Little Bird (Caged #1) Page 5

  “Damn, a lost bird and babysitting. What a day…” He eyes Bronson then looks at me, his eyes narrowing as he stretches his calves. “I should probably leave you to all your duties. Don’t want a lost kid on top of it.”

  “Yes. Thank you,” I mumble, not bothering to look at him again, mainly because that body is distracting, but the man is obnoxious.

  “I’ll keep an eye out for your Pretty Bird on my run.” He waves at Bronson and directs that damn smile at me again. “Have a good day, Megs.”

  Megs!? Megs!? I don’t even have time to correct him. And if he’s willing to keep an eye out for Pretty Bird, I don’t want to piss him off.

  “Luke,” I blurt and he looks back. “If you find her, she won’t bite you. She’s a sweet bird and if you put your hand out and call her name, she’ll land.” God, I’m too desperate for this bird. “Thanks.”

  “Anything for a friend.” He grins and winks at me before jogging off.

  A friend.

  I roll my eyes and get back to circling the house. After fifteen minutes it’s useless and I need to focus on getting ahold of Regina before more than my bird ends up dead.

  “Birdie, I’m hungry,” Bronson tells me yet again as I shut and lock the front door behind us.

  First babysitting duties - which I’ve never done, mind you - then Jasper unexpectedly showing up and releasing my bird, and now Luke’s appealing yet loathsome visit. I’m ready for several Xanax and a hot bath before I sleep the remainder of the day and night away. But Jasper will be back and ignoring him isn’t an option. It’s never an option.

  Calling Regina, I get her voicemail but I have to get Bronson out of here before Jasper returns. All hell will break lose if I don’t, because I will not let him hurt this little boy. This child has seen and been through hell in his already four short years, and with a mother like Regina, he has many years of it left. I will not aid in the scarring of a helpless child, but Jasper would kill me before I stopped him from killing the boy.

  Sending Regina a quick text, I then rush to my office to find Ron Clurik’s phone number, hoping the old bastard will answer because if not, I’ll have to get Mrs. Clurik involved.

  “Yes? Hello? Yes?” he pants into the phone and I cringe.

  “Mr. Clurik, this is Megan Porter. I hate to bother you but I’ve been trying to call Jim Avi all morning and he’s not answering. I’m sorry to ask, but you know how I worry. Could you be a peach and just pop in next door quickly to see if he’s okay?”

  “Jim? Uh, yes, Megan, sure.”

  “Thanks. I’ll hold on the line.”

  “Now? Right this minute?”

  “Yes please. I’m worried.” I roll my eyes then turn around to see Bronson poking at the sandwich I gave him.

  “Sure thing, dear. Just a minute. Let me… Well, just let me, um… go and see.”

  The sound of a belt clanking then him whispering something makes me cringe again but I stay on the phone and watch Bronson curiously try the sandwich he clearly hates, but he must be hungry because he’s eating it. I put the phone on speaker and go about my business while he meanders over to The Clurik’s like a sloth. It only takes a few minutes until there’s a knock at my door and I open it to Regina.

  “Everything okay? I got your text but I was busy.”

  Hanging up my phone I say, “You have to leave,” and pull Bronson off the chair shoving the sandwich into his hand. “He can’t be here right now, I’m having company.”

  “I was in the middle of a job, Birdie!”

  “Were you paid?” I hold my hand out, and with protest she puts the money into it.

  Handing her back more than half I tell her, “Go get him a real meal, Regina.”

  “Bye, Birdie.” Bronson waves at me with peanut butter all over his hands and I cringe.

  “Goodbye, Bronson.” Snatching Regina’s arm before she exits I warn, “This cannot happen again. I’m your employer, not babysitter.”

  “I’m sorry, Birdie, it won’t. I promise.”

  The child wasn’t bad, but because of him, I lost the only thing I loved. Pretty Bird.

