Skin Tight (24 page)

“Yeah, that’s pretty pathological. If he wasn’t down here torturing us lab rats, he’d be on the streets cutting people into bite-sized pieces.”

“Thing is, this is familiar to me.” Gillie gestured, and he came into the kitchen to serve himself. “There was a serial killer . . . I saw something when I was a kid. I’d only just arrived here. He killed because he was trying to create a lobotomized sex slave.”

“Dahmer,” Taye supplied. “You think Rowan is like him?”

“I think they share certain fantasies. I doubt he could perform with a woman he didn’t perceive as completely submissive.”

He arched a brow. “Should I be worried that you know this stuff?”

“You wouldn’t believe what comes on late-night TV.”

“And you watch it because you don’t like sleeping at night.”

A shudder rolled through her. “No. I don’t want him coming in on me while I’m unaware.”

“No wonder he scares you,” he said quietly. “If he figures out you’re not who you pretend to be—”

“It won’t be pretty. But I’ve done what I must to survive.”

“If his obsession with you ever reaches the next level, he’ll come to your bed.”

Gillie propped her elbows on the table. “I know.”

“And what will you do?” There was a peculiar tension in him now.

“I’ll lie there with doe eyes and take it. I want to see the sun again, Taye. Maybe you’d rather I play the medieval maiden and say I’ll die rather than let him sully my body, but he can’t touch me where it matters. I can put up with anything, as long as it means my freedom in the long run. And once I have it, I’ll never let anyone take it from me again.”

“Relax, I’m not judging you. I think you’re incredibly strong.” He dug into his breakfast, probably starving from the time he’d spent hiding in her bathroom.

She dipped her chin. “Are you being funny?”

“Not at all. Not all strength comes from brute force. Ever heard of the power of passive resistance? Gandhi?”

“I hardly think that comparison is appropriate.”

“Look, Gillie, I insisted on these visits because I wanted to stick it to Rowan. I knew it would get into his craw and chafe. But in the past few weeks, I’ve come to respect you. Not everyone could adapt and thrive as you have. You’re a rare person.” He cut a square of French toast and looked away. “You give me someone besides myself to think about, someone to fight for. I’m not sure what kind of person I was before Rowan worked on me that second time—and from certain fragments of memory, I don’t think I want to know—but I’m not that guy anymore. I could be better, if I only had the chance.”

His intensity moved her. Gillie reached out and covered his hand with her own. “We’re both getting second chances, and we won’t waste them.”

Taye threaded his fingers through hers. They were both pale, but his hand was a good deal larger. Ordinarily, it amused Gillie that he could tweak the cameras to show her sitting alone at the kitchen table, lulling all of Rowan’s suspicions. Now she had the thought that he could do more than hold her hand.

Unlike with Rowan, the contact didn’t give her the creeps. Taye felt warmer than a normal human, as if his gifts fevered him. But his eyes didn’t reflect a febrile glitter. Instead, they were the calm, cool green of tropical waters. She’d seen them many times on cruise line commercials.

“What?” he asked. “Do I have food on my face?”

With his free hand, he wiped his mouth with a napkin as Gillie shook her head. “I was just thinking how lucky I am to have you. Before, I only had inchoate dreams.
Now
we have plans.”

Taye inclined his head and withdrew his hand, leaving her faintly disappointed. “Speaking of which, we need to use our time wisely.”

“Yes, I’m sorry. Your ability isn’t foolproof.” Using electricity, he could manipulate the locks on the cell doors, and not long ago, he’d managed to get himself free. But he wasn’t sure enough of himself to risk their one chance at escape . . . yet. So Taye came to her in these practice runs, bright with the pleasure of sticking it to their captor. Silas knew, of course, but he had his own reasons to hate Rowan. The doctor could compel his obedience but not cooperation; the two differed vastly.

“Nor do I have it wholly under control.” For the first time, his voice reflected a touch of strain, and she realized belatedly that the whole time they’d been talking, he had to concentrate on the cameras. It was a wonder he could communicate at all.

