Chapter Twenty-Two
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
GEMMA
Bonnie already had me wrapped around her fucking fingers, yet now… god, now . Between her vulnerability and flirting over the last few days, and now this little bratty act?
I love it.
It’s such a more interesting development than the sad apartment I’m currently walking around in. Jeff, also known as shesatrackstar1988 , could come home at any moment, and then… then the fun really starts.
Upbeat alt music blasts in my headphones that has me moving around his apartment with more pep in my step than any normal person should have as they wait to make someone cry, beg, and piss themselves. Still, it helps me get out of my head and reduces my rage to a manageable level.
I pick up a pair of discarded underwear with a metal straw and throw them on the floor. Ugh . This place is disgusting. Not just untidy like Bonnie’s place, this is actually disgusting. The smell of old pizza boxes and garbage leeching into his living room from the kitchen makes me want to hurl.
His computer setup is the most impressive thing in the entire space. It looks much like Kade’s—more than the security monitors Kade put up in my place.
I’m curious if this guy is actually any good, and if he is… why the hell is he wasting his talents catfishing women on dating apps?
Of course, I know the answer.
Probably the only way he gets women to talk to him.
Fucking creep.
I prop my ass on the edge of his desk and swivel his chair back and forth with my foot as I plot my move for when he gets here, even checking out a few of the old photos on the wall behind the monitor. My standard routine is set up and ready—chloroform rag, zip ties… The duffle bag on the floor is full of fun surprises that I’ve used over the years… Gags. Fingernail pliers. Knives… I haven’t used many of the tools since even before that night. After that… I put all of them away and told myself I wouldn’t use this force again unless Bonnie found herself in the same kind of trouble.
It should never have happened the first time.
Trouble always finds her.
“—things to check up on, but I’ll call—”
Shit.
I get to my feet and pull the ventilated half-mask up over my mouth and nose as the guy comes inside and sets his groceries on the counter, then hangs up his phone. A video starts playing the moment he lays it on the counter, and I roll my eyes at the so-called political podcaster’s voice.
I grab the ready-soaked rag from my bag. He’s whistling and laughing at something on the phone, oblivious to his surroundings as I move down his hallway toward the door. He still doesn’t hear me when I’m standing behind him, and I take the opportunity to size him up, deciding how best to handle him once he starts fighting.
Here we go.
The moment the rag is on his face, he thrashes. He tries to back up and throw me into the door. I tighten my forearm around his throat, curl the other under his arm and brace it against his shoulder. My feet plant firmly on the ground. He fights and scratches, tries to kick and pull out of my embrace, but he’s slowly losing the fight, slowly succumbing to the chloroform, and it’s mere seconds before his knees buckle, sending us sliding down the wall and onto the floor.
I finally let out a breath once he’s out, and my arms relax.
Now, I have to get this fucker up.
Just once, I’d like to get the guy down on the couch so I don’t have to drag him into a chair.
This is one more reason why I lift weights—all to handle anything that threatens her safety.
It’s an hour before he stirs. I have him tied to the computer chair, and I’m taking a random scroll on social media as I wait. Bonnie’s posted a photo of her lap as she sits on the floor with her headphones on her ears, drum pad and drumsticks between her legs.
“What… What the fuck—”
The guy’s words are slurred slightly. I put my phone back in my pocket and lean my hands behind me on the bed, relaxing back as he blinks and tries to jerk against the zip ties holding him down.
“Hi, Jeff,” I say casually.
He finally looks up, eyes wide.
I’ve always wondered if the bodysuit and mask are enough to legitimately strike fear in others. Sure, the person is usually scared once I start.
But first impressions matter.
“I didn’t do anything,” he blurts out before I have a chance to say another word. “If you’re here about my gambling debt, the money’s coming. I swear. Tell them… Tell them it’s coming—”
“Yeah, this isn’t about your debts,” I say, twisting the knife between my fingers.
He winces as if he thinks I’m about to cut him, and I notice the scar on his cheek. It doesn’t look like any accidental scar from a car wreck or anything simple like that. It appears calculated, the line following his cheekbone. Just like something I would do.
The realization that this more than likely isn’t the first time he’s been tied into a chair and threatened pushes an uneasy feeling into my bones.
“Take another guess,” I say.
His eyes drift to the computer, then to me, and when he doesn’t respond, I get off the bed, slide one hip onto the desk, and place my foot between his thighs, making sure to put pressure on what I’m sure is his favorite body part.
He squirms uncomfortably, trying to move backward. “I… I don’t know. I haven’t done anything wrong,” he stammers.