  Taking Xanax before Jasper returns, I start preparing dinner because I know he’ll want to eat and he always expects me to cook for him. As I blend the egg mixture I pause and think of what sort of cyanide I have in the house. I could concoct an almond dessert and slip the poison in. But then what would I do with Jasper’s body? And cyanide is detectable in the body. I sigh and continue mixing. I’m not going to poison Jasper. The day I overthrow him, I want him alive to watch me crush his pathetic world under my heel before I build a bigger, better kingdom over top of it.

  This time he knocks and it’s just as the oven sounds the alarm that the Beef Wellington needs to come out. Jasper can wait because he won’t eat a burned meal. As I turn to rush to the door, he’s standing with his gun out and now in my face.

  “Who’s here?” he demands to know. “Why didn’t you answer? Who are you hiding?”

  When he gets high, he gets more delusional than he already is, and I really don’t feel like dealing with this.

  “I expected you hours ago. I was preparing our meal and it needed to come out of the oven.” I gesture to the Wellington.

  “Who are you fucking?” he screams at me and I sigh.

  “What are you on?” I look at his nose and the shiny redness answers my question.

  “Don’t answer my question with a question!” The sting of his slap makes me hold still a moment but I lift my head with pride.

  I can take a thousand more to prove to him his abuse will sting but my willpower can burn his whole fucking world down.

  “I was not fucking anyone. I was making dinner.” I stare into the green eyes that used to be vivid, but they lose more life as the years pass.

  “You’re untrustworthy,” he seethes walking toward the dining room table. “You’re a whore and untrustworthy.”

  “I have never betrayed your trust,” I firmly respond.

  Lately he’s been becoming more and more suspicious of me and I don’t understand it because he has no idea what I’m planning, what I’ve started, what is happening behind his back. There’s no way for him to find out because I erase my tracks like I’m a ghost. He may have taught me everything, but he has never had to be as invisible as me.

  “Serve me!” he bellows as if he’s been waiting. I bring the tray to the table and when I set a plate in front of him he starts to laugh. “Undress and on your knees. You’re my plate tonight.”

  We lock eyes but before I bring myself more pain, I unzip the side of my dress. My weakness serves a purpose now that I’m older. It’s so he doesn’t detect my willpower and his walls continue to weaken around me so I will soon be able to punch through his chest and rip out his heart as if he’s made of paper.

  Getting on my hands and knees he then drops to the floor and places a slice of the heated meat onto my back, and knowing this is the least of the pain, I don’t wince. The cool metal of the fork then knife touch my flesh and I wait as he drops his head and says a prayer. With eyes directed to the floor, I prepare for the barbarian to cut into me as he cuts through his meal. My blood is a delicacy in his mind and he’s always enjoyed feasting on it like a vampiric cannibal. As he dips the hot meat onto the wound, I bite my lip and have to close my eyes. He will make sure every cut brings blood and I will be scouring my wounds in hot water and rubbing alcohol to sanitize them.

  By the time he finishes his meal, I’m weak and a tremble has started throughout my body from an uncountable number of slices into my flesh. Blood has been rolling over my back and dripping around me almost since he started.

  Pulling me up by the hair, his utensils fall to the floor but he discards them and pulls me to the bathroom where he turns the shower on and waits until the water begins to steam. I remind myself the pain will be worse if I fight or defy him so when he directs me under the stream, I go and involuntarily whimper from the scalding on my open flesh. I keep my back to him bec
ause if I watch, he makes it more fucked up. I see his hand grab my loofa then hear the sounds of him moving around. The second the bleach smell hits my nose, I press against the wall.

  “Jasper,” I say in a pleading tone before he scrubs my wounds.

  “Yes, Little Bird?” he taunts me and I grip the shower ledge.

  “I love you,” I tell him a second before he presses the bleach soaked loofa to my back and begins to scrub.

  “I know.”

  The man is a monster and will never be any other way, but if I soften him up with false claims of love and adoration, the torture he gets off on is less satisfying for him so it’s short. He does what he has to do until I’m squeaking through whimpers of pain, but keeping my lip clamped to keep from outright screaming. When he’s done, he gently washes my body in soap and delicately rinses me as if he has a concept of compassion. I know better.

