Page 38 of A Dead Man's Pulse
Having ditched the old sedan he’d been driving when that bitch escaped, the Dom sat in his truck at the other end of the lot from where that asshole from Trident had parked his SUV. He’d seen them walking into Heat earlier and knew they’d be there until closing—undercover, trying to figure out who he was. Since he’d already learned where the submissive cop was staying after following her home from the Trident compound one day, it had been simple enough to wait for her to return after her shift was over. But then her partner had to stay and get laid. If the guy hadn’t been a trained operative, the Dom would have taken him out of the equation, instead of waiting for an opportunity to get by him. Now it seemed like the wait had been worth it as Reese headed to his vehicle. The love ’em and leave ’em types never stuck around after getting some tail.
The Dom watched as the SUV left the lot at the same time another vehicle entered. He recognized this one too. It was perfect timing. Climbing out of his truck, he strode across the lot like he belonged there, carrying his duffel bag. He had a talent for blending in and usually never drew a second glance from people. He crossed in front of FBI Special Agent Harvey’s path to her condo and gave her a friendly nod as she eyed him. The blonde wasn’t bad looking, but she hadn’t drawn his interest like the dark-haired cop had. Officer Swift would be a perfect addition to his collection of masterpieces.
Without saying a word, he continued past the fed. As she neared her ground-floor unit, he silently changed direction on his sneakered feet. Her keys were in her hand as she prepared to unlock the door. Reaching into the open zipper of his duffel, he pulled out the silenced handgun. Without the tiniest pang of regret, he put two bullets in the back of her head and grabbed the keys from where they fell beside her. Within seconds, he had the door unlocked. Turning, he hooked his hands under her armpits and dragged the body into the foyer as quietly as he could, leaving it to bleed out on the wall-to-wall carpet.
Reaching over the lifeless form, he locked the door again.
After listening for any signs the cop had heard him, he stepped over to the couch in the living room and set his duffel bag down before pulling out the items he’d need. Since he hadn’t had a chance to find a new dungeon, he would do everything here. Instead of posing her in a public spot, he’d leave her here. He couldn’t risk being seen carrying her body out to the car in a few hours. He also couldn’t risk her screaming, which disappointed him, so he’d use a ball gag to muffle her. He tucked one in the waistband on his left side, then hung a coiled bullwhip from the ball. The gun and a pair of handcuffs went to the small of his back—he’d need both gloved hands to subdue her. The last thing he grabbed was a washcloth which he soaked with liquid from a small bottle. He wouldn’t need the syringe this time as he’d be playing with her here.
Once he was certain he had everything he needed, he inched down the carpeted hallway. The bathroom door and one bedroom door were ajar, so his focus was on the closed bedroom. Was his canvas asleep? Was she naked after fucking her lover?
Grasping the knob, he turned it slowly, then pushed the door open a crack. There was just enough moonlight breaching the edges of the blinds to allow him to see into the dark room. A lone figure was under the covers, her back to the door as she snored softly. The Dom eased into the room, his heart rate spiking in anticipation of the struggle she was sure to put forth. Step by step, he drew closer—her fate was sealed.
Surrounded by darkness, Georgia searched for a sliver of light.
Why can’t I see anything?
And what was that incessant beeping noise tickling the edge of her consciousness? It was driving her nuts.
Mom? Dad?
She thought she’d heard them earlier, their voices wavering as if they’d been crying, but hadn’t been able to find them to comfort them. Her whole body hurt from the roots of her hair to the tips of her toes. She couldn’t remember ever being in so much pain. A constant buzzing sounded in her brain, and she wanted to push her way through the fog swirling around her.
Where am I?
A shiver of fear coursed through her. She tried to move her arms and legs, her fight or flight instincts clamoring a warning, but she couldn’t move.
Oh God! He has me again! No, no, no! How did he catch me again? I have to escape! I have to! Wait . . . whose voices are those? Not his. No, I know who he is, but neither of those voices are his. I have to warn them. We have to get out of here before he comes back! Help! We have to run! Somebody help me!
Her breathing and heart rate increased as she tried to figure out how to escape. She didn’t want to be his next victim. There was so much more she wanted to do with her life. She wanted to travel, find a great guy, one far better than her ex-husband, and have kids . . . but most of all, she just wanted to live to a ripe old age and have no regrets when her time came. It wasn’t his right to take all that from her, and she’d be damned if she didn’t fight him for it.
Find a way . . . find a way to live!
An antiseptic smell penetrated her nose, combined with a hint of . . . cologne? It was familiar, but she couldn’t place it. The rich sandalwood scent enveloped her, bringing with it a bit of hope. Whoever was wearing it was someone she could trust . . . someone she just knew would keep her safe. If only she could find the source. She needed a hero to ride up on his gallant, white steed and rescue her—but that only happened in fairy tales. And she was never one to sit back and wait for a savior—she would fight to her last breath to save herself—but of course she wouldn’t refuse any help along the way. First thing she had to do though, was find a light . . . wait!