“Is that your final answer?” I ask.
“I…” He blinks over and over, jaw sawing pathetically like he’s suddenly forgotten all the creepy things he was up to just hours before he left for his normal person job at the DMV.
I lean forward, head tilting as I drag the knife along his stubbled jaw. “Consider me your priest, Jeff… Confess your darkest sins.”
His throat moves, eyes darting back and forth from the computers, the door, the windows… I wonder if he’s clocking his cameras or trying to decide on an exit strategy.
The latter makes me laugh.
“Okay, Jeff. If you’re not willing to confess, I’ll help you remember.” I pick up my phone and text Kade one simple word, and within seconds, the computers light up in front of us.
“What the hell… How…” Jeff stares at the windows opening on the screens—photos of women he’s pretended to be over the last six months, conversations and videos and intimate pictures he’s asked for, and those he’s sent in return.
I sit back, my arms folded as I watch him struggle.
“They’re all over eighteen,” he eventually blurts as if it’s the only excuse he can think of. “All of them. I swear. People do this all the time. Nothing I’ve done is illegal. I’m just talking to people online.”
“By pretending to be someone else…” I say deliberately.
“Okay, so it’s a bit of catfishing. It’s harmless,” he argues, and if his shoulders could shrug, they would. “They’re over age. You can check.”
A chuckle leaves me that I can’t stop. “You don’t think I have? You think I came all the way to your shitty apartment, waited for you, tied you up in this chair, and sat my perfect ass on your miserable, disgusting bed only for you to swear they’re over eighteen and not know that you’re lying to me? ”
“I’m not— Ah! ”
My knife cuts across his jaw. He grunts and cries out as the scarlet blood trickles out and drips down.
“What the fuck was that for?!”
“Tell me about her,” I say, pointing to one of the brunettes Kade had shown me. “Tell me her name.”
“I don’t remember their names—”
“No? But I bet you remember the photo of her cunt you coerced her into sending you, don’t you?”
He blinks. “I—”
“Let’s see if I recall one of the messages correctly: Send me a picture of that little virgin cunt . I can’t wait to tell you how to touch it ,” I quote.
“Is sexting illegal now?! Who is she? Your girlfriend—”
“She was fifteen .”
His mouth snaps closed, and for a brief moment, he stares at me like he thinks I’m going to take it back.
“She wasn’t,” he finally says, his voice small. “She wasn’t. I researched her. She was nineteen—”
“Do you want to find out what happens when you lie to me again?” I ask, digging the knife into his skin again.
I point to two more girls on the screen.
“Fourteen. Fifteen. Sixteen. You had to have one of each, didn’t you?” I say about them.
“Please—I swear I didn’t know! I promise. I don’t talk to them anymore. That was a long time ago—”
“Do I need to find them and find out if you’re lying, Jeff?” I ask.
“No, no— please —I swear!”
He’s crying. Blubbering. The tears mingle with his blood and fall onto his white shirt as he pleads and swears he knew nothing about their ages.
I almost believe him.
Still… As much as I’d love to torture and play with him until he gives up every tiny little detail, I’m not here specifically for them.
“Shh… Shh… Stop your pathetic little mewling,” I say, forcefully wiping his face. “If you don’t want to talk about them, let’s talk about her .”
I point to the photo of Bonnie kneeling on the bed, her blonde and pink hair braided over her shoulder, a gamer mask on her face, and lingerie covering her petite body.
“What about her?” he asks hoarsely.
“Do you know who she is?” I ask.
He gulps, his trembling mouth opening like a gasping fish. “I… Yeah. It’s Bonnie Miller.”
I pat his cheek twice. “Good boy,” I coo. “What’s your business with her?”
“I… We just talk on Cupid’s Arrow,” he says. “That’s it. Nothing—”
My phone rings, the noise cutting through the quiet room. I take it out and glance at it, finding Bonnie’s name across the screen.
Shit.
I have to answer, and I can’t do it with this fucking voice box.
I slide the half-mask off and take a seat on Jeff’s lap so I can hold my knife against his throat while I’m chatting. He tenses when I sit, and I press the blade to his lips.
“Say a goddamn word while I’m on this phone, and it’ll be the last thing you do,” I threaten him.
He nods, lips pressed together tightly, and I bring the phone to my ear.
“Go for Gem,” I answer.
“Hey. Are you nearby?” Bonnie asks.
My heart melts at the sound of her voice, and I begin tauntingly stroking Jeff’s cheek. “I’m… maybe forty-five minutes away? Why? Is something wrong?” I ask.
