43. OUT OF CONTROL

43

OUT OF CONTROL

YARA

M y body was on fire. My back ached. Everything around me was a broken kaleidoscope, spilling a million colors, blinding me, distracting me. The voice inside my head was a loud wail. Time stretched. I couldn’t move. I didn’t move. The earth beneath my legs was shifting, moving. Dark brown, sticky blood oozed from the cracks in the ground until I was drowned in it.

Blood of every man I killed.

Here you are. This is your reckoning.

“Need a ride, Doctor?”

Startled out of the nightmare. I turned to look at Detective Rosario, my fingers trembling. I had to get my head in the game; losing it was not an option, especially when everything was hanging in the balance.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you.”

“I was…” I looked at the detective with a sigh, and he gave me a nod, his eyes kind.

“I know, Doctor West. It’s disturbing.”

I gave him a nod as two men from CSRU rolled Daphne Morgan’s body past me in a body bag. She would no longer be Daphne Morgan. She would soon be a case number, a body. A body I had to cut and destroy to find the truth.

“I do need a ride.”

“I saw you coming in with…” the detective stopped with a frown. He must have seen Ryden.

“Yes. Ryden Sinclair. I know you guys don’t get along.”

“He’s such a pain in the ass, but he’s a good man,” the detective said grudgingly, and I laughed a little as I entered his car.

“Did you read the letter?”

“Sending it to the lab to process. I know there won’t be any fingerprints, but I want to make sure. What if he messed up like the last time?”

He hadn’t messed up the last time. It was deliberate.

“Why do you think he’s suddenly changing his MO?” I asked after a few minutes into the ride.

“I don’t know. Maybe he’s getting bored.”

“Fuck him,” I said and then shook my head. “Sorry, Detective.”

“The FBI is taking over the case. They’ll be here soon, but we will be working with them.”

When the FBI came, no one knew what would happen or where the investigation would go from there. I had to do everything before that.

The detective dropped me off at work. I stepped out at the same time the black van bearing Daphne’s body pulled over into the parking lot.

I followed her into the cold autopsy room.

“Thank you. Just leave her there.”

The men put her on the steel slab and walked away, closing the door behind them, and leaving me alone with Daphne.

“Talk to me, Daphne. Who did this to you?” I unzipped the body bag and staggered back.

The woman sat up, her dark hair spilling down her back, clutching the red wig.

“You’re the reason I’m dead, Yara West. If you hadn’t walked into my gallery last night, I’d still be alive.”

“Doctor West?” The door opened, pulling me out of the nightmare. I stared at the body, and she was dead. Dead.

“Yes, Amy?”

“Forensic report on the makeup.”

“That’s fast,” I said, trying hard not to show how affected I was.

“Yes. All the forensic process for this case has been expedited,” Amy said with a wince. “Do you think we’ll catch him this time, Doctor West?”

“I hope we will. Tell me about the result,” I said as I put on my gloves and grabbed a scalpel.

“The shade of the lipstick is Scarlet Rouge.”

“Tom Ford?” I said, my heart sinking.

I pressed my finger against my lips. I was wearing the same shade. Amy’s eyes followed my fingers, and she paled when she noticed my lips, shaking her head.

It wasn’t a coincidence. He knew me as Yara and K.Y. Wolff. He was already a million steps ahead of me, and I was stuck. I felt like I was wandering blind in an unknown land, with no clue as to where I should go.

“Yes. The rest of the makeup was a cheap brand. The clothes were knock-offs, but not the lipstick. It’s the real deal.”

“Have you analyzed the wig?”

“Yes, Doctor West. It’s consistent with inexpensive synthetic fibers. He could have bought it anywhere.”

“Send the report to Detective Rosario. Thank you, Amy.”

She walked out, leaving me with Daphne.

“Why didn’t you put up a fight, Daphne?” I scraped under her fingernails. There was some paint residue but no skin or blood. I sighed.

