Do Not Disturb
Page 77
- Background:
- Text Font:
- Text Size:
- Line Height:
- Line Break Height:
- Frame:
His head droops, eyes closing involuntarily, and he catches the action, jerking his forehead back and meeting Jamie’s irritated eyes. She snaps her fingers. Points. Like he’s a well-behaved dog. “Get in bed. I’ll try her again soon.”
He reaches out, snagging her hand and pulls it to his lips, pressing a soft kiss on it. “Thank you,” he says. “For saving me. For everything. For putting up with me.”
She blinks rapidly, her eyes swelling with moisture. “I’m just glad you’re okay.”
He squeezes her hand and drops it, trying to think through the cloud of medication. Should he call the cops? Deanna might be like he was. Trussed up, bleeding to death on the edge of insanity. Waiting in hopes that her lover boy may show. Lover boy might be out of town. Or fucking around. Or dead. Something tugs at him, like an important to-do item that he has forgotten to cross off. The other possibility is that Deanna is dead. He tries to think, tries to backtrack and remember what just occurred to him. Tries to have a rational thought, one that she will approve of, but his eyes close and he nods off. He barely notices when Jamie drags him into bed. Doesn’t notice the fresh sheets she has put down. Doesn’t feel the blanket she pulls over his body. Doesn’t see her sit in the chair, his cell on her lap, and watch, with worried eyes, as he sleeps.
CHAPTER 90
I DID A poor job of shopping. I missed the good stuff: A drill, wire cutters, a hammer. Everyday items that could cause excruciating amounts of pain. I had shopped like a fucking Girl Scout, buying items of restraint as opposed to pain. Thinking that I had weapons at the house, that no more were needed. But my weapons were boring when compared to all of the torture possibilities that could have existed before me. I guess I didn’t expect to torture someone, never thought that would be a viable possibility in my future, never shopped with that scenario in mind. My fantasies have never been about inflicting pain without extinguishing a life. I look at the contents of my safe and listen to the whimper of my visitor, my extended zap of Taser combining with the gas to take the fight completely out of this monster. FingerCutter has become a pussy before my eyes, having a bout of hysteria after the Taser, his panic reducing to whimpers in the last twenty minutes of silence. He needs to calm the fuck down. He needs to man up a little, find the backboned individual that kicked the shit out of my chin. I can’t question him like this.
I stand, walk over to the window and open it. Send a silent apology to everyone in the surrounding blocks as I let the poisonous fog out. I can’t take any more of this mask.
The room clears quickly, the cool blast of air sweeping in and sucking it out. Hopefully that will cause him to stop. Between the wheezing and sniffling and sobs, I’m on the razor edge of killing him just so my apartment will be quiet again.
My cell rings.
CHAPTER 91
JAMIE ISN’T EVEN sure she should call the girl, but Mike had been so insistent over it, had been so irritated over the lack of his cell when he had finally stopped his jingle belling and came back to sanity. Jamie dials the number and waits, breathing a sigh of relief when the girl doesn’t answer, a cheery voice mail coming on that sounds nothing like the bitch from earlier. She hangs up.
Less than a minute later, the cell rings, “Deanna” showing up on the screen.
Jamie fights the urge to do a Hail Mary. “Hello?”
“You called?”
“We just got back from the hospital. Do you want to talk to Mike?”
“Yes.”
She crosses to him, shaking his shoulder gently, watching his eyes and speaking as soon as they open. “Mike. It’s Deanna. Did you want to talk to her?”
He blinks, his eyes looking around, then finding hers, and she waits for him to come to, starts to repeat the question but he nods. Pushes himself to a more upright position and holds out his hand.
“Hey.”
Jamie can’t understand the response, but can hear the snap-fire volley of words through the earpiece. “I don’t know who he is.” Jamie watches closely, her mind trying to put the pieces together but coming up short. “He didn’t mention anything about that…” His eyes close and she steps forward, thinking he is asleep, reaching for the phone, but is surprised when his voice comes, shaky in its message. “I told him who you are. Where you are. You need to get out of there. Now. He’s got to be on his way, but he doesn’t know.” His eyes open and he glances over, his eyes opening a bit as if surprised to see her there. He covers the mouthpiece. “Can you give me a minute?”
