Karen Rose - Kill for Me

“Speaking of Simon,” she said grimly, “did you know he was alive all those years?”

He laughed softly. “Who do you think taught him to play the role of an old man so well?” Luke’s stomach turned over. Simon Vartanian had lured his victims dressed as an old man. Simon had also stalked Susannah in the same guise.

“You?” Susannah breathed. “You taught him?”

“Oh, yes. Simon thought it was all his idea to stalk you in the park in New York. It was always easiest to allow Simon to believe things were his idea, but it was indeed me. You, on the other hand… I could have done great things with you, my dear.” His smile disappeared. “But you didn’t want to play with me. You avoided me.”

“I was a rape victim.” Her voice shook with outrage. “And you knew that.”

“I have to say I was surprised you confessed the whole Darcy affair. That couldn’t have been easy for you, admitting to everyone how depraved you are. How hard the mighty have fallen. It didn’t take Darcy more than a few months to turn you.”

Her hands tightened into fists. “You recruited Marcy Linton, used her to extort rich men who liked sex with underage girls.”

“It beat waiting tables as a way for her to pay for college,” Charles said blandly.

“She never got to college. You killed her. Why? Why did you have to kill her?”

Charles’s bland façade was replaced with cold fury. “Because of you. You ruined her. Made her soft.”

“Darcy changed her mind, didn’t she? I remember that last night. She tried to talk me out of going, but it was a special date, the anniversary of the day I became a rape victim,” she said bitterly. “I was going to show myself and the world that I had control. I never had control. You did. You orchestrated the whole damn thing, you sonofabitch. All of it. You put Simon and Toby Granville up to raping me. You fucking coward .”

Luke saw the minute movement, the slackening of the hand on Susannah’s shoulder just as Susannah jerked away. But Charles wasn’t that off guard. He grabbed her with a snarl, jabbing the gun into her head so hard she cried out. His forearm closed over her throat. Her hands clawed at his arm so that she could breathe. Luke took an involuntary step forward, still on one knee.

“Little bitch,” Charles muttered. “Papadopoulos, now . Gun on the floor now or I’ll break her goddamn neck. She’ll still look alive and I’ll still have my human shield.”

Luke placed his gun on the floor, then held his hands out. “There. I’m unarmed.”

“Your backup, too.”

“Don’t have one,” Luke lied. “I’m wearing boots, not shoes like you. I like your shoes, Ray Kraemer. They’re what helped us identify you.” He was talking fast, not allowing Charles to calm down. “ Mansfield took some pictures in the bunker, for insurance. Maybe even revenge. Got one of a man with a walking stick, whose left shoe has a higher heel. It’s because Michael Ellis shot you in ’ Nam. Shot you in the leg and left you to die like a dog. It messed up your leg and that’s why you walk with the stick.” Luke hoped Susannah was paying attention.

“Shut up,” Charles said through clenched teeth.

“So you got your revenge on Ellis. You took his son, made him yours. He’s still yours, isn’t he, Ray Kraemer?” Every time he used Charles’s real name, the man flinched. “He’s useful to you, being a cop and all. You think he’s coming to get you now, but you’re wrong. We have Paul Houston in custody and he’s going to prison for a very long time.” The custody was a lie, but it did the trick.

Charles’s face became florid and his breathing hitched. “No. You can’t have him.”

Stay with me, Susannah . “It’s too late, Ray Kraemer. I have him already. Paul is mine . You have nothing left .” And on the last word Susannah kicked Charles hard on his left leg, sending them both to the floor. Charles landed on the backpack, the sharp corners of the box he carried knocking the breath from his lungs. Susannah took the advantage, thrashing and clawing like a trapped cat.

The moment she broke free, Luke lunged, grabbing Charles’s wrist with both hands, his elbow digging into Charles’s throat. But the old man was much stronger than he appeared. Luke’s arms burned from the struggle until he heard a snap of Charles’s wrist bone and a hoarse cry. Charles’s hand released the gun and, fueled by adrenaline and rage, Luke sat on his chest, clutching the old man by the throat.

“Fucking sonofabitch,” Luke snarled. His hands tightened, shaking Charles until he gasped for breath. Luke bore down, feeling the give of throat cartilage. Kill him. He drew back his fist, then froze. The old man was incapacitated. Injured. Unarmed. Kill him . Luke could hear the words in his mind, a primal chant that throbbed through every inch of his body. Kill him. Kill him with your bare hands. Kill him for Susannah. For Monica and Angel and Alicia Tremaine and every other victim.

Wait . The small voice in his mind was soft, but firm. This is not the man you are . Yes, it was. But it wasn’t the man Luke wanted to be. Disgusted both with Charles and with his own still, small voice, Luke grabbed Charles by the lapels, hauled him into a sitting position, and leaned in close. “I hope some prison con kills you like the dog you are.”

Charles’s mouth curved as a searing pain ripped through Luke’s biceps and too late he saw the short blade in Charles’s other hand. Sonofabitch .

“ You’re the coward, not me. Never me. You’re weak,” Charles grunted, twisting, going for the gun with his unbroken hand. “Weak,” he repeated, and clumsily Luke grabbed at him, abruptly halting at the sickening sound of crushing bone.

Charles flew back, his head striking the carpet so hard it bounced. His body went still, his mouth wide open. Stunned, Luke looked up. Susannah stood over him, Charles’s walking stick clutched in her hands like a baseball bat. Her eyes were wild, turbulent, as she stared down at the man, who with so many others, had ruined her life.

“I’m not weak,” she said. “Not anymore. Not ever again.”

Luke grasped her wrist gently, tugging until she met his eyes. “You never were weak, Susannah. Never. You’re the strongest woman I’ve ever known.”

Her shoulders sagged, her breathing strident. “Did I kill him? Please say I did.”

Luke pressed his fingers to Charles’s throat. “Yeah, honey. I think you did.”

“Good,” she said fiercely. She let the stick fall. For a moment they simply stared at each other, catching their breath. Then a voice called from the back of the house.

“Hello? Anybody here?” It was Chase.

Luke blew out a relieved breath and rose, his sliced arm burning like hell and bleeding sullenly. Luckily Charles hadn’t hit anything vital. “Back here, Chase.” With his good arm, he brought Susannah close, burying his face in her hair. “It’s done.”

She nodded against his chest. “You’re hurt.”

“I’ll live.”

She lifted her face, her lips curving in a trembling smile. “Good.”

He smiled back. “You could do some first aid, though. Rip off your blouse to make me a bandage, something like that.”

Her smile finally reached her eyes. “I think the medics have regulation bandages. But I’ll keep the blouse request in mind for later.”

“Oh my God.” Chase stopped in the doorway, shock on his face. “What happened here?”

“What? What happened?” Another man pushed past Chase, and Luke opened his mouth in warning, but caught Chase’s warning stare.

“This is Officer Houston,” Chase said soberly. “He’s searching for a suspect he tracked here. Of course we offered support. Houston, is this your man?”