Her Dying Breath (18 page)

A brief look of surprise flitted across his father’s face before he masked it. “How can you believe anything that poor disturbed woman says?”

“The thing is, Commander, I do believe her.” Brenda squared her shoulders. “Nick also showed me the note you received.” She removed her phone, then flipped it around for him to see. “I received this message. I think it’s from the same person.”

Another smile creased the Commander’s face. “And you believe I know who this is?”

“Yes, I do,” Brenda said calmly.

His father stood and faced Brenda. “You’re working with my son Nick, aren’t you?” A seething rage darkened his father’s eyes. “That’s why you came, not to understand me or report my version.”

Brenda stood as well, her posture confident. “The person who contacted me killed a man and sent me a note telling me where to find him. She said she’d left a present for you.”

“She?” the Commander said.

“Yes,
she
,” Brenda said. “I believe you call her Seven. Tell me about her. Why was she your favorite?”

“Ahh, my favorites. You should ask Nick about that.”

Brenda narrowed her eyes.

But his father’s tone made Nick’s skin crawl. He wanted to yank Brenda out of there before the situation spiraled out of control.

“Tell me where she is, Commander, before she kills again.”

Anger hardened the Commander’s eyes, and his chains clanked as he moved closer to Brenda. “You want to know about Seven?”

Brenda lifted her chin. “Yes, I do. I want to help her.”

“Seven was a good girl. She did what I said.” He raked his gaze over Brenda. “But you don’t obey your father, do you, Brenda?”

“I have a mind of my own,” Brenda said. “But you tried to destroy Amelia’s mind and free will. Is that what you did to Seven, too?”

“Oh, Seven thinks for herself,” he said. “She was one of my strongest. She fought every test.”

Rage heated Nick’s blood at the cruelty the woman must have suffered.

“In fact, she was a lot like Nick,” the Commander said. He lifted his eyes toward the camera in the corner. “I know he’s here. He wouldn’t let you talk to me if he wasn’t watching.”

Nick’s breath caught in his chest. His father was escalating, wanting to make a point.

He needed to extricate Brenda from the situation.

Brenda lifted a defiant chin. “He’s not like you. He wants to save lives, not take them.”

“He’s more like me than you know, Brenda.” His father suddenly lunged toward her, pressing her against the wall. “But you don’t see that, because you’re fucking him, aren’t you? That’s why you’re here. You’re fucking him, and he put you up to interviewing me, hoping I’d smell your cunt and spill my guts.”

Nick stormed into the room. His father had Brenda pinned, his handcuffed hands around her neck.

“Let go of her,” Nick barked.

The Commander laughed and tightened his hands around Brenda’s throat. “See, I knew he’d run to your rescue.”

Nick didn’t care if he had played into the bastard’s game.

He’d kill him before he let him hurt Brenda.

The new voice called herself Rachel.

“Just look at these paintings of naked people,” she shouted. “You’re a sinner, Amelia. A whore.”

“No, I’m not,” Amelia cried. “It’s Viola.”

“You’re Viola.” Rachel jerked the paintings from where she’d hidden them when Sadie and Jake and Nick visited, then raised the knife in her hand.

“They have to be destroyed,” Rachel said as she punctured the face of a woman on one of the canvases. “Just like you do.”

“I’m not going to let you take over,” Amelia shouted.

Rachel raised the knife and slashed the painting again and again, ripping through canvas, tearing the couple depicted apart.

The knife went too far, and the point slashed her wrist. She stared at the blood trickling down her arm and watched it drip onto the tattered canvas.

Ahh, the pain was easing. Another slice, and more blood, thick, red, pulsing with life. Emptying her agony onto the floor.

Rachel began to pray over her. To beg for forgiveness for her transgressions.

Amelia pricked her wrist with the knife again, her eyes glued to the blood dripping down her arm.

Yes, she felt freer already.

N
ick grabbed his father, jerked him away from Brenda, then spun him around. His father used his weight to anchor himself, then swung up his hands in a fight position.

Behind them, Brenda gasped for air, fueling Nick’s rage, and he launched into combat mode, kicked his father’s hands down, flipping him around and throwing him into a chokehold.

Just enough pressure, and the bastard would pass out.

A little more, and he’d be dead.

Nick squeezed harder, his father’s grating laugh booming through the room.

Harder and harder, a little more force, and he’d never have to hear that sinister voice again.

Brenda yanked at his arms. “Nick, stop—please, stop now.”

“He tried to kill you!” Nick shouted as he increased the pressure on his father’s neck.

