“You’re all alike!” Her attacker spat saliva into her face. “Conniving, lying bitches. Every last one of you!”
“Yeah, well, you’re an ass!” she yelled back at him. Two years ago she would’ve cowered. Not today.
That slap must’ve dislodged something in her brain. The guy Friday night had said he’d just wanted oxycodone, but he’d sat on her and called her a slut, too. What was wrong with men these days. Slut? Bitch? Were they all threatened by strong, intelligent women? Not that she was in any position of strength at the moment, but—
The ass slapped her again!
“Ouch! Stop it, you jerk!” she cried, her attacker blurry and possibly bleeding, if those dark spots on his face were what she hoped they were. If they were, that meant she’d drawn first blood. It was hard to know for sure with all the black dots dancing at the corners of her eyes. The possibility that she really could win this battle powered Ashley’s confidence.
Grunting, he lifted to his feet, reached down, and grabbed a fistful of her hair.
“Let me go!” she ordered.
He didn’t answer, just twisted her around and dragged her to her door, the carpet on her nearly bare backside burning her skin.
Terror rolled up Ashley’s throat when he stopped to pick up his knife. This guy was the serial killer everyone was looking for, the one who’d nearly killed Tripp’s sister last night.
“I’m going to kill you!” Poor Peewee shrieked along with her. All that noise should attract someone. Anyone!
“No, you’re not,” the killer replied as he opened her door and dragged her into the hall. Then, as if he’d forgotten something, he stopped, twisted his fist in her hair, and told her, “You’re not going to live long enough to do anything but scream and cry. Now shut up!”
Instead of fighting his hold on her hair, Ashley reached out and grabbed the club while she could still reach it. “You won’t get away with this.”
He dragged her farther down the hall. “That’s what they all said. But this time, we won’t be interrupted, and you won’t get away. We’re going to play the rest of the day, and trust me…”
They were nearly at Tripp’s door. What was he going to do? Drag her down the stairs? Her stomach lurched up her throat. If only Tripp were home!
“I’m not moving you like I did the others. Not this time. This is personal. Your boyfriend’s gonna cry when he finds what’s left of you. Like a pussy-whipped, helpless, little boy who wants his mama, he’s gonna scream and rage, but it’ll be too late. By then, I’ll have played with her, too.”
She didn’t understand. “What do Tripp and Andy have to do with anything?”
“She’s his mother. He’s her only son, isn’t he? Don’t you get it?”
“No. Explain it.”
“The freak’s in love with his mother!”
“So?” Ashley jerked to her side, fear for Tripp and his mom hammering at her nerves as she struggled to escape. “What’s he ever done to you?”
“He made me look bad!” Her killer stopped dragging and turned to look down at Ashley, her long hair still knotted in his fist. His gray eyes were flat and unfocused, like he was looking through her to somewhere else. “I didn’t know she was his sister. She was just there, in my way. But it makes sense now. It was destiny. She was there for a reason, because she led me to him, and he led me to you. If you think about it… if you really stop and take the time to connect all the dots… me finding her… me following him… me killing him for taking her away from me… for loving her… me finding you on the street where he works… in the dark… me following you all the way home…” The jerk ran his tongue over his bottom lip, like he was savoring something. “Just imagine what he’ll do when I play with his mother like I’m going to play with you.”
“You can’t hurt her! No! What’s she ever done to you?”
“She loves him! Don’t you get it? Isn’t that enough?”
Ashley dug her bare heels into the carpet, but it was no use. She couldn’t reach him with her club. Just one good hard hit, that’s all it would take. “No, I don’t get it. Damn you, I don’t know the rules of this stupid game. Explain them to me!”
At Tripp’s door, he finally let go. Her head dropped to the floor, as his full weight settled onto her hips. He tipped forward, his ugly lips nearly touching her nose, and something small but hard as a rock grinding into her pelvis. She closed her eyes in horror at the thought of being tortured while he jacked-off.
“There are no rules to the game of love, Ashley Cox. You just need to scream how much you love me, when I tell you to, if you still can. Not like anyone will hear you because there’s no one else on this floor but us. Trust me, I checked. It’s just you and me and—” he ran his tongue up her cheek “—it’s time to play. On your knees, bitch.” The tip of his knife nicking the underside of her chin. “First move is yours. You’re going to crawl into your boyfriend’s apartment and beg me to love you. Bring your little stick with you. You’ll need it.”
Chapter Thirty-Five
The son of a bitchin’ elevator was down again! Like a heat-seeking missile, Tripp changed course and aimed for the stairwell. The second he jerked the door open, ready to run, Mrs. Harrison stumbled out and all but fell into his arms.
“Oh, Tripp. I’m so glad to see you,” she said, patting his chest like he was a good boy while she caught her balance. “Is Ashley with you?”
“No, ma’am, she’s not,” he replied, taking polite hold of her biceps and setting her aside.
“Oh, that’s too bad. I’ve been listening to some old records this morning,
