It’s of me with Jason. But this isn’t from the other day. This is an old photograph—from when we were together, not long before I was arrested.
The picture was definitely taken from afar and without our knowledge.
Jason and I are in an embrace. I’m smiling up into his face, and he’s grinning down at me.
“Oh God,” I whisper.
I turn in the room, eyes scanning. Every wall is covered with something—photographs, news cuttings about my arrest, trial, and imprisonment.
Jesus, he even has my prison mug shot.
Stepping up close, I run my fingers over the picture.
I move over, and there’s a map with marked locations.
One is of my apartment.
What the hell?
I don’t understand.
Why does Kas have these?
I move along, and my hip bumps into a table.
No, it’s a desk and—
“Oh, fuck,” I breathe, pressing a hand to my chest, as my heart climbs out of my throat, leaving me gasping.
On the desk is a gun. And lined up beside the gun are four knives in various sizes. Each one looks as deadly as the other.
Oh God. Oh God. Oh God.
Fingers on the edge of the desk, I sidle around it, staring down at the weapons, like they’re going to come alive and attack me.
Once I’m around the desk, I turn to the last wall. I see pictures of Haley.
I focus in on one of the pictures. It’s of Haley and Kas. He looks so much younger.
He looks happy.
Pain ruptures in my chest.
I step back, taking in the photos of Haley along with the news cuttings about her murder.
I don’t understand what all of this is. What it means.
Why does he have pictures of me and of Jason in here with pictures of Haley?
Standing in the center of the room, I turn slowly, trying to take it all in, piece it all together, and my eyes catch on a photo. I didn’t spot it before because my eyes were pinned on the weapons on the table.
But, now, I’m looking, and I’m looking hard.
Because there’s a picture of Damien Doyle.
And on either side of the picture of Damien are pictures of two men I don’t recognize.
I step closer to the photos, and my stomach empties.
The photos of the men I don’t recognize have a big red X marked over their faces.
Damien’s is the only photo that doesn’t have an X.
Why would—
Oh God.
Oh, holy fuck no.
Just like a blow to the head, it hits me.
A sick, hollow feeling starts to form in my gut.
Three men.
Haley. Kas.
Rape. Murder.
Red crosses mean…are they…dead?
Oh, fuck.
Damien’s alive.
Jesus. Fucking. Christ.
God. No.
I turn, more than ready to leave this room, and my heart practically falls out of my chest.
Kas is standing in the doorway.
His chest is bare, and he’s wearing the black pajama bottoms he went to bed in.
“Is there
any
room I can keep you out of?” He doesn’t smile.
And I nearly piss my pants.
His eyes run over the room, and he sighs. He folds his arms over his chest and leans his shoulder against the doorjamb.
His impenetrable eyes meet with mine. Then, he parts his lips and says calmly, “So, I guess you have questions.”
Th
irty-Seven
Questions?
Do I have questions?
Of course I have fucking questions!
But, right now, I’m trying not to piss my pants, and I need to restart my heart to normal function because it’s decided to stop working properly.
I part my lips. My mouth is dry, like I’ve been out in the desert for days.
I…I don’t even know where to start.
Kas is staring at me with those beautiful, impenetrable dark eyes of his, giving me nothing.
But he doesn’t need to give me anything because I’m pretty sure I’ve figured it all out by myself.
Damien Doyle was part of the gang that…
And Kas has been…
Jesus, I can’t even say the words.
I lick my lips, trying to give aid to speech. “I…” I wrap my arms over my stomach, my eyes flickering around the room.
He has pictures of me from before we even knew each other.
Or maybe Kas knew me a long time before I knew him.
Oh, fuck.
“I…you…” I stammer. “Wh-why do you have photos of me? An-and Damien Doyle?”
“I think you know why.”
“Oh God,” I whisper, trembling.
He sighs again. “I didn’t ever want you to find out, Daisy.”
No fucking kidding! I wish to God I hadn’t found out.
Me and my snooping fucking nose.
“Y-you…th-the pictures of those men.”
“Evan Foster, Levi Betts, and of course, you know Damien Doyle.”
