Addicted In Cold Blood (19 page)

Awesome. So now she has blended tactic two in with tactic three. I appreciate the change-up. Good. At least I’m entertained again...

Xzion licked his lips and tilted his head to the right.  “You’re an excellent bluffer. I almost believed that...
almost
.” He ran a hand along his thigh. “Now, while we wait for you to have all of your senses back, is there something you’d like? Maybe some water? I believe in making my guests comfortable.”

“What is up with all of this ice, huh?” Anger resonated in her tone. “Why is it so damn cold in here? It’s not cold enough outside for your liking? And what’s up with that room that looks like it belongs in a science magazine?”

“Buying time now... I told you, no more questions, but seeing as you actually believe you are getting one over, I am informing you that you’re not, but, in the interest of entertainment, I’ll play.” He crossed his arms over his chest and looked down at her, trying to not rest his eyes on her breasts again. “I like it cold. No, it’s not cold enough outside for my liking. That room is my own business. So, since I’ve answered, do you have any more questions?” He yawned.

“Why would you want to harm me? I don’t sell drugs, I try to keep them off the streets. You should be thanking me since we want the same thing, have the same aim, the same goal.”

“Is that what you really think this is about? You think I’m mad about drug trafficking?” He popped up and leaned in closer to her, causing her to lean back into the chair. He grasped her chin again and gazed penetratingly in her eyes.

“Now, it’s my turn. Answer my questions. I’ll repeat them. What agent sent you and who are you reporting to?”

The all too familiar faraway look came over her face. Her frown turned placid, her eyes dull...

“Agent Peterson sent me. He is who I report to...and Agent Brown and Bryant.”

He patted her head, causing the wig to fall the rest of the way off, landing to the right side of her on the floor.

“Good girl, Knight.”

Still under his command, he untied her arms and hoisted her over his shoulder. He knew he was supposed to kill her. Right after she answered him, he was supposed to put a slug or two in her, and go on about his way. But he couldn’t...he just couldn’t bring himself to snuff her out. For a split second, he imagined shooting her, and the thought of it repulsed him. He didn’t understand exactly what was going on, but he couldn’t stop it. He’d racked his brain at one point in time—trying to make it stop, to make the attraction go away.

It was a culmination of things. He liked her persistence. He enjoyed the fact that she was physical, liked getting dirty, all the way in the trenches on the front line, and seemed to enjoy, at the very least, the notion of mortal combat. He liked that she wore a badge and looked strong and sweet at the same time...and her lips, those damn lips, the way they curved and glimmered. Moments later, he relocated her to warmer surroundings. He ran his finger down the lips he’d been studying ever so closely after he laid her across his massive bed enveloped in crisp white sheets, then tied her arms to the posts.

Her lips...they look so soft...

He couldn’t resist anymore. Bending over her, he gently pecked her cheek, then enveloped her lips with his own.

Sweet God, she tastes so good!

He was snatched out of the euphoria as he felt her body stiffen against his. He didn’t want it like this...he wanted things to be different. He wanted her to
want
him.

Reluctantly, he pulled his control away from her, bringing her back into the light of her own way of thought. He was taking her down the rabbit hole, taking over her brain, but it was all wrong. That wasn’t the way it was supposed to be. He let her go, at least from his mind. She shook her head in confusion and looked around—the glassy-eyed baby doll expression evaporated—taking quick inventory of the bedroom surroundings.

He took note of her expression. She knew she was in trouble, big trouble. Her lip trembled, and he watched her wrestle with herself, try to keep her cool, but it was too late. She was in way over her head now. He had her in his boudoir, and she was trapped.

This time, she let out a scream so shrill, it made his ears ring. And there it was. Panic...

*
***

He could see it in her eyes, she saw and felt it. Once a perpetrator moves you to another location, you’re screwed. Isn’t that what she was taught in self-defense and warned all the women she trained against? Never let the guy take you somewhere else—fight, fight, fight!

Gently placing his hand over her mouth, he muffled the cries, though no one could hear her anyway. He slowly dropped his hand from her trembling lips after a spell.

“Officer Knight, I can’t have you screaming...that would make me angry. I don’t like loud noises, now shhh...” He smiled and put his finger up to his own lips.

“Let’s make a deal of some sort. Surely there is something you want in exchange for my freedom?” she asked, hopefulness in her tone.

So now we are back to plan A. Well, gotta give her credit for resilience.

He shook his head in disbelief. “There is nothing you can do for me, Knight...not a damn thing.”

“Please, just think about the—”

“We need to talk further but for now, I want you to get some sleep.” He ignored her, knowing it would make her fall deeper into despair. No matter what position she tried to mind fuck him in, he wouldn’t allow it, and it was killing her.

She screamed out again, so he quickly placed a cloth in her mouth. The shrillness of her vibrating howls made his head ring.

“The rag is in your mouth to borrow a moment of quiet time, not because it will change anything. Look, you’re wasting your energy and breath. This house is soundproof. Nothing you say, no matter how loud you say it, will be heard from the outside. Now, I’m going to untie you and leave you in here. I’m sleeping in another room but I’ll be able to watch you and see everything you do.”

He then untied her, prepared for her to land a fist across his flesh. Instead, her eyes contracted; the revulsion deep within her seemed to be fermenting and encircled him in its dark grip. Due to that, he thought better of it. He grunted and re-tied her, causing her to buck in anger. He didn’t feel like dealing with the aggravation of her bustling about, trying escapes all evening, causing loud, destructive thumps in the night.

She lunged at him like a crazed animal. When he caught her steady fist in his palm, their eyes locked. Instead of becoming angry or telling her a thing or two about herself, he dismissed it—hell, he wasn’t surprised. How was she supposed to feel? He walked cautiously away from her then closed his bedroom door, locking her inside the chamber until the late morning sun had risen many hours later...

