Page 7 of Thorned Vengeance
I grab his wrist with my right hand while I use my left to grab his middle finger and yank it back. This move could easily break his finger, but I know when to stop. My knee, however, has a mind of its own and makes contact with TJ’s dick.
“Mother fucker,” TJ screeches as he drops to the mat to catch his breath.
“I’m so sorry, TJ,” I say. “I don’t know what happened.”
“You defended yourself,” he wheezes out. “But, next time I’m wearing more padding.”
I smirk. “Told ya I could take you down.”
“Brat.”
I hold out my hand to help him to his feet. “Again?”
“Fuck no!” he says, cupping his balls. “I think you’ve done enough damage.”
“Fair enough.”
“Wanna grab some dinner?”
I shake my head. “No thanks. I’m tired. I’m gonna go home and get some sleep.”
“You did good.” TJ smiles at me. “I’m proud of you.”
I wave goodbye and head home. After a nice, hot shower to loosen up my stiff muscles, I reheat some Chinese food from the night before and turn on the television. The scent of garlic and soy sauce penetrates my nose, and my stomach grumbles for a bite. The fork is halfway to my mouth when the latest news story catches my attention.
“... body of a female was found early this morning by joggers in a wooded area in Georgia. The unidentified victim was reportedly sexually assaulted, strangled, and then posed in a manner that’s consistent…”
I strain to hear the rest of the story, but my hearing is muffled. The fork falls from my hand, and goosebumps erupt all over my body. Bile rises up my throat, and I barely make it to the kitchen sink before I start heaving. It takes a few minutes to regain control and rinse out my mouth with some water before grabbing my laptop off the kitchen island.
It’s him.
CHAPTER 3
THORN
“... body of a female was found early this morning by joggers in a wooded area in Georgia. The unidentified victim was reportedly sexually assaulted, strangled, and then posed in a manner that’s consistent with the Phantom Strangler, who has been active in the United States since mid-twenty-fourteen. Police all across the nation have been thwarted by the serial killer, and despite the FBI’s special task force following up on every lead, no arrests have ever been made or suspects identified.”
The reporter’s solemn expression fills the screen as police work the crime scene in the background. I don’t need to watch the rest of the newscast to know what other details will be reported because every single detail will match all the others: no fingerprints, piece of jewelry taken, ligature marks around the neck, evidence of rape but no semen, and the body is posed against a solid surface with their right hand resting between their legs as if they’re masturbating.
Sick fuck.
I turn the volume on my TV down and toss the remote onto the mattress before crawling out of bed. Watching the morning news has become a ritual for me ever since I realized that Tamara’s murder was linked to all the others perpetrated by this guy. The police haven’t figured it out yet, but I know in my gut that she was his first. Everything lines up other than the fact that she wasn’t posed.
So, any and everything to do with the Phantom Strangler has become my obsession. I’m like some sort of twisted collector when it comes to information about the man.
As I walk toward the bathroom to take a leak, my cell rings. I ignore it in favor of relief, but as soon as the ringing stops, it starts back up within seconds and doesn’t stop until I return to answer it.
“What?” I bark without looking at the screen to see who’s calling.
“Damn, dude,” Jez comments.
I shove a hand through my hair and sigh. “Sorry, rough morning.”
“I take it you saw the news.”
“Of course, I saw it. You know I?—”
“Watch it every fucking day,” she finishes for me. “I’m aware.”