Opening my mouth to ask more questions, my words are rudely cut by the sound of her cell phone. What fantastic timing.
“Oh, hell,” she says, grabbing her purse from the floor. Reaching her hand into her Birkin, she fishes for her phone. Glancing at its screen as she pulls it from the luxury bag, her face turns from serious to stone cold.
“I’m really sorry Dolly, I need to take this. I’ll be right back!”
Slapping the glass with her manicured finger, she hisses a greeting as she presses it against her ear. Standing from her chair, she all but stomps away towards the front of the restaurant. Leaving me totally befuddled.
“What is going on, this is all so freaking weird,” I whisperto myself.
Letting out a sigh, I don’t even have a second to clear my racing thoughts before my own cell phone alerts me of a text. My heart skips, knowing that it’s my love. Maybe I could bring this odd conversation up to him. I’m sure he will be able to soothe my overactive imagination. He always does.
Pulling my purse from the back of my chair, I dig for my phone. Grasping it with my fingers, I yank it from my department store bag. Fully expecting to see Sutton’s picture, my eyesnarrow as I read a completely different name.
Pressing my lips into a fine line, I stare at his message. I haven’t heard a word from him since brunch on Sunday, he hasn’t returned any of my texts. Hell, I even tried to call him while Sutton was in the shower and he sent me straight to voicemail. I should be upset with him for ignoring me, but I can’t help but feel relieved that he’s finally reached out.
.
Furrowing my brows, I read his text a second time. In the years I’ve known Sam, he has never said the word “please.” It makes me think that whatever he needs to tell me isimportant. I do owe it to him to see him in person and hear whatever it is he wants to tell me. Sutton isn’t supposed to be home until ten tomorrow morning. In theory, I could go see Sam and be back at the condo before he came home. He would never have to know that I saw my former roommate. Confident in my decision, my fingers type out a reply.
Waiting for his reply, I try to steady my heart as it begins to race. It takes him a moment to text me back and his answer does everything but calm me. So much for trying to keep my anxiety in check, I don’t think I’ll be sleeping tonight.
CHAPTER twenty-one
sutton
It’s done. It’s finished.
I have no recollection of the last three hours. The beast inside me has consumed every second of my memory. I am both thankful and disturbed by this act of mercy. I’m not entirely sure why I was given this gift. It’s not like the beast to be so altruistic.
I have truly done a number on this poor woman. Staring into her open, empty eyes I let out a low whistle. Her expression is frozen in permanent terror, forever locked in the fear bestowed upon her. Her nose is broken; sticky blood has pooled in her opened mouth. If I didn’t know any better, I would swear she bit completely through her tongue. My handprints are seared into her neck, changing the color of her spray tan from muddy brown to deep shades of blue and purple. Every single one of her scarlet acrylic nails are broken, she clearly put up some sort of fight before I handcuffed her to the bed. I immediately check my arms to see if I have any scratches, thankfully I have none. I suppose I could have broken them on purpose, I can be a little sadisticsometimes. Especially if she said or did something that triggered me in some way.
Although torn, her whorish dress is still on her body. She wasn’t wearing a bra to begin with, but her panties are still intact. This leads me to believe that there was no sex between us, and that I didn’t assault her. I am beyond grateful that I wasn’t inside her when the act happened, as I normally am. I don’t think I could have handled it if I had cheated on my love. Especially with this unworthy slut
Physically pulling her eyelids down with my fingertips, I notice that her body is still warm. I have no idea what we have been doing for the two and a half hours prior to her death, I doubt that we were having any sort of philosophical discussion. I suppose it doesn’t really matter; I have done what I came here to do. Murphy’s niece will get her fucking liver, my family will keep their standing and influence, and my sweet Dolly will get her dream home.
I should be elated by my triumph, my systems should be firing right now with the heat and pleasure of my adrenaline. But to my shock and surprise, I feel nothing but abject disgust.
I’m not growing a conscience, mind you. There will be no redemption for me, that’s not my ultimate fate. I am disgusted and beyond pissed because I wasforcedto do this. It’s one thing to kill for the thrill of it, but to be bullied and threatened into submission? Oh. This will never fucking happen ever again.
Standing from the hotel bed, I reach into my pocket for my cell. Yanking it out, I take a look at the messages and voicemails I have missed. I frown as I read Dolly’s goodnight text. I am feeling too guilty to listen to her voicemail. Her written words make me feel equally as terrible.
I make note of the time of her text, she only sent it an hour and a half ago. I want to call her right now and listen to her sweet voice, but I don’t want to risk waking her. I’m afraid she will feel that something is amiss, she knows my soulall too well. I’m not quite ready to have my conversation with her about all of this. I know I eventually have to come clean, but that’s another worry for another day.
Sighing loudly, I swipe my open palm over my eyes to reset myself. I know time is ticking too quickly, I need to call Mama and have her alert Harrison. Organs are only fresh for so long, the team needs to dissect her as soon as possible. Murphy’s niece better be being prepped right fucking now for surgery.
Pulling up my Mama in my contacts, I press the ‘call’ button. Bringing the cell to my ear, I only have to wait for it to ring twice before I hear her anxious voice.
“Well?”she asks.
“It’s done,” I reply, my voice curt and cold.
“Thank God. Alright. I’ll let Harrison know. You know the drill, son.”
“Yes, Ma’am. I’ll wait five minutes for the surveillance feeds to be cut and then I’ll slip out. Is the plane ready?” I ask.
There’s a pause before she answers, my expression hardens as I wait.
“Head to the airport, they will let you board early, but take-off isn’t until six-thirty. I’m sorry Sutton, I really tried to get them to get you home sooner. They weren’t able to secure an earlier pilot.”
