Cruel: A Dark Psychological Thriller: (A Necrosis of the Mind Duet 1) Read online

  If he doesn’t do this at least once during the hour, he becomes agitated. He talks faster, fidgets. Repeatedly runs his hand through his hair.

  “We have a girl,” Alex announces. He looks up from the computer screen and stretches his hands overhead.

  “I had no idea we were expecting,” I snark.

  His features morph into something between a scowl and a smile. It’s cute. “Funny,” he says. “Maybelline Mayberry. God, I hope that’s a fake name. Ericson is sending a Town Car to pick her up at nine in front of a bar.”

  I stand to stretch myself, working out the kink in my neck from staring at my phone for so long. We’ve been going over the plan for tonight. Making sure we have everything in place.

  Alex has been using his program to monitor Ericson the past few days, waiting for him to order an escort. There was a chance he wouldn’t…after the last girl he ordered drugged him and left him cupping his balls.

  But, as I’ve also come to understand, men like Ericson are creatures of habit. He likes to have a beautiful woman on his arm when he attends illicit functions. He likes to have a comfy place to park his cock. Paying for it—in his mind—entitles him to do with his possession as he wishes.

  We discussed turning Ericson’s phone into the hot mic, but there were too many possible catastrophes. Alex getting caught bugging his phone for one, where Alex would suffer a far worse beat down than he took at the warehouse.

  Ultimately, the escort was the only logical choice.

  “Are you sure you can handle this alone?” I’ve asked Alex this before, at least once a day as we’ve formed our plan.

  Alex’s role is actually very simple: stay close to Ericson. Yet it’s what’s being asked of him to endure that is the difficult part. After tonight, his part will be done and I’ll take it solo once again. Alex will return to his mundane life in a lab, and I’ll exact Lenora’s revenge.

  Game over.

  Alex doesn’t answer me this time, however. He just stares, arms crossed over his chest.

  I shrug. “It’s not too late to back out, is all I’m saying.”

  “Why can’t you just say thank you?” He closes his laptop. “You need me, Blakely.”

  “I wouldn’t need you, had you never gotten in the way to begin with.” I traipse to the kitchen to grab a water, tossing over my shoulder, “But thanks for getting us access.” I can thank him for that much, at least.

  “Why does this need to take place at the attic?” he asks suddenly.

  “Because that’s where Ericson does his dirty deeds.” And I have a feeling, after his last experience, Ericson will be in rare form and looking to exact his own form of punishment on the weaker sex. Our whole plan depends on this.

  “It’s just…”

  I lower the water bottle from my mouth. “Say it now. We’re out of time.”

  The mention of our shrinking deadline stirs a reaction. Alex rises to his feet. “No one should get hurt.”

  I hold his gaze for a beat too long, then twist the cap off the bottle and take a swig of water. “We’re not avenging angels, or deities of fate, Alex. We don’t work for the justice department. In fact, we’re not anything.” I drop the water bottle on the counter. “This is my gig, not yours.”

  “I know that,” he says, blue eyes wide and searching. “But don’t you feel the least bit responsible if this girl gets hurt?”

  “No, I don’t. What do you think would happen tonight if we weren’t involved? Ericson’s choices are his own. If he chooses to hurt someone, it’s going to happen regardless of us. We’re just window dressing. There to observe.”

  This was all new and exciting when it was simply a plan, theoretic. Now that we’re here, ready to put it into effect, Alex is suffering his conscience. That thing which holds most people back from doing what’s necessary.

  He blows out a breath. “I should be the one to bring the mic in.”

  We’ve gone over this scenario, too. It would be the easiest way to nail Ericson…and also the easiest way to get caught. “They’re going to search you,” I say. “Thoroughly. And what do you think will happen when they find it? You’re not walking out with a steak on your face this time. You wouldn’t be walking out at all.”

  “You’re right. I know that.” He drives a hand through his hair and sighs. “I just wish there was another way. We didn’t have enough time to analyze all the possible scenarios, to test theories.”

