Addicted In Cold Blood (20 page)

“Or...he found
her
,” offered Agent Brown, his eyebrow raised over his glasses.

****

Several hours later...

Xzion sat in his oversized chair, his legs wide open, head leaned back, eyes covered with dark sunglasses, and complete torment within him. He shook his right leg, loosening a wrinkle in his baggy jeans. Taking a deep breath, he pressed his wrist and waited.

“Xzion, where have you been?” came the static-filled, deep monotone voice.

No greeting—Aton got right to the point.

“There was a bit of interference, had to stay low key.” He sucked his teeth as visions of her wrapped in her towel came out of nowhere, violating his mind and mocking his conversation.

“It was a rough night. I got the job done, however.”

A brief pause.

“Well, that is good. It is not like you to wait this long to contact me. I thought something may have happened. I’m glad that you are fine. What are you scheduling next?”

“The two guys I spoke to you about during our last contact—I will be handling them in the next three days or so, J-Smooth and Ian Clarkson.” He cleared his throat, floating around aimlessly in his own head.

“You seem preoccupied. Are you in any kind of trouble, Xzion? Maybe pain? Are you hurting? I know you aren’t one to complain, but please let me know if something is concerning you that you may need my assistance with.”

“No, Aton, thank you. My temperature is fine, no issues here. I’m just tired. If you don’t mind, I am going to get some sleep, unless there was something else you needed to discuss with me?” He reached upward and rubbed his forehead, wanting desperately for the call to end ASAP.

Aton was quiet for a short spell. Xzion hated that—it meant the man was thinking, analyzing and wanting desperately to break into his brain to read the hidden thoughts. Instead, he offered comfort.

“Yes, please get some rest and I do understand that these next two assignments may take longer or be further delayed due to heavier police presence. Please keep me abreast regardless.”

“I will. Thank you.” Xzion quickly disconnected and sighed as he tried to embrace the fact that he’d lied so easily to Aton, once again. He sat there a while longer, trying to see if he could continuously withstand the sun. It had been hurting his eyes, so he’d covered them—but he didn’t miss the slight smile on her face, as he watched her on the camera when she awoke. The sun pleased her and he wanted to reacquaint himself with it, see why it made her so happy as he opened the curtains, exposing himself to the intense ultra violet rays.

He’d been out in the daytime almost every single day of his earthly stay, but tried his hardest to not be under the direct emissions for an extended period of time. He admitted that the largest star in the galaxy was beautiful from the human’s vantage point, but when it was one’s neighbor, the perspective was quite different. He tossed the sunglasses aside and rose, heading down the hall to his bedroom. He quickly unlocked the door and found his captive in the same spot he’d left her.

“Officer Knight, we need to have a chat. Right
now
.”

****

She looked at him as he walked into the room casually, without a care in the world. Even still, he had a menacing look about him. He wasn’t frowning, but his face was tense, and that made chills run up and down her spine.

He has a cop imprisoned in his home; he has murdered hundreds of people...

She looked back toward the window. She’d been praying, the hardest she’d ever prayed in her entire life. As he drew closer, she forgot to breathe.

“I think we can get along.” she quickly offered as he leisurely approached. She couldn’t stop trying, no matter how fruitless she thought her efforts might be. The longer she stayed, the worse things would get. She knew how kidnappings worked. Your chances of survival plummeted as each day passed but the one advantage of hours spent together was a relationship built, trust developing. It was a double-edged sword and she planned to wield it any opportunity she got. She had to work fast and keep functioning at full capacity, no matter how many fortresses he kept up. Everyone has
something
they want—he couldn’t be any different.

“You don’t need to try any of that reverse psychology stuff on me, Knight. It won’t work and besides, it’s one of my specialties so your efforts would be futile.” He shoved his hand in his pocket as he looked down at her, his brow bunching ever so slightly.

“Well, you must trust me though.” She monitored her tone, made sure it was soft and the sarcastic edginess removed—the exact opposite of her natural manner. “If you didn’t, why didn’t you tie me up again?” She caught his glare.

“You
can’t
get away; I didn’t tie you up out of fear of you escaping.” He smirked. “I tied you up to prevent you from you trying to attack me or destroy my property. I also wanted you to eat; you can’t take in nourishment with your hands bound.” He pointed to her breakfast, still untouched.

“I’m not hungry.” She refused to look at him. When she did, she felt suddenly sleepy all over again, and the sensation unnerved her. Was he trying to read her mind? Sometimes it seemed as if he could. His responses would march two steps ahead of a sentence she never had the damn chance to utter.

He sat down beside her, startling her as his broad shoulder rubbed against her skin.

“Look,” his low voice rumbled close to her ear, “we’ve been toying with one another for weeks now. I just want to have an honest dialogue with you. Unfortunately, I can’t be totally open with you still, but...”

Why is he telling me this? What type of serial killer speaks this way?

“...none of that is neither here nor there. You already know that if I wanted you dead, you’d be gone by now.”

True.

“Myself,” he pointed to his chest, “the people you work for, everything you’ve been told…is an illusion, Knight, totally different from what you believe or a straight out lie. I get nothing out of lying to you or pretending to be something that I’m not. You already know who I am and what I’ve done, but as I’ve had time to really internalize what has transpired, I’m convinced you have no idea what has truly happened to you...and I think you should know.”

“What are you talking about?” She quickly glanced at him and turned back away, but not before seeing him flick his tongue across his lower lip and hearing his deep breaths slow. He was close...so very close to her as warm air escaped from his mouth and caressed the side of her cheek like a fleshy serenade.

Still yearning... He is still turned on...Jesus Christ...if I can’t use it against him, what good is it?!

