Valentine (Cupid #2) Page 8

  Don’t say anything else. Keep your mouth shut. Ride this out.

  But she couldn’t help herself.

  “Where did you get the rope from?” Diana asked.

  “Why?” Theresa leaned her head sideways and flicked the bow with her thumb.

  “Just wondering. Really, I’m just making conversation.”

  “I got it out of my office.”

  “Cool. Your office is close to this one?”

  “Right next door.”

  “Cool.” Diana smiled. “You did a pretty good job of keeping me in this chair. It’s pretty scary, in fact, how you were able to bind me so well, and in so little time.”

  “I’ve been tying knots since I was ten.”

  “For the Girl Scouts?”

  “No.”

  Silence sat between them. A cruel expression spread across Theresa’s face. “I think that you should stop asking me questions. It makes me nervous.”

  “I don’t want to do that. When you’re nervous, I think I will get nervous too.”

  “I agree.”

  I have to get out of this rope. I have to get out of this rope. Jesus Christ, and then I’m off this island. I don’t care, what Asher says or does or... he can freaking come with me, if he likes. This island is evil. The whole place. What is wrong with her? She’s been tying rope since she was ten! What does that mean? Did she mean it in an innocent way? No. I doubt it.

  “Now, you’re quiet.” Theresa let her bow go, and stood up. “What are you thinking about?”

  That was a loaded question. Her thoughts lingered between the possibility of getting chopped into little bits by this psycho and how weird it was that her fingers twirled around and around her bow.

  “Your bow,” Diana replied.

  “That makes me nervous too.”

  “Why?”

  Theresa paced back and forth in front of the couch. Every few feet, she checked her phone. “This isn’t good. I should go see if he’s okay.”

  “Who bought you your first bow?” Diana asked.

  Was it Maxwell? Did he buy it for you to keep you quiet?

  Theresa ceased with pacing and froze. “Why would you ask something like that?”

  “I’m just into bows and making conversation. What’s the big deal?”

  Theresa marched over to Diana, kneeled in front of her, and placed her face a few inches from Diana’s. “I don’t want to talk about my bow either.”

  Diana should’ve jerked back or flinched, but she’d just seen a carved name in a dead body the night before. Even worse, she’d just fucked the man who’d taken the knife and sliced his name into the dying guy’s chest.

  Diana leaned her way and pressed her forehead to Theresa’s. Their skin smoothed together, and only Theresa shivered.

  Their eyes were right in front of each other.

  Now, it’s time to bluff. You’ve done this before. She’s weak, in some ways. Tear her up. Get inside her head.

  Diana whispered, “Do you see fear in my eyes?”

  “No.” Theresa never moved her face away. “You make me nervous.”

  “I don’t know Cupid, but I have other friends. If they think I’m gone, then that means, they’re hunting.”

  “Hunting?”

  “I bet they have Maxwell.”

  “No!” She fell back and dropped to the floor, rubbing her bow over and over. “Who is it?!”

  “Untie me.”

  “Where is he?”

  “Unfucking-tie me now!”

  Theresa punched her in the face, so hard, Diana and the chair crashed to the ground. Carpet scraped against her skin, blood coated her tongue.

  Diana spit it out and screamed. “Help! Help!”

  Theresa walked over to where she’d fell, and kicked her in the stomach. Pain exploded through Diana’s body. “Who has him?”

  “Help!”

  “No one can hear you, stupid woman. What did they do to him?”

  “The same thing they’ll do to you.” Diana laughed like a mad woman. “They have a tracker in me. And you’ll never know where it is!”

  More bluffs, keep them coming. Make her believe.

  “I can feel the tracker working. It’s vibrating around my back.” Diana chuckled and sang, “You’re going to die! You’re going to die!”

  “Stop it! Stop it!”

  “Untie me!”

  Theresa dropped her hands and then whispered, “Okay.”

  Diana tensed, too scared to utter another sound.

  “They better not have touched Maxwell. Is that why he’s not answering? He always answers.” She hurried over to her pocket book and pulled out a small gun.

