The Profilers (8 page)

Lisa tucked her son into the bed of the woman who was her mother by blood, but a stranger by all other accounts. She hadn’t known what to expect when she finally broke down and made her identity known. She had to admit that she was pleasantly surprised when the woman had offered her home to her as a haven from the danger of her husband.

She smoothed the blanket over her son as he squirmed, trying to get comfortable in the bed they would be sharing. She knew she was safe here because her husband had no idea that she knew the identity of her birth mother. She had actually been searching her husband’s computer for evidence of the affair she knew he was having when she found the files regarding her adoption. She never breathed a word to him about what she had found. Years of his abuse had taught her to be sneaky in order to survive. She knew all his well thought out hiding places. She knew who his mistress was. Hell, she even knew about his financial records that he had gone out of his way to hide from her. It was how she’d found out that he had a million dollar life insurance policy taken out on her. She wondered how long it would take for him and his mistress to come up with a solid plan to kill her. That is, if they hadn’t already.

Her need to survive wasn’t about just her anymore. It was about that precious, little boy tucked away in a stranger’s bed. After all, that’s what the woman was to them—a stranger. That little boy sleeping was her hero. He was the one who had not only given her the strength to leave her abuser, but also the courage to find the mother that her father had robbed her of years ago. Oh, she had looked him up too. She was beyond shocked when she found out that he had been killed in some seedy motel by some trite hooker while he played at his kinky sex games. How embarrassing it must have been for the woman who had been so subjugated by the man that she had given her own daughter away at his behest.

Lisa spoke softly to her son as she gently rubbed his cheek. “I would never give you away, my precious, little blessing. You’re the only good thing that has come out of my marriage. You don’t ever have to worry about me leaving you like she left me.”

She turned the small lamp on the nightstand off and made her way over to her side of the bed. She would be asleep in a matter of moments, feeling something that hadn’t felt in a long time—safety.

Rene stood behind David whispering threats in his ear as he stood, stretched out and tied to the posts, at the end of the bed. She had spread him out, up, and open but she had purposely kept him standing so she had access to all the parts of his body she planned on tormenting.

“Do you know why I enjoy inflicting pain upon you, David? That question is rhetorical in nature but I’ll be nice tonight and fill you in. Your pain enables me to feel. I have a tad bit of an addiction—a nasty little sadistic addiction to inflicting pain on others. To put it simply, I like to hurt handsome, attractive, strong, and in control men. Will you let me feel through you? Judging by how hard your cock is right now, I’m going to take that as a yes.”

The crop she swung through the air barely made a whisper of a sound but the bite it produced on his skin was effective in eliciting the groans she longed to hear. The sounds he forced through the ball gag placed between his lips were music to her ears. She spoke in between strikes, “I’ll be going through your phone and I better not have so much as a suspicion that you’re talking to any other bitch. I want every number of every woman you’ve ever fucked out of that phone.”

She struck down on his back hard, relentlessly unleashing the brutal bite of the crop to make her point. Over and over, she swung down on his flesh, now reddened with small squares from the crop. When she felt she had made her point, she untied him, laying him down on the bed and commanding him to lie flat with his arms and legs spread. She left him without restraints and made certain to remove the ball gag that had been in his mouth long enough that he had started drooling.

She leaned her nude body over him, purposely brushing a dusky rose nipple against his lips. She commanded, “suck, boy,” and he latched on like a baby animal sucking a tit for milk.

She leaned down to whisper in his ear, “I want to hear you beg, slave. You’re going to beg me to come and I may or may not allow it, but one thing is for damn sure. You better not without my permission.”

She made a show of spreading her pussy lips open and very slowly sliding down on him. “Such a meaty cock and it’s all mine.” She watched him as his head rolled to the side. She reached up and viciously grabbed his chin, forcing him to look at her. “Look at me,” she yelled at him as she slid up and down on him, rubbing her clit with her finger and never once breaking eye contact.

“Who do you belong to, David?”

“Oh fuck, ahh Mistress, oh you feel so good. You, only you, you fucking own me, girl.”

“Oh yes, I do. I most certainly do.” Her movements became more frantic as her core throbbed in need, taking her over the edge. “Come for me, David,” she moaned, riding him with vigor and milking him of all the pent up desire he held for her.

She fell down on his tight chest, rubbing her hands through his hair and crooning assurances in his ear that he was all she would ever need in a sub.

They took a moment to regain their strength before jumping in the shower and starting a pot of coffee. There was still a lot of work to do and the night was young.

David sipped at his coffee before he leaned down to kiss the most beautiful woman in the world and handed her the cup he had brewed especially for her.

“You make me so happy.”

“Well that’s good, David, because I’m not the kind of girl you can get rid of. I own your ass.”

“And it feels so good to be owned by you, Mistress.”

“Good boy,” she nuzzled back into his face that he had buried in her hair.

“I love that long, red hair of yours. Please don’t ever cut it.”

“There’s no chance of that. Now, let’s go see if our librarian has logged in. It’s hard to believe that a middle-aged, mousy librarian is our cold blooded killer, isn’t it?” she asked, easily switching into work mode.

“I’ve seen some crazy shit in the eight years I’ve been a special agent. It’s exactly what I told Herb; there is no rhyme or reason to the way a serial killer thinks. If they believe they have been wronged, or if they grew up with a fucked up set of parents, there’s no telling what they’ll do. I don’t know, Rene. There just isn’t any science to it. The professionals have extensively studied it and whether it is nature or nurture, they can’t conclusively say one way or the other; there just aren’t any absolutes. As soon as one promising study comes out, another is right behind it, disproving it. The one thing I have learned, despite the fact that science can’t back it up, is to listen to my gut.”

Rene listened as her partner talked. She was curious to see if
The Librarian
was in the chat room.

“She’s here,” Rene informed him. She began phishing to see if she could get a conversation started with her.

“Hello,” she typed in.

“Hi, are you new?” one of the regulars asked.

“Yes, my doctor gave me the site address and an invite.”

The Librarian
immediately bit, “Would that be the
Avenger
?”

“Yes…”

“You must have been hurt pretty badly to be referred by him.”

“Yes, I’m terribly embarrassed to admit that I had to be hospitalized after my last beating.”

“Oh honey, you’re at the right place to get support from people who have been in the same situation and understand what you’ve been through.”

“As much as I appreciate the support, I don’t want that anymore. I want out. I can’t take any more abuse and before he kills me, or I…well, never mind.”

“Let’s go over to a private room to chat,”
The Librarian
suggested. Rene knew then that she was onto something.

Bingo,
she mouthed in her partner’s direction.

David scooted up to watch the screen as they talked.

“I’m just scared I might do something to him. I don’t know how much more I can take.” Rene typed in.

“Do you have any family you can stay with?”

“I have no one. That’s the problem. I can’t move because I have nowhere to go. You know the funny thing about it is if he died in a car wreck or something, I would be an instant millionaire. The bastard was stupid enough to take out life insurance policies on us both. He thinks I don’t know but he did it back when he served in the military and just kept paying on them. I wonder at times if he keeps mine active so he can cash in on my death.”

“Not if he dies first,”
The Librarian
typed in.

“That’s true… very, very true.”