“I think we have different definitions of pretty,” I snapped back at him and really considered spitting like I had at Catherine on that first day. “What’s your deal anyway? Some heiress stand you up on prom night and you decided to start stalking and murdering chicks to make up for it? Ever consider therapy instead?”
A brief flicker of anger in his eyes was the only reaction I got, but it was enough to know I’d hit a nerve. Then again, the way he sliced his blade across my thigh would have told me I’d pissed him off too.
“Fuck!” I shouted before biting my tongue. The hot burn of pain lanced through me, and I ground my teeth together hard, trying so freaking hard not to cry.
I was going to die. Just like Katelyn, with dozens of stab wounds in my body. Never knowing if Beck was okay. Never knowing if we would beat Delta at their fucked up games.
“Why haven’t you just killed me?” I sobbed, the pain lancing through my nerve endings.
Johnson chuckled again, the anger gone from his face. Psycho.
“Where is the fun in that? I was fucking Katelyn for weeks before I ended her. She never had a clue about the person she invited into her bed, thinking herself all clever because she was fucking the police for inside information. Little did she know…”
Jesus. “You’re going to keep me for weeks?”
The blade was back on my skin, the blunt side dragging across my breasts. “That really depends on how good you are, doesn’t it, princess.”
He leaned in closer and pressed his lips to mine, the blade between us, and I fought my gag reflex because I wanted to vomit in his mouth. But I had to try and stay alive—at least give the guys a little time to try and find me.
So I did nothing. I let him press his lips to mine, and I didn’t bite them off like I wanted.
When Johnson pulled back, his face was lit up, pupils dilated. “That’s more like it,” he said softly. “I love my women, you have to understand. An obsessive love for a person who can’t love back because they’re too rich to even see those beneath them.”
His words were weird and disjointed, and it was very clear that he was insane. In a sane sort of way. He rose, turning to switch the massive spotlight off, and I could have groaned at the relief of not having a high beam in my face. My head ached, eyes watering as I let my head fall forward.
My eyes locked onto my thigh, blood pooling out of the wound and dripping to the floor. A slow plop, plop, plop as it oozed out.
Johnson was back in my face again, and I stifled the scream. “Now,” he said slowly, lifting his blade again, “where were we?”
21
Beck
It was nearing 1:00 a.m. when I entered the station. Stopping at the front desk, the woman looked up from her papers, and as she focused on my face, hers twisted, terror widening her eyes.
“I— Can I h-h-help you?”
I wasted no time on pleasantries. “I need the detectives in charge of the Osiria killer case.”
Dylan remained just behind me, and when her eyes flicked up to him, she visibly gulped. Neither of us were doing a very good job of hiding ourselves today. Right now, the world could see us in our true form, and it scared the fuck out of them.
She lifted the phone and called through, speaking only a few words.
“They’ve gone home for the night,” she told us breathlessly.
I leaned in closer. “Get them the fuck back. Now.”
She blinked before speaking into the phone again. When she dropped it down, she nodded to the seats behind us. “They’ll be here in fifteen minutes. Please take a seat.”
Ignoring her, I leaned even closer so my forehead was almost pressed against the bottom of the glass panel. “I need you to give me files of all the staff and their dates of employment.”
She was already shaking her head. “I’m sorry, but that is all classified information—”
I slammed my hand on the desk, and she jumped in the air.
“Do as you’re fucking told. It’s not the night to piss me off, trust me.”
A tiny amount of fire entered her face, as she jumped back, clutching a folder to her body. She was in her forties, mousy brown hair, and large black-framed glasses. She was like a little mouse defying a fucking anaconda. “Don’t talk to me like that,” she said, soft but firm. “Threatening me will land you in jail.”