“Ar-are they…” I lift a shaking, helpless hand to his scarred torso. His eyes squeeze shut. “Are they the men who did that to you and Haley?”
He breathes deeply through his nose. His eyes open. “Yes.”
“Jesus Christ,” I whisper. “An-and what do the crosses on Evan’s and Levi’s faces mean?”
“It means they’re dead, Daisy.”
Holy fuck.
I want to cry. And run. Far, far away.
I swallow past the bricks lodged in my throat. “Ho-how did they die?”
He adjusts his stance, lifting his hands to the doorframe above his head. His big body fills the doorway. His muscles are stretched out, showing the definition and strength of him.
I’m trapped in here, and if he wants to hurt me, he can.
The only things I have to my advantage are the selection of knives behind me and the gun, but I don’t know if it’s loaded.
And…I can’t believe I’m considering having to defend myself with a weapon against the man I’ve been sleeping with.
Just when I thought my life couldn’t get any worse, I open a door and find Dexter’s secret lair.
Kas lets out another sigh. This one sounds tired.
“Evan Foster slit his own throat. He bled to death in his bathtub. And Levi Betts was stabbed to death in an alleyway. Drug deal gone wrong apparently.” His steady black eyes stay carefully on mine.
Swallowing nervously, I glance back at the knives on the table.
Did one of those knives…
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
My pulse is pounding in my ears, my skin prickling with nerves and, most of all, disbelief. I can’t believe we’re having this conversation.
I never really thought about what was behind that door. But, in my wildest imagination, I never thought it was this.
“An-and…” I carefully bring my eyes back to him. My stare catches on his scars. I never normally see them; they don’t stand out to me because they’re a part of him.
But, now, I’m seeing them.
I lift my eyes to his and gulp. “Di-did you…have anything to do with their…deaths?”
His eyes flicker with something…fear maybe?
He blows out a breath. It sounds resigned.
When he looks back at me, the look in his eyes is wary. “I think you know the answer to that as well.”
“Oh, Jesus.” I back up a step and bump into the desk, making the knives and gun rattle.
Kas’s eyes go straight to them and then back to me.
I sidestep the desk, moving away but not too far away that I can’t grab a weapon if I need to. “You killed them both.”
“Yes.”
Oh God.
“And you’re going to kill Damien.”
He doesn’t answer. He just stares steadily back at me, like he’s weighing up how to answer.
But he doesn’t need to answer because I already know.
Damien’s picture wouldn’t be pinned up on that wall next to theirs if Kas weren’t planning on killing him.
“How will Damien die?” I whisper.
“Painfully.”
“Oh God. Are you going to kill me, too?”
“What?”
He looks stunned, like I just punched him in his face.
His whole demeanor changes. His arms drop from the doorframe, and he steps forward, eyes wide with shock. “Jesus. No. Of course not. Why would you ever think that?”
And it’s this moment that my brain chooses to explode out through my mouth. “Because you have guns and knives in here! And you’ve killed two men already—who, of course, deserved it—and you are planning to kill another man—who also deserves it! But you’ve killed people, and you have my picture all over your goddamn wall!” I slice a hand in the direction of the pictures. My chest heaves with fearful, angry breaths as the echo of my words silently reverberate around the room.
Kas drags a hand through his hair, his other hand crossing his chest to cover his heart. “I would never hurt you, Daisy.
Never
,” he states emphatically. “This”—he moves a hand, gesturing to his wall of fame—“is just a part of my life that I never wanted you to find out about.”
“Jesus fucking Christ!” I pinch the bridge of my nose, taking deep breaths in and out. “I’m in love with a killer. Only I could fall in love with a killer. God, what the hell is wrong with me?”
“What did you say?”
Dropping my hand, I scowl over at him. “Sorry, should I not call you a killer?”
“You’re…” He blinks. Shaking his head, he takes another step forward. “You’re in love with me.”
Oh. Shit.
Did I just tell him that I was in love with him?
Am I in love with him?
Oh God. I am.
I’m in love with
Norman Bates
.