  “I’ve gotten you a new pet,” he tells me, seating me naked and cold on the couch. My eyes flash to Pretty Bird’s empty cage. “Don’t move.”

  He returns through the front door with a large black sack holding something heavy. As he reaches in, the look on his face tells me this isn’t a new pet for me as much as it is for him and he withdraws a python as big around as his arm and it appears to be longer than Bronson is tall.

  “Do you like it?” He walks toward me as the snake begins to wrap around his arm. “It hasn’t eaten in a week.” His words make me close my eyes. “You can feed it when I leave.”

  The heavy snake is placed onto my shoulders and I stare up at Jasper, trying to master the look of empathy I know makes him uncomfortable.

  “Beautiful,” he says with a sinister glint in his eye. “Stand and bend.” With his command, he begins to undress and I take in a deep breath because I know soon this python will be wrapped around my neck and cut off my air supply.

  I try not to make a sound, I try not to jolt as Jasper slams into me from behind. Unsure what makes this snake constrict more, I want to avoid noise and sudden movement. Is it just hunger guiding his grip, or is it stress from a distressed woman? Whatever it is, my air restriction has blood pulsing at each pressure point.

  “Jasper, please,” I manage.

  “What have you become, Little Bird? Why do you betray me?”

  I begin to shake my head no but that makes the snake tighten.

  “I haven’t,” I insist in a strangled tone.

  “You’re lying. I don’t know what you’ve done yet, but I created you, I know you’re lying.” He’s still behind me, fucking me as if this is consensual while the python’s grip is so tight I can’t fit a finger between my neck and the snake anymore.

  As I get too weak to stand, I drop to my knees and I hear him laughing.

  “Are you dying, Little Bird?” he whispers in my ear, holding my head up by my hair.

  There are no words but I almost wish I could convince him I’m not because I know he won’t let me die, and if I could just slip away without him suspecting, it’ll all be over.

  “I wouldn’t kill my little pet.”

  A searing pain stabs into the side of my neck where it curves to my shoulder. He’s shoved a knife through the snake and into my neck, but the snake relaxes and I’m able to gasp in a breath.

  “Yet,” Jasper growls and lets me fall to the floor.

  Bright spots cloud my vision as I try to free myself from the snake still wrapped around my throat. The more I move, the more blood I pump from the slice in my neck.

  “Jasper,” I say before I fall flat on the floor as a chill runs through my entire body that I imagine is what death would feel like.

  It takes a few minutes to realize he’s left. He’s left me to bleed to death or find will to survive. The bastard. I will die if I don’t get help and I refuse to die from his hand.

  Dragging my body I can’t get to function properly anymore, I make it to the garage, still trying to fight the limp snake off, but it’s tangled with me and too heavy for me to lift in this state. Getting to my feet, I press the garage door opener and grab my hanging car keys before stumbling down the stairs and landing flat again.

  Looking out the rising door I see a figure walking toward the garage but the bright lights in my vision win out and the ignorant idea to drive myself to a hospital dies with my will.

  Hours later and I’m still fucking fuming from Jasper’s visit. How the hell can he think I’m going to fail this mission… I’ve never fucking failed a thing in my life!

  FUCK!

  Then to top it off, I can’t help but look in every fucking tree I pass to find this goddamned blue shithead and I feel like today has turned me into a madman.

  Who the hell cares that much about a bird? I know my answer. Just the frantic sound to her voice told me she’s probably only ever remotely cared about one thing in her life and it just so happens to be a fucking bird.

  Pretty Bird. Ha!

  Whatever the case, I still have nothing on her and in about twelve hours she’s going to be having police escort me out of here unless I give her a reason to let me stay, or kill her just because of a hunch.

  Either way, this is the first time ever that I feel truly fucked and I hate it so bad. I’m not conceited by any means, but I know if we end tonight in her bed, fucking until we can’t see straight, that she’s not going to want me to leave so soon.

  She’s going to need more. They always do.

