RICHARD (A BAD BOY ROMANCE) (33 page)

“We’ll
get out of your hair, Chelsea,” I said with a sigh, motioning Simon to follow
after me. I pulled out my phone to check the time and realized that I hadn’t
checked in with Tanya like I’d promised. I needed to do that, especially now
that we knew the fucker’s name.

“Just
do me a favor, okay?” Chelsea asked, walking us out. “Keep Tanya safe. If
Connor is doing all of this shit, I don’t know what he’s willing to do. He’s
not the kid I remember.”

“I’m
going to do my best,” I said, giving her a smile as she undid all of the locks
and opened the door for me and Simon.

As
the two of us stepped out into the hall, I dialed the number of the burner
phone I’d given Tanya, putting it to my ear as we walked back down toward the
lobby once again.

“So,
where to next?” Simon asked, his eyebrows raised as he followed me down the
first flight of stairs. The phone rang in my ear until it went through to the
automated message. I frowned and tried again.

“We’ll
check the theatre, I guess. It’s pretty much all we’ve got to work with, at
this point.”

We
descended a few more flights, and once again the phone rang straight through to
the machine. I could feel my stomach starting to drop. I didn’t like this one
bit.

“Tanya’s
not answering the phone,” I said as we exited the lobby.

“Hey,
maybe she’s just in the shower or something. Don’t panic just yet.”

I
nodded, but something inside of me told me that something was truly,
desperately wrong.

Simon
and I climbed into his car, turning over the engine as his radio and police
scanner both flared to life in unison—the latter bearing the exact news I
didn’t want to hear.

Chapter 18

Tanya

I
didn’t even have to open my eyes to know that I was on a stage.

I
could feel the lights on my skin. Their heat. Their radiance. I knew I was
glowing the way I always did at the Domino. At the Dollhouse. Anywhere they put
me, I knew how to shine.

Shine bright like a
diamond_.
_._._shine bright like
a_.
_._._

There
was a musical going on in my head. An amalgamation of every shitty stripper
song I’d ever heard. I knew how to make it look like the stage was my home,
like I’d been born to strip and tease. But it never really felt that way. It
was never what I’d really wanted for myself.

Dreams
were for rich girls, though. Girls like me didn’t dare to dream. They only ever
turned into nightmares, and we couldn’t afford that kind of pain.

 
“I went to the Garden of Love

And
saw what I never had seen.”

I
blinked, slowly.
Oh, fuck. My head.
It was like a hangover, only worse—I hadn’t even had the chance to get drunk
first. The darkness was spinning and spilling into the light, bleeding like a
drop of ink in a cold glass of water. I couldn’t tell where the shadows ended
and the light began—if they ended at all.

I
took a deep, shuddering breath of the murk. A spotlight was on me. Everything
else was dark.

Except
for the glitter of eyes out in the audience. Just one pair behind a mask.
Tragedy.
Yet I knew the man who wore it
was smiling.

“A
Chapel was built in the midst,

Where
I used to play on the green.”

Those
lights were searing. I shut my eyes again and my head lolled back. I almost
tipped over and hand to slam my feet down onto the wood beneath me to keep my
balance. A chair. I was in a chair—tied to it. My wrists were bound. One of
them was smarting. Throbbing. Broken. And the hand, my burned one, was
bleeding.

“What
the fuck,” I muttered. It sounded like I had a mouth full of marbles.

Tom—no,
not
Tom, my
stalker
—I was sure of that now—he stood up from his spot in the
audience, weaving between the rows of red velvet chairs. They’d probably been
pretty once, but moths and rats and time had worn them all down. Picked some
clean. Left nothing but their wood and metal. Left nothing but their bones.

“And
the gates of this Chapel were shut,

And
‘Thou shalt not’ writ over the door.”

Against
my better judgment, I pulled hard on the cords binding my arms. I pulled and
gritted and screamed until long, dark lashes opened up across my skin—bruises
the color of the night. I cried and hung my head, digging my nails into the
arms of the chair.

I
glared, panting, as he mounted the stairs. “What the fuck do you want?!”

