20. Kennedy
Kennedy
“Whew!” Freya slipped off her headphones and leaned back. “That went really well, guys.”
I nodded, and so did Jacob, who was sitting between us in the small recording studio. “Yeah, it was great,” he said. “Thanks again for having me.”
“You’re welcome! Honestly, you’re a natural at this. That was so interesting,” she said. “I can’t believe the FBI might’ve gotten the profile so wrong. It never even occurred to me that the Carver could be two people working together.”
Jacob offered a faint smile. “It’s just a theory, so I could be wrong. But the psychological profile the FBI put together always felt too inconsistent for a single offender. Too many contradictions. More than one killer would explain that.”
“Well, I guess we’ll see, won’t we?” Freya said, arching her brows. Then her expression shifted, and she sat up straight. “Oh, wait. We forgot to do the outro.”
“We can just edit one in from a different episode, right?” I asked.
“We could, but I was hoping to get one with all three of us.” She motioned to Jacob. “Is that okay?”
He and I both nodded. “Sure,” we said in unison.
Freya grimaced and rubbed her throat. “I think I just need to grab some ice water before we do it. My throat’s suddenly all scratchy. Probably from talking for so long today.” She stood up. “I need the bathroom too. Either of you want anything while I’m up?”
“I’d love some tea, if you have it,” Jacob said with a small smile.
“Sure do. Dana keeps this place fully stocked.” She headed toward the door. “Back in a few. Feel free to get up and stretch your legs.”
Once she was gone, I stood and moved to the window, taking her suggestion. Our session with Jacob had run longer than expected, and my legs were tingling with pins and needles.
Jacob followed and came to stand beside me as I peeled back the thick, dark curtain. The sun was setting, turning both the sky and ocean into a vivid mix of pink, gold, and orange.
“Beautiful, isn’t it?” he said. “With everything that’s been going on, I think we forget how lucky we are to live in a place like this.”
I gave him a tight smile, suddenly very aware of how awkward the studio felt without Freya as a buffer. “Yeah, it’s nice.”
He stepped a little closer. “How are you doing with everything, anyway?” he asked, voice dropping slightly. “I know it can’t be easy being targeted by the Carver in such a bizarre way.”
“Honestly, it’s terrifying,” I admitted, eyes still locked on the horizon. “Sometimes it feels like I’m living in a nightmare.”
“Well, this’ll sound very old-fashioned, but… I think you’d feel a lot safer if you had a big, strong man by your side.”
I turned to look at him with a wry half-smile. “Let me guess. You’re the big, strong man in this scenario?”
He grinned back at me. “Guilty as charged.”
“You’re very persistent, aren’t you?” I said, raising an eyebrow before turning back to the view.
“I am. My parents always told me to go after what I want, and not to give up too easily. That advice has served me well over the years.”
“Well, I respect that, but I still don’t think it’s a good idea for me to date anyone right now,” I said, shaking my head. “I’m sorry.”
He moved closer and rested a hand on my shoulder. “Listen, Kennedy… I get it,” he said. “You don’t think it’s smart to get close to anyone right now. Not with everything that's going on with the Carver. But I’m not afraid. And I think I can really help you, if you just let me in.”
I glanced at him, frowning. “Help me with what?”
He held my gaze. “With not hiding anymore.”
“Hiding from what?”
“Yourself,” he replied. “You don’t let people see the real you. You don’t even like to show yourself the real you. But I’ve seen it. And I think that version of you is the most beautiful.”
I stiffened, turning back toward the window. “I’m sorry, but I don’t know what you mean.”
“You do,” he said. “You’re just pretending not to.”
He paused, letting the silence stretch before speaking again.
“I think you’re forgetting that I’ve been seeing you for years, Kennedy. Getting to know everything about you. Even the parts you never said out loud. And to me, it’s obvious. You exhibit very clear… signs.”
My stomach twisted. “What signs?” I asked, though I instantly regretted the question.
“Signs I’ve seen in other patients who were brave enough to admit what you won’t. That they had urges. Ones they thought made them bad. Deviant. Dirty.”
“Please stop,” I said quietly, stepping away from the window. “I don’t want to talk about this anymore.”
He didn’t stop. He followed me instead, closing the distance between us again. “You hide it well. You smile, you deflect, and you cling to control like it’ll keep the real you from slipping out,” he said. “But I see you, Kennedy. The real you. And I know exactly what you want. What you need .”
I swallowed, my skin prickling. “This is really starting to feel like a violation of whatever ethical rules psychologists are supposed to follow,” I said.
