GABRIEL (Killer Book 2) (2 page)

"To me, this world is nothing but evil, and my own evil just happened to come out cause of the circumstances of what I was doing.”

-Aileen Wuornos

Age 16

“Dani girl, my beautiful blue eyed Dani girl.”

That’s what he would sing as he stalked through the halls to my bedroom at night.

The house would be so quiet, so quiet, that I could hear the pads of his fingers run across the torn wall paper as he got closer and closer.

My heart would race, and time after time, I would contemplate jumping under the bed and hiding – wishing and praying that I would somehow disappear. It wouldn’t be any use. He would always find me and hurt me – use me until he was ready to throw me out.

You know what the sick part is? I wanted to please him. I wanted to make him happy, because maybe then, he would finally love me.

SIX
YEARS LATER

“Taylor, hand me those scissors, will you?” I say through the pins that are perched in my lips.

Taylor’s black curls bounce up and down as she runs over to my desk to retrieve the scissors. I look up at the model and wink at her as I force a smile.

Grabbing the scissors from Taylor I eye my model, “Have you been on the water only diet? It looks like you’ve lost twenty pounds when you didn’t have any pounds to lose!”

She laughs nervously, “My agent said that I needed to shed some more.”

I scoff as I look towards Taylor, “The world we live in.”

Taylor nods in agreement as she looks over her phone, “I’ve set up the venue for the fall fashion show. You have a meeting with the contractor for the stage setup today at one.”

“Okay.” I say as I pinch the fabric at the model’s waist before retrieving a pin and jabbing it into the material. “What about floral?”

“I’m down for after your lunch with the contractor. Girl, pre-warning, judging by his picture on the website, he is steamy-mcdreamy.”

I laugh, “Yeah, well, as long as he can provide the exact stage that I want, that’s all that matters to me.”

“If you say so…” She murmurs under her breath.

I shoot her a warning look, “Hey, watch it. I don’t have time for men. When are you going to stop trying to set me up? I’m happy. You can be happy and single.”

She steps towards me, “Yeah, but doesn’t it get lonely?”

I smirk, “No, it doesn’t, I’m surrounded by people all the time. Now stop yapping, I need to get back to work.”

“Well, you better hurry. It’s 12:45.”

My eyes grow wide, “Shit!”

With just my luck, it’s pouring rain in Manhattan. I called a cab – and of course four of them passed me up, one of them splashing water all over my shoes.

This is my life.

If I’m holding something breakable, I’m bound to drop it.

If I walk down stairs, I’m bound to trip.

Catastrophe
should be my middle name.

Once I get into the cab, the rain immediately stops and I roll my eyes.

I nod to the cabbie and tell him the destination.

“Make it quick.” I murmur, immediately feeling annoyed that he can’t fly over the cars in the congested lanes. I’ll be lucky if Mr. McSteamy sticks around for our meeting.

Finally, we reach the restaurant and I step out, pushing through people as they walk through the busy streets to get to the entrance.

I scoff when I see the setting. It’s dimly lit, obviously intended for the dating scene with its low playing, ambient music. Leave it to Taylor.

I walk towards the podium and smile at the host, “Hello. I have a reservation with Mr. Smith.”

He nods curtly, “Yes, of course. Right this way, ma’am.”

I hate Taylor even more when I see how everyone else is dressed. High fashion is my life. Shit, I do it for a living. However, I stick out like a sore thumb as I walk between tables to reach my destination. My hair is soaked and I quickly make work of twisting it into a bun before smoothing my hands over my airy shirt. I can’t wait to peel these godforsaken wet skinny jeans off of my legs as they rub against my skin uncomfortably. My stilettos are soaked. If I don’t bust my ass right in the middle of this restaurant, I will be forever thankful.

“Ah, here we are.”

My eyes dart up and are met with smoking emerald green eyes. I stop in my tracks, nearly bumping right into the host.

He belongs on the cover of a magazine. He’s wearing a perfectly tailored suit, he’s beautifully masculine; a strong jaw line and brow. His hair looks as though each strand had been meticulously put in its place. Those eyes, though. They look straight through me.

Not to mention the familiarity of his gaze is absolutely
unnerving
. In fact, it shoots an icy chill straight down my spine.

His smile never falters as he stands and reaches a hand towards me, “You must be Ms. LeBlanc. It’s a pleasure. I do have to say, I was ready to leave moments ago. You’re nearly thirty minutes late.”

I feel my cheeks flush when I place my hand in his. As he helps me into the booth, my eyes never leave his.

He drags his fingers along my palm and releases my hand. I immediately miss his touch.

Clearing my throat, I force a smile, “Yes, I am so sorry for my tardiness. Today has been insane. I’m glad to finally meet with you Mr. Smith.”

“Gabriel, please.”

I nod slowly as the server approaches us, “Good afternoon. My name is Chase, I’ll be your server. What can I start you off to drink?”

Gabriel smiles, his eyes never leaving mine, “We’ll have two house chardonnays.”

The server nods and turns quickly, leaving us alone.

“Do you always take charge and order for others?” I say playfully, though I’m annoyed with his boldness. This isn’t a date, this is a business meeting.

His eyebrows sit high on his forehead as a surprised look sweeps over his face, “When I’m paying, yes.”

I laugh, “Who said you were paying?”

The server places our glasses on the table before pouring the wine in each.

“Are we ready to order, or do you need some more time?” Chase asks as mine and Gabriel’s gaze stays locked.

“Yes, we will each have your Seared Sea Scallops with Chamomile Beurre Blanc.”

I glare at him as our server once again disappears into the back, I’m apprehensive and defensive as my jaw tenses.

“You like control?”

Gabriel smiles as he takes a sip of wine. Placing it down, he leans forward, “I do.”