Well, he’s not exactly a psycho. He’s a man out for revenge. But he’s killed people. And it’s not exactly the ideal time to tell the man you’re dating that you’re in love with him moments after finding out he’s the real-life version of The Punisher
.
“I…I…it’s not really the point right now,” I utter dismissively.
“It’s the only point.”
When I look into his face, I see tenderness. It curls around my heart and squeezes tight.
I shut my eyes against the feeling. “I don’t even know you,” I whisper. “I can’t be in love with a man I don’t know.”
I feel him move closer.
“You know me, Daisy. You’re the only person who truly knows me.”
I open my eyes and stare up into his soulful eyes. The hope in his gaze makes me ache.
I shake my head. “No, I don’t. You’ve lied to me from the second I met you. You knew me before I even knew you.” I point at the picture of me and Jason on the wall, but his eyes don’t leave mine. “How did I end up working for you, Kas?” My words are quiet.
His eyes close briefly, his brows drawing together, as if I just yelled at him. “I made it so that you would come work for me.”
A sick feeling unfurls in my stomach.
“Why would you do that?” I think I already know, but I need him to tell me. I need to hear this from him.
He takes a step back, putting much-needed distance between us. “Because I’ve been trying to pin down Damien Doyle for a long time. But he has this fucking amazing ability to disappear. And, when he disappears, he goes completely off the grid, and there’s just no finding him. Believe me, I’ve tried.
“I just needed an in with him. That’s how I get close enough to kill them. They don’t remember me. I look very different to the kid they tortured in that park seven years ago. I get in, and then I kill them.
“Damien had only just reappeared back in London after being gone for a long time, and that was when I found out he had a brother. I saw my way in to get close to Damien. But Jason was skittish. He was afraid of his brother, but he was loyal as fuck to him. Then…I found out that Jason had a girlfriend.”
“You know Jason.” I wrap my arms over my chest, rubbing my suddenly chilled arms with my hands.
“I’d watched him for a while. Then, one night, I followed him to a bar. Started talking to him. He talked easy with a few beers in him, but he clammed up at the mention of his brother. He liked to talk about you though. A lot.”
I squeeze my eyes shut, fists clenching at my sides.
“I watched you…and, fuck, Daisy, you were so beautiful. I had never seen someone so beautiful. Watching you, parts of me started to awaken. But I wanted to hate you because I thought you were one of them. I thought you had to know the kind of people you were involved with. And then, a few weeks later, you were arrested, and I was proven right—or so I thought.
“I knew Jason wasn’t capable of orchestrating anything; the guy’s a fucking flake. I got that after just spending a few hours talking to him. I knew, in my gut, that it was something to do with Damien. It had him written all over it. And, if you were involved, then that meant you were close to Damien. I saw you as my in. I was going to use you to get close to him. Then, I was going to kill him.
“Of course, Damien disappeared right after you were arrested. So, I waited. Then, when your release came up, I got in touch with a friend of Jude’s who works in probation service. I told him I wanted to help out with the Back to Work program they have for felons. I said I was looking for a maid because my last one had left unexpectedly. He put me in touch with Toby—”
“Tania,” I breathe out her name. “Did she leave voluntarily? Or did you make her leave?”
His eyes flash with hurt. “Tania was an illegal immigrant. She was deported back to Poland. I kept it quiet, as I didn’t want negative attention brought to the estate.”
“Convenient timing for you.”
Jaw gritted, he says, “Tania was gone for two months before you started working here. I didn’t fucking hurt her, Daisy. I don’t go around killing people for fun. Tania’s alive and well and living in Poland with her family. I can prove it to you—”
“Were you and she…”
“No.” Disappointment flickers in his eyes. “There has been no one but you. You know that.”
“Yeah, well, forgive me for not believing a word you’ve ever said.”
“I’ve never lied to you, Daisy. I’ve kept things from you, but I’ve never lied.”
“Bullshit!” I jab a finger in the direction of his office. “You stared into my eyes and barefaced lied to me the other day! You stood there and told me that fucking door never existed!”
Anger flashes across his face. “Clearly, that was a mistake. And I might have lied about that—
hidden
that from you, but it was with good reason. But I have never lied about anything to do with you and me.”