He sighed loudly and rolled his eyes, as if exasperated already with her alleged ignorance of the shit-storm she’d entered.

“You were set up for failure. Right now, they think you’ve been killed.”

She scowled at him, catching the glimmer in his right eye as it did that strange shiny dance again. She now suspected it was made of glass, possibly even onyx.

As if I’d trust anything a killer such as yourself would tell me...

“Well, it’s obvious you want to have some sort of candid conversation with me but I...” She stopped short.

“That’s not it. I just want you to know the truth—as much as I can tell you, anyway. I don’t kill for fun. I need you to know that.”

But why? Why does he even care what I think? This is getting stranger by the minute...

“This isn’t a sport for me and I’m not crazy. I’m not apologetic about it though, but there is a bigger picture here that you couldn’t possibly understand.”

People that are crazy always say they aren’t, when they are actually certifiably insane. This is good though...give me more...

Her nerves began to calm. She finally had something new she could work with—what that was, she wasn’t exactly sure, but he wanted her trust, and she was going to use that to the best of her ability...

I will show compassion though; I will make him feel comfortable. That is how I will survive this.
She remained quiet for the time being.

“The FBI set you up, Jayme.” He turned more toward her, sitting so closely, she could smell his aftershave. It unnerved her that she found the scent rather pleasant. She delighted in his cleanly-shaved face, though he was just as mesmerizing with his dark scruff. She tried to ignore his exposed chest and tight, muscular arms; the tribal like tattoos running across his knotted flesh in thick, ropey swirls; and the swinging metal dog tags—every time he moved slightly to the left or right, clinking together, sparkling in the breaking sunlight. She didn’t miss the details, as inconsequential as some of them may have been...

Is he is a Marine? That didn’t pop up on his background check...

“In all probability, they were sure you could get close enough to locate me. They told you to not try to take me down by yourself, right? They told you that your police crew was a bungling disaster, no doubt? It’s the same thing each and every time.” He rolled his eyes. “Of course you weren’t supposed to try to take me alone, just like I told you already...but there was more to it than that.” His arm brushed against hers again. Was it by mistake?

Jayme tried to remain expressionless but her heart was pounding and her stomach balled up in lumps and stiff, unyielding coils.

How’d he know this? Was it a lucky guess? Don’t trust him...whatever you do, don’t trust him!

“They never can get close enough to us without being made—we know who they are, almost instantly. It’s like dog feces, you know it when you smell it.” He grinned. “The FBI and CIA have that funk all over them. They reek of it. So they send in cops, local ones that know the terrain, have an advantage, can get people to talk.  They like someone who is ambitious.” He looked her slowly up and down, undressing her with his eyes.

“That’s what my...institute does. Anyone who is seen as someone who could jeopardize the operation is killed. They become a casualty of war. You aren’t the first and you won’t be the last.”

Institute? He works for an organization?

“Since you’re being so honest, may I ask you something?” She looked at him pitifully, her eyes slightly widened as she pouted her lips ever so slightly.

“It depends on what it is...” he said seriously.

“Okay...well, you seem like a nice guy...taking care of me, bringing me food...”

“You don’t see me as a nice guy, Officer Knight. I thought we were going to be honest, here?”

“That may have nothing to do with me. You have been nice to me, that is simply a fact.”

Yeah, keep the bullshit wagon rollin’...

“Why would someone like you commit such crimes?” she continued.

Yeah, say crimes...not murder, makes the guilty feel better, like he only robbed a store or two.

“What I am doing is for survival, not out of hatred or malicious intent.”

“Earlier you said it was an operation and now, you mentioned institution. What institution and operation?” She tried desperately to pretend to be concerned about this evil, twisted world he’d created for himself. Each second that passed, she continued to plot...

Look at him—he actually looks sincere. I bet he truly believes what he is saying to me. This man is a stark raving lunatic.

“I’m not at liberty to answer that.” And with that, he abruptly stood and made his way toward the bedroom door.

She said nothing, and he left her to her own devices for several hours, checking in every so often to offer assorted cool and hot beverages and foods with tantalizing aromas, all of which she rejected. She sat on the edge of the bed, her nerves a complete wreck as she tried to come up with new and improved plans to maintain her survival. Then, he returned, just like that...

*
***

“Let’s change it up a bit,” he offered when he returned to her side several hours later. He ran his fingers leisurely over the clean, snow white tapestry of the tangled sheets. “What if I were to tell you that I can
prove
to you, that you’ve been had?”

He watched her bewilderment deepen, her large, dark eyes turn to slits. Exhaustion was written all over her bewitching face. He wanted to know what she was thinking but one thing was for sure, she was pissed as hell. He cleared his throat, stood, and left her there for several more moments until he returned to see her standing and running her fingers along the window seal. He sighed and shook his head, then set his laptop on the bed where the impression of her rounded rump remained. He curbed his desire to touch that place…

“No need to keep standing there. I’ve seen what you’re up to, and there is no way out. That window is programmed to not open right now. It will not break, facture, or allow your voice to be heard should you scream at your loudest capacity. Don’t believe me, go ahead and try it. I won’t try to stop you.” He crossed his arms and rocked on his heels as if waiting for a bus.

She turned and when their eyes met, the hatred from her overpowered the space. He ran through a gamut of thoughts but certainly, they paled in comparison to her awkward human emotions. She stormed over to the other side of the room, grabbed a steel chair and threw it with all of her might toward the window. It bounced off, lying hard on its side as if the window were made of rubber. Then he saw the utter defeat on her face, cloaking the madness brewing underneath the surface, which caused her to hightail it toward the chair and attempt again with the same brute force.