Monster (Impossible #1) (17 page)

I glanced
up to find Agent Vaughn looking at me pityingly.  I hated that look.

“I’m sorry to have been the one to break the news to you,” he said gently.  “But I had to be sure.”

I nodded numbly, my mind barely processing his words.

“Now that you know,” he continued on.  “Would you be willing to give us a statement about his activities?  You may not have noticed anything suspicious, but there might have been some signs that you didn’t pick up on.”  He looked at me earnestly.  “You could be a great help to our investigation, Dr. Ellers.”

I didn’t answer; I was unable to formulate any words.

“After what happened to your parents, I would think that you would want to help us,” he pressed.

The man was mercenary.  It was too much; everything was happening faster than I could process.  And my pain was back, as keen and cutting as it had been on the night that I had found out that my parents were dead.  Only now there was another layer of agony as I learned what Sean truly was.

“I would like it if you left now,” I told Agent Vaughn coldly.  I couldn’t handle this right now, not right when I was so desperately trying to put my life back together.  I was tired of hurting, tired of hating myself.  This stopped today.

He regarded me for a moment, his eyes searching my face.  Finally, he stood.  I walked him to the door, my movements stiff and jerky.  He paused at the threshold, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a business card.

“In case you change your mind,” he said.  I took it from him automatically, just wanting him to go away.

My doorbell rang again, giving me the excuse that I needed to break eye contact.  I pulled the door open gratefully, and Agent Vaughn silently stepped around the rental car deliveryman.  I didn’t watch him leave.

I signed the papers for the car blindly, hardly feeling the man pressing the keys into my hand.  I almost fell apart all over again, but I wanted nothing more than to put off the moment when I would have to face this fresh agony.  Maybe I would never have to, if I just made my walls strong enough.  Resolutely, I pulled them back up as I walked out to my temporary car, ready to return to work and my real life.

Work passed by in a haze of cut knees and little coughs.  My co-workers murmured condolences for my dead foster mom, and I forced myself to thank them for believing Bradley’s lie that he had used to trap me.  Every comment, every pitying look, was like a hammer blow to the walls around my heart, threatening to break through my resolve by reminding me of my captors.  So I focused on what I loved most about my job: helping kids.  But even my smiles at my little patients felt forced, and I couldn’t quite feel the joy that I usually did; I was expending too much effort trying to make myself numb.

I stayed in the office late, trying to catch up on the cases that I had missed.  And using it as an excuse to put off the moment when I would find myself alone again.  But eventually my
eyes became bleary, and I could no longer focus them on the words in my files.  I let out an involuntary yawn.  It seemed that staying longer would be fruitless; it was time to go home.

My car was the only one left in the lot, and I walked to it slowly on leaden legs.  I was so absorbed by my exhaustion that I didn’t hear him coming until he was on me.

My back slammed against the SUV, jarring me.  I parted my lips to let out a shocked scream, but his hand was over my mouth, muffling my cry.  He was wearing a black ski-mask, and all I could see were his cold aqua eyes.

“Are you Claudia Ellers?”  He asked in a low, gravelly voice.

I didn’t answer.  How did he know my name?  I was afraid to admit who I was.

There was a clicking sound and a flash of silver as he flicked out a switchblade.

“I won’t ask you again,” he said menacingly.

My eyes were wide and terrified as they focused on the knife.  I nodded jerkily, too scared to lie to him.

Never taking his hand from my mouth, he slowly brought the knife up to my face.  I tried to finch away, but he held me firmly as he pressed the flat of the blade against my cheek. 

“I have a message for Sean Reynolds from the Latin Kings,” he said coldly.

I whimpered as fear overwhelmed me.  This man was going to hurt me, and I didn’t understand why.

“Shhh,” he said, leaning into me.  “I’m not going to kill you, chica.  I’m just going to cut you up a little.”

He applied the lightest pressure, and I felt the blade’s cruel edge make a long, shallow cut in my skin.  I sobbed, but it didn’t hurt much. 
Yet.

There was a savage growl and a large hand closed around the man’s wrist, jerking the knife away from me.  He tightened his grip, and my attacker cried out as the blade dropped from hi
s hand, clattering to the asphalt.  He was pulled from me, thrown to the ground.  I heard his skull crack against the pavement.