“God, I’m so stupid. Show me walking to the bathroom.”

Taye grasped her intent at once and followed her. Gillie made a habit of checking the toilet for audio bugs, and there was no place to hide a camera. The room was small, but they squeezed in. She helped matters along by stepping into the shower stall. That gave him the space to flip down the toilet lid and take a seat.

“Thanks,” he said. “Now I can focus on you fully.”

Gillie put her back to the wall and slid into a seated position. The tingles his words created—however he’d meant them—signaled sexual attraction. It wasn’t unexpected; he was the only viable potential mate in her social sphere. She had to ignore the feelings, regardless of how intriguing and new they were.

“Good. Now, last time, we established the timeline. You’ve been laying the groundwork with the cameras. How long before we’re ready to go?”

“Another week at least,” he answered. “Possibly two. I’m still working on control. I won’t hurt you when I blow the equipment, and right now I’m not good enough with overload to guarantee your safety.”

“So you keep practicing. What’s my role?”

His mouth twisted. “I need you to keep Rowan distracted. I hate asking you, but—”

“I don’t mind. I’ve been playing to him for years. I can handle another week or two. I just hope I get to show him how wrong he was about me before the end.” Gillie smiled with fierce anticipation.

“I can’t believe I’m saying this, but if comes to a choice between making sure he’s dead and getting out of here, we have to choose the latter.”

“I understand. Freedom is more important than revenge. You can count on me.”

“I’m aware. You have the heart of a lion, Gillie Flynn.”

She didn’t deny it. A lesser soul would’ve broken in the crucible of her life, but hardship had steeled her determination for things not to end here. The world awaited her, and she would do wondrous things.

“Thanks. But you, you give me something I sorely needed.”

“What’s that?” He should have looked absurd, reclining on her toilet. Instead he turned it into a throne. There was a faint, almost perceptible aura of power about him as if through the cruelty of a madman, he had transcended the human condition.

“Faith. For all my dreaming, I don’t know that I could’ve gotten out of here alone.”

At least, not without yielding to Rowan, becoming his creature completely in the hope of once more living in the light. Sickness coiled through her, and she put trembling fingers to her face. She didn’t realize he’d moved until he brushed her hair back.

Gillie didn’t recoil. He crouched before her on the bathroom floor, all concern. You’d never know he could turn an electrical device into chain lightning by looking at him. His tenderness threatened to undo her completely.

“What’s the matter? I’m sorry. I don’t remember how to deal with people. Did I do something wrong?”

“No,” she whispered. “You do everything right. You’re the
only
thing that’s right.”

And then she kissed him.

After a series of
e-mails, Mia and Kelly decided to hang out. The other woman said there wasn’t much local color, even on Saturday, but they could both use a break. It would do Mia good to spend a night with a girlfriend, just uncomplicated fun. That might even allow her to forget about the puzzling man who drew her so fiercely against her will. For a little while, anyway. It would probably be better if she could put him out of her mind entirely, but that wasn’t likely to happen.

Making plans with Kelly distracted Mia from the progress she wasn’t making at Micor . . . and a man who could break her heart. Søren still hadn’t called after their failed spy mission, so maybe he’d decided she had nothing more to offer him. If she wanted to play the scorned woman, she could make life difficult for him, but she couldn’t summon the desire. Each time she thought of him, she saw his little girl. It was hard to sustain any outrage when she knew how much he’d suffered already.

Mia hopped from her rental and strode up the gravel walk. The porch creaked as she walked across it. Though she respected Kelly’s dream of restoration, she couldn’t share the enthusiasm. Mia thought houses built before 1900 were creepy, as if they’d soaked up too much energy over the years. As far as old things went, she liked antique furniture, but she wanted a new house to put it in.

The property seemed more than usually quiet, no signs of life from within. Though it was twilight, the bruised sky darkening from blue to purple, no lights shone from any of the windows. No music played. No TV. A chill crawled down her spine.

She knocked. “Kelly?”

Maybe there was a good reason for the other woman not to be here.
She went shopping and lost track of time? I’m three minutes early.

