Chapter 19

CHAPTER NINETEEN

Damien

"I'm fine Damien. I promise." Frankie's tone is patient but insistent. "I went back to the doctor, and he said there are no traces of the drug in my system and since I have new memories in the seventy-two hours since I was drugged, the risk of long-term amnesia is as close to zero as the doctor will say. I'm good."

"If you say so. Have you heard anything about the investigation?"

"Not yet. The ship's security is investigating what happened, but nothing meaningful has come out of it. I wish I could dig deeper into it, but with this case—and you—keeping me busy, it's hard to focus on anything else. I still can't believe I was drugged. Thank God I'm okay."

"That's exactly how I feel too. Thank God my precious pet is okay."

I won the battle to keep Frankie at the penthouse, though it wasn't easy. No need to smother her now. We've become closer in ways I never thought possible since our hasty exit from cruise liner. My brilliance shone through when I slipped that little cocktail into her water glass. Perfect timing, really. The drug took effect as she drifted off, satiated and unsuspecting. Who knew such a tiny vial could rewrite the entire story?

The moment I spotted Adrian Sharma, my mind went into overdrive. The chance encounter demanded an immediate change of plans. A once-in-a-lifetime opportunity I couldn't let slip through my fingers. The element of surprise left me scrambling, unprepared. Using anything on board was out of the question. Those pesky guest fingerprint records could trip me up. No, I'd have to get creative, pull something together on the fly.

But improvisation always did add a delicious thrill.

It was quick and easy. I slipped into his room just after he did and watched as he stepped out onto the balcony to get some air. My pulse quickened as I savored the moment, knowing his last breath of freedom was already behind him.

That's when I made my move, grabbing his discarded tie from the bed and wrapping both ends around my fists. He didn't hear or see me until it was too late. I struck the perfect spot behind his knee, sending him crashing down. Then I looped the silk around his neck. My knee dug into his spine as I tightened my grip. Even after the thrashing stopped, I held on. Can't be too careful with these things. A rush of adrenaline and power surged through me. How exhilarating to play judge, jury and executioner in the shadows of a luxury cruise ship!

And then I slipped back into bed with Frankie, where as far as she knows, I slept all night.

Francesca freaked out when she woke up just as I thought she would. She knows the danger women face in this world and has seen the aftereffects of those dangers. I hadn't expected her need for space or her desire to return home, but I handled it. At least I have so far.

"If you're sure," I tell her after a long pause. I have plans tonight anyway and Francesca now knows I'll protect her. She knows I'm the only one who can keep her safe. Not her partner, Jay. Not her ex. No one but me.

"I'm sure," she says. "I'm going to go over some case files again. In my office," she says of the guest bedroom she's been disappearing to when she needs space.

It's because I'm in her head and she doesn't even know it's me.

"If you're sure there are a few things I can handle at the office."

Her eyes grow wide. "You're going to leave me here while you go to work?"

I can't quite decipher her tone. "You said you were fine."

"I am," she answers. "I'm just surprised that my shadow is willing to leave me alone for a few hours to tend to his gazillion dollar empire."

I roll my eyes. "Not gazillions but yes, there's a lot riding on this new project and I'd like to make sure it's progresses as it should." It's a reasonable excuse to leave, and my office is the perfect alibi.

"I'm sure, Damien. Go. You've spent too many days taking care of me anyway." She softens her expression and wraps her arms around me. "I appreciate it, I really do. No one has ever taken such good care of me since before my parents died. But we both have to get back to our regular lives."

She's right, of course. I do need to get back to my life. I've put off something really important, something I need to do so I can look after her, to solidify our bond to make sure that she's mine. All mine. But now it's time.

Actually, it's past time. I gaze at her tenderly. "It's my pleasure, Francesca. I just want to take care of you, even though I damn well know you can handle yourself. Call me if you need anything."

"I promise," she purrs, kissing me again before she takes a step back. "See you later."

