Page 25 of Somebody's Watching Me
Jamison tried to scan him for clues to his identity, but try as she might, she couldn’t peel her eyes off Simone who lay spasming on the ground as if she were having a seizure.
“Don’t worry,” the man continued, drawing her attention to him as he skimmed fingertips down the long length of her hair. “They’ll wake sore and with a headache in the morning but not much else.”
Pulling his mask away, he stood unburdened by the hood, and even in the dark, she could tell he was handsome. Messy light brown hair framed chiseled features that, in other circumstances, she would have stopped to take notice. He was in his mid-thirties or perhaps younger. The cocky grin and jaded arrogant glint in his eyes made it hard to tell for sure.
The woman joined them, holding a third syringe, but he held up a hand. “Give me a second, Denise.”
Denise nodded, removing her mask. Like the man, she appeared to be in her mid-thirties but didn’t hold the same level of uniqueness as him.Instead, she looked like every other female member of Toby’s followers. Drab and dull, with nothing extraordinary about her.
“They’re people who so desperately want to belong,” Liam’s father had explained when the group first formed. Will Cohen constantly tried to stay on top of Zanmi’s movements, utterly fascinated by them. “Some may have succeeded in life, but it wasn’t enough, and if it was, the hedonistic freedom Zanmi provides is icing on the cake.”
Not only did half of Toby’s followers believe he was innocent, but they also pushed the idea that his victims had wanted to die through being“claimed”by him sexually. The rumored level of depravity some of the members engaged in went beyond disgusting.
Judging by the salacious gaze sizing her up, she would guess this man leaned more in that direction of thinking. With a quick tug of her robe belt, he exposed her body, and embarrassment cracked at the terror. She tried to cover herself, but he wouldn’t allow it.
“Exquisite.” Tracing his fingers over the intricate design on the lace bodice, he addressed her breasts as he spoke. “My name is Michael Sinclar, and it is the greatest pleasure of my life to meet you.”
“Get your hands off me.”
“Oh, I think not.” He smirked, his hand slipping to her lower stomach. “You and I have a lot of ground to cover.”
Bile rose in her throat. She’d thrown on her honeymoon lingerie earlier to torture herself, and while the man currently admiring it might be handsome, his possessive touch had violence coursing through her veins.
And leaning into that violence seemed like a pretty good idea right about now.
With a sharp inhale, Jamison headbutted Michael Sinclair with every ounce of force in her body, matching the move Ugly Denise pulled on Simone.
“Can’t handle a taste of your own medicine?” Jamison shouted as Michael staggered slightly and held his nose. She hopped on the balls of her feet, unable to control the adrenaline.
With the syringe poised like a dagger, Ugly Denise rushed over. Realizing she meant to plunge it into her neck, Jamison attempted to scurry away, but Bruce caught her easily, seizing her by the arm before she could get far.
“Don’t fight.” The brut anchored her against his chest, twisting her head to the side so Denise would have access. “It’ll hurt worse.”
At the sharp prick of the needle, Michael lowered his hands to shoot a gruesome, bloody smile at her. “Not a full dose. I like my women responsive.”
Chapter 7
Make notes. Take inventory. All of it matters.
“I’m trying.” Jamison’s heavy feet rolled over the ground as her captors dragged her. The drugs were fast-acting, sweeping her to the edge of consciousness in seconds. “I’m trying, Liam.”
“Liam’s not here.” Michael held her at his side as they made their way around the house and up the front walk to where an unfamiliar car was parked. “It’s just you and me from now on.”
Thunder cracked overhead, and the wind gained speed, whipping through the trees to rattle the old bones of the oaks. Her head hung loose on her shoulders, lobbing back and forth as the sense of something creeping up from behind took over—a presence lurking in the dark, watching and waiting in the brush.
Drowning in helpless terror, and her mind no longer holding a grip on reality, she cried out to whatever was out there. A cat? A ghost? God knows, Haven had plenty of both. “Help me!”
Lightning sliced low, striking the marshy swamp across the inlet. Michael paused to stare off at the shore in the distance—his gaze seeking the place held sacred by Zanmi. The very spot where Toby’s sister had ended her life. CeCe Miller died during one of her brother’s sick games,choosing to poison herself with a manchineel apple instead of meeting her end by his hand.
Using Michael’s distraction to her advantage, she went dead in his arms, but his reflexes were quicker than expected. “Oh, no you don’t.” He adjusted his hold and continued to the car, where he shoved her inside. “Time to go.”
Joining her in the back seat, Michael barked an order at the others, but a monstrous rumble of thunder drowned it out.
Bruce popped behind the wheel, and Ugly Denise took the front passenger seat, the walkie-talkie in her hand crackling to life once the car doors shut. “Cops ETA, four minutes. Contingency plan to initiate in two.”
“Go,” Denise snapped. “I have no interest in swimming in that God-forsaken bayou.”
Hitting the gas, Bruce sent the car flying, and scooting low, Jamison slammed her feet on the back of Denise’s seat. Weak from the drugs, the kick didn’t do much except elicit a laugh from Michael.
