Undercover Elite (Undercover Elite Book 2) (19 page)

Dr. Brinkley

In the aftermath of Deana’s deranged appearance at the hospital – and I really must speak with my security director to ensure she’s banned from the building -- I decide the best thing would be to get Miss Fairchild away from the scene of the crime, so to speak. As the saying goes, sometimes the best thing to do is get right back on the horse, so I’ve planned for us to call on Georgia this afternoon.

I open the door and step to the side. Ladies first, of course.

“I think we could both use some time away from that office.”

“Where are we?” she asks as she looks around. I didn’t include this on my previous tour.

“We’re in an interview room.”

I smile when she looks around me and peers through the small pane of glass in the metal door and sees our guest.

“It’s Georgia. Why do you have her in a different interview room?”

“Always such excellent questions, Miss Fair--, er, Windy,” I reply, smiling stiffly. “I’ve found it’s better to switch things up with this particular patient. The worst thing you can do is develop habits with a serial killer.”

I take a moment to look Windy in the eye to stress the seriousness of what I’m saying. “Don’t make the mistake of letting her get inside your head. The last thing you need is a serial killer toying with your thought processes. Keep in mind, all serial killers are predators; they’re always looking for weakness to prey upon. Female serial killers are more enigmatic; it’s the reason they’re coveted as research subjects. You have an opportunity that most professionals would love to have. If you think a male serial killer is dangerous, multiply that a thousand times with a female. I think it’s time for you to familiarize yourself more with the mind of a female serial killer. Putting her in a different room will throw her off and she’s more apt to reveal more of herself to you. Always remember everything she does has a purpose; if she opens up to you, she has a motive. It’s up to you to figure out what it is.”

“Well, I hope none of this lines up with the warnings your girlfriend had for me. If she’s right about Georgia wanting to rid your world of me, I deserve to know.”

“She has some emotional issues when it comes to me, but I don’t think your life is in danger.” I smile to put her mind at ease but she doesn’t appear to be convinced.

We enter the interview room and Georgia wastes no time starting in on my assistant.

“Well, well, well, have you brought your little lap dog trainee to study my criminal mind again, Doctor?”

I eye the woman handcuffed at the table. She looks like anything but a black widow with her porcelain skin, blue eyes and her light blonde hair. She’s the kind of woman who’s every man’s dream…until she isn’t. Seems she has a penchant for drugging her victims before she performs her little blood bath; but only after she wins their trust. She likes to hurt them first, so badly that they’re begging for her to take their life. There comes a point in torture sessions where the victim will do anything to escape the pain—even die.

“Why don’t you fill my
trainee
in on what prompts you to entice a man to love you just for the pleasure of killing him.”

“Don’t you know? It’s simple, really; I get rid of them before they can get rid of me. Men are all the same,” she says, glaring at me pointedly. “They set out to conquer you, but once they do they become bored and toss you aside.”

“That’s no reason to kill them.” I calmly speak to her. I wonder if she’d kill me if her fantasy of having me at her mercy ever became real.

“The men I killed were married men having affairs. I just saved their families from having to endure what I did as a child.”

“So you blame your childhood?”

“Perhaps.”

“That doesn’t explain why you feel the need to gain the trust of your victims before you kill them. You could just off them without going to the trouble of forging such a personal connection.”

“Because…it proves to the world what I already know, men think with their cocks not their minds. I’m only showing the world just how barbaric men really are. And the more intimate the connection, the more gratifying the kill,” she says as she shifts restlessly in her chair. “Am I right or am I right, Doctor?” Her blue eyes penetrate through me and I’m glad I sat down because the metal table is hiding my hardened cock. And from the smug little smirk on her face she knows it too.

Windy

“Do you believe her?” I ask Dr. Brinkley as I eye him from across the cafeteria table where we’re seated having lunch. “Do you believe men think in a more basic, primal manner rather than in an emotional sense?”

“It doesn’t really matter what I believe; she believes it and it’s enough to make her kill.”

