Page 39 of Pose for Me
I swallow thickly.
“They have nothing,” he says, and I latch onto every word. “The people that were interviewed at the bar gave different descriptions of me. The bartender told investigators the wrong name. Since we left at different times, no one knew we wound up together. And I parked a few blocks away, in an underground garage.”
Seems he thought of everything. My stomach drops. I have no way out. Ryell is too smart and cunning.
What’s really confusing me is I don’t know if I want to be rescued or not.
He continues. “Your field office is keeping a special task force on your case, but they don’t have any more leads.”
“Okay. Thank you,” I murmur, not real sure how I feel. “Can I ask you something?”
He sighs in what sounds like irritation. “This is not going to become a thing, Lane. You don’t need to know anything about me.”
Those stupid tears prick the corners of my eyes at how quickly he shut me down. I think he’s told me the small amount he has because he knows he can tease me with information, and there’s nothing I can do about it. He’s fucking with me, and I can’t stop him.
But I want to know about Ryell. Underneath his stalking and murdering, underneath his psychopathy, there might be…someone worth getting to know.
Swallowing down my hurt, I say, “That’s not…I was…I was just wondering if you’ve killed anyone since you’ve had me.”
The scratching of his charcoal pencil stops, and I decide to sit up, even though he hasn’t told me to.
Ryell’s face is a mask of anger and confusion, both warring for dominance. “No. I haven’t. And I haven’t felt the need to. You proud of yourself?” he spits, standing so quickly from his chair that it topples to the ground.
My stomach plummets, and goose bumps crop up on my skin when he stomps toward the door. “No, wait. Ryell, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you. Please.” He stops walking and turns back to me, eyes stormy. “I was only wondering. Please don’t leave me.”
He ticks up an eyebrow, his face closed off like it was when he told me he was The Poser. “I don’t know what you’ve done to me, Lane, but I don’t fucking like it.”
“Why is it a bad thing? If you keep me, people will?—”
He laughs so loud, it rebounds off the walls, startling me. “You think if I keep you, I’ll stop killing?” He chuckles humorlessly, shaking his head. “Wow, Agent. You sure have an overinflated ego.” He marches back to the cell, getting close enough that I can feel his warm breath across my face. “Hear me when I fucking say this. You won’t fucking change me, no matter how much I want you to pose for me or how much I want to fuck your ass. I am who I am, and no one, especially a fuckingnarc,will make me any different.”
I’m struck speechless as he walks away.
Seventeen
Ryell
Two dayslater and my blood still boils at how Lane called me out.
So what I haven’t killed anyone in over a month? There have been times where I went six or more months without dropping a body. It has nothing to do with him.
Then why is his question still needling at me?
Clenching my teeth, I turn from the bar and glance at those that are in attendance at Jacob’s office party.
My brother fucking owes me for this.
From where my date, Helen, is conversing with one of Jacob’s co-workers’ wives, she shoots me a wink and a flirty smile. I don’t even pretend to be flattered. I simply roll my eyes and look elsewhere.
“She’s not so bad,” Alayna says as she comes to stand beside me with a glass of champagne in her hand. “She’s just a little…”
“Annoying,” I finish for her, sipping on my dirty martini.
Alayna giggles. “You’re just high-maintenance, Ry. I’m trying to get you a wife.”
“Don’t want a wife,” I grunt.
“Well, next time, I’ll set you up with your future husband.” I look down at her and grin at the cheeky smile on her face.
