Chapter 17
Seventeen
Ryell
Two days later 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.
I think back to Lane, asking me if I could feel anything for anyone.
I said my brother, but I include Alayna in that as well.
I love my sister-in-law. She’s the opposite of me and Jacob; she actually has a kind heart and cares about those around her.
She’s good for Jacob, helping him fit in as a normal person.
Thinking of any conversation I had with Lane has my hackles up. Though I’m still pissed at his question, I’m curious to see what he’s doing.
When I checked the app yesterday after he woke from his latest drugging, he cried and begged for me to come back.
The tears running down his face made my cock swell in my pants, but I stayed away from him.
Though I did stroke myself off at his misery.
He refused to eat his food, babbling about how I broke my promise.
I watched him long enough to get my nut, then I clicked the feed off.
What is he doing now? Has he eaten? Did he throw the food across the cell like he did yesterday? Do I have to fucking force-feed him so he doesn’t lose any more weight?
Lane has been sufficiently punished for this thoughtless question by now. When I get home tonight, I’ll make sure he eats, and I’ll give him another bath.
My sister-in-law bumps me, pulling me out of my Lane-induced thoughts. “I’m kidding,” she says seriously. “This is all Jacob’s fault. He wanted you to come and offered your services to Helen.”
“He’s an asshole.”
She laughs, then sips her champagne. “He is, but I still love him.”
“Who do you love?” Jacob asks when he comes over, giving Alayna a kiss on the cheek.
“Only you,” she says and pecks him on the lips. A pang lights up my chest as I look at their open display of affection. I don’t want that, not like they have, but I want someone that’s obsessed with me. Someone that looks at me and only sees me.
Is Lane that someone?
Holding back a scoff, I shake my head and turn away from my brother and his wife. Lane is my current obsession, nothing more. When I’ve had my fun, I’ll get rid of him and move on to the next.
Alayna finishes her champagne and puts the glass on the bar. “I’m going to the ladies’ room. You two behave.” She smiles at us both and walks away.
“Do you really love her?” I ask Jacob, studying his face.
His answer is quick. “Yes.” He chuckles in bemusement. “Surprised me too. Didn’t think I’d ever find a woman like her.” He narrows his eyes at me. “You love your FBI agent?”
I scoff. “Hardly.” Dropping my voice, I say, “He’s in his cell crashing the fuck out right now. Look.”
I pull my phone from my pocket and open the camera app. Before I can show it to Jacob, he presses my phone to my chest.
I flick up an eyebrow, but he inclines his head to some double doors. “Let’s step outside. Don’t want anyone to hear or see anything they shouldn’t.”
Again, my blood fucking boils. Lane has my head so fucked up that I already said too much with too many people around.
After we order another drink, Jacob and I walk outside.
When I’m sure no one is around, I reopen the app and show it to Jacob.
As I assumed, Lane is tossing the food I left him out of his cell, tears running down his cheeks as he shouts something.
I keep the speaker turned off just in case someone comes out here and overhears.
Jacob laughs but then clucks his tongue. “He’s smaller than he was when I saw him on the news. What did you do to him?”
I’m not sure why, but that question puts a foul taste in my mouth. “He’s only been eating one meal a day.”
“You’ve only been feeding him one meal a day, you mean?” Jacob laughs again. “You forget I know how you think, little brother.” His smile slides from his face and seriousness enters his gaze. “Be careful with him, Ry. If he gets away—”
“He won’t. I’ll kill him before he does.”
Jacob nods. “I take it you don’t like Helen, then?”
I give him a deadpan look. “No. She keeps draping herself over me like a shawl. Makes my skin crawl.”
I don’t mind touch, but I don’t like her hands on me. She’s too…soft, her perfume too strong, her touch too…underwhelming.
Lane didn’t touch me like that. He was more tentative but reverent. Like it was his pleasure to put his hands on me. He was hard and strong, no give to his toned body.
