True Love Lost (An FBI Romance Thriller (book 3)) (2 page)

In her head she counted the steps through the mud room to the kitchen. Five, four, three, and she popped the beer tab and it made the hiss.

“I see you have my…” He stopped short and his mouth hung open at what was waiting for him in his kitchen. Surely he was in the wrong house.

“I thought we could have some fun before dinner,” she said sweetly, hoping the act was believable.

Silence.

“I’ll be the appetizer
.” She tried again, hoping and praying it worked.

Then she knew that the line had been crossed. The handsome features twisted in
to a sick rage, as the keys to his truck were slammed viciously onto the kitchen counter. The ‘thunk’ made her jump in her heels, and she knew then it was going to be bad. “Baby, wait! I can explain,” she begged, holding out the beer in hopes it might calm him down. It wasn’t like she forgot everything he liked.

“Explain?” he roared. “You can explain why you
’re dressed like some piece of trash and standing in my kitchen like this?” He motioned up and down her body with his hand.

She stuttered
, “Ba-baby, I forgot to turn on the oven and dinner is going to be late tonight, and I didn’t want you to…”

There was no
time given to explain. The beer went flying, as he knocked it out of her hand and stepped dangerously close to her body.

“You didn’t want me to be angry?” he hissed. “Well you have a funny way of avoiding that,” he snapped at her viciously. “I warned you about trashy women in my home.
It’s forbidden!”

When he moved at
her, she braced for the hit and fully expected it. It spun her head and knocked her off balance. The heels that she loved so much didn’t help her, as they twisted making her fall backwards. Everything stopped, as she felt her legs going out from under her, and it was all broken as her head hit the corner of the counter.

Shaking her head to pull out of the memory, she refused to think about it anymore. That was then, and this is now. Her lover was waiting for her out there, and she was going to give him the best night of his life. One he’d remember until he died. One last check in the mirror, a spritz of perfume, and she was ready to go and face him.

“Here I come, baby,” she
called, as she exited their room they shared and crossed through the house. Looking around, everything was perfect. It was a job well done, and she congratulated herself on perfecting the task.

Entering the attached garage, she felt her breath catch in her throat. There he was
, and he was magnificent. There was no doubt that she was indeed the luckiest woman in the world. As she approached him, she could tell he wasn’t feeling well. His skin was gray and his breathing shallow.

“Lover, are you not feeling well?” she asked, as she looked down at him lying on the table in the middle of their garage. Her fingers traced down his body, avoiding the manacles and the chains
lying across him to restrain him. “Don’t worry love, after our evening together you’ll find that you’ll feel vastly better,” she grinned, coyly.

Unbuttoning his shirt, she noticed his eyes were open.

“Where am I?” he slurred. “I don’t feel well.”

“You’re at home with me, lover,” she smiled lovingly at him. “We are about to have a nice romantic night together.”

“Who are you?” he asked, as his eyes suddenly began to focus on the person standing above him. “Wait, that’s not right. Oh my God!”

“Oh, you know who I am, lover, but I think you’ve asked enough questions,” she said, as she ripped off a piece of duct tape.

“Wait, get away from me!” He began struggling to get free.

“Now, now lover. It’s time for our date to begin,” she
whispered, grinning seductively, and then slapped the duct tape over his mouth. When she placed a kiss over the tape covered lips, he began screaming muffled words. “I promise, tonight will be a night to remember for you.” she winked and moved to his feet.

The restrained man felt violently ill, like he was about to
vomit. There wasn’t any alcohol involved. Only a cup of coffee. Then it started coming back to him, and he fought harder to escape.

“Now lay still while I take off your shoes and socks,
lover. I need to get your handsome feet ready for the evening’s festivities.”

Removing
his dress shoes and his socks, she seductively she ran her fingers over the arch of his strong feet. She knew when she saw him, and he’d be the perfect donation. “I’m impressed, lover. You have such strong bone structure.”

He fought hard to get through the chains, and when he saw the hacksaw being pulled from the tool chest he started
begging into the duct tape. Next to come were the tears, as they began to fill his eyes while the cold metal touched his skin.

“Lover, fret not my pet. I swear that this is all necessary. It’s for us, my love. Trust me.
I know what’s best for us now.”

There was more screaming as he struggled violently to pull his restrained legs from the hacksaw.

“Don’t worry lover, it will only hurt for a little while, and then the pain will all go away, and there will be peace. I promise.” She batted her eyelashes and patted his leg reassuringly, right before she began humming to herself. “Here we go.”

The first slice was vicious. It cut through tendon and nerve and the teeth of the hacksaw scraped against the bone and made a sickening sound. He screamed
, and howled from behind the duct tape, struggling nonstop, as each slice of the hacksaw was punctuated by the sound of bone being sliced at the ankle.

The room swam sickly
, as he felt his heart pounding. The pain was so acute, that he knew he’d be passing out from the intensity of it all. The gray was now white, and the edges were slowly going black. As the next wave of pain hit, he prayed to go unconscious.

With his last scream, he fell into the darkness.

Willingly.