Jamie can feel the set of her jaw and knows how it must look. Like she is stubborn. She tries to relax it, attempts a gracious smile, and nods, backing up and reaching for the knob, stepping into the hall and shutting the door. Then she leans forward, presses her ear against the wood, but can’t hear anything.
He reaches out, snagging her hand and pulls it to his lips, pressing a soft kiss on it. “Thank you,” he says. “For saving me. For everything. For putting up with me.”
She blinks rapidly, her eyes swelling with moisture. “I’m just glad you’re okay.”
He squeezes her hand and drops it, trying to think through the cloud of medication. Should he call the cops? Deanna might be like he was. Trussed up, bleeding to death on the edge of insanity. Waiting in hopes that her lover boy may show. Lover boy might be out of town. Or fucking around. Or dead. Something tugs at him, like an important to-do item that he has forgotten to cross off. The other possibility is that Deanna is dead. He tries to think, tries to backtrack and remember what just occurred to him. Tries to have a rational thought, one that she will approve of, but his eyes close and he nods off. He barely notices when Jamie drags him into bed. Doesn’t notice the fresh sheets she has put down. Doesn’t feel the blanket she pulls over his body. Doesn’t see her sit in the chair, his cell on her lap, and watch, with worried eyes, as he sleeps.
CHAPTER 90
I DID A poor job of shopping. I missed the good stuff: A drill, wire cutters, a hammer. Everyday items that could cause excruciating amounts of pain. I had shopped like a fucking Girl Scout, buying items of restraint as opposed to pain. Thinking that I had weapons at the house, that no more were needed. But my weapons were boring when compared to all of the torture possibilities that could have existed before me. I guess I didn’t expect to torture someone, never thought that would be a viable possibility in my future, never shopped with that scenario in mind. My fantasies have never been about inflicting pain without extinguishing a life. I look at the contents of my safe and listen to the whimper of my visitor, my extended zap of Taser combining with the gas to take the fight completely out of this monster. FingerCutter has become a pussy before my eyes, having a bout of hysteria after the Taser, his panic reducing to whimpers in the last twenty minutes of silence. He needs to calm the fuck down. He needs to man up a little, find the backboned individual that kicked the shit out of my chin. I can’t question him like this.
I stand, walk over to the window and open it. Send a silent apology to everyone in the surrounding blocks as I let the poisonous fog out. I can’t take any more of this mask.
The room clears quickly, the cool blast of air sweeping in and sucking it out. Hopefully that will cause him to stop. Between the wheezing and sniffling and sobs, I’m on the razor edge of killing him just so my apartment will be quiet again.
My cell rings.
CHAPTER 91
JAMIE ISN’T EVEN sure she should call the girl, but Mike had been so insistent over it, had been so irritated over the lack of his cell when he had finally stopped his jingle belling and came back to sanity. Jamie dials the number and waits, breathing a sigh of relief when the girl doesn’t answer, a cheery voice mail coming on that sounds nothing like the bitch from earlier. She hangs up.
Less than a minute later, the cell rings, “Deanna” showing up on the screen.
Jamie fights the urge to do a Hail Mary. “Hello?”
“You called?”
“We just got back from the hospital. Do you want to talk to Mike?”
“Yes.”
She crosses to him, shaking his shoulder gently, watching his eyes and speaking as soon as they open. “Mike. It’s Deanna. Did you want to talk to her?”
He blinks, his eyes looking around, then finding hers, and she waits for him to come to, starts to repeat the question but he nods. Pushes himself to a more upright position and holds out his hand.
“Hey.”
Jamie can’t understand the response, but can hear the snap-fire volley of words through the earpiece. “I don’t know who he is.” Jamie watches closely, her mind trying to put the pieces together but coming up short. “He didn’t mention anything about that…” His eyes close and she steps forward, thinking he is asleep, reaching for the phone, but is surprised when his voice comes, shaky in its message. “I told him who you are. Where you are. You need to get out of there. Now. He’s got to be on his way, but he doesn’t know.” His eyes open and he glances over, his eyes opening a bit as if surprised to see her there. He covers the mouthpiece. “Can you give me a minute?”
Jamie can feel the set of her jaw and knows how it must look. Like she is stubborn. She tries to relax it, attempts a gracious smile, and nods, backing up and reaching for the knob, stepping into the hall and shutting the door. Then she leans forward, presses her ear against the wood, but can’t hear anything.
