It will just be the two of us.” What the hell am I saying? She stared at the gun handle that peeked out from the back of his waistband. With her feet still tied to the bed, he was just out of reach. She’d never get the gun from him.

  Pacey looked over his shoulder at Alisha. His eyes pierced her, and her courage nearly crumbled. She already knew he was out of touch with reality, but the look in his eyes revealed how dangerous he was. Nothing was off limits to him. “She’s my problem. I’ll take care of her,” he bit out.

  Alisha felt each word as if it were a bullet strategically placed to her heart. She knew what he meant to do to the woman, and she wanted to throw up. It was bad enough that he kidnapped her, but to kill someone so he could rape her was more than she could handle. She shook her head and said, “No, no,” she panted. She scooted to the end of the bed and raised herself up as best she could with her feet still tied to the bed. “Don’t hurt her, Pacey,” she pleaded. She reached out to grab at his arms, but he was just out of reach. “Don’t hurt her. She has nothing to do with us.”

  Pacey reached down and grabbed the bitch by the wrists and hauled her up. She was heavier than Alisha, but his anger fueled him, gave him the strength to haul her fat ass around.

  Mary spastically shook her head and pulled against him, struggling to get away. She’d known she needed to leave him. Their marriage had ended long ago. She knew he wasn’t faithful, but she hadn’t been either. She should have left his sorry ass when she caught him jacking off to pictures of teachers from his school on the internet. But she hadn’t left him. She put up with his shit because going through the motions was easier than starting all over again. And now her laziness was going to kill her. The fucked up bastard was going to kill her. She saw it in his eyes.

  “No,” Mary mumbled. “No,” she screamed through the spit soaked gag. She could barely breathe. Her nose was clogged from the mucus her crying caused, and the gag made breathing through her mouth difficult. She scratched at his bicep as he pulled her along.

  Pacey was tired of the bitch. He should’ve drugged her too. For a genius, you sure are stupid, he thought to himself. He dragged Mary into the hallway and slammed her back against the wall. Her head smashed into a picture that hung on the wall.

  He smiled when he saw the picture’s glass break behind her head.
He barked a laugh when he noticed it was the picture of them cutting the cake from their wedding. How wonderfully perfect. She managed to destroy their wedding picture just like she destroyed their marriage. Blood trickled down Mary’s neck. Her mousy brown hair suddenly had red highlights that he especially liked. She really should have been a redhead.

  Pain shot through Mary’s head and lights dazzled before her eyes when she made contact with the wall. Tiny pieces of glass cut into her skin. Pacey pulled her away from the wall and dragged her along. She fought against him. She didn’t care if he shoved her against the wall again. She was dead if she didn’t fight, and she wasn’t going down without a fight.

  Mary heard the other woman pleading from the bedroom. She couldn’t believe the other woman was begging for her life. She appreciated her support, but she knew it would do no good. At least her death would be quick, and she hoped painless. But unfortunately it looked like Pacey had plans for the defenseless woman tied to the bed.

  Mary’s sex life with Pacey had ranged from non-existent to barely there. He struggled to keep an erection, and when he could keep it up, he humped about like a rutting pig. So Mary found her sexual pleasure in the arms of other men. Maybe the woman tied to the bed would get lucky and Pacey’s manhood would shrivel under the pressure of consummating whatever the hell he thought they would be consummating.

  Thinking back, as Pacey dragged her into the bathroom, Mary couldn’t remember what she ever saw in him. He was smart. She had liked that about him, but other than that, there was nothing likeable about him. Perhaps their years of unfulfilled expectations had removed any trace of the love that she’d once had for him, because for the life of her, she couldn’t think of anything redeeming about him.

  Pacey shoved the bitch against the bathroom wall. The towel bar hit her spine in an awkward place. She groaned as the pain splintered down her back.

  “Do you know why I’m doing this?” he fumed. He shoved his face into hers. “Do you?” He jerked the gag away from her mouth. Spit trailed down her chin.

  Mary knew why. He didn’t love her. He wanted her out of the way so he could live his delusional life with the pretty hostage tied to their bed. And he didn’t have the balls to go through a divorce, so he was just going to make her disappear. He’d get to keep all their assets, not that they had much, and none of the shame that came when a wife walks out on her husband.

  Mary moved her mouth, stretching her jaw through the pain. “Does it matter?” she whispered. She wasn’t interested in hearing his justification. He was a selfish bastard. Always had been.

  Pacey put his face next to hers, letting his breath wash over her face. “I don’t love you,” he screamed.

  Mary looked around the tiny bathroom. He’d covered everything with plastic sheeting. He’d thought this through. Planned it all. He was going to kill her with as much regard as one kills a mosquito.

  Alisha heard the insane conversation in the other room. She didn’t know how long she had, but she wanted to make good use of her time. With her feet still tied to the wrought iron footboard, she worked at the knot. She couldn’t make it budge. She had to think.

  Slow down.

  She took a deep breath and tried to focus.

  She looked over her shoulder to the bedside table. The knife sat there, mocking her. There had to be some way to get it.

  She lay back on the bed, her feet only letting her get so far. She stretched, but the knife was out of reach. She cursed under her breath.

  She couldn’t wait for Mike to rescue her. She had to save that woman. She had to save herself.

  There had to be some way to get the knife. She plopped back on the pillow in frustration.

  The pillow! She sat up and grabbed the pillow. She stretched and put the pillow behind the knife. She pulled the pillow towards herself. Nothing. The knife didn’t budge. She cursed and tried again. The knife fell with a soft thud onto the carpet.