He
was moving toward me. One foot at a time. So easy, so relaxed, like I wasn’t a
hostage. Like I was nothing to him at all.

But
there was that gleam in his eyes again—like the edge of a knife glinting at the
edge of the spotlight beating down on me. I’d been thinking about paradoxes
back in the hotel room with him, and now I understood that I was
his
paradox—the girl who meant
everything, and yet nothing at all.

Part
trophy, part empty vessel. I slumped in the chair. I was going to be sick.

He
stood beside me. He was wearing opera gloves. Fuck, Gunner had it right—this
guy thought he was the Phantom.

“So
I
turn’d
to the Garden of Love,

That
so many sweet flowers bore.”

He
touched my hair, peeling it away from my face. I tried to bite him and he
jumped. Then he laughed and stepped behind me.

“And
I saw it was filled with graves,

And
tomb-stones where flowers should be:

And
Priests in black gowns, were walking their rounds,

And
binding with briars, my joys and desires.”

His
thick, musky breath was on my ear. “That’s a poem about death. The death of
love. And loss. And, ultimately, disappointment.”

He
pushed off the back of my chair and I fell forward, just barely catching myself
with my feet. I teetered precariously, my stomach flopping. I was so close to
the edge of the stage. If I plummeted off, I’d land right on my face on the
exposed concrete below. I’d crack my head open, my brains would fly out, and
I’d die. I’d
die.

I
didn’t want to die.

My
stalker jerked me back, tilting me onto the chair’s rear legs so I was staring
straight up at him like he was some kind of deranged dentist on Halloween.
Goddamn him, I was shaking. I was shaking and scared, and he could see it. I
didn’t want him to.

I
wanted to be brave. To look as unaffected as he did. But I couldn’t do it. I
was too raw. Too
human.

Bully
for me.

“Do
you know why I’m disappointed, Sandra?”

I
recoiled. “Sandra? Who the fuck is—”

He
drove his knee into my right hand, pinning it to the chair’s frame. Beneath my
bloody bandages, my burn sizzled.

“Don’t
lie to me. Don’t you
fucking
do that. Not again. Not
anymore.”

I
bit my tongue, holding back the tide of bile and fury that wanted to gush out
of me all at once. If I was going to live through this, I was going to have to
breathe. Maybe even play along. I closed my eyes and inhaled deep through my
nose.
Breathe. Just breathe.

When
I opened my eyes again, I steadied my voice and asked, “Why?”

He
let me down onto the stage again. Onto solid ground. Bliss. But then he jerked
my head back by my hair and agony ripped through my skull.

“I’m
disappointed because the first time I killed you, you didn’t die.”

The first time?

I
stared at him, breathless, unable to even blink. My lips were dry and cracking.
I could feel that the lower one had split already—probably back in the hotel
room when he’d hit me. I pulled the scab apart with my teeth, but didn’t dare
say a word.

I
wanted to ask. I
needed
to ask. But more
than that, I needed to live. And that meant playing his game.

I
just wished I knew what the fuck the rules were.

I
tried. “
I’m_.
_._._sorry?”

“You
should be,” he hissed. I’ll never forget the way he looked at me. The hatred in
his eyes. “I spent so much time on you. Making
sure_.
_._._”

He
released me, disgusted. I took a moment to compose myself.
C’mon, Tanya. Think. How are we
gonna
get out
of this one?

“It’s
no coincidence I found you,” he muttered. “Even though I wasn’t looking. Even
though I’d practically
forgotten
you.” I kept quiet, and he continued. “I was looking for
her.
For
Chelsea.
Your
spawn, and
my_.
_._._”

He
looked right into the spotlight. “My sick rose.”

I
remembered what he’d said the first time we’d met. How he’d killed his mother.
Suffocated her with her own panties, the sick freak. Chelsea—
my
Chelsea? I knew her mother was dead,
but_.
_._._

Holy
shit.
This
was Chelsea’s brother?!

Looks like I’m not the only
one trying to escape the past.

