High Energy by Joy, Dara (ink book reader .TXT) 📗

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every day. A few books were scattered across the bed table. Her one cactus

plant, the only living thing in the apartment besides herself, sat forlornly on

the window sill, the meager late fall sunlight barely sustaining the poor thing.

A chair. Her compact disc player. Her twelve-inch portable television. A few

wall hangings.

That was it.

The sum total of her life.

Did she really want to come back here? Leave the warmth of Tyber's home? Come

here instead of being in a place she felt nurtured and cared for and… cherished?

She must be mad to even consider—

The door behind her closed with a click.

She swung around. LaLeche was standing there inside her apartment.

He was wearing a ski jacket and—her eyes trailed down to his hands—leather

gloves. The first thought that filtered through her shocked brain was, Why is he

wearing gloves? It isn't that cold out.

Then several thoughts ran at her mind at once, the foremost being: Get yourself

out of here.

"What are you doing here?"

He didn't answer her; he just reached behind him, turning the deadbolt to lock.

Zanita backed up a few steps.

"What do you want?" She forced her voice to sound coldly clipped. Fear was not

something you wanted to show in a situation like this. Even if you were

terrified.

His gaze raked her contemptuously. "I think that should be obvious."

"I'm busy; I don't have time for this. I'll have to ask you to leave." Yeah.

Right. Like he hadn't locked her in here with him.

"That's too bad, Zanita. I have plenty of time for you." He started walking

toward her. She began backing up, although there really wasn't too far to go in

the small apartment.

Stall him, her panicked mind screamed. "All this just for a little article?"

He stopped stalking her to give her a sickeningly evil grin. "You flatter

yourself, my dear. It's not the article I care about. It was the picture you ran

with it. Now that was irresponsible."

Picture? What picture? It took her a few moments to realize that he was talking

about the photo Hank had run with the piece. How ironic! Here Hank was worried

about her being in danger when it was his actions that had placed her there. Not

that Hank was in any way responsible for this; he had done the right thing.

"You see, names can always be changed, but once you're exposed by a photo,

well—plastic surgery is expensive, and I so hate the pain."

She lifted her chin, trying to be brave. "What are you going to do about it?"

LaLeche shook his finger at her. "Now there's the question. You've caused me a

lot of trouble. The kind of trouble that calls for… a certain revenge. What

should it be, do you think?"

"Leave me alone," she whispered, genuinely frightened.

He ignored her. "Accidents can happen so easily. That idiot retainer of his, for

instance…"

Blooey! Sweet, kind Blooey. What would he do to him?

"Blooey is no threat to you. He had nothing to do with this— leave him out of

it."

"A little gardening accident, perhaps? I've heard of people being careless with

gardening tools. All kinds of nasty things can happen should one trip over one

and fall on, say, some shears."

"Stop it. I won't let you hurt—"

"Then there is that god-awful beast of his. Cats are such easy victims, aren't

they? And this one should have been put out of its misery years ago. It so likes

its food… it seems to eat just about anything." He leveled a hateful look at

her.

He was toying with her now, she knew. Threatening to poison Hambone. Even though

she knew what his sick game was, she still couldn't stop the trickle of fear

down her spine. She couldn't take it if anything happened to Hambone because of

her. She had grown quite fond of the idiosyncratic tabby.

"I don't know how much you care for the wretched beast, but he does, I'm sure."

Tyber. "What do you have against Tyber? I was the one who wrote the article."

"Yes, but he provided the material. I'm not stupid—I know all about Tyberius

Augustus Evans. I know his reputation, and I know what motivates him. He figured

it all out for you, didn't he? Not his usual type of pastime. I had to ask

myself why he bothered; the answer was immediately apparent. You. He wanted you,

so he gave you what you wanted."

Zanita stared at him. Was it true what LaLeche said? Did Tyber only help her

because he wanted her? She had always assumed it was the other way around; he

was helping her because it intrigued him, just as his research did. She kind of

came along with the deal.

Had she been blind or was LaLeche just confusing her for his own demented

thrill?

Chapter Fifteen

« ^

"Then there is the other—that perfect revenge against both of you."

She angled her chin at him, refusing to be pulled into the sick game. He seemed

to be waiting for her to ask him what he intended and seeming put out when she

didn't.

"I could take you, you know." His lecherous observation made her skin crawl. She

forced herself to remain calm.

"I don't think so, Mr. LaLeche. I'll scream the house down." She infused his

name with all the contempt she felt for him.

He rubbed his jaw, contemplating her words as if they were merely having an

existential discussion on the topic and he wasn't threatening her with real

violence.

"I disagree. I could do it and get away with it. There are no other tenants here

this time of day; I checked. Scream all you like. No one will hear you."

Zanita's heart sank to her toes; apparently she and Tyber had been blinded by

his traits of greed, dishonesty, and lack of human decency. They had never once

considered that when cornered, he would aggressively seek revenge. She was in

real trouble here.

"Someone will see you." It was worth a shot.

"No." He shook his head. "No one saw me come in; I'll make sure no one sees me

leave. I'll simply slip away into the ether as I always do. No one will be any

the wiser. Except you and Doctor Evans. After this, I imagine I'll stay with you

for the rest of your lives. Always between you, as it were." He chuckled

maniacally at his twisted pun.

Zanita