There it is . . . just beyond my reach. C’mon, damn it! Reach for it! It’s the only way out! Do it!
Dakota woke with a start, the odor of a chemical reaching her nose a second before a damp cloth was slapped over her face. Her instinct and training kicked in immediately. Her limbs thrashed as she tried to kick and punch her male assailant, but she was wrapped up in the blankets and couldn’t do any damage. With a sudden yank of her body, she rolled onto her stomach and continued until she trapped his arm beneath her, forcing his hand to pull free from her mouth. The move also sent the covers sliding partially off her nude body. She brought her knees up as far as she could then kicked out, flipping him onto the other side of the bed.
Scrambling, she reached for her weapon, but found it wasn’t on the nightstand as it should have been. Damn it! It was on the floor with her clothes. She tried to roll off the bed, but the bastard was on her again, trying to get the cloth back over her face. Dakota forced her elbow backward with all her might and was rewarded with a satisfying crack and an oomph as she connected with his face, followed by cursing. “Fucking bitch!”
She was almost to her feet when his arms wrapped around her and yanked her back. The next thing she knew, she was flying, then her body slammed against the dresser on the other side of the bed. The impact sent a few items that had been on top of the heavy piece of furniture tumbling to the floor. Agony shot through her ribs and right arm as she dropped to the floor. From there, she got her first look at her attacker, and her eyes widened in recognition. “You?”
“Yes, me,” he snarled as he stood on the bed above her and grasped the handle of a bullwhip, which was lying atop the messed up covers along with a ball gag and handcuffs. “It’s always the quiet ones, standing in the background, you have to fear most.”
With a flick of his wrist, he snapped the length at her. Dakota was wedged between the bed and dresser and there was no way to avoid being struck, so she threw up her hands in a natural instinct to protect her face. With a crack, the tip of the whip sliced her forearm, burning her skin, and she couldn’t hold back the cry of pain. She struggled to get to her knees, but this time the whip lit up her back. “Shit!”
The bastard kept swinging from above, and Dakota’s body felt like it was on fire every place he hit. She had to get out of the corner he’d backed her into before he whipped her to death. Another strike landed on her upper arm, and as soon as she felt her skin break, she twisted so she was staring up at him. His mouth was turned up in a cruel smile while insanity raged in his eyes. When he swung again, instead of using her hands to protect herself, she went on the offense, snapping her arms out and letting the thin strip of leather wrap around them. Her hands closed around the whip, and she yanked hard, pulling him off balance. Unfortunately, the momentum brought him down on top of her.
They struggled, each trying to gain the advantage. Dakota fought for her life, using her hands, elbows, knees, feet, and even her head to attack him. Grunts and heavy breathing filled the room. Her skin was slick with blood and sweat, and the pain was overwhelming. Her head buzzed with a combination of adrenaline and whatever chemical she’d breathed in when he’d first attacked. That, combined with the fact the killer had a good sixty pounds on her and wasn’t wounded, put her at a disadvantage as he grabbed her wrists and pinned them to the wall with one hand. Making a fist with the other, he punched her in the face. She saw stars as her cheek and jaw exploded with pain, and she tried to hang onto consciousness—she was dead if she didn’t.
Her vision was blurred as he got to his feet, the bullwhip in his hand once again. This time, he was too close to her to let the leather fly, but that didn’t stop him from aiming the thick handle at her head. Weakening, all Dakota could do was try to protect her head from taking a beating that would knock her out. The killer stepped back, giving himself more room, and let the tip of the whip sail through the air at her again. Crack! It licked her side, and she bit back a shriek. No way was she going to give this bastard the satisfaction.
Where was Logan? How long had it been since he’d left? Would he return in time to save her or would he find her dead body? No! She refused to let that happen. But her time was running out as the assault continued. Her gaze scanned what was in reach that she could use as a weapon and spotted a can of aerosol hair spray that’d fallen to the floor. Snatching it, she knocked it against the side of the dresser, popping the top off it. Praying the tiny hole was pointed in the right direction, she pushed onto her knees, extended her arm as far as it would go, and pressed the nozzle, sending a spray into the killer’s face. He screamed as his eyes slammed shut and twisted his head to avoid getting hit with more.
As Dakota struggled to her feet, the bedroom door crashed open. She watched in horror as the killer, still partially blinded, spun toward the sound, pulling a gun from his lower back and aiming it at Logan. She lunged at the bastard as gunfire filled the room.
Chapter Twenty-One
