Chapter 9
Chapter nine
Winona Bishop
Hurricane — Tommee Profitt, Fleurie
I clip a climbing carabiner onto the grab handle on the left side of the tower’s outer wall, and the rope tied to it drops to the ground. I glance at Jason one last time and slide down smoothly from the balcony.
“Bitch, I’m starting to get impatient. This is not a good sign for you. I like cutting pretty things.”
The psycho is still yelling in the back, kicking the door nonstop as my boots land on the ground. I know Jason doesn’t have a clear shot from his balcony, but only if this guy steps into the garden.
“You have nowhere to go but to open the door, and I won’t hurt you in return. Pinky promise.”
The sound of harsh waves in the distance blends with the rolling thunder, crash after crash.
The fresh smell of earth and salt engulfs me.
The wind whistles ominously between the shades of trees. A wicked prickle scurries up my arms. I press my back against the tower wall as I slowly walk toward the edge, trying to catch a glimpse of him as I peek around the corner.
A hand grips my throat so tightly I almost choke. I reach for the gun in my holster, but it’s not there.
I swear I put it there.
I thrash against him as his fist collides with my face. He wears a dark robe that completely covers him. I have no idea who he is. He looks like he just stepped out of my nightmares.
The key necklace around my neck dangles as he drags me toward the entrance.
He wants to take me inside, and the glass is bulletproof. Even if Jason shoots, nothing will happen.
I slam the emergency light button on the outer wall next to the door. The emergency light casts a muted, cold glow. It’s not much, but it’ll do.
“I want to play with you, Winnie,” he says in a creepy baby voice and laughs manically as he raises his other hand, showing me a kitchen knife.
My stomach drops.
He is definitely on something.
I stomp my thick heel onto his foot and scratch the hand around my neck with my fingernails until I draw blood. He curses and laughs like a maniac. My eyes stay fixed on the knife in his hand as I yank the stun gun from my thigh bag and tase him.
Sucking in the air greedily, I twist his wrist and throw the knife out of his grasp. He tugs on my ankle, pulling me to the ground with him. I crawl on my hands and knees to escape, kicking my feet to push away the hand gripping me, but he tugs on my foot again, forcing me down.
“Fucking bitch!” His shaking, rage-filled voice lands on top of me, so I lift my hand right between his legs and tase his nuts. A guttural scream follows, piercing my eardrums.
Who’s the bitch now?
Lightning flashes, revealing the spider web tattoo on the side of his face.
That’s…
He pries the stun gun from my hand, forcing it to drop to the forest floor.
“You’re way prettier up close. I was looking at you at the party,“ he whispers in a ghoulish tone.
His silhouette shifts from side to side, and the bulge tenting his pants grows in size. I squirm at the sensation of his slippery fingers brushing against my jaw.
“Shame. Those lips would look good around my cock. But I don’t want your tainted parts. She promised my dad I would own you when we’re old enough, but the cunt failed to deliver.”
“So what? You followed me here?” My eyes only capture the darkness cloaking him. “What do you want?”
“You thought you could escape me, but I proved you wrong. Your grandma isn’t here to rescue you.”
My fist collides with his Adam’s apple, and he chokes, but not for long. He quickly recovers from the blow and pins my hand above my head, squeezing it to the mud.
That fucker’s willpower is deadly.
I slam the heel of my palm into his nose, twice—he forgot about my other hand when he only pinned down one. A metallic smell assaults my nose. He spits in frustration, raining my face with blood and saliva.
“No one is here to save you,” he laughs.
I don’t need saving.
I wrap my arm around his head to pull it down, step on his hip with my left leg, and push it up against his shoulder so his arm can’t escape. I pivot to the side and place my right leg on his shoulder, quickly linking both legs while I make an armbar.
Rule number three: If you’re in danger, don’t hesitate.
Locked in my grip, I clamp around him, buck my hips up, and pull his hand hard. I use all my strength to try to dislocate it.
The popping sound of his elbow joint is followed by his shrieks and cries that quickly turn into laughter. I don’t think that he feels pain that deeply if he’s high on something.
He takes a deep breath, acting nonchalant. “So you’re into pain.”
An intense, shocking pulse zaps through me. He breaks free from the armbar as I try to pull away unsuccessfully. He jerks forward, crushing me beneath his weight.
“Stop moving,” he grits out before a punch lands across my face. Air rushes out of my lungs from the impact. His working hand tightens around my throat, squeezing hard, depriving me of oxygen as he applies more pressure.