“I was wondering if you wanted to come by the skate park,” she replies. “Darcy wants to meet you.”
The corners of my lips curl with a smile.
That’s pretty fucking cute.
“Darcy, huh? Have you been talking about me to your friends?” I ask.
My knife moves against Jeff’s throat when I see his lips part in the corner of my eye.
“I mean… maybe I have,” she replies. “So, are you in?”
I glance up at Jeff’s clock on the wall. “Yeah. I think I can make it. Give me an hour?”
“Sure. See you,” she says.
“Later.”
I end the call and toss my mask and phone onto the bed, standing. “Looks like it’s your lucky day, Jeff,” I say, cleaning my knife with one of his shirts on the desk. “But this isn’t the last time you’ll see me. You and I are nowhere near finished chatting.”
“Is she your girl?” he asks. “Is that why you’re doing this?”
I slowly tilt my head. “You said you know who she is?” I ask. “You’ve known it was Bonnie?”
He blinks as if trying to figure out the right answer. “I…”
“Were you planning on selling the photos? Exploiting her in some way?”
“I… No. No, I wasn’t planning on that,” he stammers, and the way his face is beet red right now makes me reconsider leaving. “I wasn’t. That wasn’t my intention—” His eyes dart toward one of the photos on the wall, and before he has a chance to look elsewhere in an attempt to cover it up, I do the same.
And my stomach bottoms out at the photo in a broken wood frame.
I reach for it as uncontainable rage bubbles to the surface.
Fuck . I was doing so well with this ambush… keeping my cool as the photos came up, only one scratch…
Still now—
It’s a picture of Jeff with several friends. Though… not just any friends. I recognize a few of them, including a brunette woman who appears vaguely familiar, and the man with dark hair on the end who looks a lot like the guy Wren was running from last year. One man stands in the back with his arms up over them all, grinning from ear to ear. Still, there’s only one person my gaze staggers on.
Rad is in the group photo… along with the three others who were with him the night—
“How do you know them?” I ask, turning the picture around for Jeff to see.
He swallows, and the action makes my fist curl… My ears begin to ring.
“ How do you know them?” I ask again, the words drawing out this time as I take a step closer.
“Just… through a friend,” he says.
Liar .
“A friend?” My brows raise, and I take another look at the screens again, all the photos of the beautiful women he’s chatted with over the last few years.
An uncomfortable, vile feeling rises from the pit of my stomach, and I feel like I’m going to hurl. I blink back the emotion and force myself to speak.
“Tell me something, Jeff,” I manage. “If I looked up these beautiful women on Missing Persons reports, how many would I find?”
He doesn’t reply, though his eyes move to the pictures of the women on the screen as if he’s counting.
White lights flutter in my vision. I barely realize my knife is back at his cheek until I see blood dripping down the blade.
“I… I don’t… Please— ”
He’s trembling.
I peer at the photo again, squinting to make sure this is definitely Wren’s former stalker, Damien Berzatto.
I know it is.
I watched all the information on him that I could after what happened on New Year’s Eve.
Keep it together.
“Looks like your buyer is on a permanent vacation,” I force out, pointing to Damien in the photo. “Do you have a new one, or is Bonnie a special case?”
“I…”
I move my knife to his dick, and he squeaks in protest.
“Wait— stop —”
“Tick-tock, little fucker,” I snap, feeling the blackout coming. “Tell me how you know them, or I start slicing.”
“From the band we were in,” he blurts. “Back in college.”
“You were in a band with Damien Berzatto?” I ask about Wren’s stalker.
“No, no.” He shakes his head. “Rad knew Damien through some friend of his—Erik, I think. That guy in the black. The band were these guys—” He points to Rad and three men in the photo hanging their arms over Rad and his shoulders.
Three men that I really wish I didn’t recognize.
Because the last time I saw them, my knife was dragging across the short one’s throat.
“Those four were in a band. I was just… I helped them get gigs, that’s it,” Jeff goes on. “I knew people, some who owed me favors, people who could make things happen.”
I curse under my breath, my insides nearing their tipping point at the new information. “Tell me one of them didn’t put you up to chatting with her, Jeff ,” I say.
Because if they’re the ones after her, I don’t know what I’m going to do with myself.
“I…”
I jerk the knife back. “Don’t fucking lie to me—”
“They only asked me to see if I could get her to meet up with me,” he spits out, tears rolling down his face.
