Page 15 of Psycho

Dane chuckled, “I told him not to actually hand deliver you the proof.” His sick laugh sounded again, “Hand deliver—get it?”

“He gave herbody parts?” Peyton cried and then gagged, “I think I’m going to puke.”

“Hang up!” I yelled and retched again. The last thing we needed was an audible puking war to keep us both going.

“Olivia!” Maddox bellowed from the front door, and I groaned, as a cold sweat broke out over my skin.

“Go away!” I yelled and then retched again.

“Damnit.” He appeared at the doorway and moved behind me, kneeling at my back and pulling my hair out of the spray as I heaved again. “I’m sorry, Storm.”

“Fingers!” I gasped, “You gave me fingers!”

“Would you have preferred the entire skull?”

Gag. At least this time, there was nothing left to join it.

“Shh,” He ran his hand over my back as I pathetically laid my head back down. “I’m sorry.”

I flushed the toilet, desperate not to let him see the mess, and then slowly lifted my head. “It’s okay.” I sighed, “I did say I wanted the head. I just didn’t think you would actually do it.”

He chuckled softly and then grabbed a washcloth from the stand next to the sink and ran cold water over it. “Here.”

I wiped my mouth and then flipped it over and cooled my face with it before finally looking over my shoulder at the man. “Morning sickness is a bitch.”

He put his hands under my arms and helped me stand up before leading us out of the bathroom. “Couch or bed?”

“Pickles.” I replied, and he scoffed.

“Excuse me?”

“Pickles are the only thing I want right now. But I’m all out.”

“I gave you a giant jar of them a few days ago.” He led me to the couch, and I curled up under my favorite blanket. At least this time, I had been prepared for guests and was fully clothed. Though the way he had looked at me last time in my thin nightshirt made me feel warm and fuzzy all over.

“I ate all of them that day. And it’s not as if I can just go to the store.”

“Why can’t you?” He shook his head.

“Because I’m a prisoner!”

“Jesus, woman.” He rubbed his hand over his beard and sighed, “You have to vocalize your needs to me if you want me to figure them out. I’m way out of my pay grade right now. But you have to tell me if you want or need something so I can make it happen.”

“I’m sorry.” I pouted, feeling stupid for needing something I should be able to provide for myself.

“Stay put. I’ll be right back.”

“Wait,” I called when he walked to the front door, afraid he was about to go to the store all for a jar of pickles. “You don’t have to—”

The door shut in response, and I sagged into the couch.Crap.My eyes scanned the room and landed on the red shoe box still on my counter and I covered my nose with my blanket and sank further into it. The fingers were still on my kitchen counter.

“Here.” Maddox came back in, with two giant jars of pickles in his hands, and he paused when he saw me hiding. “What?”

I pointed with just my nose at the counter. “Fingers.”

“Oh, yeah.” He set the jars down and then carried the box out to the hallway and set it on the floor before coming back in. “Sorry.”

He picked up one jar and a fork from the drawer and came back to the living room. He sat down on the couch next tome and I hated how fucking normal it felt to share a piece of furniture with the man after everything else that happened. Yet there we were, chilling like he hadn’t killed a man for me and gave me his fingers.

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