“You
ruined everything that night,” he snarled, turning on me once again. “When I
saw you up there, reveling in the whore that you
are_.
_._._I
didn’t understand. Tell me,” he shrieked, fingers sinking into my throat. “Tell
me how you came back, you bitch!”

I
struggled to make a sound, even though I knew there was nothing I could say. He
was insane. Bona fide crazy. Tears sprang to my eyes. Was this what was in
store for me and Gunner? Was this what our kind of dark and twisted love turned
into?

My
head was starting to throb—no oxygen. I remembered this feeling from when I’d
nearly died just a few days before. When that fire had raged through my
apartment... When Gunner had waltzed back into my life and saved me like it was
nothing. I wanted him to do that now. I wanted him to show up and take me away,
breathe life into me all over
again_.
_._._

Please_.
_._._

“I
know how to get rid of you now,
mother,
”
he spat so close to my face. I closed my eyes. I didn’t want to see him—his
mask—his rage. “You’re a myth. A legend. The Lilith of our time. Mother of
monsters, demons. This time, I’ll be right here. I won’t leave you. Not until
I’m sure you’re dead.”

Just
as blackness began to overtake me, he let me go. I wheezed in a breath that
hurt worse than him strangling me had. I was choking on my swollen throat. I
could barely swallow.

But
I could see just fine. See the psycho in front of me as he took something out
of his pocket. Smell the sudden stench of phosphorous in the air. A blue flame
pricked along his finger. He’d lit a match and now held it in front of his
face.

My
heart threatened to stop beating. I looked down at the ground—
really
looked at it for the very first
time. It was smeared with something red. Something like what he’d left for me
in Gunner’s house.

He
was going to blow me to smithereens.

“It’s
just like Father always said,” he murmured, staring into my eyes. “Fire fixes
everything.”

“Please,”
I rasped. “Jesus—fuck—please! You don’t have
to_.
_._._”

He
dropped the match. The stage erupted around me. Beside me. Beneath me. A ring
of fire leaping higher than I was tall. My own personal hell.

In
mere moments, I was consumed.

Chapter 19

Gunner

“This
is central dispatch. 10-33 Code 1 in progress, building fire on 32
^nd
and Marathon at the old Washington Theatre—”

“Son
of a bitch,” Simon muttered as he pulled the car into reverse, squealing out of
the parking space like a bat out of hell. My stomach felt like it was being
pushed back into the seat as he put the car in park and burned rubber out into
the street.

“He
has her, Simon,” I said, my heart pounding in my chest. I could almost picture Connor
there, standing over her body—that fucked up mask with its perpetual frown
looking down at her while he laughed. “That piece of shit has my sister.”

“Get
on the phone and call the cops,” he snapped. “They don’t know that she’s there.
They need to know that they’ve got someone inside, otherwise they aren’t going
to send anyone in there after her.”

My
fingers felt numb as I tried to dial those three simple numbers. I kept seeing
Tanya lying dead in the reflection of my screen. Simon hit his brakes hard,
sending us into a sharp turn as his back tires skidded over the asphalt.

“We’ll
be there in no time so long as I don’t get pulled over.”

I
shook my head, putting the phone to my ear as I heard the sound of the 9-1-1 operator’s
voice come over the line.

“9-1-1
Emergency, what’s the nature of your call?”

“The
fire on 32
^nd
and Marathon,” I blurted out as Simon barreled through
a red light, nearly taking out a pick-up truck in the process.

“We
already have units dispatched to—”

“No,
you don’t understand. Someone is inside of the building. Possibly two.”

“Can
I please have your name, sir?” the woman asked, doing her best to stay on
script.

“Gunner
Cole. I work for the fire department.”

“We
have units on the way to that location, Mr. Cole. You need to stay calm and
everything will be just—”

I
slammed my thumb into the “end call” button, cutting her off before she could
finish telling me my least favorite lie. Everything seemed to blur as I held
tight onto the overhead handle in Simons car, gripping it hard as he took us
through another one of his G-force inducing turns. I’d be lucky if I ever made
it to the fire with the way he drove.

“This
is really fucking bad, Simon.”

“Yeah,
I was sort of able to figure that out, but we’re almost there.”