I spent the whole day with Daphne. There were drugs in her system, like every other Strangler victim, but there were no defensive wounds, no DNA.

When I was typing the report, the door opened, and Detective Patel and Detective Rosario walked in.

“Here.” Detective Rishi handed me a cup of coffee. “You haven’t left this place since this morning.”

Thanking him, I took the coffee. “You didn’t find anything from the letter.” That wasn’t a question.

Detective Rosario shook his head. “Sí. Sí. Nothing. Hijo de puta is thorough. The crime scene is perfecto. Like all his other crimes.”

Rishi growled. “The press has already gotten wind of the case. But we’re keeping the letter under wraps for now. The FBI is here, and they want to do their own autopsy.”

“I’m done with her body. She is… as clean as the crime scene, Detectives. Perfecto.” Shaking my head, I stood up and handed the report to Detective Rosario. “I’ve noted everything here. The FBI can use my lab to conduct their autopsy if they want.”

“Thanks, Doctor West. I’ll tell Agent Hayes what you said. He’ll appreciate it.”

When I was done putting Daphne back into the body, I walked toward my office, feeling tired and aching everywhere. I pulled my phone out and cursed when I saw Ryden’s messages reminding me about our dinner plans.

I had to unwind and relax, to not bury myself in this darkness, and what would be better than to fuck Ryden all the way to hell? Nothing.

Quickly locking my office door, I grabbed a pink dress from the wooden drawer and put it on. After reapplying my lipstick, I walked out.

I was grabbing my phone to book a cab when Amy walked out of the building.

“Doctor West? Need a ride?” She waved at me when she saw me with the phone.

I gave her a sheepish smile. “Thanks, but I can call for a cab, Amy.”

“It’s not a problem, Doctor West. Where to?”

I told her the address, and her eyes glinted. “A date?” She gave me a wink, laughing as she did.

I nodded, grinning. “A very hot date,” I said and then felt guilty about it, but my life was full of the dead. I couldn’t carry them with me out of the morgue.

“I’m going home to a frozen pizza.” She laughed, driving toward Ryden’s house. She dropped me off with a wink. “Have some fun. You deserve it after the day we had.”

“Thanks for the ride, Amy. Drive safe.”

Before I could knock, Ryden opened the door, shirtless, smelling like coffee and sin, and smiled when he saw me. The smile soon disappeared behind the clouds of hunger as he wrapped his arm around my waist.

“Don’t we have a dinner to go to?” I whispered when he pulled me in, slamming the door behind me before pushing me against the wall, nuzzling my neck. I moaned. “You don’t have any plan to feed me, Sinclair? I’m hungry.”

“I’ll eat you out first, and then I’ll feed you,” he said, voice hoarse and dark. “I’ve been craving you for hours, Yara. Fucking hours. I can’t wait anymore. Everything has to wait. I want to touch you, taste you. NOW.” He pulled the hot pink coat from my body. I tried to slip my black heels off, but he shook his head. “Leave them.”

Everything evaporated from my head, leaving only this man, his scent when he stared at me like that.

“Yes,” I moaned, closing my eyes when he bunched my pink silk dress up. Hooking a finger into the base of my lace panties, he tugged them down before falling to his knees, his eyes filled with lust.

Every pressure that had been filling me up from this morning, drained, and I became putty in his hands. His to shape, his to sculpt, his to wreck.

“You must have heard…” I whispered as his fingers parted my legs. “The Strangler is back. The one he killed—”

He nodded. “Everything… that has to wait. You first.”

Without another word, his fingers softly explored me. He fingered my clit, rubbing back and forth, soft and slow like he had all the time in the world.

“Faster. Ryden.”

“Patience, my darling, patience.”

He opened me and slid his tongue inside. A scream, that sounded like a moan and a whimper, ripped out of my chest when he lapped at me like he had been thirsty for years. His lips and tongue worked in tandem with his fingers to show me outer space and the galaxies.

