Home > Sidetracked (Mindf*ck #2)(2)

Sidetracked (Mindf*ck #2)(2)
Author: S.T. Abby

Donny looks as furious as I feel as he comes toward me. The weight of this is bearing down on us, and everyone is ready to point fingers in our direction, as though we created the monster.

“He’s developing a narcissistic personality that will clash with his sexual sadist—”

“We just got a lead,” Lisa says, interrupting Donny. “Gerald Plemmons was spotted downtown half an hour ago.”

I’m already loading into my SUV. Lisa and Donny join me, and we peal out toward the newest lead.

“Director called. We have the shoot-to-kill order,” I tell both of them.

It’s one time that I don’t mind that order.

“You think?” Lisa snips from the passenger seat. “This guy went and made it personal. He’s a sexual sadist displaying narcissistic tendencies, and I’m your ex. I think it’d be wise for me to stay with someone.”

“He won’t focus on you,” Donny chimes in from the backseat. “He’ll be more focused on Lana.”

My grip tightens on the steering wheel as Donny echoes my own worries from earlier.

“Who is Lana?” Lisa asks, confused.

“I’m going to send two black-and-whites to her house until this is over. Let’s not assume he’s just fixating on me though. He could be fixating on the whole team.”

“I haven’t had a relationship with anyone but my hand in over a few years,” Donny goes on.

“Who’s Lana?” Lisa asks again.

“Elise, Lisa, and Hadley are the only females on the team. We should set up patrol for them as well,” I tell him, still ignoring Lisa as she huffs out an annoyed breath of air.

I don’t even hesitate to call in the protective detail as I drive toward the lead. That probably won’t help. This guy is too smart to stay put for too long.

He knows I’m coming for him.

Chapter 3

Life is really simple, but we insist on making it complicated.



Two cops are sitting outside my house, guarding me, keeping me safe from the Boogeyman. Yes, I hear how ridiculous that sounds as well.

I have an entire hidden room with tons of information and surveillance shots of all my next victims. That hidden room is where I am now, as two guys hang out in their cruiser, being all kinds of conspicuous.

Do they not know how to keep a low profile?

And their windows are down. Have they never seen a horror movie? Windows down equal throats slashed.

I’m watching through my own surveillance cameras from my murder room, since this room has no windows. The cameras are only on the outside, and I put them up today for the purpose of keeping an eye on the cops.

Logan is pissing me off, not listening to reason. I don’t want cops here. Cops hinder my plan. Not that I can tell him that. He’s determined to keep me safe. I’m determined to slice and dice a serial killer who may or may not get spooked by the blues outside.

I also check out the monitor that is watching Anthony. My next victim. I’ve only been able to get two of my cameras installed so far. I’m going closer to home for him. It’s getting close to sprint time. I’ll have to get creative to continue torturing once I reach that sick, twisted town. The FBI will be all over me.

And my boyfriend has the cops watching my house. The house where I have all my murder supplies that I have to use. Cops that follow me to the store when I get milk. Obviously they can’t follow me and guard my kill zone for days on end while I torture people.

Stupid Boogeyman.

I wish I could castrate him. I wish I could dole out the true justice deserved by the ones he’s hurt. But I have to make it look like a stroke of luck.

Sighing, I head out of the secret room, move the empty bookcase back where it belongs to cover the hidden door. Then I lock the door to the actual room, concealing the room inside a room.

It’s all cloak and dagger right now. That’s what happens when you’re a serial killer dating a FBI profiler who hunts serial killers.

Somehow, my simple life got very complicated.

After about thirty minutes, I see a familiar SUV pull up, and I grin when Logan steps out, talking to the policeman nearest to the house. What I don’t like is the fact he has a guy and a girl with him. Because that means he’s not staying.

Walking out the front door, I measure the two unknowns, regarding them. The guy smiles genuinely at me, even offering me a small wave so much less awkward than the wave I gave Logan once upon a time.

The girl, however, doesn’t look too happy with what she sees. At least I’m wearing pants. I decided until the Boogeyman is gone, pants are a good idea.

