CHAPTER 18

Sticks and Stones May Break My Bones

I was sitting on the bed with my shoulder leaning against the wall when I heard his keys jangling outside the metal door. I was still weak and feverish, but I managed to scoot forward until my feet were touching the floor. I sat as straight as I could, pulling my shoulders back and my chin up, prepared to die.

He breezed in, eyes narrowing when he saw me sitting up with the blanket draped around me in defiance. "I see you're feeling better."

I wasn't any better; I was putting on a brave front for him. The last thing I wanted was for him to sense any weakness. I kept my reaction neutral as he threw the paper bag my way. It landed on the mattress beside my hip. I made no move to catch it. I wouldn't need his hospitality after today.

I stared up at him through swollen eyes, watching the wheels turning in his little brain as he tried to figure out what I was thinking. We were in a standoff of sorts. And then I felt the tickle in my chest growing. I tried to hold it in—to be strong—but the need to cough grew until I couldn't suppress it any longer. I hunched over, hacking and gasping. When I was able to breathe evenly, I gathered my internal strength and stood on shaky legs. This was it. I was now standing nose to nose with a serial killer, getting ready to goad him into ending my life.

His eyes narrowed and his lips flattened as he stared me down. I could see the confusion in his eyes because I wasn't cowering on the bed in fear. I remained steadfast, not looking away, emboldened by my decision. He thought he had all the power, but he was wrong. I'd just taken some of mine back.

The longer I stared at him the redder his face became, until finally, his anger got the better of him, and he yanked the blanket off me, dropping it onto the floor. His eyes roamed up and down my body and then he pasted a twisted smile on his face. "You're looking lovely." He grabbed my protruding hip bones, pulling me flush against his body. His eyes brightened as he bent his knees and ground his pelvis into me. "Soon, you'll take your last breath, and when you do, I'll be inside you—joined together forever as you leave this world."

My mind snapped, leaving me empty and uncaring. I blinked slowly, mouth open, taking short breaths. They say everyone has a breaking point and I guess I'd reached mine. I was going to tell him exactly what I thought of him and hope that when I finished, he'd be so angry he'd end my suffering.

"Oh!" I widened my eyes and looked toward the empty glass case. "Is that for me?" My smile was saccharine sweet as I shook my head. "You shouldn't have."

"I'm glad you like it." He leaned in until his nose was almost touching mine and arched his eyebrow. "You'll be resting in it for eternity."

Goosebumps slid along the back of my neck. If he was trying to scare me, he was doing a damn fine job. I swallowed hard but managed to keep my face from showing the fear that was threatening to overtake me. I let my eyelashes flutter and gave him a coy smile. "What? You don't think I'm special anymore?" That statement was about all I could manage before I grabbed my side and hunched over in a coughing fit.

He waited until I got control of myself and straightened. His lip curled in disgust and his eagle eyes pinned me to the spot. "Emmie made a mistake choosing you. She isn't perfect, but rest assured, my true love is still out there, and Emmie will find her." He walked over to the women, pacing in front of the cases as if he was a professor giving a lecture, dispensing his rhetoric to a captive audience. "My heart is full of love for you all." He addressed them with his hand over his heart as if pledging his allegiance. "Emmie saw something special in each of you. I'd been alone for so long and then she led me to you—my beloved. Each of you are gifts from her, and I will always treasure the love you have given me. Through your love, one day I will be whole again."

I snorted. "You think they love you?" He swung his head around in time to see me shaking with laughter even though it hurt like hell. I gave him a mocking smile as I pointed over his shoulder at the women. "They're repulsed by you. As soon as you leave, they laugh at you."

His eyes narrowed and his jaw went slack. "You're lying!

I bit back a smile as I wiped my nose and stuck my lower lip out in mock pity, voice dripping with sarcasm. "They think it's hilarious when you pull your pathetic little pee-pee out and jerk off in front of them. They know something's not right up here." I tapped my forehead, feeling the sweat pouring off me. "Poor Hunter, whose life was sooo tragic, he can't get his pecker hard by being with a living breathing woman, so he chains them up and starves them. Yeah, sure they love you. You keep telling yourself that."

His eyes bulged before he was able to get himself under control. I thought he was going to slug me any second, but he backed up and started shaking his head in disgust. "You were supposed to love me. How could Emmie have gotten it so wrong?"

"Love you?" I balled my hands into fists at my side, groaning through the pain as I took a step toward him. "You're insane. How could anyone love a man like you? A man who's afraid to get punished by his mommy so he left his sister to die." His head snapped back as if I'd struck him, and his chest rose and fell in quick succession. I slid my feet along the concrete, taking another step in his direction, feeling lighter with every word. "Surely you could have saved her if you hadn't run home like a baby. Poor little Emmie, she was so hungry while she waited for her brother to come and save her." I was surprised at the cruel words coming out of my mouth. They sounded nothing like me.