My head spun. I clung to him, trusting him to take me on this slow, tortuous ride. When he finally pulled away, my legs buckled under me as I slid down the wall until my ass met the cold floor.

“Ah.” A sigh of contentment left my lips as I looked up at him. He was licking his lips as if he didn’t want even a single drop of my cum to go to waste. “So? Are we leaving now?”

“No,” he said as he pulled me from the floor, nuzzling the crook of my neck. “Just sit there and look pretty for me,” he said, pointing toward the row of stools along his kitchen island. He pulled a knife out of the knife block, twirling it between his fingers with such finesse it made me go breathless.

“You’re going to cook for me?” I asked, my eyes wide.

He smiled, grabbing a tray from inside his refrigerator filled with small squares of pastries that looked mouthwatering. He slid it toward me with a wink. “I know you’re hungry after all that hard work, baby.”

“So, I’m eating dessert first? Not that I’m complaining…”

“I already had my dessert,” he said, licking his lips, groaning, as if he could still taste me there. “It’s only fair you have yours. This is for being such a good girl.”

With a moan, I closed my eyes as I savored the crumbling pastry. It had layers of nuts and syrup, and it was sitting on a molten river of dark chocolate.

The mix of flavors danced on my tongue, taking me to exotic places. The rich, buttery texture and the flavors were exquisite, each one complimenting the other. I dipped a finger into the dark chocolate and sucked my finger with a sigh. “Did you make these, Ryden? And what’s it called? Why have I never tasted it?”

His smile was indulgent. “I took some creative license and made some changes to baklava. It’s made with phyllo dough and lots of butter. I know how much you love dark chocolate, so I added it for you.”

Okay, maybe he isn’t that bad for you, Kat said.

“For me? You made this for me.”

“For you. Only the best for you.”

Fuck this man.

It was hard to keep that pesky thing called heart in place when he said things like that.

He snatched a cutting board from the closet and grabbed baby tomatoes, asparagus, and yellow bell peppers from the refrigerator. His eyes were intense, and his grip was sure as he let the knife play with the vegetables like he had been doing it all his life. Each stroke of the knife was a dance, swift yet precise.

I watched, mesmerized by the way he moved.

He prepared the pot, bringing the pasta to a boil. He slid a tray of marinated chicken with cheese and vegetables into the oven.

He sautéed the diced vegetables until the aroma of butter filled the air, but my hunger for food was long gone. I was still hungry, though, for his body.

“You’re looking at me like I’m a piece of man meat.”

“You are. A tasty piece as well,” I said, licking my lips, leaning further into the counter as he moved around, showing off his perfect body. I couldn’t resist anymore. I stood up and walked to where he was. My fingers trailed along the tattoo of the wings on his back, and he let out a long groan.

“If you want to eat, you’ll keep your hands to yourself, Red,” he growled out, twirling around, pressing me against the kitchen counter. My back dug into the stone as he stepped closer.

“I’m hungry for something else.”

Deftly, he grabbed me by my hips and placed me on the counter before sliding between my thighs.

“You’re a greedy little witch, aren’t you? Do you want to be my fuck toy?”

I gasped, my body reacting to his words, and his eyes gleamed in satisfaction. A wicked smile—the same one he sported when he was killing Phil—transformed him from the one who had just been cooking for me to the devil he really was. If the devil was a gentleman…

His hand came around my throat.

“Harder,” I moaned. He had always been careful not to hurt me, but I wanted him to. I wanted him to show me pain, the good kind of pain. I wanted to jump out of my head and forget everything else that was outside this room. I only wanted to remember the good things and him.

His fingers tightened, and I groaned. My fingers clawed down his back, making him hiss. He pushed me down on the marble counter and stared at me with a smile that melted my body.

“This is where you’ll be eating… we’ll be eating.” I protested.

“Yes. Eating you.” His eyes were scorching, and my body heated in response.