“And
then what? I’m not exactly geared up to head into a fire.”

“You
didn’t
fucking
hire me as a problem-solver, Gunner. All
I can do right now is make sure you get there. Hopefully in time to get your
sister out.
Alive.
”

Simon
and I sped past another red light and finally made our way to the intersection
at 32
^nd
and Marathon. The fire was not immediately apparent—only the
black, acrid smoke billowing out of the many boarded up windows gave any
indication to its existence. My heart began to sink as I caught the first
glimpses of fiery tongues flitting in and out of one of the lower windows like
a perverse lizard. As we put the car into park we finally heard the police
scanner crackle to life again.

“Be
advised, we have reports of a civilian inside the building. All units proceed
with caution.”

The
sirens were deafening, like banshee screams coming from all directions as fire
engines barreled down the roads, full compliments of firefighters riding along.
As the trucks came screeching to a halt along the road, blocking off both ends
of the intersection I noticed that my own company had come in response to the fire.

“Gunner!”
someone called over the keening cry of the sirens. I turned my head to find the
Captain hustling over. “The
hell’re
you doing here?
You’re not—”

“I’m
here to help,” I said. “Get me some gear and I’m ready to go.”

“What
the hell do you think this is, son? We’re in an emergency and I’m already a man
down.
Stoggins
is missing.”

Stoggins
is missing
?
My mind whirled. I had only hoped that the lazy son-of-a-bitch had just
forgotten to go check on her, something I was going to chew him out for the
next time I’d see him—but if both Tanya
and
Stoggins
were missing, then something bad had
definitely happened.

“I’m
your best guy, Captain. I can help. I know you keep a spare set of gear on the
truck, just let me at it and I’m good to go.”

“Dammit,
Gunner. Fine. But I don’t want you playing hero in there, this is fucking
serious.”

I
gave him a grim smile. “I won’t let you down, boss.”

I
couldn’t tell the Captain that my sister was in there, otherwise he’d never
have let me go in—I’d have been labeled “emotionally compromised.” But sitting
on the side lines was not something I was willing to put up with today.

I
geared myself up faster than I’d ever done in my life. The gear on the truck
was a little tight on me, but more than sufficient to still be able to move
around without too much trouble. The weight of the gear felt good, like an old
friend to comfort me when I needed it most. I felt like I was ready for
anything.

“All
right!” I heard the Captain’s loud, booming voice rising over the din. “We’ve got
a reported civilian trapped inside. I want four of you inside searching while
the rest of you focus on containment. No fucking hero bullshit.”

I
knew that last comment was directed at me, and part of me was almost sorry that
I’d have to completely disobey the order—but that was only a small part. This
was so much more than my usual stunts, the usual macho big damn hero crap I
loved so much, this time it meant something more than just a stroke to my
ego—my little sister was one there—no, the woman I
loved
was in there. I wasn’t about to let her down, even if it
meant my own life.

I
made damn sure that I was on the team that breached the theatre’s boarded up
door. Connor must have managed to find himself a less conspicuous way inside,
but Connor also didn’t have a battering ram. I watched as two firefighters
slammed the heavy steel cylinder against the rotted wood. It caved almost
immediately, sending a gout of flames out to greet us.

Behind
me, I heard the roar of water pumps coming to life as the hoses began to stream
high-powered jets of water toward the flames that had begun climbing out of the
lower windows and up the outer walls.

“Go!”
one of the men on the battering ram shouted, and the other three men hustled
inside of the building. What I saw I had seen a thousand times before, but
somehow it all seemed so much more frightening.

I
wasn’t sure if it was my own nerves, or the fact that what I could lose in this
fire meant so much more to me than it ever had. It wasn’t just me or my friends
who could get hurt—trained professionals who knew exactly what could happen
with a single slip-up or even the slightest bit of bad luck. No, this fire
could cost me my whole family, which turned a routine blaze into a trip to the
mouth of Hell.

The
fire around us was creeping its way up the walls, crawling like a mass of
snakes that kept eating and giving birth to one another again and again. I took
a moment, focused on the sound of my respirator, the steady rhythm helping me
find an island of calm in the storm that my thoughts and emotions had become.