  Oh yeah. I forgot about that.

  She pointed the gun at Diana. “You better not do anything, or I’ll shoot you, and leave you somewhere to die.”

  “I guess we’re not friends anymore, huh? No exchanging of bows or anything like that this Christmas.”

  Theresa kicked Diana in the gut again.

  Diana cried out in pain. Raw heat scratched at her throat.

  Yet, Theresa did as she’d promised. She untied the rope as Diana lay sideways on the ground, trying to remember how her stomach felt before it had been kicked in several times.

  Theresa kept the gun in one hand, and unloosened the rope with the other. How at ease she looked, just a twist here and a turn there. The knots loosened seamlessly like she’d just completed a Rubik’s cube.

  “There you go.” Theresa yanked the rope away from Diana’s arms, but still hadn’t freed her legs.

  It didn’t matter.

  As soon as Diana had a free hand, she launched for Theresa and screamed. Diana grabbed ahold of that ugly bow and refused to let go as she slammed the woman’s head down on the desk, the chair still attached to the bottom half of her body.

  They both fell. Diana crashed to the ground. Theresa dropped on the table. The gun tumbled onto the carpet.

  Diana rushed to get the gun.

  “No!” Theresa kicked it away and jumped on her. “Give me back my bow!”

  “Fuck you!” Diana bit the side of her face and sank her teeth into that jaw until she could taste blood and anything else on her tongue. She refused to let go.

  Fuck you! Fuck you!

  She would not let this crazy bitch win. She would not be destroyed by this woman. Not after all she’d gone through.

  Theresa beat at Diana’s face, but Diana wouldn’t let go. Like an aggressive dog, she locked her jaw onto the woman’s cheek and relished in Theresa’s wails.

  Blood filled her mouth. The nasty warm liquid spilled over her lip, and Diana could no longer take it. She let go. Theresa fell back, grasping at her face like it was on fire and screamed over and over.

  Something still lay between Diana’s teeth. She spit the meat out and vomit rumbled in her stomach.

  I bit off some of her cheek! Jesus! I have to get out of here before I throw up all over myself.

  Still holding the bow, she raced for the door. Her fingers fumbled with the doorknob, but as she unlocked it, Theresa slammed into her. “Give me back my bow!”

  “Take it.” Diana beat at the wound on Theresa’s face, hoping it burned worse than the kicks that she’d received. “Take your bow, bitch! Take it!”

  She flung the bow at Maxwell’s desk. And the craziest thing happened, Theresa twisted around and dove for the bow like a dog jumps after a flying Frisbee.

  And then,

  Diana ran.

  Nine

  Asher

  Asher held his limo door open for Maxwell. “Sit in the vehicle with me, for a few seconds.”

  Maxwell rubbed the back of his neck. “I will not.”

  “You will.”

  “Mr. Bishop, you’ve taken this situation far enough. I allowed you to drag me outside, due to your drunken stupor and kindness to my foundation, but I will not be a party to this anymore. Good evening.” Maxwell tipped his head and turned

  Asher looked around.

&nbs
p; Valets brought cars back and forth to the entrance far away.

  Maxwell knew he’d be safe out here. Too many people could witness something going wrong. The man believed he’d be fine with Asher inside of the ball and outside. A murderer prowled the island. Everyone had their senses perked and ready to catch anything odd or strange.

  Going unaware would be harder now.

  “Have a safe ride home, Mr. Bishop.” Maxwell stalked off.

  “I will, but I wonder if you will.” He got in the car and shut the door.

  Maxwell shook his head and headed back to the ball.

  Asher wasted no time and tapped the divider that separated him from the driver. “I need you to drive off and park somewhere close by.”

  “Okay, sir.”

  “Keep your phone near you, and be ready to speed back to me, when I call.”

  Asher’s driver nodded and obeyed as he always did. “Okay.”

  His name was Flame, and he’d been working for his mother and him for years. He’d been the first driver after the death of her first rich husband. Gray outlined his temples where black strands used to be.