His hands parted my legs, and then he was running his tongue around my clit, over and over again, his movement soft and decisive. It wasn’t what he did; it was how he did it. His tongue was gentle yet firm, teasing as it moved around me, stimulating me. Slow, steady… perfectly in tune with my movements.

“You taste delicious. So fucking delicious. It would take me another lifetime to forget your scent, your taste.”

Fuck you, Ryden Sinclair. Fuck you for doing this.

That’s what you are doing exactly, Kat scoffed.

“The water… is boiling,” I screamed as I came.

As he stood up from between my thighs and walked toward the pot, I knew it would take me a long, long time to get over Ryden Sinclair when this… whatever the hell this was, would end.

He switched off the oven and stove and turned toward me with a shake of his head. “You’re a bad influence, Yara,” he said, quickly preparing the béchamel sauce for the pasta, adding a generous dollop of butter.

“I try,” I said, stretching on the table with a contented sigh.

“Come on. The food I promised is still waiting for you,” he said as he stirred the pot of pasta twice, then added the vegetables. Soon, the whole place was filled with the scent of food.

He grabbed the plates and set the table. “Dig in,” he said, his eyes directly on mine.

I bit into the chicken coated with spice and melted cheese with a moan, and his eyes widened with appreciation and pride. “Oh God, you’re good at this. You’re good at everything.”

“I know,” he said with a wink as he motioned me to eat, studying my face. “Try the pasta.”

I grabbed the spoon and the fork with an enthusiastic smile. Never taking my eyes off him, I pushed the fork between my lips and pulled the pasta out with my tongue, and it was his turn to moan.

“You’re doing that on purpose.”

“I know,” I winked. It was completely silent as we continued to eat. The kind of silence that didn’t need to be littered with unwanted, unneeded words.

“Ryden?” I whispered when we were done eating.

“Yes, baby?” The way he said it made me feel like this was something that could… become something more, but I couldn’t believe that. I wasn’t delusional.

I leaned closer to him and rubbed the small scar by his lower lip with a sigh.

“What happened here?”

“The scar?” he asked, his voice soft as if he didn’t want to disturb the peaceful moment that hung around us like a blanket.

“Yes. The scar.”

“My father happened. Just like yours.” His voice was so tense I didn’t want to prod more, but I felt a strange sense of kinship with him.

We were… kindred souls in our own twisted, deranged way.

“He’s a bastard, just like yours, as well.”

“He’s still alive,” I said.

“I think so. I hope so.” The darkness in his voice made me walk closer to him. He pulled me down on his lap, wrapped his arms around me, and buried his face on my shoulder.

“Why?”

He didn’t answer, but he didn’t have to. He wanted to kill his father. He was thinking that if he killed his father, he might escape from his demons, but he was wrong. He just had to take a look at me. My demons never left me, even after my father’s death.

“So that I can kill him.”

There. For the first time, he wasn’t hiding from me.

“Do you think killing him would help you escape this darkness chasing you?” His body jerked underneath me, but he didn’t say anything.

“Was it The Strangler who killed Daphne Morgan?” he asked after a few seconds. He was changing the subject, and I let him.

I stood up from him and sighed. “Yes. It’s him.”

“I heard about it. Was it too hard for you to see that?” Ryden looked up at me, his eyes gentle, concerned.

“Of course. She… she was alive last night, and I think it’s because of me. I think he’s back in Detroit for me.”

I immediately wanted to take those words back, but there they were, out in the open. I didn’t know why I said it. The admission would only bring more questions, more questions I didn’t have answers for.

“What do you mean?” he growled the words out as his body went tight. I had seen him kill a man and never feared him, but now… now he looked truly dangerous. “What are you saying, Red? Why in the hell do you think that?”

“Because of this…” I had already dug this hole. Why not just jump the fuck in?

I slid the phone to him. His fingers curled around my phone like it was The Strangler’s neck.

“Why do you think it’s The Strangler?”

“Because he knows I’ve been hunting him.”