Glancing over at my brother, I figure he can help me figure out why I haven’t gotten the urge to kill anyone. The only sketch ideas that have come to mind are of Lane, very much alive, gazing at me with lust-drunk eyes.
Shoving my phone in my pocket, I sigh and say, “I haven’t caught a body since I took him.”
Jacob looks at me sharply. “Really? Why not?”
I shrug. “You tell me.”
He pats me hard on the shoulder, and I glare at him. “I’m an architect, not a psychiatrist.”
“Yes, I’m sure I can go ask a psychiatrist why, after I kidnapped an FBI agent, can I not abduct and off someone else?”
“Then you’d have to kill the psychiatrist to keep your secret, so it might solve your problem.”
“I hate you,” I say plainly, then down my drink.
“Never.” A bright smile stretches his face. “Now, come on. I need to go make sure no one has picked up my wife. If they have, you can kill them.” He grins like he just had the best idea. “See? I’m giving you all kinds of solutions.”
“You could do some killing yourself, you know.”
Jacob shakes his head. “Nope. I told you before, I don’t like the mess.”
Yeah, I know that well.
When I killed our father, it took a lot of convincing for Jacob to help me dismember his body and bag him up.
The only thing that got through to him was telling him that if we didn’t get rid of him, we would end up in prison, where showers weren’t easy to come by.
That lit a fire under his ass, and he was more eager to get the job done than I was.
“One more thing,” Jacob says before we step inside. I raise an eyebrow. “You might want to let your toy see the sun at some point. He’s whiter than fucking Casper. Totally different from the tan hottie that was on TV.”
I growl at Jacob, and he cackles, hurrying through the door before I can cuff him on the back of the head.
Before I follow him, I pull out my phone and watch Lane, who is still raging, though he seems to be running out of steam. He does look extra pale. I like how he looks, but he’s not the man I took just five weeks ago.
Jacob may be on to something. I’ll think about it while I’m at this boring event.
It’ll help me effectively ignore Helen and her desperate touches.
Hell, if she annoys me enough, I might end up strangling her before the night is over.
Helen got lucky. After we came back into the room, she was less touchy than before, more focused on networking than flirting, so I didn’t need to end her.
But it was a close call.
Though I want to go back home to make sure Lane eats, I still haven’t solved the dilemma of how to pull myself from my kill slump or how to get Lane some sunlight without him bolting.
For the latter issue, I could take him outside when I’m home, cuff him to my wrist so he can’t run.
Then again, I don’t always have short days at work.
Some days, surgeries run long, or I’ll get called into the emergency room last minute to repair the face of a dumbass who wanted to be a daredevil.
He won’t get any sun if I leave at the crack of dawn and come home when the streetlights are on.
Would he like to be out in the fresh air? Five weeks in a cell is a long time not to see the sun, not to feel the wind on your face or the smell of nature burrowing into your sinuses.
Fuck, I hate that my brother is right.
I’m still pissed at Lane, though. He needs to learn not to ask me stupid fucking questions, so instead of heading straight home, I pull into my favorite grocery store to shop, just so I can kill another half an hour.
It’s close to midnight, but the store is twenty-four-hour.
As I usually do, I park in the back of the lot where the lights are low and cameras are nonexistent.
As I push my cart down the aisles, I notice everything I tossed inside is high in protein for Lane. I even add in some chocolate—something I stay away from—just in case he has a sweet tooth but hasn’t been able to satisfy the urge in his captivity.
I’m irritated that I’m going out of my way for him. What kind of hold does Lane Bauer have on me? I should just kill him and get it over with. He’s already posed for me. I have what I want from him.
My stomach lurches at the thought.
No, I won’t get rid of Lane. He’s mine. He fucking belongs to me. I broke him, so now I’ll take care of him, building him up to what I want him to be.
That’s an idea. Make the big, strong FBI agent bend to my will, not able to turn me in, and I can kill to my heart’s content.
Yeah, like that will happen.
I shake my head at the absurdity of it and continue my shopping.