Even as her muscles quivered, tried to stay out of Chastian’s reach, she knew that it was hopeless. The not-quite-sane look in his eyes promised that he would take her and hurt her, his narrow h*ps shoving between her legs.
“Not so confident now, are you, Genevieve? Not so full of yourself now that you’re not in control?” His breathing was heavy, his eyes darkening a little more with each unsteady rise and fall of his chest.
He tried to grab her second wrist, but she knew that once he caught it she would be completely helpless, a sitting duck unable to move or fight. So when his hands reached for her free wrist, she jerked it away, kicking up and out with her legs instead.
He jumped out of the way, but not quickly enough to avoid a foot to the chest. “Let me go,” she demanded. “There’s no way for you to win this thing.”
His laugh, when it came this time, was brittle. “I’ve already won, Genevieve. I have you and none of them know—none of them have a f**king clue what I’ll be doing to you. They’ll be at the station, searching for a suspect and I’ll be here, f**king you. Cutting you.”
He lunged for her wrist again and again she evaded him with a quick twist of her body. The arm that was locked into the handcuffs on the bed was starting to ache, the sharp twist and pull of her body as she tried to avoid complete capture putting too much pressure on it.
But she ignored it, desperation lending her strength and speed she never would have had otherwise. Chastian lunged for her a third, then a fourth time, but when he kept missing, he grew tired of the game.
Drawing back his fist, he hit her as hard as he could in the face, waited just out of reach as her eyes crossed and she started to go under.
Genevieve fought to stay awake, to ignore the darkness that hovered at the edge of her consciousness. But it wasn’t easy—she felt the punch all the way through her body, the crunch of Chastian’s fist sending waves of agony reverberating down her cheekbone and throughout her entire face. He’d hit her hard enough to daze her, more than hard enough to have her head ringing. And then he was grabbing her free wrist before she could stop him, dragging it toward the headboard.
He pulled out a second pair of handcuffs and fastened her right hand to the bed in the same fashion he’d already used on her left. As the handcuffs clanged against the iron headboard, fear burned in the pit of her stomach. And that was before he fastened her legs to the posts at the bottom of the bed.
Trussed up like a Christmas turkey, there was no way she was going to get out of this now. No way she could fight back against Chastian and whatever he planned to do to her.
For one endless moment, each of his victims flashed into her mind. Lorelei, Cyndi, Jessica, Maria, Sharon and the unknown woman who had dragged them all here tonight. The pain each had suffered had been overwhelming, all-consuming.
And as Chastian leaned over her, a knife in his hand and an insane glint in his eyes, she understood that she would die as the other women had—screaming.
Cole, her angry, battered mind cried out. Cole, I’m sorry.
He’d been right after all. She hadn’t believed him, and now her arrogance might very well be the death of both of them. For a moment she saw his face—angry, frightened, desperate to save her—and she knew. He wouldn’t survive her death. Twice in one lifetime was two times too many.
Chapter Twenty-four
Cole raced around Genevieve’s house, panic growing with every second that he couldn’t find her. He searched every room, despite the empty feeling of the house, frantic at the thought of some psychopath getting his hands on her in her own house.
He found her note in the kitchen right around the same time his instincts went on red alert. For a minute he tried to think past the sick panic, to tell himself he was overreacting because he was worried. Scared. He was in love for the first time in his life, and it was the ‘till death do us part kind of love. The thought of anything happening to her, of anyone taking her away from him—
Stumbling to a stop, Cole realized what he’d just been thinking. And though his head shied away from it, his heart knew the truth. He would love Genevieve forever—with her formidable intelligence and awe-inspiring temper, with her sweet heart and hot body, he loved her more than he’d ever loved anyone, even his sister. And he would do anything, give up everything, if it meant that she was safe.
With fear a living nightmare inside of him, he reached for the phone and dialed the precinct, only to realize she wouldn’t be there. With shaking hands, he tried her cell phone. And waited impatiently, each ring a painful eternity, for her to pick up.
He was about to give up, to slam the phone back onto its charger when the ringing stopped. But it wasn’t Genevieve’s voice that came on the line. Instead, it was a male voice; high-pitched, a little deranged, it struck terror into his heart like nothing else ever had.
“Genevieve’s sorry, she can’t come to the phone right now. She’s a little tied up. But maybe I can help you?” There was a hysterical giggle followed by a silence that chilled his blood.
“Who is this?” he demanded. “Where’s Genevieve?”
“Geez, Cole, could you at least try to play along? Make this a guessing game. I mean, you don’t actually think I’ll tell you where she is, do you?”
“If you f**king touch her, I’ll rip you apart with my bare hands.”
There was a long silence, broken only by what sounded like Genevieve’s pain-filled scream. “You’re a lot dumber than you look, Cole, I’ve got to say. Issuing ultimatums like that just pisses me off. That one just got your little sweetheart sliced open from sternum to waist. But don’t worry, I didn’t cut deep.
“At least not this time.”
The phone went dead in his hand and Cole stared at it for a good fifteen seconds, horror rocketing through him. And then he was throwing his head back, a bellow of rage like nothing he’d ever felt before rising from within him.
