Page 23 of Obsessive Stalker
11
Damien
The execution is quick.
Martin begs for his life and I let him run his stupid mouth for a little while before finally pulling the trigger, enjoying watching the little worm plead for his pathetic life.
It was tempting to do the usual, the worst in fact that I ever do to men like him. But I promised Kristen that there would be no torture, and I’d rather give Martin more mercy than he deserves than break a promise to my love. Even if she’d never find out that I did so.
“How do you want us to deal with it?” one of my men ask, looking down at Martin Redding’s lifeless body at my feet. “The usual way?”
I shake my head.
“Let them find a body,” I order him. “His debtors need to know that he’s dead.”
They’ll settle his estate, and what’s left of it will go to his wife. She’ll be destitute but I don't feel too bad for her, knowing what I know of her now. It turns out his wife was more privy to the details of her husband’s misdeeds than we thought. Not an accomplice, but in the know enough to realize that her husband was a danger to her children, especially Kristen.
And she did nothing to protect her.
As far as I’m concerned, she’s lucky she gets to live at all. Living in poverty for the rest of her life is the closest thing to justice I could wish for her.
“Where should we leave it?” the man asks. “Here?”
I shake my head.
“No,” I say. “Let’s put it somewhere interesting…the front steps of the courthouse should work. Let’s show those corrupt fucks whatactualjustice looks like.”
***
When I get backto my place, one of my guards is standing by downstairs.
“Where is she?” I ask.
“Kitchen,” he says, nodding in its direction.
“She should be sleeping,” I reply.
“Yes, sir,” he says. “We tried to tell her that. But she kept insisting she wanted to bake.”
“Bake,” I say dryly. “My fiance tries to kill me twice in two days and says she’d like to bake in the kitchen, where the knives and hot things are, and you…let her.”
He nods, as though he too understands how ridiculous the situation is.
“I’ll escort you there,” he says. “Lee hasn’t let her out of his sight the entire time. I know how it sounds. But I honestly think she just wanted to bake something.”
I curse under my breath and lead the way to the kitchen. As soon as I walk in, the sights and smells surprise me.
Kristen, showered and clean in a long blue robe that I bought for her, her hair pulled back in a neat ponytail. She’s humming to herself, seemingly relaxed as she mixes batter in a bowl.
When we arrive in the doorway, she looks up. Specifically, she looks at me. Her eyes are bright, happy and sad at the same time.
“Hey,” she says softly.
“Hey,” I reply.
I’m scanning the scene. The knife block is full, nothing missing there. But the kitchen is full of things she could use as a weapon, all sorts of sharp and heavy implements that I wouldn’t have trusted her with earlier today.
Something’s changed. I’m nearly certain of it. But I can’t be sure. Because my girl is smart, she’s sly, and I can hardly keep up as it is.
