The Kills That Bind Us

Hello again, Mr. Sanders

Dee somehow found the tracker after twenty-four hours of surveillance. I followed her by car or foot until she slipped and fell into a mess she couldn't clean up. Well, not when it is me creating the mayhem.

She hunts men, sniffing them out as others would a tasty meal. Fat wallets fall over themselves for this dainty woman. With just a sassy word, she lures them away from their normal lives. It's no wonder I'm intrigued to the point of insomnia when she takes three different men into the countryside and slays them inside a quaint, two-room cottage over the space of a few weeks.

I explored the property often while Dee stayed occupied. She doesn't live here. No, this is her web. Peeking through the plastic-lined windows, I catch glimpses of the show. But there will always be a barrier between me and Dee.

Her victims invade my dreams when I manage a few moments of rest. The tortured men shake mangled body parts in my face, their bloody maws demanding to know why I refuse to end their suffering. They find no peace in death.

I relate to their unending misery.

After a time, I realize that I need her.

I want her so badly that I set my plan in motion.

Digging up Mr. Sanders, who's three days ripe but still recognizable, I spray liberal amounts of aftershave on the corpse before dumping him in the trunk of my car for a rendezvous with you-know-who.

Dee loves to read in an upscale neighborhood park where couples stroll through rose gardens. Kids fly kites on a manicured field, and old people bring bread to feed the ducks in an expansive pond. At first, I was reluctant to lug my toy to such an innocent place, but there's no doubt she'll play with me.

Mr. Sander's hat and coat hide his identity. She didn't mind sharing the bench with him, even offering a tentative smile before sitting. Today she wears gray pants with a black silk blouse, looking magazine-worthy with her glossy raven mane pinned up. She opens a book, giving him another furtive look.

I bite my lip, peering through binoculars, concerned the smell of bleach and cologne would finish the game early. No, Dee's most likely evaluating whether he's worth sinking her fangs into. I breathed out a laugh when she finally speaks to him, a frown forming a crease between her brows when the man beside her remains unresponsive.

The stiff on the left sits unnaturally still as Dee sat with her spine straight as a rod, primly reading. I kept vigil for over an hour until she rose, storing the novel inside her handbag. When she noticed the decomposition of his body, it was obvious.

My breathing hitches and I hold back a moan as the mix of abject confusion and terror flit across her delicate features and she sways on her feet. For a second I thought she'd faint, but she's full of surprises.

This beguiling black widow spins on her heels and surveys the area. She feels someone watching. It's a slithering sensation I often broadcast when my attention lingers too long. I deposited my spy glasses in my satchel before striding over to where she stands like a guard dog over scraps she's not finished with.

Her pink lips quirk up as blue eyes shine with wrath. "You!"

I point at my chest, shrugging.

She clenches her tiny hands. "Drop the mute act! Explain, dammit!"

I hoist Mr. Sander over my shoulder before speaking to her for the very first time. "From now on, I bury your kill. Let's go."

Blinking rapidly, she nods, hurrying to my car where I place Mr. Sanders in the rear. I take hold of her thin neck, pressing her against the vehicle. The feel of her steady pulse beneath my fingers turns me on. She's not afraid of me.

Yet.

"How dare you!" She hisses, "I nearly fainted, and then what would you have done?"

"Hmm," I nuzzle my nose along her cheek, smiling when she shivers. "I want you to faint. To scream and break."

She chokes on a reply, but it doesn't matter because I press my lips to hers and it's heaven. Worth the dangerous game we are playing. She raises her arm to strike me, but I'm already gone.

"Get in, Dee," I snap, opening her door. "Now."

"I'm not going anywhere with you!" She clutches her raven hair in one hand, the other fumbling inside her bag. "Hell, no! Leave me alone!"

"You look beautiful today, baby. It'd be a shame to ruin that nice blouse."

She pulls a cell phone from her purse, pointing it at me. With a shit-eating grin, I strike a pose before ducking into the car. I hear her curse when she checks the distorted image she snapped. Pictures of me don't turn out well. They never have.

"W-what do you mean?" Dee scrambles into the passenger seat and I snatch the device out of her hand, tossing it into the back with the rotting corpse.

"I was prepared to run your stubborn ass over if you didn't come willingly," I inform her.

"You wouldn't! There's a dead body in here!" She flinches when I lean over and buckle her in.

I start the engine with a smirk. "I'm capable of a lot, Dee."

"Obviously," she glares with a pout. "Where are you taking me?"

"Home. Mr. Sanders has had enough excitement for one day, don't you agree? I'll dispose of him properly. Burying bodies on your property is fucking stupid."

"You've watched? Wow, you're a sick puppy." She gasps and I glance over to see her intrigued expression despite the vitriol she spews. "Will you tell me your name? I'm trusting you with my life."

"No."

"Why not? Who the hell do you think you are?"

I love her fire, but grateful her apartment is close to the park because I'm uncertain how much longer I can keep my urges leashed. "Get out. I will contact you soon."

She stares at me as if I have two heads. "You're insane! I'll leave the country!"

"Idle threats are beneath you," I dismiss her with a wave. "Get the fuck out."

"What about my phone?" She protested, stepping out onto the sidewalk in front of her building, not even amazed I know where she lives. "Listen closely, crazy fucker. I better not catch you hanging around again or you'll find yourself in a world of pain! I'm serious!"

"Hey, Dee?"

"What?!" she snarls through the open window.

"The next time we meet, we'll collide. If you manage to draw blood, I won't fuck you within an inch of your pathetic existence. Don't worry baby, you'll enjoy taking it up the ass so hard you'll taste dick for weeks."

She stumbles backward, speechless with fury, and I drive off, knowing she'll stick to her murderous routine because she wants to prove she's the bigger monster.

She has a long way to go, but I wish her luck.