“And…it doesn’t take a profiler to know you’re avoiding my question.” I arch an eyebrow, challenging him to deny it.

“Okay, yes…as I’m sure your mother told you, there are times we as men think with our cocks.” I look at her expression and I’m surprised when she doesn’t wince at my crude reference. “There are other times when a man is intrigued with a woman because she is the type to draw him into something that goes much deeper than sex.”

“And what type would that be?”

“An intellectual connection of two minds that think alike, whether they recognize it or not. You and I have much more in common than you realize and one day you’re going to see it just as clearly as I do.”

I deliberately don’t respond to his jab, and try to keep the conversation on a professional matter. “I’d like to study her more.”

“That’s why I introduced you to her. She’s an excellent test subject for your research. But be very careful, she has a way of pulling you in and then shutting you down. I’ve seen her bring grown men to their knees. In fact, I think that’s part of her fascination with me; I haven’t fallen for her tricks. Regardless, she’s adept at reading people and won’t hesitate to use her findings against you.”

“I’m certain it’s a form of entertainment for her. Knowing she’s left her mark on a victim gives her a sense of control.”

“Yes, she’s an emotional sadist. It will be interesting to see what approach she uses against you.”

“Always the profiler, aren’t you?” I retort curtly, tiring of his perpetual analysis of me, as if I’m the subject of his research instead of the crazy woman who’s locked up downstairs.

“Absolutely, it’s just another thing we have in common. You need to hear what I’m saying…She’s been gentle with you up to this point. One day when you least expect it, she’ll go for your jugular – figuratively through an emotional attack, or quite literally. I can promise you she wants to see you cry, she wants to see you confused, and she’s probably already fantasizing about killing you. If she ever has the opportunity to do so, she will.”

Windy

I pull my car over when I notice the package sitting at the front entrance of the women’s shelter. I know if I don’t pick it up someone else will—anything left outside in this neighborhood is fair game. I’m surprised when I look down and see it’s addressed to me.
Probably a care package from my mother
is my first thought as I toss it onto the seat next to me and continue to the private entrance that leads to the apartment.

Thorn’s truck is parked in the garage – and so is Harley’s bike. That’s odd; maybe he’s more interested in Melissa than Thorn and I initially thought.

“Hey guys, what’s up?” I notice Melissa is sitting on the counter in denim cut-off shorts. Harley is standing close to her, leaning a hip against the counter as they talk quietly.
Yeah…he’s interested.

I’m surprised that Harley can drag his eyes away from my best friend’s gorgeous legs long enough to notice how full my hands are. He takes the package from me, looking it over curiously.

He eyes me skeptically, “Where did you get this?”

“It was sitting out front when I pulled up. It’s probably just a care package from my mom.”

“No…it isn’t.” He starts to grin when he sees the return address label. “This is definitely not from your mother.”

He makes his way over to the wooded knife holder and grabs one of the steak knives, cutting through the brown packing tape sealing the now ominous box.

I’m shocked when I look down in the box and I see a diamond dog collar. “What is it?”

“I don’t know, ask your old man.”

I turn to see Thorn holding a German Shepherd puppy and I run over, taking it from his arms and laughing when I’m immediately greeted by warm, wet puppy kisses. “I didn’t think you were serious about getting me a dog. She’s beautiful; though I doubt she’s a killer,” I finish speaking in pure baby talk as I rub noses with my new fuzzy baby.

“By the time she gets done with the training school I signed you two up for, she’ll be as dangerous as I am when it comes to protecting you.”

“Does she have a name?” I ask as I rub her fur behind her ears.

“Not yet. But I was thinking, since you’ll finally have your own little sidekick now, maybe…Wonder?”

I say nothing and swallow hard to get rid of the lump in my throat, and feel a single tear make its way down my face. “That’s the perfect name. Thank you for this…and for remembering.”

Thorn tilts my chin up and says solemnly, “Always, baby.”

I laugh as Wonder licks my face. “One thing’s for sure, she already loves me.”

“Of course she does,” he says softly as he cradles my jaw in one enormous hand. “How can she help but love you?”