Deep down, she knew that wasn’t it. Mustering her nerve, she tried the doorknob. It turned. The chill turned into an icy deluge. This was so not right. Gulping a breath, she nudged the door open slightly and saw that the runner in the hallway was rumpled, and a lamp lay smashed at the foot of the stairs. Mia turned and sprinted for her car, got in, and locked the doors. With shaking hands, she got out her cell phone and dialed 911.

“Nine one one, what’s the nature of your emergency?”

“I’m at my friend’s house. I was supposed to meet her here, but the lights are off, and the door’s unlocked, and there are signs of a struggle.”

“What’s the address, please?”

Mia gave it.

“Did you go in, ma’am? Do you suspect the intruder may still be in the house?”

“No. I went back to my car. I’m on my cell phone.”

“Yes, I can see that. I’ll have an officer on scene soon. There’s a deputy patrolling nearby. Don’t get out of your car until he arrives. If you feel you might be in danger, wait down the road for him.”

“Okay.” Mia clenched her free hand in her lap, watching the house. If she saw so much as a shadow, she was out of here.

“What’s your name, ma’am?”

“Mia Sauter.”

“And you said you’re a friend of the woman who lives there?”

“Yes.” Well, sort of. Could be.

“Do you need me to stay on the line with you until the deputy arrives?”

Did she? Maybe she was freaking out over nothing. “No, I’m sure I’ll be fine.”

“The deputy will be with you shortly. Don’t worry.” The operator terminated the connection, presumably to take another call.

Thus began the longest five minutes of Mia’s life. It seemed like forever until she saw the blue and red lights flashing in her rearview mirror. A tall, lean deputy wearing a tan uniform and a hat climbed out of the patrol car. Paranoid, Mia waited until he flashed ID at her window, despite the car. She read the badge—“Deputy Morris”—before she joined him.

“You reported a break-in here?”

“Yeah.” And she was hoping for nothing worse. Mia repeated what she’d told the 911 operator, and Morris nodded.

“I’ll take a walk through and check it out. People don’t always lock their doors out here. They think crime doesn’t happen in the country.” He shook his head over such foolishness. “Then drifters come through, find easy pickings, and clean the place out.”

“Should I wait outside?” She didn’t want to sit in her car with full dark falling and no city lights to dispel the shadows.

“On the porch, please, ma’am.”

She walked up with him, and to her great joy, the porch lights came on. “Do you think that was Kelly?”

Morris glanced up and shook his head. “No, these are motion-activated after dark. Let me just take a look inside. I’ll be right back, but holler if you need me.”

Five minutes passed before he returned, and all the while, her foreboding grew. When the deputy stumbled out onto the porch, looking green and queasy, she knew. But she shook her head anyway at the horror she saw in his face.

“I’m sorry,” he said quietly. “I need to call this in.”

Mia followed on his heels like a puppy. His calmness was keeping her from breaking down, so she figured she’d better stay close. She was surprised to hear him use plain English when describing the situation to Dispatch.

“I need the county coroner on scene immediately. Looks like a burglary-turned-homicide when the homeowner interrupted the perp.” Morris turned then, intercepting her puzzled look. “We retired the codes after 9/11. Different counties had different codes, and it hampered our ability to respond to real emergencies. I’m afraid I’m going to have to ask you some questions. Want to get in the squad car where it’s warmer?”

“Sure.”

Once they’d settled in the front seat, he got out his notepad. “How long did you know Ms. Clark?”

“Not long. A few weeks. I worked with her.”

“But you became friendly on the job?”

“Yes. We were going to hang out tonight.”

“So you came to her residence at the appointed time and . . .” He trailed off, inviting her to fill in the blanks.

“The house was really quiet, and I knew we were supposed to meet. I tried the door. Saw the rug and the lamp, and I called nine one one.”

“You didn’t go upstairs?”

“No, I just had—” She broke off, feeling foolish.

“A bad feeling? There’s nothing wrong with trusting your gut. Turns out you were right. Lucky you didn’t show up any earlier. You might’ve surprised the perp.”