  Sliding on my shoes, I get the uneasy feeling of being way too fucking comfortable in this house. It’s not my house. I murdered two people right where I’m standing not too long ago just so I could live here and spy on Megan. I shouldn’t feel so comfortable here. I need to finish this job, take care of the issue and go on my way. Being comfortable is a sign of weakness, and I’m not fucking weak. Far from it. There’s no room for comfort, relationships, or long term anything in my world. I can’t do what I do and have that type of life at the same time.

  I walk outside and immediately hate the bugs swarming around the porch light. I need out of here and back to the city. Walking down the sidewalk, I notice a few of the elderly neighbors are on their front porches just watching the world pass by; probably counting the minutes until their lives are finally over.

  I can take care of that for you.

  I grin to myself, the thought making me surprisingly happy. It’s been way too fucking long since I’ve felt that rush of taking someone’s life.

  Down the street and around the corner is Megan’s house. I run this route twice a day just to make sure she sees me… and I know she does. I must have hit it perfect too, because it looks like her garage door is opening.

  As I approach closer, I get a feeling that something’s not right. Her car should be started by now. There should be brake lights. I should see something.

  What the fuck is going on?

  I speed up, walking briskly to get to the house just in case that fucking kid is still there and trying to escape. That’d be just her fucking luck today. Lose a bird and a kid in one day. Jesus, that’s bad luck.

  That’s when I see her. It’s not the kid at all, but it’s Megan and she’s wrapped in… a fucking snake? Jesus Christ!

  “Megan?!” Jogging into the garage, taking in everything around me, nothing seems out of place other than the fact that she’s naked, covered in blood, and tangled in a dead python. “Motherfucker.” Hitting the garage door opener, making sure no one in the neighborhood sees this, I quickly rid her of the snake. My hand goes to her neck where the blood is flowing from and I curse. Someone tried fucking killing her… and on my watch! I can’t fucking believe this.

  Wrapping one hand around her neck, this isn’t the way I originally envisioned the reason for me to be squeezing her neck, but if I ever want to be able to make it that far, I have to apply pressure to this wound.

  Fuck, her entire body is cold. I have to get her inside and covered, then I have to figure out how to fix this wound without needing to go to the hospital. I’ve sewn up plenty of wounds
before, but nothing in the neck and nothing that’s bled this much.

  I pick her up effortlessly and carry her inside. She’s out, but there’s a heartbeat still… slow, but it’s there. She’s not dead yet and I’m not letting her. I have a job to finish and I can’t do that if she’s already dead. After leading myself to a closet and a bathroom, I finally find her master bedroom and lie her on the bed, wrapping the blanket around her naked, cold body. Keeping one hand pressed against her neck, I grab my phone and dial the one person that can help me with this without involving the cops.

  “What?” Jasper’s growl comes through after not even a full ring. Fucker.

  “Someone fucking stabbed her.” I’m trying not to sound frantic but I wasn’t expecting this tonight.

  “And?” He sounds bored, but he should be pissed that someone’s fucking with his employee. “She’s gonna be fine, it didn’t even go that deep, Lucas. Throw a fucking stitch in her.” He chuckles. “Fucking bitch.”

  “You did this?!” I’m seething that he’d come and do this to her for no good reason. Fucking seething.

  “It’s my personal life, Ace. I fuck who I fuck and how I want to fuck them.” He growls something then hangs up immediately, leaving me with a sense of dread.

  He did this to her. That’s why he was in the neighborhood earlier. It wasn’t to check in on me, it was to play with his fuck toy. It all makes sense now.

  I hear a small whimper come from her and notice the blood’s slowed significantly. Pressing a pillow to it, I rush to the attached bathroom to see if she has anything at all to help with this. After opening the cabinet, I realize this probably isn’t the first time something of this nature has happened to her. My stomach immediately feels ill and a rage starts to build. Gauze, needles, every type of antiseptic you can think of… it’s like a fucking hospital right here in her bathroom. Jesus Christ.

  After grabbing the supplies as fast as I can, I’m back at her bedside to clean her up. The blood has slowed and she’s taking normal breaths again, thank God. The minute the needle pierces her skin I see her brows furrow and hear the groan come out of those sexy lips that are still pale from what she’s been through.