Page 23 of Wicked Little Nightmare

I turned back to our captive, cocking my head with a Cheshire grin. "C'mon, sugar. Don't keep a girl waiting. You know how impatient I can get."

And wasn't that the understatement of the century? But Skeeter didn't need to know just how badly I was itching to make him scream. Not yet anyway.

The real fun was just beginning.

Skeeter's eyes darted wildly, like a trapped animal searching for an escape that didn't exist. I could practically smell the fear oozing from his pores. It was intoxicating.

"I-I know where the Almines are," he stammered, voice cracking. "But... but Janine's remarried now. And John... John's dead. Heart attack."

My grin faltered, a scowl creeping across my face. Well, shit. That wasn't part of the plan. I'd been looking forward to a little reunion with dear old John. Guess karma beat me to the punch.

"Dead, huh?" I mused, tapping a finger against my lips. "That's... disappointing."

Skeeter nodded frantically, words tumbling out in a desperate rush. "Janine lives nearby. New husband. They've even got a foster kid now. But I swear, they're not hurting the child. They're different now, I promise!"

A laugh bubbled up from my chest, sharp and bitter. I waved my hand dismissively, cutting off his pathetic excuses.

"Oh, honey," I cooed, leaning in close enough to feel his panicked breath on my cheek. "You really expect me to believe that leopard changed its spots? Please."

My mind whirled with this new information. Janine, playing happy family? As if she could ever be anything but a monster. And now there was another kid involved? History repeating itself in the worst way.

I locked eyes with Cam, a silent conversation passing between us. Time to change tactics.

"Well, Skeeter," I purred, my smile all teeth. "Looks like we've got ourselves a field trip to plan."

Cam stepped forward, his towering frame casting a shadow over our informant. The air in the bathroom seemed to thicken, and I shivered as goosebumps broke out over my skin. This was always my favorite part.

"Now, let's talk about the Nuns," Cam said, his voice smooth as silk and twice as dangerous. "Where are they hiding these days?"

I watched Skeeter's face drain of color, his head shaking in a silent, frantic refusal. The fear etched into every line of his face was almost beautiful. Almost.

"Come on, man," I coaxed, running a finger along his jaw. "Don't clam up on us now. We were having such a nice chat. Yousaid before you didn’t know, and considering Father Christopher met with you, I’d say you do. Or at least, know how to contact them. C’mon, babe, just give me a little hint."

Cam's dark eyes glittered with malice as he grabbed those fat cheeks and squeezed before releasing and slapping him lightly. "I'd listen to the lady if I were you."

Skeeter's lips quivered, but no sound came out. I sighed dramatically. "Well, can't say we didn't try the nice way."

Without warning, Cam's hand flashed out. The knife glinted in the dim light, and then—

Skeeter's scream filled the room, a raw sound of agony that bounced off the tiles and burrowed into my bones. I couldn't tear my eyes away from the thin strip of skin dangling from Skeet’s face.

"Jesus," I breathed, equal parts joyful and aroused. Cam's capability for violence never failed to send a thrill through me. "Warn a girl next time, would ya?"

Cam's lips curled into a smirk. "Where's the fun in that, baby?"

I giggled, the sound mingling with Skeeter's whimpers. His face poured blood, splashing onto his chin and dribbling down his neck, soaking his shirt. It was beautiful and part of me wondered what he would look like if his whole face looked like that. This… this poetic violence was why Cam and I worked so well together. Two broken pieces forming one perfect, jagged whole. If he wanted to jump, I’d tell him how high. If I needed to jump, he’d bend down so I could use him to vault the stars.

Skeeter's sobs echoed off the bathroom tiles, a pathetic soundtrack to our little interrogation. I leaned in close, my sweet perfume mingling with the coppery scent of blood.

"Aw, come on now," I cooed, patting my fingers on his sweat-soaked head. "No need for waterworks. Just tell us what we want to know, and this can all be over."

Skeeter's tear-filled eyes met mine, desperation radiating off him in waves. "I-I'll talk," he choked out. "Please, just... no more."

I felt a rush of triumph. God, I loved it when they broke.

"The group home," he gasped, words tumbling out in a frantic rush. "Everything you need to know is there. Where Lakey stayed. During Cam's time in the clink. It's all there, I swear!"

My body went rigid. That hellhole where I'd rotted while Cam was locked away. Where nightmares were born. How did he know about that? How did he know I stayed there?

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