Heartbreaker

Chapter 14

Some things in life were simply too good to pass up. Like an icy cold glass of lemonade on a blistering hot and humid day. Or a lady in distress standing on the side of the highway, just begging for a little attention. Only this one hadn’t been a lady, and he’d ended up feeling a bit sorry he’d wasted so much of his valuable time on her.

Still, he had put the tape to good use hadn’t he? Perhaps his valuable time hadn’t been completely wasted after all. By God, they’d gotten his message loud and clear. Heartbreaker was a man of his word.

He wondered how long it would take them to find her. Hell, he’d done everything but post directions. Poor, poor Tiffany. He burst out laughing then; he couldn’t contain it. The bitch had never gotten to use the new phone she’d shoved in front of his face while she bragged about it. He’d used the phone though, to call his sweetheart, and he’d stayed on the line long enough for the mules to figure out whose name the phone was listed under.

He’d given her what he considered a fitting burial. He left her on a shallow grave near the highway. The scrub surrounding the gully obstructed the view. Eventually the mules would find her, and they’d know with one look what kind of woman she had been.

He broke her heart, and then he stole it. The spontaneous action worried him for a couple of minutes, but then he realized how careful he’d been not to get any of the blood in his van. Those amazing Ziploc bags really did do a good job, just like the commercials boasted. He’d have to remember to send the company a note praising their clever little product.

Filth. That’s what she’d been. Pure filth. And that was why he hadn’t kept the memento. He didn’t want to remember her, so he’d thrown it away.

Usually, whenever he encountered a worthy prospect, he entertained the notion of keeping her and training her, but at first glance he could plainly see that this one had been used, and he immediately ruled her out. The replacement had to be pure and innocent, clean, and adoring. Oh, yes, she’d be adoring all right, or a lasting relationship would never, ever work. No sirree.

He had done it before and he could do it again.

A burst of raw anger caught him unaware, shocking him. He realized then that he was gripping the steering wheel and forced himself to relax. All his time and effort had been wasted. Wasted! He had created the perfect mate, and when she died, he grieved.

He didn’t relish the chore of finding and training a replacement, but he couldn’t put it off much longer. No, he’d have to get started soon, which meant hour upon hour of careful, meticulous planning. He would have to see to every detail, every tiny wrinkle. And research. There would be so much research involved. He would have to know everything about her. Everything! Who her friends and relatives were, who would miss her, and who wouldn’t give a damn. Then he’d have to isolate her, alienate her, and once he finally took her, the real work would begin. He’d keep her locked away. The slow, agonizing training process would begin, day in and day out, endless training. He would be cruel and relentless until she became exactly what he wanted. There would be pain, lots of pain, but she would come to understand and forgive him once he had broken her and then molded her into the perfect mate. Why? Because she would adore him.

anger wouldn’t let him alone. Rage was steadily building, gnawing at his gut like hungry maggots. He couldn’t let it get out of control, not now. He took a deep breath and ordered himself to think about something pleasant.

Little Tiffy had been as easy as she’d advertised. No challenge at all. He didn’t even have to sweet-talk her into getting into his van. No she’d just strutted over to the door and scrambled right on up inside, with her tight little skirt hiked up above her crotch. She’d wanted him to see she wasn’t wearing panties. No modesty, that one. God only knew what diseases she’d been carrying. He’d had to wash three times just to get rid of the stench of her.

He made a mental note to remember to tell his buddies on the Internet that killing whores wasn’t what it was cracked up to be.

She couldn’t dirty talk her way out of what was happening to her. No, sir. Killing her had been a kick, but it hadn’t given him the rush he craved these days. He knew why of course. She hadn’t been clean.

"Green-eyed girl, won’t you come out to play…"

Oh, how he hated to start all over again. Such time! Such work!

"Calm down, calm down," he whispered. "You’ve done it before, you can do it again."

It wasn’t a project he was ready to undertake just yet. If he’d learned anything over the years, it was that you finished one job before you took on another.

The exit off I-35 leading to Holy Oaks loomed up ahead. An exemplary driver, he turned on the blinker and slowed the van.

"Green-eyed girl, I’m coming for you, coming for you, coming for you…"

He had a secret name for Holy Oaks. He called it "unfinished business."