Page 53 of Twisted

Lindsay was sleeping with Carter.

The deduction was easy to make.

The beautiful golden haired Lindsay simpered, a sick glint entering her eyes, the twist of her mouth indicating that she was livid, even though Maisie knew she didn’t have a right to be, not in this situation.

“Who’s the daddy?” Lindsay drawled, amber beer bottle raised to her lips as she jutted her hip out. Face burning in shame and fear and utter repulsion, Maisie kept quiet.

“Drop it, Linds.”

Maisie was surprised that Carter was defending her, in however small a way.

“Oh, no, baby, I don’t think I will drop it,” she said, voice dripping in venom. Randy, knocked from his state of shock, shook his head and gripped Lindsay’s arm. With the fire at her back, Maisie had nowhere to go to escape the three villains.

Lindsay took a threatening step forward.

“You fucking my husband?” She hissed through clenched teeth in Maisie’s face. With an incredulous snort, Maisie answered.

“Fucking? If that’s what that bastard wants to call what he did to me, then fine. I want nothing to do with any of you three for the rest of my fuckin’ life.”

About to move, to flee this night and this home and this life, she was stopped by Lindsay’s arm.

“No, you ain’t runnin’ from this until I know you’re gonna take care of it and not say a damn thing.”

“She will, Linds, we’ve discussed it,” Carter interjected. Maisie turned her eyes to his, the betrayal she felt more potent than poison in her veins.

“You don’t dictate my life anymore, Carter. And Lindsay? Have fun fucking a man who can’t get it up half the time. I hope you and Randy rot in hell—”

There was the distinctive smashing of glass. A flash of amber catching the light of the fire and blinding Maisie for a moment. And then, the searing pain.

Screaming at the burning sting on her cheek and upper lip, Maisie fell to the floor, reaching shaky hands up to her blood coated face to better hold her skin together. Adrenaline pumping through her, the tang of coppery blood didn’t deter her, and neither did the feel of her loose skin against her fingertips. Chaos swirled around her. Darkness threatened to consume.

And as she huddled in a broken heap on the floor, her only thought through the pain and humiliation was simple: blood would stain her hands again, but the next time, it wouldn’t be hers.

Maisie

Present Day

Jaeger had been gone for hours, cleaning up her mess in the woods. He’d left her with a phone in case of an emergency, but she had no one she wanted to call. She’d talked to her parents yesterday; her aunt was losing her battle with cancer, so they were distracted from the chaos of Maisie’s life. As for Marie, she was too busy raising two kids and clutching onto her career at the science company to lend much attention to her little sister’s issues. They all believed the lies, the detectives; things were smoothing out as the trial drew near, and though they seemed worried about Maisie, they were just as worried about their own lives.

She sat on the porch, freshly showered, cup of coffee in her hands. It was so serene out here, so peaceful, to the point where she could finally relax for the first time since meeting Carter. Although there were still hurdles to jump over, she felt…good, and the notion was almost jarring. Lifting the chipped mug to her lips, she took a deep sip and smiled.

Falling asleep after a good fuck and an even better cry had been strangely cathartic. She hated Jaeger, for he made her feel things she tried not to feel, painful things, but afterward—after he expelled her demons—she felt safe, at peace. He was such an enigma. She hardly knew him, yet he knew her, and there was sort of a comfort in that. She didn’t have to try, didn’t have to pretend with him.

She was insane, she knew, for letting this stranger dictate her actions and life, but he wasn’t Carter, or Randy. He was something entirely his own, something new and bright and vibrant and young and dangerous and gentle. Her attraction to him was growing past what she felt was safe, and much too quickly, but she couldn’t reign in her emotions around him.

Something about his words, his actions, that damn impish smile, his duality—it sang to her, and she’d never felt more herself or more free.

Sly grin creeping onto her lips, her eyes scanned the dense forest, fresh and verdant after all the rain the night before. This morning…God, her thighs could barely touch without quivering. She’d awoken rather blissfully, with his head between her legs and his fingers deep within her. And after? He’d turned on the shower for her, giving the old unit enough time to warm as he made her a pot of coffee to her liking…before he fucked her standing up from behind in the shower.

There was no running from him, not anymore. She didn’t know why, but she trusted him; he was steadfast and able to handle her outbursts and insanity, and the fact that she was a murderer seemed to mean little to him. There was no one else in the world like him, she knew in her heart. Whatever she faced, she finally had someone that was unequivocally on her side.

In two day’s time, they’d venture into downtown Charlotte to Carter’s office and find the hard drive. She knew he needed something on it, otherwise he wouldn’t have tortured her sweetly for that information, but she didn’t care; he could have it and all the dirty secrets it harbored, as long as she walked free and Lindsay rotted.

He’d asked what Maisie wanted for dinner, promising to return this evening after tidying up the loose ends. Before she’d answered, he’d smirked and held up his hand.

“Chinese, huh?”

“How the hell—”

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