As his eyes bore into mine, he clenched and unclenched his hands, grinding his teeth, barely restraining his anger. I was hoping he'd let go. I was ready for the fallout. In fact, I was looking forward to it.

He walked closer, stabbing his finger at me. "You know nothing!" he screamed as spittle flew from his mouth, landing on my cheek. "I was a scared little kid. Emmie understands it wasn't my fault."

Was I supposed to feel sorry for him? I covered my mouth and yawned.

"She should be worried about ME being mad at HER." He yelled. "This is the second time she's chosen a woman unworthy of me. First, that whore Ashley, and now you." He ended his tirade and stood quietly—too quietly. I wish I knew what was going on in his head. "On second thought, I don't think I will let you rest with the others. I won't have you turning them against me with your filthy mouth."

Before I took things too far, I'd give him one final opportunity to do the right thing. "You can show Emmie you've grown up to be someone she can be proud of." I spoke carefully, doing my best to control my tone. "All you have to do is let me go."

"You know nothing about what Emmie wants." He glanced at me sideways, clenching his jaw as he took in a deep breath. "I'm not sure what I'll do with you, but you won't be leaving."

Tendrils of fear worked their way past my resolve. The urge to apologize was increasing. Maybe I could still salvage my situation. Maybe I could convince him to keep me alive and live to fight another day. Maybe someone would find me. But before any of that could happen, I was racked with more violent coughs, reminding me that I was already dying. With no doctor or medicine, survival seemed hopeless. When the coughing cleared, my spine straightened, bolstered by an influx of adrenaline. "You can kidnap and kill hundreds of women, but none of them will ever love you." I looked him up and down, sneering. "You're pathetic."

He grabbed me by the throat and squeezed—not hard enough to crush, but hard enough that I started squirming. His lips curled and his nostril's flared as his breathing increased. "Stupid cow!" He barked out a laugh. "You think I'm pathetic? No one even cares that you're missing. Your mother was so eager to pawn you off that she invited a total stranger to her house to meet her daughter." Something in my eyes must have shown him that he'd hit his target. And then he smiled as if he knew a delicious secret. "And those two idiots that were sniffing around you have moved on to greener pastures. While you pine away for them, they're not even looking for you. The cop has already replaced you with a new bimbo and the other one… the one with all the muscles… he searched for you for about five minutes and then he left town again. So, it looks like I'm not the only one who isn't satisfied with what you have to offer."

I wanted to scream at him… to rage in his face… but all I could do was stand there and listen to his hurtful words tunneling their way into my brain like an infection. My face felt like it was burning with the shame of inadequacy. His words were hitting me like physical blows, cutting to the heart of all my insecurities. In a matter of seconds, he'd done more damage than he had in all the weeks I'd been here.

He was smiling at me with a satisfied smirk, knowing his words had hit their mark. While I was down, he was going to finish me off. He drew his arm back and backhanded me across the face. I fell backward onto the floor and moaned as every bone in my body was jarred. The pain had me gasping for breath and I curled into myself, trying to make it better.

He stood over me, baring his teeth, chest heaving. I made no attempt to get up. I was hoping he'd finish me off. Through my tears, I gave him a halfhearted smile and muttered. "No one could love something like you. Not your mother. Not your father. Not even your twin sister. You're going to die like Emmie did… all alone."

He snarled and drew his booted foot back kicking me in the head. After that I saw nothing else.

Sometime later, I woke with my head pounding and my eyes crusted shut. When the urge to cough hit me, it felt like a volcano of fire was erupting in my chest. My breathing was shallow and harsh, and if I wasn't sure before if some of my ribs were broken… I was now. I was in so much pain I couldn't decide where it hurt most, but to my dismay, I was still alive.

A wave of anger hit me—hard. Provoking him to quickly end my life had backfired. All this pain had been for nothing. My tears were loosening the crusted gunk around my swollen eyelids. I gently rubbed them, helping to pry the lids apart, wincing as I slowly blinked. My vision was blurry, but I was able to see that I was lying on the floor in a puddle of blood and he was gone.

By the time I pulled myself up onto the bed, I was dripping sweat even though my teeth were chattering. My fever had gotten worse while I'd been knocked out. I wasn't sure how long a person could maintain a high temperature without severe complications. Mine had been spiking and then easing off intermittently for a while.

My hand grazed over the paper bag lying on the bed. I was surprised to find he'd left it. Most likely, he'd forgotten he'd dropped it after we tangled both verbally and physically. I certainly didn't think he was going to go out of his way to keep me alive any longer. What was in this bag was probably the last food and drink I'd ever get. After pulling the blanket over me, I passed out again.

Doctors warn not to go to sleep after a head injury, so I was a little surprised when I woke up. I was only able to stay alert for minutes at a time, drinking and eating a little before I passed out again. Thanks to him, I knew exactly what to expect when my food and water was gone.

I could already feel my body shutting down.