  Worry etched along his blue eyes. “Will you need anything else sir?”

  “No, but thank you.”

  Asher never called the man Flame, never referred to him with a name at all. For some reason, he didn’t think Flame liked that title, or the past that came with it. And the man had to have seen a lot in his life, because for all the years that he’d worked with Asher, never had he opened his mouth or looked scared.

  And he’d seen plenty with Asher too—blood covering Asher’s hands and tears spilling from his eyes after he killed his mother. That night, Asher had limped back to the limo, for no reason at all. He could’ve simply returned to his mansion.

  Yet, he chose the limo, and asked Flame to drive.

  And the old man got out of the limo, nodded his head, and opened the door, but before Asher ducked inside, the man wrapped his arms around Asher and hugged him for a long time, under the moonlight.

  No words ever passed between them.

  A minute later, Flame let go, Asher got in the car, and they drove for hours.

  “I’ll wait for your call.” Flame’s voice brought Asher back to the present moment.

  Just in case, Diana had actually escaped, he decided to ask Flame a question. “Did you happen to see my date leave?”

  “No, sir.”

  “Okay.” Asher slipped out of the other side of the limo, where no one standing in front of the Ovid Island Art Museum would see him. He stayed low to the ground and crept to the bushes on the other side of the driveway. Once he got behind them, his limo drove away.

  Maxwell probably watched my limo speed off. If something is up, then Maxwell will head off, somewhere. If I’m wrong, then Diana really left me...

  and I hope she knows how to run, really fast.

  He swallowed down the bile that rose in his throat and made sure to get a good view of the museum’s front and back doors. Luckily, the limo parking was located on the side of the building, and provided an excellent view.

  Before Asher could sit on the ground, something glimmered from the woods that were between Maxwell’s foster home and the museum. He squinted his eyes. Light bounced off of a red gown, as a woman stumbled forward, fell into the ground, jumped up, and ran some more.

  Without thinking, Asher rose from the bushes and screamed, “Diana!”

  Out of the blackness, Diana ran toward him. That beautiful red dress torn at the bottom, caked in dirt and debris. Pearls fell behind her as she ran toward him.

  “Asher!”

  He rushed her way.

  Even from two yards away, Asher recognized the terror in the step, that odd stumble through fear. His heart pounded and his veins grew thick with fury. Someone had hurt her. Someone besides Maxwell.

  Blood dripped from her nose.

  He crashed into her like a linebacker would, smashing into her small body, grasping at those hips, and dragging them both down to the ground.

  “Ah!” She pushed him away, trying to get up.

  “What happened to your nose?” He grabbed her face with both hands and examined her brown skin for more injury. Her eye looked swollen, and her lip was split. “Who? Just tell me who?”

  “We have to get out of here!”

  A shot rang in the air, far off in the woods.

  A woman shrieked in front of the museum. “Did you hear that, Norman? It sounds like a gun.”

  “Shit.” Asher released Diana, jumped up, and helped Diana rise. “Too many witnesses.”

  “No, that’s good.” She straightened her tattered gown and held his hand. “She won’t shoot us out here.”

  “She?” he growled.

  Footsteps stomped all over the place. Cars honked. A few people screamed. Most of the noise came from the front of the museum. Police sirens blared far away, but Asher didn’t have to be a genius to know that they were coming to the Monster’s Ball.

  Everyone’s on edge. The police have something to prove. I can’t make any more mistakes.

  “Let’s go.” He guided her toward the parking lot and pulled out his phone to call his driver.

  “Mr. Bishop!” Maxwell’s voice came from behind them.

  Asher turned.

  Maxwell’s same bodyguards flanked him.

  “I see you’ve found, Mrs. Carson.” Maxwell did his best to hold in that frown, but Asher could tell that it had almost faltered. “Good. I’m glad you’re safe.”

  “I am safe.” Diana tucked her hair behind her ear. “I had a tumble in those woods over there. It’s very dangerous.”

  She’s saying nothing about who hurt her. Is this a performance for the security or Maxwell? What’s going on?