I shake my head slowly, “While I appreciate your candor, I prefer to make my own decisions.”

He arches an eyebrow as his eyes take on a frightening look, “You’re very rude, Dani.”

I scoff, “Because I like making my own decisions? If that’s rude, guilty as charged!” I hold my hands up dramatically.

A smug smile spreads across his face as he lifts his glass and swirls it around, making its contents resemble a hurricane.

“Do you know what I love about wine?” He asks. I watch his lips, his voice is coated in something dark and ominous as he continues, “The
smell
, the
taste
, the
body
. How it can coat your pallet and linger for hours.”

The way he emphasized each word was almost more than I could take. His tone never wavered as it coated each word with confidence. 

My eyes stay transfixed on his moving lips. I feel myself growing damp between my thighs as his sultry words sweep over every inch of my skin. I cross my legs to attempt to dull the throbbing in my core, but it’s no use.

He smiles deviously as he polishes off his wine. Nodding towards the server he says, “Let’s get the lady some water. She’s looking a bit flushed.”

I grit my teeth, “You are a pretentious asshole. I came here for business, not to wine and dine with a misogynist – and let me tell you, the fact that you are in fact a self-absorbed woman hater is glaringly obvious. I’m done here.”

I begin to scoot from the booth, but he grabs my arm in a vice grip, “Ms. LeBlanc, we are here to speak business. I am a busy man. My schedule is packed full of
important
appointments. You’re lucky that I answered to your mediocre request when I have homes and buildings to build. However, I did so because I am a fan of the underdog – the ones who
need
people like me to
shine
. Now, Ms. LeBlanc, I will not tolerate your offensive name-calling any further. Clearly you are a strong willed woman, which I have nothing against – but I do not have time to cater to your bratty little remarks. If you would like my help, sit down, shut up, eat your food and drink your wine. One more snotty remark from you will lead to our deal being terminated and I will ensure that any other contractor worth mentioning will not give you a second thought. Are we clear?”

My nose flares as I hold back every urge to slap the shit out of him. “Listen, you fucking prick, I will take my business elsewhere. I do not need you or any one of your fucking friends to make my show happen. You can kindly go fuck yourself!”

He smiles in response as I try and yank my arm from his grip. He doesn’t let go, and my eyes snap back to his, “Get your dirty fucking hand off of me!”

He chuckles as he releases me and holds his hands in front of him.

I grab my purse and quickly scoot from the booth.

“You’ll come back, Ms. LeBlanc. I can’t wait to meet again.”

I stop momentarily, trying to determine if I should reply, but no other words are needed as I continue on my way.

"I always had the desire to inflict pain on others and to have others inflict pain on me. I always seemed to enjoy everything that hurt. "

-Albert Fish

I stand outside of the door as I listen to her moans. She’s coming to. Slowly.

I swiftly turn and open the door. Smiling, I look up at her as she hangs, suspended by the hooks which pull at the pliable flesh of her back and legs.

Her head is bowed as her black hair falls around her face.

Natalie sits in her cage in the corner as she shivers and sobs. Soon, she will sleep forever now that I have another to take her place. She won’t fight me. She’s ready. After two weeks they are always ready. There is only so much that a human can take until they can take no more.

I suck their soul from them with every hook; their spirit drains away in tiny red rivulets with each puncture wound.

They eventually succumb to the euphoric state that the suspension leaves them in, they come to enjoy it. Just as they come to enjoy the whipping and the caning. The fucking, they love that the most, though.

Once I remove the touch – whether it is pain or pleasure – that is when they break. Once they are in the cage for several days, they finally give into their longing to die.

You may think that I am callous, but I’m not. These women are desolate. If I didn’t end them, then it would be death by a drug overdose or a razor blade to their wrists.

I love them, I break them and then I end them. It makes it all easier in the long run – for them, not me. For me it only reaffirms how sick and twisted I am, seeking pleasure in such a bloody way. Unfortunately, unlike most psychopaths, I am more than aware of my transgressions.

I look over at Natalie and offer her a kind smile, “How are you today?”

Her once lively eyes travel up to meet mine as she grasps the bars of the cage, “Gabriel, I’m ready. Please, please.”

I tilt my head to the side as I examine her trembling, frail body. I can’t imagine myself ever begging for one to end my life. Then again, I’ve never had to face what my victims have. We all have a story to tell, and sometimes the road that we follow leaves us shattered beyond fixing, abandoning us to live the rest of our lives in a state of disrepair.

Sighing, I turn back to my newest victim. She was so lonely and beautiful, just like the rest of them.

“Shyla, I’m so glad you’re finally coming to.” I whisper as I fist her hair and pull her face to mine.

“W… what is g-going on, Gabriel?”

I smile before pressing my lips to hers. Pulling away, I whisper to her, “Shhh. You need to stay calm. Don’t thrash around, because you’ll risk pulling the hooks from your skin. You wouldn’t want that, would you?”

She shrieks as her eyes travel around the room.

Yes, I imagine the first sight of my secret place would be frightening. I am a sexual deviant… a connoisseur of pain, if you will.

Being a contractor, I had the means to make this place my very own. I can live out every single detail of my fantasies within these walls, thanks to my trade.

It resembles a medieval dungeon. Numerous whips, collars and other toys hang from the heavy duty metal hooks. I have chains which hang from the ceiling in the center of the room.

“This was your wish, Shyla. You said it yourself.” I pause as I step closer,
“
You said
, “Sometimes, I go into the bathroom and stare at my wrists. I think about how it would feel as the blood drains from my veins.””

“Oh my God.” She whispers, her eyes growing wide.

I smile, “I’m going to help you. I’m going to make your wish come true.”