Page 32 of The Butterfly Killer

“It would be the best outcome,” Mercer said.

Burns snorted. “Apathetic as always.”

“Emotions have never been good for police work. Being impartial gives us the best chance to be the most effective.”

Burns looked over at his partner. He held Mercer’s eyes. “Are you telling me you have no emotional investment in this? You don’t care about Marcus not even a little since working with him?”

Mercer raised a brow. “Are you saying you do?”

Burns turned away. He ran a hand over the bottom of his face. “It doesn’t seem fair. Not after how much he’s already been through.”

The silence that settled in the car made Burns uneasy. He knew Mercer kept his distance from cases. Burns envied that about him. Burns had too much empathy for people. He questioned why he became an agent sometimes, why he set himself up for such failure and misery when he knew he’d carry the job with him for the rest of his life.

“I can’t say I feel the same,” Mercer answered. “But it’s admirable you care that much about a stranger.”

Mercer started the car. As they drove off, Burns tried to not think about what Marcus might be going through at that moment.

9

Marcus’s mouth was dry,his lips slimy from the peeling skin, and his head throbbed from where he’d been slammed into the hood of the car. He clenched his already closed eyes as the pain became worse the more awake he became. If his body had been in a world of hurt before, it was in pure hell now. He let out a strangled whimper as he moved his legs and attempted to sit up.

His arms were tied tightly above his head. He took a deep breath and forced his eyes open though he wanted to stay in the darkness a little longer because it gave him false hope that this was all a horrible nightmare.

This time when he awoke, he wasn’t in some shed. He was lying in a bed, in a…room? It was small, but there was a sink and stove to his left and a curtain made out of different fabrics to his right. His skin was clammy and he wasn’t sure if it was because he was coming down with a fever or if it was just hot in the little room. The ceiling fan whined and groaned as it spun, swaying in a way that made him nervous it would fall on top of him.

He struggled some more to turn on his side. He was confused why it was so hard for him to move his legs and why they felt kind of numb—that was until he looked down.

He let out a strangled and horrified sound. His legs were forced to spread eagle and his feet were tied to the bedposts with more rope. Both of his ankles were swollen and his toes looked like they’d been beaten with a cleaver.

His chest heaved as he no longer could control his rapidly increasing breaths. His rising anxiety made him panic. He struggled harder than before to get up which did nothing for him except make the intense pain all over his body increase times ten.

The curtain pulled back, the metal clips dragging across the rusted pole keeping it up. Marcus went still as a tall man was revealed from behind the curtain.

His eyes winced as a bright light from behind the curtain blinded him. The man leaned over and shut it off. When he did, his face was no longer hidden behind the shadows and Marcus could see him more clearly.

He was taken back by the man’s ethereal beauty. His dark brown wavy hair fell over his shoulders, his mouth was wide, but symmetrical to his face. His dark eyes gazed back at Marcus with no inherent expression.

Marcus’s eyes fell over the man’s body. He wore a black t-shirt stained and torn in some places, jeans that looked in just as bad shape, and tan boots that made his tall frame even larger.

Marcus sucked in a breath as the man took a step toward him.

“Help! Help!” Marcus started screaming his head off, tugging at the ropes binding his hands.

The man quickly crossed the small space between them and slapped his hand over Marcus’s mouth. Marcus whipped his head to the side, freeing his mouth for a second before the mangrabbed a cloth from the crate by the side of the bed and stuffed it into his mouth.

His teeth clamped down on the material. He gagged as the fibers got stuck on his tongue and gathered his spit, making his mouth dry in a couple of seconds. He thrashed his head, pushing at the cloth with his tongue to try and expel it from mouth. The cloth was trapped behind his teeth though and his tongue wasn’t strong enough to push it out.

He stopped with his head turned to the side, facing away from the man. He panted against the cloth then changed to panting from his nose. He took in long ragged breaths. They weren’t deep enough for him to fight off the rising anxiety. His lungs felt as if the little amount of air in them was being wrung out.

His fingers twisted around the ropes that tied his hands to the headboard. Even though sharp pain jolted through him each time, he continued to yank.

The man watched him, looming over the side of the bed. Marcus halted when he realized the man had taken even more interest now that he was fighting as hard as he could to get out of the restraints.

His body went rigid, but his hands went slack as they grabbled at the headboard for whatever purchase they could find. His breaths were even more labored as he felt the man’s eyes slowly look down the expanse of his body.

He couldn’t control the quakes and little trembles that went through him. Time slowed and the pounding in his ears got louder the longer the tension filled silence was let to go on longer.

He flinched when the man’s boots clomped on the floor. The man wasn’t stepping that hard, but Marcus couldn’t get himself to stop focusing on that sound.

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