And besides, I don’t want to go back to that room anytime soon, and I don’t have anything else to do, so I might as well be useful to society.
“Stubborn woman,” Zachary mutters right before grabbing me by the elbow and dragging me to his waiting car, the blanket flapping around me while I protest.
“Let me go.”
Oddly, no one pays attention to that but instead nod when Zachary shouts, “We’ll meet you there. Lydia,” he calls his sister and motions with his head to his car, “come with us. James will take care of your car later.”
She quickly dashes after us, relief flashing in her face, and in seconds, I’m sitting in the spacious vehicle while the beautiful scenery of New York reflects back at me from the window, the city illuminated by thousands of lights that give it an even more majestic feeling.
I forgot how gorgeous the city is at night or any time of the day, really, and rest my head on the window, gluing my stare to it and pushing back weird thoughts.
Like the fact that I’m in Zachary’s car and can’t escape him no matter how much I try.
But the most disgusting thought that makes me break out in a sweat and sends goose bumps all over me?
Is that I don’t mind having the Kings by my side, because they rule the freaking world with just one word.
And I feel like to survive in this battle with a serial killer, I need at least a little percent of their power.
Because I have none.
Isn’t that sad?
Zachary
Noah opens the door to one of the glassed rooms in their office and says, “Please come on in. Would you like anything to drink?”
“No thanks,” Phoenix replies, walking with Lydia inside and settling on the spacious couch located in the middle of the room. Two chairs stand opposite it with a small table separating them. “I’d like to cut all the polite talk and move on to the situation we have here. There is no need to create an environment for me to open up,” she tells him honestly, and he nods, clearly appreciating that, if the relief crossing his face is anything to go by.
To get a job as a profiler and be leader of the team, he has to be one of the best psychologists in the world who can guess a lot about the person in just thirty seconds. One part of their job is easing the victims enough to trust them, and this bond allows them to speak up, seeking help from the profilers.
“Very well.” Noah and Ella drop onto the opposite chairs while I purposely go to Phoenix’s side so she has no choice but to scoot farther over on the couch. I sit next to her, my hip pressing against hers, and she jerks a little, probably feeling the electricity transferring between us.
Her lavender scent mixed with vanilla disturbs my nostrils, making me want things I shouldn’t from this woman who hates me with a passion, but that unfortunately doesn’t play well in her favor.
Hate, like love, is a powerful emotion with the same intensity. And where there is passion, there is lust, and I intend to use this lust to keep her with me even if her hate for me becomes stronger.
I don’t seek or want love anyway. It has so much power to destroy that I’m not sure I can survive it a second time around.
But indulging in her because she has something that pulls me toward her, and in the meantime, we try to find a killer?
Oh, there is no harm in that.
Ella places a larger tablet facing us on the table and scrolls through several pictures, each displaying gorgeous blonde women in different stages of their life. Some laugh, some cry, and some stare in the distance. “These ten women are the latest victims of the unsub,” she says while Noah has another tablet, but this time he shows us various photos of dark-haired men in suits sitting in their offices, and I recognize some of them.
Wasn’t the last guy the head of a security company and his wife died two years ago? I even attended the funeral, drawn after hearing some drunk driver killed her.
Support might be one thing grieving people reject, but it’s what they need, so I offered mine to the man who had to raise his four kids on his own.
“These are their husbands.”
“Okay.” Lydia prolongs the word, confusion written all over her face while Phoenix leans closer, her stare on the pictures, her brows furrowing to form a deep line between them.
Something is swirling in that mind of hers, but what?
“The women all died on the way back home either from the salon, gym, or their favorite restaurant.” Ella then taps on the tablet a few times, and another set of pictures pops up, this time of the dark-haired women who wear clothes that easily allow us to guess their profession.
A judge, a doctor, a firefighter, and a librarian to name a few. “Those are the drivers. All had alcohol it their system.”
“I’ve already shown this to Phoenix, and I’m sure Zachary knows about it.” Lydia gives me a side-eye like I should give a fuck about it.
My connections run deep, and I will never apologize for them. She should be grateful for them really, or otherwise her ass would’ve been on the line a couple times in the past. “You showed her the facts. Not what lies between the lines.” Noah speaks up again and addresses Phoenix. “You are a psychiatrist. They say you would have been one of the best if this tragedy didn’t strike you. Do you understand where we are heading with this?”
She nods, a raspy breath slipping past her lips, and she folds her hands together, the pulse in her neck beating wildly, and I know whatever the implications are, it rushes fear through her body.
She is afraid, and somehow her fear unsettles me, wanting me to snarl and kill the source of her fear so it won’t hunt her again.
Laughable, considering I’m probably the star of her nightmares right behind the serial killer.
Finally, she whispers, but she might as well have shouted the words for the impact they have on me. “With each victim, he recreates the first time. He probably felt an adrenaline rush, and it brought pleasure to him so intense he got addicted to it. But no matter how much he tries, he can’t.” She lifts her head, tearing it away from the photos, and tells Noah, “That’s why he confessed about my case. He wants the same adrenaline rush he experienced four years ago. And he thinks I became his best friend.”
Dead silence follows her words, and then Lydia gasps, covering her mouth while everything inside me goes still.
Because if I’m still one of the key players of his high, it means he never chose me coincidentally. I’ve studied enough serial killers over the last two weeks to know about that.
So whatever game he’s still playing with Phoenix, I’m part of it.
But that’s not what has me gripping the couch arm so hard I’ll probably destroy the leather while barely controlled rage fuels my blood, demanding I find that fucker and kill him, even if it means going behind bars for it.
It’s the thought that this time around, if he wants to use someone precious to my heart… he will use my daughter.
Emmaline.
And I’ll die first before I let anyone touch her.
Phoenix
“This is fucking bullshit,” Zachary snarls, getting up so swiftly he rattles the table in front of us when he is practically vibrating with fury.
Noah’s voice is even, although I don’t miss how he barely controls himself from not facing off with him too, not appreciating Zach’s tone. “This is criminal psychology, Mr. King. We are dealing with serial killers. Everything might sound like bullshit when you are dealing with them.”