He was going to find that son of a bitch. If it was the last thing he ever did, he would find him and kill him before he killed Genevieve.
Throwing on clothes on the fly, he dialed the police station and her partner. Surely Shawn would know where she was.…
* * *
Genevieve trembled in horror as Chastian hung up her cell phone and turned it off. Cole was looking for her, trying to find her. Elation warred with a bone-deep fear that he would find her like this—but too late to do anything but torture himself for not getting here in time.
She was spread-eagled on the huge four-poster bed, n**ed and blindfolded. Completely at Chastian’s mercy. He was taking it slow; a slap here, a pinch there. A tightening of her bonds until she lost all sensation in her arms and legs.
He’d keep her like that for a while and then loosen one of the knots so that blood—and painful sensation—rushed back to the body part all at once. And then, once the sensation had returned—painful second by painful second—he would tighten the bonds until the circulation was once again cut off.
And Shawn—Shawn hadn’t moved from where Chastian had dropped him. She’d tried to tell herself that he wasn’t dead, that he was just unconscious, but every minute that passed seemed to make a mockery of her prayers until fear for him and herself was a crazed animal within her.
Part of her wished he would just get it over with—that he would move on to bigger and badder things so that it would all just be done with. But the other part, the one that longed to feel Cole’s lips against hers just one more time, wanted to prolong the inevitable. That side of her prayed for Cole or Roberto or Luc to come through that door and realize what had happened.
She knew Cole was aware of what was going on—though Chastian had gone into the next room when he answered the phone, she had heard every word of the conversation. Her only question was whether or not Cole would figure out where she was in time to save her. And what kind of shape she’d be in when he got here.
Suddenly, she felt the cold tip of Chastian’s knife against her throat, yanking her out of her thoughts and back to his little shop of horrors. “Sorry to interrupt your daydream,” he murmured, “But I was getting bored.” She felt the prick of the knife as he nicked her skin for the first time.
“So, is this what you like, Genevieve?” She heard the sneer in his voice. “Does it turn you on?” The knife moved over her right breast, sliced just a little deeper.
“Goddamn it, answer me! I can’t believe you let that bastard touch you. Let him tie you up and f**k you like a whore! I would never have done that to you. I would have treated you right!”
She bit her tongue, resisted the urge to point out just what a non sequitur that little trip to Crazytown was. Seeing as how he had barely gotten started and she couldn’t find a part of her body that didn’t hurt.
“Why won’t you answer me?” This time the question was a sob. “I wanted to take care of you, to love you. To treat you right.”
Suddenly, the blindfold was ripped away and she was staring into her lieutenant’s deranged eyes. “Why did you make me do this to you?” he demanded. “Why couldn’t you love me back, just a little?”
“Rob.” She kept her voice deliberately gentle when what she really wanted to do was scream at him until she was hoarse. “I’m sorry. I didn’t understand—” Her voice broke and she had to try again. “I didn’t understand what you wanted from me. I should have listened better.”
“Yes, you should have.” He shuddered, and the knife came perilously close to cutting her again.
Fighting back a wave of fear-induced nausea, she murmured, “Tell me now.”
The eyes he turned on her were bewildered, like a confused child who couldn’t figure out where he was or how he’d gotten there. How could she have missed this, she wondered. How could she have worked for this man for three years and not have a clue he was so far gone?
How could any of them?
“It’s too late, Genevieve. Everything’s ruined.”
“No, no it isn’t. Not everything. Not if you don’t want it to be.”
“But I saw you with him,” he repeated. “You never should have done that. You were mine. “Mine!” It was a primal scream of rage, one that had her blood running cold and her body shivering despite the sweat blooming on her body.
“I didn’t know.” She forced the words out, tried desperately to keep her voice from trembling as her fear seemed only to incite his sadism.
“You didn’t want to know. I tried everything to get your attention. Followed you around. Called you into my office every chance I got.”
Shock ricocheted through her as the meaning behind his words hit her. He’d made her life a living hell these last years not because he didn’t think she could do her job, but because he’d wanted her attention.
“I didn’t know.” She was beginning to sound like a broken record, but she could think of nothing else to say. She felt like Alice, felt like she’d tumbled down a rabbit hole where everything was topsy-turvy. Only instead of Wonderland, she was stuck in hell.
How could this be happening?
How could Chastian be the killer they’d been hunting for months?
How could he have gone so far insane without any of them knowing—or even suspecting?
“That’s not good enough, Genevieve. Not knowing isn’t an excuse.”
She bit back the sharp retort that trembled on her lips, tried to strike a placating tone when all she really wanted to do was rip his f**king eyes out before putting a bullet in his brain.
“I know it isn’t, Rob. But I didn’t understand.”
“Nobody understands,” he screamed, and she cringed. She’d meant to draw things out, to calm him down, but everything she said was just inciting him more.
“I’m sorry, Rob.” She nearly choked on the words, but she had to keep him talking. Keep him occupied. Cole would find her and Shawn. Cole and Roberto and Luc; she just had to stay alive long enough for them to get here.