Page 29 of Hansel
His eyes were shining. He thought this was a game.
“Like a whore. I’ve always seen it in you, Gretal. How you missed it. Being taken and used. I can help with that, you know…”
With practiced ease, I secured his other hand. And he still didn’t get it. The fool thought he was still in control.
“You think I liked being a whore, Pope?”
I could feel that he did. The length of him pressed up against me showed how much.
“I don’t know, Gretal, it’s just the vibe you gave off. We can do it this way if you want, I don’t mind if you want to get a little rough with me, as long as I get to return the favour.”
He sickened me.
“Would you like to hurt me Pope? Like you hurt Keeley?”
His eyes widened. “What the hell, Gretal? Why would I hurt Keeley?”
Finally his gaze settled on the small knife I held resting against my thigh. He stared for several long seconds before settling back on my face.
“Did you get off by telling her you were going to cut her open, Pope?” Idly, I fingered the knife. “You like cutting things, don’t you? So do I.” Snatching up the pocketknife, I ran it over the globe of my left breast until a fine line of blood appeared.
It was like he was hypnotised. His lips parted. His breath came in pants.
“Do you get off on hurting women, Pope?” I asked again.
“I don’t know what that whore told you, Gretal, but she invited me back. She wanted it.”
My temper snapped. Was he really saying that to me? Me of all people.
“Do I want it as well?”
“Well you are here on top of me, Gretal. Your husband is back home and you’re here with me. Knowing what I am, and what I have done, you are still here grinding against my cock like the hungry little whore you are.” All pretence of being a rational man left his face. And someone I didn’t even recognise looked back at me. Pope was a stranger.
Had he always been this way? A real-life monster living in our midst. Had we just ignored the warning signs?
“I think you want me to hurt you, Gretal. I think even after all these years it's what you have been craving.” A slow sadistic smile curled up the corners of his mouth. “And I'm going to hurt you, Gretal, just as soon as I get out of these cuffs. And I will get out of them. When I do, the things I am going to do to your body will make being gang raped look like a picnic.”
He expected me to show fear. Instead, I snapped. The tip of my little knife pricked at the skin just beneath his Adam's apple.
“You wouldn’t, Gretal, you don’t have it in you.”
Bending over him, I let my lips brush his ear and the first traces of fear tightened his features. “See, that's where you’re wrong, Pope. I might not get the pleasure out of it that you do, but yours won't be the first life I've taken.”
Chapter Eighteen
Hansel
How was it possible that Gretal had disappeared into thin air? I knew it wasn’t possible, but that’s what it felt like. Like she had literally vanished. I knew it wasn’t the case but that’s how it seemed,
The club was out in force, scouting the streets, making calls to any and all contacts that could help, and so far, there had been nothing. Not one damn sighting. And I hated to admit it, but I was losing hope.
No Gretal and no Pope. It weighed so heavily on me that I found it hard to breathe. Slowing the bike, I ripped the bandana from around my chin and nose, sucking in a deep lungful of cool night air. It still wasn’t enough.
Was it possible to suffocate from panic? That’s what it felt like. Like someone was squeezing the life out of me.
That’s when I saw it. If I hadn't slowed, I wouldn’t have. Squealing to a stop, I snapped my head back, looking over the hedge to the parking lot.
Pope’s bike. I was sure of it. How many years had I ridden alongside it? I would know it anywhere. The asshole had come to rape and murder my wife on his bike. Would he be wearing his cut? Did he plan on bringing even more shame to our club? To our very way of life? To every damn thing that we stood for?
