Candy Cane and Crave
TW: Attempted murder, blackmail, murder.
MARCUS
She smiled at me. The bitch smiled at me and didn’t even bother to look away—she held my gaze while she lied straight to the cops faces.
But why? Is this some twisted version of predator becoming the prey?
I’m losing my mind. Everywhere I look, I see those cunning green eyes, that beautiful fucking smile.
Pacing my office, I run my hands through my hair until I mess it up so badly that when I look in the mirror, I appear completely mad.
“Fuck, Marcus,” I whisper to the reflection. “Now you’ve done it.”
The worst part? That smile, the lies she told and the spark of mischief in her eyes only made me want her more.
I want her so bad it hurts, even though I know I shouldn’t. That woman has my entire life lying in the palm of her hand and she can crush it if she pleases to do so.
There’s always the chance that no one will believe her when she decides to tell the truth. Nobody likes stories that keep on changing.
Also, if she really does, I know that most people won’t take her seriously, because who, in their right mind, would believe that a police Chief would be capable of doing the vile things she’d describe?
Absolutely no one, who knows me, that’s who.
But still, even with the knowledge of all that, I still worry because there’s always a chance someone might listen.
“Think, Marcus, think,” I mutter, urging myself to come up with a solution to this royal fuck up.
She wasn’t supposed to survive!
She had to end up in a ditch like all of my previous victims, rotting until someone stumbles upon the body, not laying in a comfortable hospital bed and grinning at me.
As I start pacing the length of the office again, the tense silence is broken by the ringtone of my phone, making me jump.
I rush to answer the call, clearing my throat before I speak, “Williams.”
“Chief, the doctors say they’re ready to discharge the victim. Do you want us to transport her home or one of the temporary safe houses? Also, Ramirez wants to know if you’re planning to assign her security until we can catch the killer.”
I remain silent, unsure how to react. I’ve never had anyone survive my attack so this is a rather complex situation.
Just to fill the silence, I let out a heavy breath. To officer Dallas I might sound like I’m considering the best course of action, which is the perfect excuse—he’s free to assume I’m struggling to find a solution.
Besides, my reluctance to make the decision can be explained easily. We lack officers in the city, most units are out on calls, there are only a few in the station and all of them are working on piles of late reports for me.
“I’m not sure,” I finally answer, forcing my voice to sound pitiful, like I’m really stuck. “We’re barely scraping the surface of everyday calls with the amount of officers in the station, assigning one to the victim would already be stretching it too thin, let alone more.”
Dallas hums in agreement as someone mutters something in the background, but I can’t tell what they’re saying or who’s speaking.
“Chief, the doctor is offering to keep her in the hospital for a couple more days.” Dallas says and I’m truly grateful he can’t see the scowl on my face or how white my knuckles turn as I grip the phone.
Assigning private security would be problematic because she might start talking and while, yes, her ramblings might be dismissed, I can’t control the narrative if I’m not around.
Leaving her in the hospital might backfire even worse. There are only so many times I can visit under the guise of investigation to keep an eye on her before my presence starts raising questions.
“Chief? You there?” Dallas asks, pulling me out of my thoughts.
I clear my throat and run a hand through my hair again, grumbling, “yeah, just thinking. Give me a call in an hour. Keep your eyes on her, don’t let the doctors discharge her before we speak again. I’ll try to come up with something in the meantime.”
“Oh, okay,” Dallas grumbles in agreement, although he sounds confused by my order. “I’ll call you later then.” He adds and hangs up.
The moment the call ends, I barely hold myself back from throwing the phone against the wall.
Fuck!
I slump in my chair and let my mind go over every possible outcome. Each scenario seems to end with a worse result for me, so eventually, I give up on trying and wait for the next call.
When my phone rings again, for a brief moment, I consider if avoiding it would free me of the responsibility.
Of course it wouldn’t, but maybe changing my name and feeling to another state would. Okay, that too would totally suck.
Groaning, I pull my imaginary big boy pants up and answer the call before it rings out.
If I have balls big enough to kill and act like I’m looking for the killer, I have them big enough to deal with this shit.
“What’s the plan of action, Chief?” Dallas asks even before I manage to say a word.
Closing my eyes, I take a breath before I say the words I’d rather not. “I’m taking her in my custody until we find whoever tried to kill her.”