“This is what he wants,” Brenda cried. “Don’t do it. Don’t play into his hands.”

It took a few seconds for her words to register. But she was right.

He released his father and shoved him to the floor. The Commander looked up at him with a smug grin. “I told you, Nick, you are like me.”

Nick shook his head, but he couldn’t deny the truth. He’d never wanted anything more than to make the son of a bitch suffer and put an end to his infernal manipulations.

Brenda touched his arm. “Come on, Nick. We’re finished here for the day.”

“Women make you weak, Nick. Don’t forget that, and fall into the same trap your brother did,” the Commander said as he pushed himself up to stand.

“My brother is twice the man you are,” Nick said.

Brenda snatched her recorder. “If you find your humanity and decide to continue our interview and tell me who the remaining subjects were, give me a call.”

Nick stepped to the door, yelled for the guard, took Brenda’s elbow, and ushered her through security and outside.

Brenda tried to hide how shaken she was by Arthur Blackwood, especially since she’d pressured Nick for a personal interview.

Perspiration trickled down Nick’s forehead as he strode toward the car. She’d never seen him lose control like this. She could hear his teeth grinding.

She rubbed at her neck, still straining to suck air in through her aching vocal cords. “Nick…”

“Get in the car.”

Brenda dropped into the seat while Nick did the same. But instead of starting the engine, he turned to her, raked her hair back, and examined her neck.

“Nick…”

“He could have killed you.” His dark eyes flared. “I’m taking you to the hospital.”

“Nick…” Brenda caught his hand as he reached for the keys. “Stop. I’m okay. I don’t need to go to the hospital.”

When he slanted his eyes back to her, pain and other emotions she couldn’t quite define glittered in his eyes. “For God’s sake, he tried to strangle you.”

“But he didn’t.” Still, a shudder rippled up her spine at the memory of the attack. “I’m fine. Really.”

“I never should have allowed you to go in there with him alone.” He traced a finger over the marks on her neck.

Brenda gripped his hand in hers. “You couldn’t have stopped me—I wanted that interview, and you know it.”

“Maybe. But you’re not going to see him again,” Nick said. “Not ever.”

“Nick—”

“I mean it—I won’t let him hurt you.” He pulled her into his arms and held her. “You’re trembling.”

“I’m sorry. I’m just rattled, that’s all.” For a brief second, Brenda allowed herself to lean into him. To accept his comfort.

After the attack, Nick felt so strong. Safe.

“You have nothing to be sorry about,” he murmured against her hair.

She rubbed slow circles across his chest, savoring the feel of his heart beating wildly below her ear.

“I thought I had him,” she said, trying for bravado.

“He used you to get to me,” Nick said in a tortured voice.

Brenda nodded, then lifted her face and looked up at him. His dark eyes latched on to hers. Their breathing echoed in the silence. She trembled again, then dug her fingers into his chest.

He groaned, then lowered his head and closed his mouth over hers.

Brenda parted her lips in invitation. The first touch of his mouth stirred desires that she’d managed to keep from him for years.

Because she’d craved this kiss since she was a teenager. She couldn’t believe it was finally happening.

And she didn’t want it to end.

Nick drove his tongue into Brenda’s mouth, deepening the kiss and pulling her closer against him.

She was the bravest, most infuriating,
sexiest
woman he’d ever met.

And she was driving him crazy.

Lust sizzled through his veins. The need to have her, to hold her, to taste every inch of her, rose inside him like a beast.

He stroked her back, one hand sliding around to tug at the buttons of her blouse as he dipped his head and kissed her neck. She moaned softly, her hands threading into his hair, lifting her body as if to offer herself to him.

He couldn’t resist. His tongue trailed in a sensuous line down her neck, then lower to nip at the delicate skin above her breasts, where he’d parted the fabric. She tugged at his shirt, making his blood run hotter, and he eased the lacy edge of her bra aside and closed his mouth over one ripe nipple.

Her breath rushed out, and she moaned, the two of them frantic as she raked her hands across his chest. A button popped, and her fingers danced across his skin in an erotic tease.

He leaned into her, half climbing over the seat. He had to have her. Had to be inside her.

Suddenly the sound of another car broke into the sexual haze clouding his brain. Fuck. He was acting like a randy teenager.

He eased his hold on Brenda, then slowly lifted his mouth from her breast. His sigh sounded just as desperate as he felt. The last thing he wanted to do was stop.

He wanted to take Brenda right here in the car, in the middle of the prison parking lot.

Very romantic, Nick. You’re a classy guy
.

Disgust filled him, and he began buttoning her blouse. Why not maul her in the prison hallway?