My savior bent down, scooping up the knife before advancing on the man.  Dropping to his knees beside him, he raised the blade high before driving it down into my attacker’s shoulder.  The man
screamed, a high, piercing sound.  But my savior wasn’t satisfied.  He twisted the knife cruelly, tearing at the man’s flesh.  Another scream rent through the silence of the night.

“Sean!”  I cried, horrified by his actions.  “Sean, stop!”

But he didn’t seem to hear me.  He reached out and ripped the mask over the man’s head, revealing his identity.  Even through his tanned skin, his face was pale and taut with pain.

“If I ever see your face again, you’re a dead man,” Sean snarled, fury rolling off of him in waves.  “Understand?”  He twisted the knife again for emphasis.

“Sí!”  The tortured man cried out.  “Yes!  Please…”

“Sean!”  I screamed his name this time. 
“Stop!”

His head swiveled to me, and his eyes honed in on the thin red line that marred my cheek.  His face twisted into something savage and terrible.  He wrenched the knife from the man’s flesh and stood.  Then he brought his foot down hard on my attacker’s injured shoulder.

The man’s broken cry made my stomach turn.

“Let him go, Sean!”  I demanded shrilly, disgusted by his violence.

He turned to me again, his enraged, maddened eyes burning into mine.  But I held his gaze, and slowly, his expression melted into one of concern.

He lifted his foot off of the bleeding man, who pushed himself upright and fled into the darkness, cradling his injured arm.  But Sean didn’t watch him go; he only had eyes for me now. 

“Claudia,” he said my name like a prayer, striding towards me.

I brought my hands up quickly, my palms facing out as though warding off a rabid animal.  “Don’t come near me,” I said shakily.

He paused, confusion flooding his features.  “Claudia, I-”

“Leave me alone, Sean!”  I shrieked.  “I know what you are!”

His brows drew together, suddenly angry.  “You don’t know anything, Claudia,” he ground out, his hands clenching to fists.

“I know that I hate you!”  I hurled the words at him.  “I never want to see you again!”

His eyes went wide, stunned and hurt.  But they quickly filled with ire once again

“Fine!”
  He snapped.  “Next time I’ll just let them torture you.  Is that what you want?”

“It’s your fault that I was attacked in the first place!”  I shouted.  “You’re like poison, Sean.  And I’m going to purge you from my life if it’s the last thing I do.”  I clenched my jaw and lifted my chin at him defiantly.

His expression turned blank.  “If that’s what you want,” he said coldly.  “I won’t be saving your life again.  You’re on your own now, just like you like it.  Alone, isolated.  Go back to your life of solitude that you love so much.”  He said the words harshly, and they tore at me as though he was driving the switchblade into my gut repeatedly.

I swallowed hard, but I refused to let the hurt sh
ow on my face.  I stared at him for long moments, keeping my expression
schooled to a hard mask.

Jerking his hand through his hair, he turned from me with a curse, striding away from me.  I watched him until the darkness swallowed him up, fighting dow
n the feeling of abandonment that was clawing at my heart.

Fumbling with the keys, I sought refuge in my car, locking the doors as soon as I was inside.  I tried desperately to make my mind go blank, but the images of Sean torturing the man played in my mind over and over again.

That was his life; that was who he truly was.  The cocky, sweet, sometimes vulnerable man who I thought I had been falling for was nothing but a hardened, heartless criminal.  I shuddered at the memory of that horrible, twisted look of vindictive satisfaction on his face as he had made the man scream.

I came to a decision.  I needed to get to a phone.  Gripping the steering wheel hard to still my shaking hands, I drove home as fast as I could.  I flung myself from the car and ran for my front door, scared that there might be more sadistic men waiting for me, lurking in the dark.

My chest was heaving as I locked the door behind me, adrenaline still pumping through my veins.  Without allowing myself a chance to think twice about my decision, I grabbed up my landline phone, pulling the business card from my pocket as I did so.  My fingers were trembling as I dialed the number, and I prayed that it wasn’t too late for him to pick up his phone.

It only rang twice.

“Agent Vaughn,” came his deep voice from the other end of the line.

“This is Claudia Ellers,” I said in a rush.  “I’m ready to talk to you about Bradley Smith and…”  I hesitated for the briefest of moments, then forced out: “And Sean Reynolds.”

It seemed that I was willing to betray him, after all.

The End

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