  A smile steals across my face. Of course he would enjoy the process more than the event. That’s his nature as a scientist. Really, it’s in my nature too—the hunt more exciting than the kill.

  “Maybe next time we’ll have more time for foreplay,” I say.

  His eyes alight on me. “Next time? I thought you were through with me after tonight.”

  I shrug as I head into the living area.

  “And definitely not foreplay,” he continues, voice serious once again. “I honestly get no enjoyment out of knowing someone might suffer.”

  “Then why are you here, Alex?” I hold up a hand before he can fire off his tired reasoning. “Boredom aside, you’re not the type to jump into a situation without giving it careful thought, as you just stated. You had to have known this type of job would involve some level of pain for casualties.”

  He leans against the table and removes his glasses as I approach. I eye his suit, the one he chose in preparation for tonight. I helped coordinate the pitch-black Armani with a light-blue tie to bring out his most striking feature, those pale-blue eyes. He looks sexy.

  His gaze roves over me slowly, as if he’s sizing up my response. “You can’t be this cavalier about people,” he finally says.

  “Cavalier?” I close the distance between us. I get so near, we’re almost touching. There’s still a purple shadow beneath his eye, the bruise left behind from the fight I caused. That alone should be proof enough to Alex that, in this line of work, someone always gets hurt. “So you’re calling me heartless, uncaring.”

  A memory of my second grade teacher surfaces.

  “That’s not what I’m saying at all.”

  But it is. I’ve been here before. Any time I let someone get the least bit close, the result is their discomfort when they figure out how callous my metaphorical “heart” is.

  I can feel his energy vibrating off him, a low buzz that tingles my skin. I walk my fingers up his chest, taking note of the solid feel of him, unyielding beneath my touch. “What do you want, Alex?”

  His breathing becomes unsteady as I reach his neck. I let the pads of my fingers gently rest at the base of his throat, and I feel his hard swallow. “Nothing, Blakely.” He says my name like he means it. “I’m just here for the ride.”

  “Bullshit.” I grab the back of his neck and bring my face close to his, our eyes locked. “Everyone wants something. What. Do you. Want?”

  His breaths become ragged as his gaze drops to my mouth. The question of whether or not he’s bold enough to take what he desires hangs in the small span of air between us, a charged yearning that begs for our lips to collide.

  He’s all restraint and unyielding resolve as his gaze flicks upward. “I want to experience that rush again,” he says. “Like the other night.”

  The corner of my lips slowly tip into a smile. I remain close to him, letting his words wash over me, as if I can siphon a small amount of his exhilaration for myself. “Then you have to accept the reality that there’s always collateral damage, Alex.” I brush my fingers through his hair, tucking an errant strand into place. “The escort is expendable.”

  His pupils dilate, those dark eyebrows draw together. “Yeah, I guess you’re right.” He says the words, but I notice how his jaw flexes, a muscle tics. He’s angry.

  He moves away from me and busies himself at his desk.

  I admit, the fire in his eyes gives me a tiny thrill. “Trust me, girls like that can handle themselves. They don’t need a hero, Alex.”

  “I get it, Blakely.” He slams one of his
thick science books closed. “I don’t need to be convinced any further.”

  “What about coddled?” I say, taking another jab. “Do you want me to lie to you and tell you nothing bad will happen? That we’ll intervene just in time to save the damsel in distress?”

  He exhales heavily as he picks up his glasses and pushes them into place. Removing his watch from his pocket, he checks the time. “We’re going to be late.”

  A laugh slips free, and Alex looks at me. “What?”

  “You’re the white rabbit,” I say. At his frown, I add, “From Alice in Wonderland. He’s always checking the time on his pocket watch, so worried about being late.”

  Completely stoic, he slips his watch into his front pocket. “It’s Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland.”

  I hold up my hands in mock surrender. “Down boy.”

  There’s a moment where I think my teasing tone might garner a laugh, ease the strain he’s under, but he turns away to start collecting his items for tonight without any emotional response.