She flinched as the blood squirted from the artery o
nto her face and neck. “Damn it lover! You got blood in my hair,” she said horrified, as she looked over at his prone body. “Just one more slice.” With those words, she made the final cut and completely severed the first foot.

“Don’t worry
my love. I forgot about that artery. I won’t get sprayed with the next one,” she said, patting his unmoving leg.

The man screamed no more
, as the blood in his body spurted from the severed limb with every pump of his heart. Soon there’d be little to no life left in his body, as all of his precious fluid ran into the drain in the garage floor.

Even when she began sawing at the second leg, there were still no screams. Life leached from him
like the blood, and there were no thoughts but one, as he left his existence and became one of the dead.

Thank God the pain is over.

Three months later

She struggled to remove him from the truck and into the abandoned building. He was heavier than he looked, and now he was nothing more than dead weight. There was going to have to be a diet in her lover’s future- that was for sure. The love of her life seemed to put on weight since three months ago, when she carried him to their secret spot. It was time to stop baking him cakes and cookies, or he’d be as big as a house. Not that it’d matter. She’d still adore him unconditionally.

After all, you loved who you loved
.

Dragging him seemed so cold and impersonal, but honestly he was heavier than she could manage on her own. If only he’d stayed awake and walked on his own, it would have been so much easier and quicker.
Sadly, he couldn’t stand the sight of blood, and once it flowed, he was gone to the world.

Down into the
dilapidated building she pulled him, carefully avoiding him, slamming his head off the door jam. After all, she didn’t want to hurt him, and give him a wicked headache in the morning. Then he might be cranky and not enjoy their evening that she had planned for them.

“Oh look lover,” she said, looking around at his company. “It looks like you have some friends to keep you busy while I go home and clean the house.”

Placing him against the one wall, she patted his cheek. “Now, I promise to have dinner ready for you, after I clean the house and go pick up some beer. I do know how you like your beer cold and your dinner hot.”

She blew him a kiss, before waving to his companions.

“Gentlemen, make sure you get him home safely, and you don’t keep him out too late at night. You don’t want to make me angry,” she said giggling, as she tossed her long blond locks over her shoulder.

“Oh darn, you got me dirty,” she wiped at the stain on the front of her sweater. “I don’t think
blood will come out of fleece. Darn it!” she paused, looking worried. “Oh, don’t worry lover. I won’t be late with dinner because I’m out shopping. I will just toss this out and make sure I’m presentable for you when you get home.”

She stopped
, as if listening for some conversation only she was privy to hearing. Tapping her chin, she gave it great thought before finally answering him.

“We’re having lasagna. Your favorite
, lover!”

And then she walked away
giggling.

She was so lucky to have him in her life.

Two weeks ago.

The woman stood in her basement in front of the jars lining the wall, gazing at her collection. Each jar held part of her lover and once the collection was complete, she’d begin to reconstruct him and complete her mission in life.

Piece by piece…

And then she’d find someone to help her give him back what he was missing. That would take someone skilled with helping people, and it may be hard to pull off, but she’d figure it out. Anything was possible if it was done for the right reason.

LOVE
.

Every night she came to the basement and stood in front of the shelves to admire her work. It was her own little hideaway, found when construction had begun on the house she called home. She told no one when the construction crew came to her with the unsealed entrance to the ancient canning cellar. From that day, she kept it a secret and had plans to use it as her place to hide.
Every woman needed a place to think. This was her special place.

It was a sanctuary of sorts.
When her lover was with her, there were no places in the house she could call her own. Now it was different, and she was sure when he came back that there would be the allowance of her secret spot.

He’d give it to her out of gratitude.

Help her fix it up.

Tell her he loved her for being faithful
, even though a normal partner would have given up hope of his return.

For n
ow it housed her most important treasures. As she ran her hands lovingly across the big and small jars, she began to feel excitement. Soon she’d be able to completely put him back together again, and everything would be perfect.

Soon her true love would be back and there would be no more worries.
It was hard being alone, and she didn’t like it at all. Without a man in her life she felt incomplete. There was no one to please or wait on hand and foot. She turned the jar containing her lover’s new foot and laughed at her own little silly joke.

Yes, she was incomplete just as he was, and once she completed him, she too would be whole again.

It would happen.

It was coming.

She could feel it.

Planning her next evening alone with him became the priority, as she moved towards the rickety stairs. “Good night
my love,” she whispered over her shoulder, as she pulled the chain on the dangling light.

“Until we meet again.”

~ Chapter one ~

Monday Morning

Doctor Desdemona Adare stood in the kitchen of her newly furnished home
, and had her second cup of coffee for the morning. The view from the window was one of cold winds and dreary weather. Mid-winter had everything in its icy grip, and all around her new home was dead and barren. Maybe it was just her, but winter wasn’t something she enjoyed. The layers upon layers of heavy clothing, the sting of seasonal depression come January, and the slippery driving conditions. When she lived in Virginia, there were days when the roads were horrific, but never as bad as out west. When a big storm came, it came with a vengeance and tried to crush all living things.