Torn - Cynthia Eden Page 0,79
you, right?
“Told you the cottage would come back and bite you in the ass,” he continued.
Matthew didn’t turn to look at him. “It only bit me in the ass because you screwed things up. You led the cops right out there and you killed Melissa.” Fucking hell. He’d had so many fine plans with her. “Want to tell me why you did this? I thought we’d planned this all out. I take her, we keep her, and—” His voice was rising. He took a long, low breath as he tried to get his control back. “You changed everything. Why? For shits and giggles?”
“No . . . I did it for a very real reason.”
Those words just pissed him off. Matthew slammed down the glass and whirled to face him. “Your real reason caused me to be hauled off to jail! And what the fuck did you mean, digging up Kennedy’s body? That wasn’t part of any damn plan! I didn’t even realize what the hell I’d found at first when I was on that freaking trail. She was mine! She should have—”
“I needed her. She served her purpose.”
The bastard just sat there, in his favorite chair, looking all smug and cocky. He’d screwed everything to hell and back. Nearly destroyed his life. I hate this asshole.
“The cops won’t be looking at you anymore. An attack was committed—one that they know Melissa’s killer committed—while you were in custody.”
“I wasn’t done with her! You shouldn’t have killed her!”
“You were sloppy during her abduction. The bouncer saw your car. He told the LOST agents that, and then I got him to tell me the same thing. She wasn’t going to disappear like Kennedy. Not with them here. I was just cleaning up your mess.”
Bullshit. He didn’t believe that, not at all. “What did I miss?” Matthew asked. “Shit, were you sleeping with her, too?” Had to be. It was the only thing that made sense.
“We enjoyed each other. She made the mistake of thinking she controlled me and you. In the end, I think she learned a very valuable lesson.”
His temples were throbbing. He needed more bourbon. So he poured another glass. Even got one for the cocky bastard in his chair.
“Maybe I was a bit . . . reckless taking her from Vintage. But she’d tried to ditch me. Me.” He exhaled. “Now the cops know all about my fucking cottage, you dick.”
Regret tainted the other man’s words as he said, “Yes, well, it was a very good kill sight.”
True. But he’d found another place. For next time.
Matthew handed him the glass. “You got a problem. I heard—at the station—they were saying that kid you attacked, he made it to the hospital.”
But the guy just nodded. “Of course he did. I wasn’t trying to kill Jim. Just hurt him. He needed to bleed for what he’d done.”
“Uh, you’re missing the big picture here.”
“And that would be?”
“He saw you. He lived so he can tell the cops all about you—”
“He never saw my face. He won’t be able to tell them anything. Well, except, of course, that you weren’t the killer. Because you were in police custody.” He took a sip of his drink. Frowned. “This tastes like piss.”
Offended, Matthew blasted, “It’s twenty years old! Freaking classic!”
The bastard smiled. “You just can’t appreciate what’s really good, can you? That’s why you don’t see just what we’ve got in our hands.”
“Right now, we don’t have anything in our hands,” Matthew muttered. “We’re clear, and we need to just lay low. So when you leave tonight, don’t come back around, got it? Not until those agents from LOST are out of town. They’re the ones pushing things.”
“Yes, they are.” But he sounded . . . pleased.
Hell. “Don’t. Whatever it is you’re thinking . . . just don’t. We need to back off for a time.” Even he could see that, and he was pissed as all hell that he hadn’t been given the chance to truly enjoy Melissa. I’ll find someone else. But . . . I have to wait. They both did.
The bastard murmured, “We’ve been . . . friends . . . for a long time now.”
Friends? Is that what they were? Five years ago the guy had spotted him taking Kennedy away, but he’d kept quiet. He’d covered that secret. Did a past of blood and death and torture make two men friends?
Hell, maybe it did.
But . . . I don’t think he feels friendship. He doesn’t feel guilt. He doesn’t feel