Harlequin Intrigue April 2021--Box Set 2 of 2 Carol Ericson (short books to read TXT) 📖

At six-three, Marrow carried himself well for a dead man. Dark green eyes, almost black, cut through his pain. Sharp cheekbones, thin lips and a prominent widow’s peak aged the man Dylan knew to be in his early twenties. Dozens of white, puckered lines of scar tissue interrupted the skin along his face, neck and hands. He switched off the blade between both hands then set the tip against Dylan’s cheek. “I came to you for help. I believed you when you said you’d look into my case as soon as you could. I waited weeks for you to contact me, but your call never came.”

The blade dropped down and sliced into his arm. This time deeper. Dylan bit back the growl clawing up his throat. That was what his attacker wanted, to know he was causing the same pain as the New Castle Killer had caused him. But Dylan wasn’t going to play along.

Tad Marrow had killed twenty-seven people, including the killer who’d abducted him. The former veterinarian’s assistant had started his career with helping the sick and afflicted, but now he was nothing more than a serial killer who fed off his victims’ agony.

“You’re right, Tad, and I’m sorry. I should’ve connected the dots sooner. I should’ve been there for you instead of believing your case had nothing to do with Del Howe, but killing me isn’t going to make that pain go away,” he said.

“I don’t need your apology, Cove. It’s too late for that. What I need is for you to know what it feels like to lose every last bit of hope you’ve ever had. I need you to know that when I’m through with you, I’m going to find Remington Barton. I’m going to make her scream, and there will be nothing you can do about it.” Tad pressed the blade’s edge against Dylan’s inner arm. “But don’t worry, you’ll still be alive for that part. You’d be surprised how much pain and blood loss the human body can take.”

“You won’t have the chance.” He braced against the oncoming pain, pulling at the length of rope around his wrists and ankles. He held his breath as Marrow swept the blade over his skin. He wrenched from side to side to escape.

Tad Marrow took a step back, his face half hidden in shadow, and fanned his hands out in front of him. “I never lost count, you know. I could still tell you the exact order Howe cut into me. I’d always believed the brain automatically blocked that kind of trauma to keep from having to experience it over and over, but I remember everything. Every detail, every scream.”

Dylan tried to breathe through the remnants of fire burning up his arm. His shirt stuck to his skin, the waistband of his jeans soaked with blood. His heart rate spiked into dangerous territory. He had to get some control. The more he panicked, the faster he’d bleed out. He needed to keep Marrow distracted, give Remi and the team enough time to find him. Because she was coming. He had to believe that. He had to believe what they’d had these past few days was more important than the lies he’d told her and himself. “You escaped, Tad. You could’ve started over, could’ve gotten help. Instead, you went out of your way to kill every investigator, dispatcher and emergency tech who’d been involved in the New Castle case.”

“They failed us!” Marrow struck out with the knife and another gut-wrenching shot of pain ripped through Dylan’s leg. “You connected Del Howe to the New Castle Killer case, but do you even know how long he kept us? How long he tortured us? Do you know we were drugged and kept in a cargo van with tinted windows so we could see people passing us on the street? Close enough to help, but too far away to hear us scream.”

Dylan hadn’t known any of that. He worked his wrists inside the rope, focusing on the sting of his other wounds to detract from the awareness of the strands cutting into him. “No. I don’t know, and I understand why you might not have wanted to come forward to testify. There were no guarantees Del Howe wouldn’t come for you again or come for a family member to hurt you more. You escaped your captor, but you’re still a prisoner. Killing me—killing Remi—won’t change that, Tad. I can help you. I made a mistake not listening to you in Delaware, but what you’re doing only ends with more blood on your hands. Let me help you now.”

“Help me? I don’t need your help, Cove.” Marrow circled behind the chair, out of sight. The sound of snapping twigs and fallen leaves under his attacker’s feet faded. Strong hands dug into Dylan’s shoulders, arching his back away from the chair. “No. You see, I’m grateful for what happened in Delaware. If Howe hadn’t tried to make me a victim, I never would’ve become the predator. I’m not the man you knew, Cove. I’m stronger, smarter, and for the first time in my life, I have answers to why I was chosen. He gave me purpose, you see, a reason to keep going. Soon, you’ll learn you can only rely on yourself. It took me a bit longer while I was under the knife, close to three hundred cuts, before I realized no one was coming to save me.” Marrow whispered in Dylan’s ear. “I’m interested to hear when that happens for you.”

The seventh cut sliced alongside the top of Dylan’s spine, and another scream escaped. Pain hit his brain in endless waves. He jerked against the ropes as hard as he could, and the shift in weight lifted two chair legs out of the mud. He tipped to his right and hit the ground hard, his head snapping back. Air rushed from his lungs. Sweat beaded along his forehead and slid into his hairline.