Page 58 of Knight's Fall

She’d also learned not answering him or trying to fool him with a lie only angered him. Those were the times he’d cut deep enough to create wounds that would leave scars if she survived. The loss of blood and the lack of food and water made her weak and groggy. She struggled to remain awake because the moment she drifted off, he forced her awake with a brutal slap to her face.

“No. It’s me. I’m stupid. I thought…you were harmless. And old. Someone’s grandpa.”

Malcolm smiled, pure evil radiating from his face. “My personas help me. I fly under the radar, so to speak. It allows me to complete my work to my clients’ satisfaction.”

She forced her eyes to raise and pierce him with a hard stare. “Why me? If we have this…amazing connection you keep talking about…why hurt me? Who hired you to do this?”

Courtlyn asked her questions before, early on when he first started cutting her. He spread the cuts out, starting with her legs, then her arms, and her torso. He’d thankfully left her face alone except for the slaps he used when he wanted her complete attention. Her lips were split, and she was certain her skin around her jaw and cheekbones already showed the discoloration of bruises.

He also talked, waxing poetic about his “work.” The more he shared with her, the more she’d drawn two conclusions: the man was a cold-blooded killer willing to take any life for the right price and he only shared with her who he was and what he did because he knew she would never live to tell another soul.

If she was going to die, she wanted to know why. Who would hire Malcolm to torture and kill her? Why would someone target her — a nobody cook with luck that ran hot and cold?

She’d been on a hot streak finding and falling for Wings. Then it ran cold when she found Malcolm killing another man who had been the reason he’d come to Grayson Cove. He’d bitched about how her sudden appearance cut his job short. The man’s partner had wanted him killed and paid more to have the man disappear altogether.

The man was a fun case, Malcolm had bragged, attempting to fight the killer at every turn until the torture became too intense. Malcolm described how the man begged for his life, how he shared about his love for his family in the hope of appealing to the killer’s softer side, a side that didn’t exist. Malcolm whined that he’d run out of time to play with the man, making his disposal of the man’s body rushed. But he achieved his goal, he was quick to assure her. He always completed his job.

For all of his bragging, Malcolm hadn’t explained how she’d become his target. In a small way, she was relieved. She suspected once he put her curiosity to rest, he would finish what he started. Everything would slip away from her.

She had no plans to go quietly, not when she had so much to live for, but she was in poor shape to launch an escape. She was hurting and weak, and Malcolm was younger and stronger than she’d realized. Unless her luck took one more turn toward the good, she had little hope.

“Want to know…what I think?” Her words were slurred, the blood loss weakening her too much to be coherent.

He cocked his head to the side, and she could see she intrigued him. “So you have a theory. You think you have figured out what makes me tick.”

Her breathing was labored, and talking only made that worse. She took a couple of long breaths to slow her breathing and bring a modicum of relief from the pain of her knife wounds.

“No. I won’t…u-understand…why you are…the way you are,” she wheezed. “But it probably…has something…to do with a…bully.”

“Interesting. I hate to disappoint you, Courtlyn, but I’ve never had a bully.”

She hated the way he said her name, all possessive and condescending. Oh for the strength to at least kick him in the balls before he killed her…

“She c-called you Mac. You…hated it. Told her to s-stop.”

“She? You think I was bullied by a woman? Don’t be stupid.”

She smiled for the first time since she woke in this room. She was taking a shot in the dark, expecting him to laugh at her outlandish claim. Instead, he was angry, telling her by his reaction that she’d hit a nerve.

“You loved h-her. Or…wanted…her. S-she played along and…h-h-humiliated you. Y-you h-heard…S-S-Sissy call me…that. Decided that c-connected us. But I can’t f-f-figure…out why…y-you’re hurting m-me.”

He turned away, and she took a moment to close her eyes. The image of Wings hovered at the forefront of her mind. He would want her to fight. He would want her to do everything to get back to him even if she failed. She wouldn’t disappoint him. She only hoped he would somehow know that she fought until her last breath for him.

She opened her eyes to find Malcolm staring at her, once again the composed killer bent on remaining in control.

“Did your boyfriend teach you that? Talk a big game to throw me off mine? It’s a smart tactic and would probably work on most.”

“W-what do you…know about…my b-boyfriend?”

He picked up one of the smaller knives he kept on the table. Courtlyn braced herself. The cut that was coming would be shallow, but considering she had so many on her body already, she tensed and wondered where he would put the next slice.

“It’s a bit cliché, isn’t it? The shy, average girl being seduced by the ripped, good-looking alpha male who’s probably only using her for sex. I would have thought better of you, Courtlyn.”

“I w-would have t-th-thought better…of you. H-how do y-you know…I d-d-didn’t seduce him?”

He paused in his approach, his hand loosely holding the knife in midair in front of him. “Well done. Challenge my conclusion, so I question myself. You are sharper than I originally gave you credit for. I knew you would be worth my time. You’re different from the others, as I knew you would be. I wish things could be different for us, but you left me with no choice.”

Turning back to his table, he replaced the knife. Courtlyn wanted to be relieved. She’d managed to put off his next cut, but if he wasn’t going to cut her, what was he planning to do?

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