  Hope filled her. She stretched, her torso hanging off the bed while one hand clutched at the bottom sheet to keep her from falling. The rope bit into her feet, but the knife was just an inch out of her reach. She sat up, scooted to the end of the bed and pushed the rope further down around her ankle, trying to give herself a little more wiggle room.

  She stretched back across the bed, gripped the bedsheet with one hand and leaned over. She inched her fingers across the carpet. One fingertip made contact with the butt of the knife. She silently prayed for help.

  She stretched a little more and another fingertip reached the handle. She dug her nails into the grip of the knife and pulled. The knife inched closer. She worked more of her fingertips onto the handle and pulled again. The knife slid across the carpet. She grabbed it, and pushed herself back up onto the bed.

  She scooted to the end of the bed and slipped the knife between the coils of rope. As she sawed, she heard a scream. She looked up. Fear froze her for a moment, and then she went back to maniacally sawing away at her bonds.

  Pacey should have knocked Mary out earlier. He wouldn’t have had to deal with her shit or put Alisha through the stress of seeing her. Mary screamed when he’d shoved her into the bathtub, but he guessed that was to be expected. He chuckled at the sight of her knocked out body crumpled in the tub. That scream was probably that last sound he’d hear from the bitch.

  She’d left a blood smear on the shower wall. He’d have to be sure to clean that up before Alisha saw it. He was thankful he’d thought of the plastic sheeting. That would make the clean-up much easier. Most of the mess would be contained in the bathtub, which he planned to thoroughly bleach. He’d just keep Alisha out of the bathroom for a while. Besides, they would spend their time in bed. He couldn’t help but smile.

  Alisha finally cut through the rope and freed herself. She rolled her feet, trying to get the blood to return to her tingling toes. When she stepped off the bed, her feet felt thick, heavy. She wiggled her toes and felt the tiny zips and zaps that accompany the feeling of one’s feet being asleep.

  She tiptoed over to the phone on the bedside table and dialed 911. Alisha set the phone on the table, letting it ring on the other end. She didn’t wait for someone to answer. She didn’t want to take the time, but she hoped that the dispatcher would send someone. They were supposed to. She also hoped that Mike was on his way. She wasn’t sure how long she could survive in Pacey’s insane world.

  Clutching the knife to her chest, she crept to the bedroom door. She stopped at the hallway and listened. Pacey was humming, and she heard the sound of cloth tearing. She stepped into the hallway and stopped beside the bathroom door.

  She realized that she’d never be able to sneak up on him. Plastic sheeting trailed out of the bathroom and into the hallway. She took a deep breath, gathering up her courage, and peeked around the doorframe.

  The entire bathroom was covered in plastic sheeting. Pacey was on his knees, hunched over the bathtub cutting away the woman’s clothes. She was out cold. Alisha saw the blood smear and noticed the blood streaks in her hair.

  Pacey cut the fabric of her shirt and bra and let her breasts spill out of the cups. He lifted her away from the tub and pulled the bra and teddy bear scrub shirt away and tossed them on the floor beside him. He carelessly let her fall back against the cold tub. Alisha cringed at the sound of her head plonking hard against the tub wall.

  Pacey was doing this all wrong. If he ever needed to get rid of someone again, he’d have them undress themselves first. Cutting away someone’s clothes was a pain in the ass. He should have had her strip and then shove her into the tub. He paused for a moment and stared at the shower wall, as if reading a helpful hint there. Did she need to be naked? If the lye dissolves bones wouldn’t it also dissolve cotton? He snorted at his idiocy. Oh well, the first time always has some glitches.

  He leaned back on his hunches and admired his work. Mary lay there topless. Her boobs sagged, and her nipples were perched near her navel ring. A slight roll of fat circled her belly. He’d remembered
how he used to enjoy pulling on that navel ring with his teeth and how she’d grind her pussy against him.

  He admired her now the way one does their first car. She’d been his first, and he’d always remember that. She’d given him many a fun ride, but her body was clearly showing wear and tear and needed to be replaced. He smiled as he thought of Alisha and how her body would react to him. He was ready to take her for a ride.

  In the planning stages, he’d wondered about the best way to kill Mary. A gun? A knife? Poison? He finally settled on a knife. It was relatively quick and quiet. He looked around, patted his pants, and realized that he’d left the knife in the bedroom. He placed a hand on the bathtub for balance and stood. The plastic crinkled under his feet as he headed towards the hallway.

  Alisha’s heart pounded. She heard the plastic crinkle as he walked. Did he know she was out here? She stopped breathing. She squeezed the handle of the knife tighter, like a boa squeezing its prey.

  He stepped into the hallway, and she lunged at him.

  The movement in his periphery startled him. He twisted his body and raised his arm to deflect her, but the knife sliced his arm. He looked at the cut. It wasn’t deep, but blood wept from the wound. Anger boiled in him. The bitch cut him!

  Alisha saw the rage flash in his eyes as she raised the knife to stab him again. Pacey lunged at her. He grabbed her arm and slammed her against the wall. Lights dazzled before her eyes as her head made contact with the wall.

  He gripped her wrist and repeatedly slammed her arm into the wall above her head. She tried to keep her grip on the knife, but with each slam against the wall, her grasp weakened. The knife eventually fell to the floor.

  “Bitch!” he seethed. “Look what you did to my arm!”

  His breath washed over her face as his spittle landed on her cheeks. Instinctively she turned her face from him, desperate to separate herself from him. With his body pressed so close to hers, and her arms restrained against the wall, she did the only thing she could do, she slammed her knee into his balls as hard as she could.