My fingers quickly skim the ground for rocks, my stun gun, or his knife as light raindrops start falling on us.
“You were supposed to be mine. You should’ve chosen me. But you chose him. Too bad he is dead now. So fucking dead he would never get to touch his filthy little whore ever again.”
My eyes widen at his words. He catches a glimpse of my sullen expression as another flash of lightning illuminates the forest.
“Yes, I’m talking about your dead husband.”
I dig my nails into his swollen elbow, and he screams into the cold night.
Now he feels it.
I choke some more as he squeezes my throat harder.
“Maybe I should have my way with you. Cut you until you bleed out for me and make you pay for your wrong decisions.”
He loosens his grip just a bit, and I gasp as I take a deep breath.
“Get this over with,” I say in a hoarse voice.
“It’s not over until I say it’s over. This is a chance for you to make amends.”
I gulp. “I’ve got nothing to lose. I already lost everything.”
His breath on my face sends chills down my spine—not the friendly kind. “You didn’t lose me, Winnie.”
Spider-Web-Face is yanked backward with a force that sends him a few feet away.
Jason.
The rage in his darkened eyes flashes before me for a brief moment, then shifts back to the laughing train wreck that has his face planted in the mud.
“Took you long enough.”
“Shut the fuck up,” Jason barks, lunging at him and beating him up on the ground.
Punch after punch, until his face is covered in blood.
Jason doesn’t miss a beat and goes to break his fingers next.
One by one, they snap. The sickening sound of them splintering along with his raw screams makes me squirm in place.
I swallow the sharp pain in my sore throat and scramble to my feet.
“Do you like pain?” Jason mocks. Rainwater drips down his hair onto his face and mask. “Do you actually know what pain feels like?” The raw tone of his voice shatters something in me.
With a swift move, Jason dislocates Spider-Web-face’s shoulder, and he screams in agony before Jason does the same to his other shoulder.
“Breaking your neck is too easy, and you deserve to suffer, you psycho piece of shit,” Jason growls, his voice is dark, hostile.
Pulling a rope out of his thigh bag, he ties his broken hands together and drags him as he walks around the tower to the garden. His tower comes into view on the other side.
I shuffle behind him carefully. My body feels stiff, and my lungs burn. “I told you not to come here,” I cough out.
“I didn’t ask for your permission,” Jason mutters loud enough for me to roll my eyes in return. “If you had waited until I passed the zipline, this,” he points back toward where we came from, “wouldn’t have happened.”
“Ooo, trouble in paradise,” Spider-Web-Face makes a snappy comment just to get a rise.
“I handled it just fine. I was trained for these situations.”
“I know you can handle yourself,” Jason says, dropping him in a random spot several feet from the cliff’s edge, “but the fact is, he could’ve killed you.” He pulls out a pocket knife and tears the hood off Spider-Web-Face’s black robe before tying it around his eyes like a blindfold.
“So mysterious.”
Still amused with himself, despite his hands hanging limp at his sides.
“You’re not my bodyguard,” I frown.
“I am!” Jason snaps at me, his voice booming while another thunder crashes in the distance.
“That’s why you’re here?” I squint my eyes at him.
Partner my ass.
“No.”
“Then why?”
“I signed a contract.”
Liar.
“If you die, I’m a dead man too. Your grandma will slit my throat herself.”
He already said that.
“Who sent you?” Jason questions, glaring at him.
“Your mom.”
“She’s dead,” Jason answers, unimpressed.
“Oops.”
“Guess where I’m going to cut.” Jason’s mouth curves into a smirk. Voice playful and sinister. Stance lethal and confident.
“You already broke my hands, bodyguard. Why don’t you break my legs too?”
“Nah, I like cutting silly things.”
I almost smile at Jason’s diss, but I clear my throat instead.
“You know what they say about torture. Pluck their eyes out first so they can’t see what you do next, but they will hear everything: the morbid silence before the blade slices their skin, the footsteps and sounds around them when they don’t know what’s coming, and the screams of people when they see their horrifying appearance. ”
That silences him immediately.
“Well, luckily for you, I always kill my enemies.”
Spider-Web-Face’s manic laugh, a siren blaring through the night’s exasperated sigh. The rain picks up. I crouch down next to him to search his pockets.
“What are you doing?” Jason grits out.
“Looking for anything that will tell us more about him.”
The tower lights illuminate us as I glide my hands over his body, searching his jeans for ID. My fingers graze something smooth like paper that rustles against the fabric of his clothes, and I tear it out before it’s completely soaked.