“ Who?! ”
“Them—Lance and Trevor—the two in the red and orange.” He chokes on a sob and shakes his head. “Please. I wouldn’t hurt her. I was just doing what they asked me to do. They said they’d clear my gambling debts. They said this would be the last job I’d do for Damien—”
“Damien has been dead for months ,” I drawl, glaring at him.
His mouth snaps closed, eyes bulging. “What?”
I practically flop onto the edge of the bed and press my fingers to my eyes, the piles of information suddenly stacking over and over and over making me dizzy.
“Damien has been dead, along with Erik, for months,” I hiss, eyes rolling up to meet his terrified orbs. “They didn’t ask you to do this for him. She wasn’t on some list .”
“What… I thought… I thought he was just in jail. I didn’t know—”
Fuck.
Fuck. Fuck. Fucking fuck.
I stand and cross the room to my bag as he goes on and on, yet I barely hear him for the blood throbbing in my ears.
This was personal.
This was revenge.
They’re after her…
They’re after her.
Irrationality pulses at my fingertips. I remind myself to breathe, but the walls are already too close. My fingers push a few things in my bag out of the way. I know what I’m looking for even if my mind is numb. It’s instinct, a primal urge to protect Bonnie in whatever way the world calls for.
They’re after her.
“—please, I didn’t know—” Jeff is saying. “I didn’t know. I won’t say anything—”
A gun equipped with a silencer lies in the bottom of my duffle. I reach for it and check that it’s loaded.
“No—no, wait! Wait! Don’t—”
I aim the gun between his brows, unable to stop myself—
They’re after her.
It’s the last words that go through my head as the gun goes off with barely a noise, the silencer muffling the shot. My heart skips when the metal flinches in my hand, and Jeff slumps in the computer chair, words ceasing, blood dripping down his forehead.
Dammit.
This wasn’t the way I wanted this to go. I didn’t want to have a clean-up. I wanted to leave him with the promise that I’d be back to finish the job, keep tabs on him and maybe use him later down the road if another client found themselves in something sleazy…
But that photo…
If it got back to Rad or one of those men that someone was snooping around this, that they’d been caught… it might put her in even more danger.
Now I have to make this look more like a black-market deal gone wrong, not some twisted, knife-happy vigilante.
I need to vomit.
I pull my mask off and glance at the time on my phone, trying to keep the nausea at bay. Fuck . There’s no way I’m making it back to meet Bonnie and Darcy after this.
My bloody glove smears on the phone screen as I tap over to Kade’s number and hit the green call button.
“Go for the Make-It-Happen-Man,” Kade answers.
The name takes me aback as I press the speakerphone button. “Okay, we’re going to have a chat about the nicknames you give yourself later, but right now, I need a sweep,” I say.
“Shit,” he grunts. “What happened?”
“It’s a long story,” I reply.
“But the main event?”
“Ah… expired,” I say.
“Fucking… Gem —”
“I don’t need the lecture. I didn’t have a choice. Just… I need to know if he has cameras in here,” I say, glancing around the room. “He has a lot of sketchy shit. It wouldn’t surprise me. And if this gets back to who I’m trying to avoid… We’re going to have a lot more problems.”
Kade doesn’t speak for a moment long enough that I check my phone to make sure I didn’t lose connection.
“Kade?”
“What did you find?” he eventually asks.
I pick up my phone and take a picture of the framed photo, then send it to him.
“Motherfucker,” he grunts when it goes through.
“Yep.”
“Is that… shit, that’s Damien? Fucking Rad?”
“Yeah,” I mutter. “It’s like every sleazy, shithead incel knows each other.”
“Probably have their own club,” he says. “Maybe I can subscribe to their newsletter to get the latest dish. Make our jobs a lot easier.”
“Nah, your dick’s too big,” I say. “So, can you get here or are you leaving me to try this on my own?”
His heavy sigh muffles the speaker. “Hell no. I’m sending Liam. I’ll take care of any footage.”
“Thanks, Kade.”
I end the call before flipping over to my message thread with Bonnie, and it pains me to blow her off. Maybe if I get this cleaned up quickly… Dammit. It still won’t be enough to get back to her at a reasonable time. And with this new information, I’d probably do something I’d regret later—like revealing who I really am by tying her up and forcing her into that empty apartment in Mads’ building. I don’t know that I’d ever let her go, that I’d ever let her out of my sight for even a second once I had her contained.
It isn’t time for her to learn that side of me.
The photo on the desk catches my eye again, and looking at it, I know there’s no way I can go all night without putting eyes on her. Nothing will keep me from seeing her tonight—even if it means all I do is watch her sleep from a chair in front of her door.
They’re after her.