Apparently all the girls on his team seem to have an issue with me, especially since this is the second one I’ve met and she’s regarding me with a scowl. Don’t these women know that it’s dangerous to piss off a highly trained killer?

Turning my gaze away from her, I refocus my attention on Logan as he walks toward me, his expression grim. His hair looks blonder in contrast to the standard black suit he wears on duty.

As soon as he reaches me, his hands are in my hair, surprising me as his lips come down on mine. I forget about the audience in my yard as I kiss him back, leaning against him as he slides a hand down my back, pulling me closer.

It’s not until a loud whistle sounds out that he breaks the kiss. The man he came with chuckles before whistling again and heads toward us as Logan sighs.

“Can we come in?” he asks.

I just nod, and he laces his fingers with mine as the whistler and the staring bitch come into my house and shut the door behind them. The girl looks around, as though she’s trying to get a read on me based on my minimum decorations.

“I’m so fucking sorry about this,” Logan says against my forehead as he places another kiss there.

“I think I’ll be fine, Logan. The cops are overkill, and very annoying. They park in plain sight, so it’s not like they’re doing much good.”

“He’ll avoid law enforcement,” the unknown guy chirps. “He wants to be free and able to taunt right now. He can’t risk being caught. He doesn’t know if there’s another cop inside or not.”

“Which is why I’m here,” Logan adds, looking down at me with a grimace.

“No,” I say adamantly. “I don’t want anyone in the house. Unless you’re volunteering.”

“Show some gratitude,” the girl chimes in, earning a glower from Logan. “These cops are here for your protection. Having someone in bed down the hall would be safer, and they’re going out of their way to provide that.”

I really don’t like her. Can I cut her? Just a little?

“Lisa, go sit in the car if you can’t shut your mouth,” Logan tells her, a bite to his tone that I haven’t heard before.

She glares at him, and I slowly put the pieces together. Bitterness. Lots of bitterness in her look.

It’s not hard to recognize a woman scorned.

Logan talks to her like he would an ex he was frustrated with, not a normal co-worker.

I really don’t like this situation right now.

And I might actually cut her. More than a little.

She drops to a chair instead of leaving, much to my disappointment, and Logan takes my hand, pulling me down the hallway to my bedroom. As soon as he shuts the door, I turn to face him, trying not to go all jealous crazy girl on him.

“You never mentioned you dated someone from your team,” I say calmly, like a total rational girl and not a cutting psycho.

“It was over a year ago, and completely unimportant.”

“She’s jealous.”

His eyes spark with humor.

“So are you. Glad to see I’m not the only one losing my mind in this relationship.”

His lips twitch, and I stifle my own stupid grin that tries to form in response. He can do that; dissolve my anger with barely any effort at all.

No one else has ever been able to accomplish that.

I toss my arms around the back of his neck, and he wraps his arms around my waist.

“Let someone sleep inside the house. I’d feel better knowing I had every angle covered. I’m going to be sleeping in my office for a few hours at a time at most. This case is priority above all else right now to my department, but you’re my priority.”

“No,” I say simply. No way am I risking a cop getting nosy in my house. “I don’t feel comfortable with a random stranger sleeping in my house. A badge doesn’t make him noble.”

His smile falters, and he cocks his head, confused.

“What?” I prompt.

“Nothing. It’s just…one time I made a mental note that you seemed trusting of me because I had a badge. I profiled you as not having an issue with law enforcement, meaning you’d never had any bad experiences with them.”

“And now I’m throwing you off?” I muse, then smile, trying to mask the flurry of emotions I don’t want him to accidentally see. “One day, I’ll tell you all there is about me. But no. I don’t trust men because they have a badge. Where I grew up, badges just meant people got away with more. It was a corrupt town.”

He brushes his hand over my cheek, and I lean into it, hating that I’ve said too much about my life as Victoria instead of Lana or Kennedy.

“Sorry. I’ll try to get some free time to come sleep here for an hour or two with you. Maybe you can tell me some of those past experiences soon.”

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