There’s complete silence on the other end of the call, long enough for me to pull the phone away from my ear and check if the call didn’t cut. “Dallas?”
“Yeah, I’m listening, Chief,” Dallas mutters, then adds, “I just… well… fuck, I didn’t think you’d take this case so personally, Chief. Guess you caught me off guard, is all.”
In any other situation, I’d chuckle at how flustered Dallas sounds, but not in this one.
Instead, I grumble a gruff, “not personal, Dallas. We’re lacking resources to protect a victim of attempted murder. If we find whoever did it, we need our key witness alive.”
“Not if, Chief, when,” Dallas corrects and I swear, I wish I could skin him alive for those words alone.
But, as the amazing actor I’ve learned to be, I answer, “yes, you’re right—when. Alright, I need you to update her doctor on the current plan and stay in the hospital until I arrive. Once she’s discharged, she’s my responsibility until we solve the case.”
“You’re truly the best man I know, Chief,” Dallas mutters under his breath, like he’s too shy to say the words loud enough for the people around him to hear. “I’ll see you in a couple of hours.” He adds quickly and hangs up on me again.
As I set the phone back on the desk, the corner of my mouth twitches with a suppressed smile. Best man he knows… yeah, if only he knew.
Chuckling, I shake my head and quickly finish up the workload for the day. Once I’m done, I grab my things and head out.
I’d rather drive straight back home and plan some future activities, but instead, I drive there to get rid of the evidence. The main reason I didn’t give Dallas a clear timeline is because I refuse to go there while so much proof of my past doings is scattered in my home.
There’s no way I’m letting that woman see anything, especially the darkest details.
After I park my car in front of my house and get inside, I spend two hours cleaning and organizing.
Every file I had on my victims is safely tucked away in a safe inside the basement. The little trinkets I’ve collected as trophies are hidden too, the same as anything that could make anyone suspicious of my involvement.
Once I’m done, I do another two walk-throughs just in case I missed something.
By the time I’m satisfied with the result, I’m half tempted to drag myself to the bedroom and get some rest, but instead, I leave the house, get in the car and drive straight to the hospital.
When I arrive, the first thing I notice is that Dallas stands by the entry, enjoying a smoke.
Getting out of the car, I consider demanding answers as to why he’s outside, but that sounds stupid because I still have eyes and can see exactly why. So, instead, I opt for approaching him casually, hands in the pockets of my jeans.
As soon as Dallas notices me, he flashes me a wide grin, “good evening, chief, nice to see you.”
“Where’s our witness?” I ask, skipping out on pleasantries.
“Inside,” Dallas nods at the entry. “By the nurses station, waiting for you to arrive and sign the discharge papers.”
“You can leave,” I grumble to him and head inside the hospital.
Just like Dallas said, there she is, sitting in a wheelchair while the nurses fuss around her.
This is bad… And what’s worse is that the moment I step inside, it’s like she can feel my presence and her eyes instantly find me. Then, the smile on her lips widens, like she’s been waiting for this moment her entire life.
I’m not one to feel fear usually, but my stomach fucking drops when I see the look on her face.
Of course, I don’t let anyone see my reaction and remain stone-faced as I go through the paperwork with her doctor, pretend to listen to how I’m supposed to care for her and finally, grip the wheelchair handles to guide it out of the building.
At the car, I lean down and lift her into my arms, ready to place her in the passenger seat.
What stops me is the brush of her lips against the shell of my ear as she whispers, “I know what you did. You didn’t leave a candy cane with me—does that make me special, or does it mean I’m your least favorite victim? ”
A cold shiver runs down my spine as I consider how to react to her question or should I at all. She’s twisting the narrative. With a few simple words, she manages to trick me into doubting myself.
The fact of the matter is that I’m the one who’s in control. I pick and choose my victims, plan out every single thing I want to do, list down very specific fantasies I want to act out on each of them and the list goes on.
But this one, Olivia Reid, the seemingly sweet, unassuming and innocent kindergarten teacher, has decided to flip the game on me and I don’t know how to react to her presence anymore.
“I don’t have any idea what you’re talking about, missy,” I finally mumble and set her into the car, going the extra step of buckling her in and ensuring she’s comfortable.