  The tension in the air is heavy. It’s moments like this I wish I had the ability to understand what he’s feeling. Is it anxiety? Dread? Guilt? As it is, I can’t make myself care too much. If he’s not willing to enlighten me, then there’s very little I can offer him in way of advice.

  All I have are the skills necessary to get him out of the situation if it goes bad.

  Honestly, if I do have to pull out of the job, it’s not the end of the world. I could give Lenora back her money, walk away from the whole mess. Only, this is no longer about just finishing a job. Punishing the mark.

  I’m curious to watch Alex—to see what he does, how he responds. For the first time in a long while, I’m excited that I don’t know how the job will play out.

  “Alex, last chance…” I raise a questioning eyebrow. “Or forever hold your peace.”

  This time, Alex doesn’t waver. “I’m ready,” he says. “Absolutely no regrets.”

  “All right then. Lead the way.”

  Just like Alice, I follow my white rabbit down the hole into the shadowy unknown of our dark Wonderland.

  13

  Bait

  Blakely

  At night, the sounds of the city are distanced. Every blaring horn, screeching brake, and enraged shout feel muffled by a gauzy web that blankets the air, a sort of detached veil for the people who walk the streets.

  It’s a necessary survival skill to distance yourself from the madness. You can’t cower at every bump in the night.

  And tonight, I’m the boogeyman.

  Black hoodie pulled down to shield my face, I stand at the corner of a dive bar as I wait for my mark. Since most of the pressure is on Alex to perform later, I’m taking on Maybelline Mayberry, our damsel in distress.

  We had this whole super covert plan worked out where Alex would spill a drink on her handbag, and I’d help hold her things in the lady’s room… But just like most of Alex’s theories, it became too convoluted.

  When devising a scheme of any measure, it’s best to keep it simple. Fewer variables, less of a chance something will go wrong. That’s one thing Alex and I agree on. Why go all cloak and dagger when a simple mugging will get the job done?

  A blonde wearing a little black dress saunters up smoking a cigarette. If I didn’t recognize her from the picture on the escort site, I’d still know she was here for Ericson. She’s just his type.

  In the end, you have to take what you want—and what I want is in her purse.

  A few feet away from the escort, Alex leans against the building, his head bowed as he stares at his phone. He looks up at her, then gives me a nod. I pull the knit mask up to cover the bottom half of my face. When we’re discussing this later, I’ll tell Alex how very secret agent he is in this moment. He’ll like that.

  As the blonde taps out the cigarette with the toe of her four-inch pump, I start in her direction. Moving at a swift pace, I keep my head cast down and my eyes locked on her handbag. Ironically, just a couple weeks ago, the roles in this scenario were reversed when a guy attempted to mug me. Now here I am, the thief.

  I hope Maybelline isn’t a fighter.

  The event happens fast. I snatch the strap of her purse and take off, my feet pounding the pavement. She yelps and frantically announces that her bag has been stolen. Alex comes to her rescue. I hear him behind me, gaining ground.

  I dodge a group of tourists and dip around the building to enter the alley, my breath sawing my lungs. I don’t wait for Alex to catch up; I open Maybelline’s bag and dig out her phone.

  I snap the purple case off in preparation and have it ready when Alex comes around the corner. I hold it up. “Here. Hurry.”

  “Shit.” Alex grabs his side. “Should’ve had a few practice runs. My heart is about to explode.”

  Impatience bites my nerves. “That’s what you get for sitting at a lab desk all day. Give me the device.”

  “I got it.” Alex unwraps the thin device that will turn Maybelline’s phone into a hot mic. Using the plastic bag to handle the device so he won’t leave fingerprints, he lays it on the back of the phone and snaps the case into place. “Test the Bluetooth connection.”

  Earpiece already in place, I press the button to turn it on. We synced the device before we left his apartment.

  He whispers near the phone: “Your eyes are beautiful.”

  A smiles slides across my face. “But not the rest of me?”

