Authors: Suzanne Steele
The Executioner
Kindle Edition
©The Executioner
Copyright © 2013 Suzanne Steele
Dark Romance Series © 2013 Suzanne Steele
Published by Suzanne Steele
All Rights Reserved
This book is a work of Fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are products of the Author’s imagination and are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental. All rights reserved. This book, or any portion thereof, may not be reproduced. It may not be used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the Author.
Edited by Corey Amador
Cover Design by Mayhem Cover Creations
Formatting by Suzanne Steele
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All content herein is protected under copyright law.
This e-book is Rated 17+
To the Reader
The men I write about are Alpha males in every sense of the word. They are the men society warns us about. They are dominant males with controlling tendencies. They are the men you know you should stay away from but yet
you are drawn like a moth to a flame. If you are looking for a sweet romance, you won't find it here. What you will find is dark passion.
Many times my heroes carry what would be
considered an obsession for the woman they love. Each and every character I write about has demanded their voice be heard. I have been true to that calling and I have stayed true to their personalities, which at times the reader may not always agree with. They are dark, they are gritty, and many times their love is dysfunctional but, none the less, it is real.
Stalk Me…
Suzanne Steele’s Blog:
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Table of Contents
“That’s it… now just close your eyes and relax. Think about a place you like, your favorite place to go.”
“This is so cliché, Doc… really? You’re going to have me lie down on a couch and hypnotize me? I don’t think so.”
“Very well then, how would you like to approach your dilemma?”
“My dilemma?” With my head held high and not giving a shit, I speak. “I’m not the first person who has ever suffered a negligent childhood, Doc.”
“Your job mandates that you go through these counseling sessions.”
“My job mandates I have a ton of paperwork to do also, which leaves little time left to talk to you. This is an hour I could have been doing said paperwork.”
“How will you ever help these women if you don’t come to grips with your own issues?”
“Just sign me off already; I’ve got an appointment with one of my clients.”
“I will not, I’m keeping you for observation.”
“I have pressing appointments. I’ll see you next week, Doc.”
I watch my psychiatrist peer over his glasses at me as if he knows something about me that I don’t. I don’t care what he thinks he knows because there is no way I’m opening up to him about the dreams that have recently started to relentlessly plague me.
I make my way home relieved to have escaped yet another opportunity for my mandated head-shrinker to toy around with my thought processes. Really… as far as I am concerned, what’s going on in my head is none of his fucking business. To put it simply… I’m going crazy…
It started about six months ago when one of my clients shoved a gun under her chin and blew her brains out as I watched in horror. I never saw it coming. It was like one of those movies where everything is going in slow motion and the people on the screen are powerless to do anything. I stood and watched, unable to move. I just couldn’t believe it was happening. Now I live with the guilt of what ifs…What if I had moved quicker? What if I would have tried to talk her down? What if I would have done anything… anything but freeze-up like I did?
She called me over to
talk
. When I entered, she removed the gun that was hidden behind her back—a gun that was neatly tucked into the waist band of her jeans. Without so much as a hello, she blew her brains out while her kid crawled around my feet. To my horror, the child and I were suddenly covered as blood cast off and brain matter splattered onto the two of us.
Not long after the incident, I began to have dreams of a sexual nature. My shrink says it’s my mind’s way of preserving itself so I don’t go crazy. Imagine that…my mind is protecting itself…against me. I’m glad someone is looking out for me. My doc says if my mind is dreaming about something else, then it isn’t plagued by the trauma I suffered. He doesn’t have any idea what I dream about and I have no intention of telling him.
I jump in the tub and sink down into neck high bubbles with a glass of wine. I have found my own form of therapy—writing. There isn’t any sense in letting all those nasty dreams go to waste so I’m using them to write stories. I don’t know how good they are but people sure seem to be enjoying them on the site where I anonymously post them. All I know is it keeps my head straight and my sanity is a luxury I can’t afford to lose.
I have found a way to get the therapy I need without having to open up to anyone. Opening up isn’t an option for me—ever. I actually enjoy giving life to the voices in my head. For so long I have lived in my imagination. Now, what was once imagination becomes real when put to paper, or in this case, computer screen.
I polish off the last of the wine and make my way towards the bed. Hopefully sleep will not elude me tonight. It isn’t falling asleep that poses the problem, it’s staying there.
Dr. Winslow
I twirl my pen between my fingers as I think about my patient. In my life, it is all about appearances. How I look, how I dress, what I drive, how educated I am, and the list goes on and on. It doesn’t really bother me that I live under a spotlight because that’s how it’s always been for me—I’m a child prodigy. By the age of fourteen, I had graduated high school and was enrolled at Johns Hopkins University (with Yale as my safety school.)
I was born a genius, diagnosed at an early age, and learning has always been second nature to me. What many don’t know is there is a very thin line between genius and insanity. Another informative fact many don’t know is… I walk that line.
There is far too much protocol in my line of work and it leaves no leeway. How is a man supposed to further the progression of the medical field when he does not have the ability to use human subjects as study aids for the purpose of hands-on experimentation?
The patient who just exited my office is perfect for the study I am conducting. Of course I have to conduct this study in secret due to the protocol I mentioned, but this subject couldn’t be any more perfect to study how closely emotions tie into the realm of mental stability. How much can a person go through emotionally before they suffer a breakdown?
The reason I believe she is a prime candidate for experimentation is because she suffers from
Reactive Attachment Disorder
or, as we doctors in the medical field term it, RAD. Basically, this woman is damaged emotionally and I want to know if it will be harder, or easier, to drive her crazy because of it.
The man I have recruited to help me scares the hell out of me, but I have something he needs so I should be fine. I’m not certain how safe my study’s subject is, but I am hopeful she will remain unharmed so I can continue the work I’m doing. To put it simply, the man is a monster—a dangerous and calculating predator. The same way I was born a genius, this guy was born a predator. You see…Trent is a very dangerous man because he enjoys taking a woman against her will. Don’t get me wrong, the guy isn’t a rapist or anything, he just likes to stalk, kidnap, and abduct women. He enjoys a woman resisting sexually so he can systematically break her down until she’s begging for his cock.
And they say I’m crazy?!?
It will be very interesting to see how she responds to the both of us. It’s not her I’m concerned about—it’s him. He intimidates the shit out of me and if you ever laid eyes on him, he would intimidate you too. When I look at him, he reminds me of the historical Roman gladiators. In fact, before he became a multi-millionaire, that is exactly what he did to make a living. He was a cage fighter and rumor has it that he was one of the most brutal in the business. I’m not talking about regulated cage fighting; I am talking about underground, no holds barred, street fighting. Blackmailing a man who looks like he wants to kill me every time he looks at me has been intimidating, even more so because he smells my fear. He’s even gone so far as to tell me so. The bastard gets off on scaring people. He is more animal than man and he is the one I have chosen to stalk my patient and help me with my plan to drive her crazy.
Yes… I’m walking a very thin line in more ways than one… and I have never felt more alive than I do now.