Page 9 of Killing Emma

“Yeah, well, that didn’t work out so well, did it?”

“No.” I let out a breath and toss my mask to the passenger seat. I wipe the sweat from my forehead. “How many days do we have?”

“Thirty-six to ensure she’s dead, so that means you have thirty-six days to play, tiger. I can’t wait to see her up close. I’m glad you finally gave in. Ivan does this shit all the time.”

I grimace. “Ivan does a lot of things.”

“Yeah, and he’s everything I aim to be one of these days.”

“Hmm,” is all I can say. I hate Ivan—and it’s not because he was my mentor’s partner. It’s because he has no loyalty to anyone, and he showed those cards years ago when I lost the only person I’ve ever cared about.

“I’ll help you move her when you get back.”

I bristle at the offer. “No, I can get it. She might be dead by the time we get back, anyway. You know how well I do with chloroform.”

“Why the fuck did you use that?”

My jaw grows tight. “No other choice. She almost got away.”

Manny cackles obnoxiously. “That little thing? You have to be joking. She’s a third of your size, Luca. You could snap her in half.”

I don’t answer him as the airport comes into view. Manny is always slightly annoying, but tonight I’m frayed. I gifted my prey with an orgasm, and her slinking away from me makes me physically ill—and even more determined to break her apart.

If she survives.

The rural airstrip is privately owned, and because of that, no questions are asked as I pull up next to a black SUV. While annoying, Manny always comes through for me.

I don’t even cut the engine as I grab my shit and climb out, nodding to the sketchy looking man waiting for me. My jet’s engines are already firing, and it’s a good thing. I sling the backpack over my shoulder and walk around to the back of the Land Rover. I pop the back hatch and gaze down at the figure beneath the blankets.

“Don’t trust him,” Manny says in my ear. “He’s a car contractor.”

“Got it.” I sweep Emma up in my arms, leaving the blanket across her. I can’t risk him seeing her—or worse, recognizing her. I feel Emma’s light breaths against my chest as I walk right past the guy. For some reason, her still being alive brings me startling relief.

I trot up the steps of the jet, and slip to the back room, laying Emma down on the bed. “I’ll see you when we get home,” I say to Manny, and then hang up before he can respond. I pull out the earbud and shove it into the backpack as I hear the doors close.

My eyes sweep over Emma, the blanket covering all of her but her face. I think it’s safe to assume that I didn’t kill her, but I’m not convinced that it wouldn't have been better if she was dead.

She’s going to wish she was when I’m done with her.

My cock throbs as I take in the delicate rise of her cheek bones, the perfectly feminine nose, and the soft expression on her unconscious face. My darkest demons are screaming in my ears to satisfy myself—to tug those shorts right off and take what I want.

But that’s not what I want.

I can get pussy anytime. There’s something more intriguing to this woman than her ability to arouse me. It’s the way she seems dead inside until she’s inches from losing her life. Only then, does she seem to awaken and fight. I’ve never seen a woman so dull in the eyes act this way. It’s as if she’s broken on a surface level, and that’s a phenomenon I’ve never encountered. Is her brokenness a façade? Or is she merely unaware of her own will to survive?

Biting down on the inside of my cheek, I mull it over for a few moments, and then leave her in the bedroom, shutting the door behind me. I won’t show Emma Nightingale any mercy over the next however-long I decide to keep her alive. She might be feisty, cunning, and beautiful, but I still want to fucking destroy her.

And I have thirty-six days to accomplish it.

Chapter Five

Emma

What the hell…

My head throbs as my eyes flutter open, adjusting to the dim lighting around me. My neck aches as I lift my head, cramping from the weight of my skull hanging, my chin resting against my chest. I wince as I straighten it, taking a ragged breath. I blink, and as my vision clears, I realize I’m sitting in a chair, bound to it.

I search the room around me, the haze keeping the panic at bay. It looks like I’m in some sort of studio apartment? Only, it’s missing windows. There’s none in my viewing range, and the place is bare. Nothing hangs on the putrid dark green walls, illuminated by a warm glowing lamp. It’s musky, and the air is stale.

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