I know she'll be asleep when I finally return, if I choose to return tonight, so I kiss her one last time, leaving her wanting more, judging by the hazy look in her eyes. "Good luck with your case files."

"Thank you." She puts her fingertips to her lips, and I know she wants to tell me she loves me, and you know what's worse?

I want to hear her say those words again.

"Good night, kitten." I close the door behind me and head straight to my office where I swipe in with my company ID card and make conversation with the overnight security guard before I head to my office.

It's empty, of course, which suits my needs perfectly. I change quickly and grab a dummy swipe card so that I can exit through the service entrance without drawing any attention to myself or tripping the security system.

I don't need to stick to the shadows this late in the evening. No one is paying attention to anyone, they keep their heads down and avoid making eye contact with the people they pass on the street, leaving me free to roam openly.

I have a destination in mind, and I make my way there, avoiding cameras where I can and using a mixture of buses and pounding the pavement to make my way to a bungalow in Mid-Wilshire. I haven't had a lot of time to hunt this guy, but I know his schedule well enough. The city's sloppy surveillance setup plays right into my hands. Their carelessness is my gain.

I arrive at the house and circle the perimeter twice, making sure the house is quiet just like the neighborhood. One light is one and I find the best point of entry, the back door that's only secured by a twist lock that's easy to breach. Within minutes, I'm inside the bungalow. It's quiet, not eerily so just quiet enough that I need to be careful and cautious.

The downstairs is untidy but not exactly messy. The living room contains a discarded throw blanket, an empty energy drink can and a bag of potato chips. The kitchen is messier with a sink half-full of dirty dishes. It's nothing to bother me and under normal circumstances I wouldn't be here but this isn't exactly normal circumstances. This isn't revenge or karma, it's a utility that is necessary for my survival.

I creep up the stairs, listening carefully for sounds of life that come in the form of a few annoyed grunts and curses. "You dirty fucker!" The man's voice is deep but not exactly filled with the vitriol his words convey, more like amused yet disgruntled. I check all the other rooms to make sure we're alone before I stop in front of the door where the man speaks yet again. "We're fucked, thanks to you."

I'm not sure if he's alone or talking to himself or on the phone but my patience is wearing thin. He's been on The List for the shortest period of time, but it is imperative that tonight is his last night alive.

I knock on the door three times, each knock following a five second pause. When he doesn't respond, I press my ear to the door and wait until I'm sure he's alone before I push it open and step inside.

"What the fuck?" He spins in his task chair, eyes wide with shock and then fear when he realizes who I am. "What are you doing here?"

"I'm here for you. I thought that was obvious."

His fear is palpable. I can practically smell it wafting off his sweaty skin, mixing with the stench of beer and pizza in the air. "I hadn't planned on killing you, but you made it necessary."

He shakes his head, his eyes wide and frantic as reality closes in around him. "No. You don't have to."

"Oh, but I do. And more than that, I want to." I lunge forward and grab his hair in my hand, twisting it around my fist until I have enough leverage to yank his head backward.

"I didn't—" he begins, but I push the tip of the blade against his neck until the skin is pierced and a small stream of blood appears. "I swear to you I didn't say a fucking word."

"You said enough." I didn't come here to have a conversation, to rehash events that may or may not have happened. I'm here with one purpose in mind. To end his life. "Just relax, and this will be over before you know it."

He doesn't relax, of course. He squirms and cries and begs, pleads for his life to no avail.

"Relax," I whisper before plunging the knife deep into his throat, and slicing it across his neck. I get mesmerized by the way the blood shoots out in spurts before landing on the carpet and the walls, narrowly missing me by mere inches. "There we go, it's all right," I whisper as his body slumps over.

His death isn't as satisfying as I wanted it to be. Oh well. Maybe next time.

I take my time cleaning up, ensuring not a single trace of my presence remains. By the time I slip back out into the night, it's as if I was never here at all.

But I was. And the high of the kill buzzes beneath my skin as I make my way back to Frankie, back to the mask of the doting boyfriend.

She'll never know the monster that shares her bed.

Not until it's far, far too late.