*
***

Jayme turned her head back and forth, her hair now undone in thick shoulder length corkscrews against the over-stuffed white pillow case. The cloth from her mouth lay off to the side.

He was in here while I slept.

She wearily yanked her arms, twisting and turning as she tried to free herself. After rubbing her wrists raw against the ropes, she peered in the direction of the sundrenched area of the bedroom. The dark yellow light poured through for a quick second, giving her reprieve. She’d prayed it was all a bad dream, and didn’t even recall falling asleep. Something had made her fall into slumber, but she wasn’t sure what. Perhaps she’d been drugged again, and she suspected she had. She sighed, grunted and screamed out, then quickly stopped as she recalled his warning.

I’ve got to get out of here. Just try to keep my cool...I can do this...

The door swung open.

“It’s not what you think,” he said gruffly as he set a glass of orange juice down on the nightstand, along with two pieces of toast and a bowl of hot cereal.

“What isn’t what I think?”

“Just know, not everything is as it seems.”

He’s been watching me from somewhere...looking at me.

“Aren’t you the ‘XXX’ killer? Then things are what they seem...” Not before catching the telltale dark circles under his eyes, she turned away from him and he hesitated.

Yeah, he has been up all night. He comes in here trying to convince me of something. What is going on here? We aren’t friends. My mission is to survive and if I can, take him out!

“What does it matter at this point, hmmm?” he snipped as he leaned down close to her, untying her wrists.

Jayme quickly looked around the room. “I...need to use the bathroom.”

“Okay.”

She was surprised he didn’t simply toss her a bucket. Instead, he took her by the arm and gently led her to his lavatory en suite. She stopped and glanced at him from over her shoulder. The smell of bleach had subsided.

“I’ll give you some privacy.” And with that, he closed the door and waited on the other side...

*
***

Xzion looked down at his wrist, noting the time and several missed conference calls. Aton had been trying to reach him all evening, and he had no idea how he’d explain what was occurring. One lie always led to another, and he could feel the ball of deception needing to be fed until it was larger than the truth by leaps and bounds. He’d spent the rest of the evening and early morning clumsily rolling around in his spare bedroom on an air mattress, occasionally watching her through three cameras set at different angles. He watched her dream for a few minutes, and wished so desperately to know what made her smile.

He was feeling things he couldn’t describe, strange things—and they left him utterly confused. Instead of wanting to harm her, make her pay for the shit she’d gotten him into, he wanted to protect her. And then there was of course the reason all of this began in the first fucking place—his cock had seen her first and claimed her as its very own. He’d been all over the world, seen beautiful human women, just as lovely if not more than the ones on his own planet, but it never interfered with the operation. Maybe it was because the
United States was taking the longest. He’d now sewn roots here, and in that process, was looking out for a stronger connection with someone. Loneliness had a way of doing that to a person, even someone like him.

He mulled the matter over, trying desperately to understand what the hell was going on and why he was falling apart. He knew that right at that moment, Jayme was going through his medicine cabinet. He also knew that she’d see things she didn’t comprehend, and it wouldn’t help her in her quest to understand him or simply to escape. It would only make her more afraid and frustrated. There was nothing he could do for her. She was trained for this shit, and she’d keep trying to turn this around, to pull the wool over his eyes, but the worse of it was, he was trained for this, too, and it would be an uphill battle for him. Everything he loved about her would be turned against him, but he was prepared.

He didn’t want to hurt her, but there was no way at this point that he could let her go. It was far too risky. He could always ask Aton for advice but he had no doubt what the directive would be—to murder her. Once he received the order, if he disobeyed, things would be far worse. No, he needed to keep his trap shut. He’d figure this out—just needed a bit more time. The bathroom door opened, exposing the object of his desire. From the look in her eye, she was surprised to see him still standing there. She’d taken the liberty to freshen up.

“Would you like to eat now?”

She winced, as if she wanted to spit on him but resisted the urge. Instead, she pushed past him, returning to the bed and sitting cross legged on the rumpled sheets.

He dug his hands in his pockets, the sun framing him. Heat caressed his back...and he didn’t care. She slowly looked up at him then back down into her lap. He stepped closer and handed her the glass of orange juice.

“Come on, drink it. I didn’t put anything in it.”

He kept the glass steady in front of her and wasn’t surprised when she brutally slapped it out of his hand, causing the citrusy liquid to fly onto the bed, her ankle and the floor, leaving yellowish stains in its wake. The glass had hit the floor and rolled a couple feet. Her eyes tapered, showing no signs of fear—but complete awareness of the fine mess she was in. Even if she felt afraid or weak, she’d never let him see it, and he understood this.

She hated not being in control and she meant what she said, no matter how foolish. She’d die with honor. It was a valiant effort and he assumed that her earlier failed manipulations caused her some confusion. She’d tried reasoning, bargaining and delving deeper into his perceived psychosis—only to be no closer to an end in sight than before she first laid eyes on him. He couldn’t empathize, though he tried...but he at least understood it, because frustration, at least for him, was universal.

Without another word, he calmly picked up the wayward glass and walked out the room, locking her inside...

*
***

“We tried to reach her but the call is going back to voicemail,” Agent Bryant said as he crossed his arms and leaned against the wall. Agent Stephenson nodded.

“It appears something has happened. Her phone is now untraceable. If she is with him, she has damaged the process. She must’ve found him and didn’t tell us before a confrontation ensued. We also found her rental car at the pier, wiped clean. Not one fingerprint, not even hers, inside. All we needed were his coordinates and now,” he shrugged. “I’m afraid she has tried to be a hero, leaving us in the lurch. How much do you want to bet she found him?” He grimaced.