  “You should be careful over there.” She pointed to the woods.

  A few people hurried their way. Chatter fled from everyone’s lips.

  “Marjorie says there were gunshots.” A fat man held his hand to his chest as if he’d been hyperventilating.

  “Don’t worry.” Maxwell waved the man’s comment away and turned to Asher. “The police have been called. Everything is fine. I’m sure it’s all okay.”

  You’re a very cocky man, Maxwell. I like to make cocky men bleed. And the best sounds come from their mouth when they bleed. It’s a symphony.

  Maxwell’s confident expression faltered.

  Can you hear my thoughts? Or do you see your death in my eyes? The smart ones always see it, days before it comes. What do you see?

  Both men just stared at the other, as a crowd gathered around to discuss the possibility of a gunshot. Valet worked over time in that moment. The hysteria ended the Monster’s Ball, and had everyone on edge.

  “Well, I didn’t hear a gun shot at all.” Diana’s words cut through the air and stopped Asher and Maxwell’s face-off.

  “You didn’t?” a woman asked on her right. “Marjorie said it came from behind the museum.”

  “Where’s Marjorie?” Diana asked.

  “She just left,” another replied.

  “No doubt full of Dracula’s Blood,” Diana joked. “After a few of those, I bet anyone could hear a gun shot, or even more. I, myself, got lost around the museum and tore my dress.”

  She pointed to the ripped hem. “I think I would’ve heard something as I fell drunkenly to the ground.”

  People laughed. No one wanted a person with a gun in the woods. It was always easier for people to believe the best, than the scenario of them being in danger.

  “Either way, I’m exhausted.” She held Asher’s hand. “Please, take me home, Mr. Bishop?”

  Others went off into more conversation about Marjorie probably hearing nothing at all.

  “You know Marjorie pulled her gown down earlier this evening,” a man offered. “She had it all out, and showing it to the world.”

  “Who knows how much she’d been drinking by then.” A woman fanned herself. “And she’s managed to get us all upset, and
then she just rushes away. That’s so Marjorie.”

  Asher and Diana slipped away. She tightened her grip on him and continued to limp forward.

  “Let me carry you.” Asher stopped them.

  “No.”

  “It goes with the story of you tripping and falling.”

  “I don’t care. I don’t want you to carry me.”

  “Why not?”

  Her hands shook. “I just need to walk on my own right now.”

  “Who hit you?”

  “Theresa.”

  “Who the hell is that?” he asked through clenched teeth.

  “Maxwell’s assistant.”

  “Mr. Bishop!” The man himself, Maxwell, rushed over to them. “Are you leaving so soon?”

  Diana let go of Asher’s hand and glared at the man. “Be fucking careful, Maxwell. Very, very careful.”

  Maxwell raised his hand.

  The two security guards that had been following him, stopped, turned around, and walked back to the gathering crowd.

  Asher quirked his eyebrows.

  Diana pointed a finger at him. “Did you know that she had me in your office?”

  Maxwell checked Asher’s face.

  “I would answer her questions,” Asher said. “If you think I’m scary, well, then you’ve never pissed off the right woman.”

  “Did. You. Know?” Rage blazed out of Diana’s gaze.

  Asher swallowed and was relieved to see his limo pulling in. Diana looked ready to kill, and with the blood that had been dripping down her nose, he’d let her do whatever she needed.

  Maxwell exhaled. “I knew that she had you in my office, but I didn’t understand—”

  “What? That she’d tied me up?” Diana stepped toward him. “That she kicked and beat me?”

  Maxwell crossed his arms over his chest. “The police are coming. Maybe, you should press charges against her. Or do you have secrets that you don’t want anyone to find out about?”

  Her next word was a hiss. “Meaning?”

  “There’s talk that you know who Cupid is. That maybe you know who he is going to kill next. I don’t know. People gossip.”

  She widened her mouth into a murderous grin. “People do gossip, but Maxwell, sweetheart, I’ve heard things too. And maybe, just maybe, you should consider getting your will in order.”