My predicament reminded me of a movie I'd once seen. It was about a man who had his arm wedged between two boulders. Just like me, he knew he was going to starve to death if he didn't do something. Lucky for him, he had a weapon. He was able to free his trapped arm by cutting it off. It occurred to me that I could do something similar. I didn't have a knife, but I'd heard of people dislocating their thumbs, allowing them to slip out of cuffs.

Maybe it would work for me.

It was a good plan, but what would I do with only one arm free? What was the point if the rest of me was still shackled?

For one thing, I'd have a two-foot length of chain with a thick metal cuff dangling off my hand. Surely, it would do some damage if I hit him with it. If I was successful in overpowering him, I could take the keys and escape. Hitting him in the head was the most logical choice. It would do the most damage. I looked down at the bed. It was situated right beside the door, close enough that if I stood on it, I would be at his level. I could swing the chain as he came through the door and knock him out. It was a risk, but I was starting to feel pretty good about my plan. Thanks to him, I didn't have anything left to lose. But I needed to do it soon because my strength was waning.

I looked around for something heavy enough to break or dislocate my thumb. The only thing of substantial weight within reach was the leg of my metal bed. It only had two legs in the front because the back was attached to the wall on hinges, allowing him the option of pushing it up and out of the way when he didn't have a woman down here. The legs were thick metal, and I thought they'd be bulky enough to do damage. That is, if I could slam the leg down hard enough on my hand.

Since I was right-handed, I'd need to make sure to break the left hand because I was going to need my right one to sling the chain at his head and to unlock my other shackles so I could get out of here. I slid off the bed onto my knees and lay my left forearm flat on the concrete, thumb side up. Before I could think too much about the pain involved, I raised the metal leg of the bed about a foot and a half off the floor. Holding it, I took a steadying breath and slammed it down.

My hand exploded in pain. The kind of blinding agony I'd never felt before.

I couldn't breathe.

I couldn't see.

It seemed never ending.

I slid my throbbing hand out from under the metal leg, cradling it to my chest as I collapsed onto my back—gasping, but unable to take in any air. Slowly, my vision returned and so did my breath. A long moan erupted, starting small and getting louder. And then the tears came. Ignoring my pain, I tried to slide the cuff off, but it would only slide down a little, not nearly far enough. When I realized I was going to have to hit it again, the moaning sound I'd been making turned into a pitiful whimper.

The tears were coming so fast they were blurring my vision, and my hand was throbbing in time with the pounding in my head. For a minute, I debated stopping—just giving up—but I'd already come this far. I had to finish this. I took a deep breath and lifted the leg again. Just as I was about to slam it down, I slid my hand out of the way and dropped the leg back onto the floor. I was crying so hard my face was drenched in tears and snot was running into my open mouth.

There was no way I could do it again. No fucking way.

I gave myself a few minutes to calm down and then blew out a few breaths as I psyched myself up again. It was time to get this done. I took another deep breath… and another… and then I lifted the leg. At the same time I slammed the leg down; I jerked my arm away again. I sobbed harder. I couldn't do it. I couldn't do it. Oh, please… I couldn't do it.

My brain was giving me conflicting information. It was telling me if I wanted to live, this was my only choice, but it was also objecting to inflicting more pain on myself. Just when I was ready to give up, Ranger's voice whispered in my ear. This is the only way, Babe. The pain will be brief and when it's over, you can come home. I'll be waiting for you.

As if he was standing right here with me, his dark eyes stared into mine, infusing me with the strength to do what needed to be done. An eerie calm came over me and I took one last, deep breath before slamming the leg of the bed down as hard as I could. The pain that followed was ten times worse than the first time. It was coming from everywhere all at once. Time seemed to stop and then everything turned black.

When I came too, I was lying on the floor and it felt like someone was constantly hammering on the bones in my hand. Pain radiated from the tips of my fingers all the way up my shoulder in waves that wouldn't stop. All I could focus on was the pain. Nothing else mattered. But some tiny part of my brain was sending a warning message to me to hurry up. I looked down at my hand, noticing the swelling.

Shit! I frantically started tugging on the cuff, needing to get it off quickly. I couldn't stomach the thought that I'd gone through all of this for nothing. As I tugged, the metal rolled over my skin, tearing it and grinding the shattered bones against each other. I gritted my teeth and pushed through the pain until I was able to pull off the shackle.

I did it. I had one hand free. But I was in a world of pain. I fell over onto my back and just lay there.

Sometime later, when the pain had dissipated enough that I could start thinking again, I slowly managed to get to my feet. My body trembled with the effort and I had to guard my hand against any unnecessary movement. As soon as I steadied myself, I began practicing my swing. I anchored my bare feet to the floor and swung the cuff at the wall, hitting the block and sending chunks of concrete flying. I smiled, proud of myself. This was going to do a lot of damage to that pretty face of his.

The timing had to be right, and I had to use all my strength, but I was sure I could take him down. He'd never see it coming.

He hadn't met the real Stephanie Plum—but he was about too.