“Report me, then,” Jacob said calmly. “It won’t make what I said any less true, will it?”
He took another slow step forward.
“I was really hoping you’d feel safe enough in our last session to admit it,” he went on. “But you didn’t. Shame’s a very powerful thing.”
“I’m not ashamed,” I muttered, even though I knew he was right.
“You are. I see it all over you, Kennedy.” His voice lowered further. “You’re drawn to danger. You desperately want to be overpowered. You want to say no—scream it, even—while someone ignores all those pleas and has their way with you anyway. But you’re deeply ashamed of that.”
I flinched. “I said I don’t want to talk about this.”
“You don’t have to be afraid anymore,” he said softly. “You can explore it. With me. I can give you the permission you need. Make you feel safe while you let go.”
As he spoke, he stepped in again, and I backed up instinctively, only to feel my spine hit the wall behind me. He followed, calm and steady, like he’d already rehearsed this moment in his head. Like he knew exactly how it would unfold.
His eyes stayed locked on mine, but his hand lifted, fingers brushing lightly along my arm.
I tensed. “Please don’t touch me.”
His hand moved again, fingers skimming higher, tracing the line of my shoulder. “You say that,” he murmured. “But I know this is what you want.”
“No,” I said firmly. “You’re wrong. Stop.”
He didn’t. His hand slid to the side of my neck, thumb resting just below my jaw, stroking slowly. “Your pulse is racing,” he said quietly. “You can feel it, can’t you? The adrenaline. The heat. I bet you’re getting wetter and wetter by the second.”
My breath hitched. He was right. I could feel my body reacting to being cornered—tight chest, trembling limbs, heat gathering low and slick in my core. But it wasn’t because I wanted him. It was because he was scaring me, and fear had always turned me on.
“Stop,” I said through gritted teeth. “Now.”
He smiled thinly. “You don’t mean that. And I know you won’t scream. Because you don’t really want this to end.”
I jerked my head away, eyes flicking to the studio door. “Freya will be back any minute.”
“That’s okay,” Jacob said, his voice low and eerily pleased. “Part of you likes that too, right? The idea of getting caught. Of someone walking in and seeing you like this.”
My stomach turned. “Don’t.”
“It’s the risk you love,” he went on, eyes gleaming now.
“The fear. The way it burns just under your skin, right next to the want. I see it in you. Always have.” He leaned in closer, hand still pressing lightly against my neck.
“You don’t have to pretend anymore, Kennedy.
Not with me. We could be so good together. ”
His breath was hot against my cheek, fingers tightening slightly on my throat. Not enough to cut off my air, but enough to make me feel trapped.
“Stop!” I gasped, shoving at his chest. “I said no! ”
Jacob barely flinched. “You’re shaking,” he whispered, smiling like he’d won something. “You love it, don’t you?”
The door burst open. Before he could say another word, he was slammed sideways, ripped away from me in a blur of motion and fury.
Malachi.
He tackled Jacob to the ground with a savage grunt, and two police officers surged in right behind him, one of them shouting commands I barely registered.
“Don’t fucking move!”
I pressed back against the wall, heart slamming against my ribs as my breath came in sharp bursts. I couldn’t stop shaking, and somewhere deep in my chest, a familiar old fear twisted. It was like being a child again. Small. Weak. Powerless.
Jacob was on his back now, one arm pinned by Malachi’s forearm. The other flailed until one of the officers dropped to restrain him, forcing him still.
“Wait,” he rasped. “That… that wasn’t what it looked like. This is just a misunderstanding.”
Malachi’s face was twisted with rage, eyes locked on Jacob like he wanted to break him open. “We heard her shouting ‘no’ from down the hall, scumbag.”
Jacob coughed, breath shallow. “It was just a game, okay? That’s all.”
Malachi’s gaze snapped to me. “Is that true, Kennedy?” he asked tightly. “Did you agree to play this so-called game?”
I shook my head, heart hammering. “No.”
He looked back at Jacob, jaw clenched so hard I could see the muscle twitch. “You’re done.”
Jacob was still panting, but there was something smug curling at the corners of his lips now. Something that made my blood run cold.
One of the officers yanked him upright and wrenched his arms behind his back. The cuffs snapped into place with brutal finality as the second officer began reading him his rights, voice cold and clipped.
“This is bullshit,” Jacob spat. “I barely even touched her. My lawyer’s going to—”
One of the officers cut him off. “We caught you assaulting a woman. Not only that, you assaulted a woman who’s being directly targeted by the Carver. What do you think that looks like for you, huh?” he said, eyes narrowing.