“Structure
still looks sound upstairs. I’m
gonna
head up, Freddy
and me up and Gunner and Tim down here. Maybe whoever’s in here got stuck in
the upper seats,” came a voice over my earpiece, corresponding to the movements
of one of the firefighters at my side. I nodded my agreement and made my way
toward the large set of double doors that would lead down to the stage.

I
pushed hard, throwing my shoulder against the old wooden doors, but to no
avail. What little the door did give appeared to be hindered by something
shoved against it from the other side. I peeked through the small crack I’d
manage to make, seeing the jumbled legs of the theatre seats piled half-way up
the door.

“Fucking
bastard,” I breathed, looking around for another way to get inside.

Places like this always
have a cast entrance
, I thought.
I can get to the stage from there.

I
could only hope that I was right, or that Connor hadn’t blocked that door off,
as well. Through the smoke I spied a hallway leading along the outer wall, and
against all the terrible possibilities I saw before me, I chose to believe that
it would lead to the dressing rooms and the back stage access.

I
had to believe that. If I didn’t, then there was no hope left. No hope for
Tanya. And without her, no hope left for me.

Shameful
to say, my knowledge of theatre didn’t come from any actual dramatic
experience—no, I’d learned all about the back workings of theatrics through my
own boyhood need to find more daring make-out spots. I’d never imagined that it
would come in handy, especially not now.

I
walked cautiously through the smoke-filled hallway, doing my best to read the
tiny brass plaques on every door. I’d at least discovered that I had picked the
right hallways, finally discovering a heavy wooden door that read “Cast &
Crew Only.”

Once
again I threw my weight against the door, my heart sinking when it didn’t budge
on the first try. I felt my pulse in my ears, drowning out my thoughts as I
once again flung my body against the stubborn thing.

To
my surprise, the door not only opened, but practically fell off of its hinges,
sending me stumbling to the floor on top of the half-rotted thing. I let out a
groan of pain as I slowly pushed myself up to my feet.

“Everything
all right down there?” I heard over the radio.

“Yeah,
I’m good,” I said, rolling my shoulder to make sure I hadn’t dislocated it.

The
others all sounded off as I looked around through the hazy darkness. Despite
all of the smoke, I couldn’t see any evidence that the fire in the lobby had
spread back toward the stage, in fact the fire hadn’t managed to touch this
part of the theatre at all—not yet, anyway. It was too perfect. Something in my
gut told me that I was getting closer and closer to finding Connor and Tanya.
Connor liked theatrics—he was the kind of guy who enjoyed a show—and what
better place to put one on than on the stage itself?

I
walked past the forlorn stage equipment that lay strewn backstage, the sounds
of a conversation reaching my ears as I crept closer to the stage proper.
Luckily I had more than enough cover from the heavy curtains left behind when
the theatre was closed, blocking Connor from even noticing my approach.

“Fire
fixes everything,” I heard him say, his words ringing clearly across the stage.
I reached out, pushing the curtains aside just in time to watch as the tiny
glimmer of a lit match fell from Connor’s hand, right onto a smeared ring of
red surrounding the crumpled body of my sister.

“Tanya!”
I screamed, rushing out of the curtains like a bat out of hell.

“No!”
Connor snarled as I threw myself into the ring of fire. It was spreading
quickly, lighting up the wood beneath her and already starting to catch on the
legs of her chair. I lifted it up just in time, pulling both the chair and
Tanya from the flames, cutting away at the ropes with a knife I kept in my boot
as quickly as I could.

I
couldn’t carry her like this. Not strapped to the chair. Before I could save my
stepsister, I had to set her loose.

“She
has
to die!”

Without
warning, I felt something hit me from behind, square in the middle of my back.
I stumbled sideways, tripping on the uneven floorboards in the stage and
toppling over.

I
saw stars as the pain in my back flared, then began to ebb away. I scrambled to
my feet as quickly as I could, the heaviness of my gear weighing me down,
slowing my movements. I searched desperately for my knife, something to defend
myself with.