  He huffs a derisive laugh. “I need to get this back to our damsel.”

  “Look. You get to be her hero, after all.” I wink at him. “Now go return her—” I read the label on the front of the bag “—knockoff Gucci so you can reap the reward.”

  Alex is not amused as he mutters a curse under his breath, but I know he’s secretly elated. This is why he’s here, to inject excitement into his dull life.

  He drops the phone into the handbag and turns to go, but hesitates, facing me once more.

  I tilt my head, waiting for him to say whatever’s on his mind. “What is it?” When he remains quiet, I snap, “Alex, go.”

  “I’ll see you soon, Blakely.” That boyish smile touches his eyes, then he’s gone.

  Adjusting the earpiece, I test the connection as I peek around the corner to watch Alex and the escort’s interaction. Their exchange is predictable. She wraps her arms around him, as if he just saved her from a burning building instead of returning her cheap bag.

  Alex is the epitome of a Boy Scout. Denying any offer of reward—that Maybelline makes very apparent is in the currency of flesh—and accepts her offer to share a ride to The Plaza together.

  “What an amazing coincidence that we’re both attending the same function,” Alex tells her, his voice leveled up an octave, but she doesn’t seem to notice.

  I snicker at his horrible acting. “Amateur.”

  As they leave together in a Town Car, I listen to their stilted conversation. It was a little risky to have Alex make himself known to Ericson’s escort before meeting at the attic. I mean, what are the chances, right? But it was a risk we had to take, and one that will pay off—literally—as I set my phone to record off the earpiece.

  The hardest aspect of the plan was the preparation. Now, with all parts in place, all we need to do is play it cool and wait. I check the time on my phone, then head to my designated stalking post.

  I remember the first day I sat in this little coffee shop as I stalked my newest prospect. There was nothing particularly special about Ericson or Lenora’s situation. Looking back, nothing all that interesting stands out. I just recall, as I sipped my cappuccino, having a strong sense that I should turn down the job.

  Lenora had been desperate. I do remember that. The way she stank of despair and misery, and how the whole situation with her made me uncomfortable. It was easier to take her on than turn her away.

  I’m not typically sentimental, but as I sit here, waiting for my cappuccino, I can’t help feeling that, had I not taken on Lenora’s
plight, I never would’ve met Alex.

  And he was worth meeting.

  The barista sets a white cup and saucer down on my table, and I take a sip of coffee as I listen to Alex awkwardly introduce himself to Ericson’s colleagues in the penthouse.

  Maybelline must be the silent type, as she hasn’t said a word to anyone since they entered the building. Maybe that’s what Ericson requested this time—a completely subservient mouse of a woman to take his abuse.

  Because that’s the plan, of course. Record Ericson Daverns annihilating a woman and send it to all his elite clients. Womanizing is an extremely hot button in the corporate world today. And, as a bonus, any shady dealings that happen to go down tonight will also be broadcast to them.

  After his clients drop him, Brewster will most likely want to shut down the leak—shut down Ericson. I can’t be responsible for what happens next. Ericson will get whatever just punishment Brewster and his cronies see fit to deliver, and Lenora will have her revenge.

  A ruined husband she can walk away from.

  A ruined businessman she can divorce and take half from.

  It’s not as creative as most of my revenge schemes, but then, Ericson is a special breed of monster. Only a directness meant to obliterate will deliver retribution.

  I take a big gulp of cappuccino, and dead silence rings in my ear as the mic cuts out in Maybelline’s phone and I lose connection.

  “Dammit.” I push the button to reconnect and wait.

  This happened twice on the walk here. I thought maybe it was the distance; the device’s Bluetooth not reaching far enough in the congested city. Now, however, I’m right across the street from The Plaza, and my internal alarm is triggered.

  I stare at my phone, waiting for the text. Alex and I set up a fail-safe should things go badly. Alex will message me the name “Lilah” from our first encounter, his signal for me to bail him out.

  My plan for that also isn’t very impressive. Contact the police.