Wrath's Storm: A Masters' Admiralty Novel by Mari Carr (desktop ebook reader .txt) 📕

The man vacillated between angry and sweetly uncertain. Those seemingly disparate reactions, paired with the relatively stable fantasy reality he’d built for himself, were making her attempts at on-the-fly diagnoses difficult.

There were five types of stalkers. Rejected were people who stalked their exes; resentful, those who usually sought revenge for a perceived wrong. Neither was applicable to this situation. Though it was entirely possible she’d done or said something that he perceived as worthy of revenge, his behavior didn’t fit with the psychopathy of someone who felt humiliated.

Predatory stalking usually involved sexual fantasies. Given what he’d done to her sister, that would make sense, but predatory stalkers rarely fantasized about relationships with their victims, and it was very clear that he either wanted, or already believed they were in, a relationship. Of course, the sexual component couldn’t be discounted.

That left the incompetent stalker and the intimacy seeker. Of those two, he fit most of the markers for intimacy seeker—belief in a relationship with a complete stranger, a delusion that the feelings were reciprocated.

Intimacy seeker with predatory elements would have to do for her quick-and-dirty diagnosis. A clinical way of saying he’d created a delusion-based fantasy relationship with a complete stranger, but also showed paraphilia centered around abnormal control and authority over that person.

An incredibly dangerous combination.

She’d decided to try and figure him out so she could manipulate him. Use her knowledge and skills as a weapon. The only weapon she had, considering she was chained to the table. However, there was a great deal to be said for ignorance being bliss. She might have been happier not having a preliminary diagnosis that made it clear exactly how dangerous he was.

Given her analysis, there was no denying this man was capable of doing horrific things. Her sister’s face as she lay in the hospital bed the morning after her rape flashed in Annalise’s mind. In the past, those memories haunted her so badly, she’d failed, lost her dream job, let it shake her confidence right off the foundations until there was nothing left but a pile of dust.

But not today.

Today, she would seek to find justice.

For Adele.

For herself.

Annalise took another sip of coffee, considering what she should say next. Indulging his delusion was dangerous, and not something she would ever normally do, but it might buy her the time she needed. Then again, if she didn’t behave exactly the way he expected, thereby breaking or ruining his fantasy, he might lash out.

And the one thing she wanted to do, and absolutely could not, was ask him his name.

After all, if they were in a relationship as he believed, she would know his name. Asking would break his fantasy.

Given all those factors, her best option was to…

Annalise sucked in a deep breath, steadied herself, and grabbed hold of every last ounce of courage she had. She was going to challenge his delusion that he was “caring” and “cared for” her, without outright confronting him with reality.

Annalise dipped her head, letting her hair fall forward to hide her face, hide that she was looking at him. “Why did you send me the flying bugs?” she asked softly. “It was very scary. I was really afraid.”

He jerked, as if she’d poked him. His mouth opened and closed, two lines appearing between his brows. For the first time, he turned away, no longer staring at her with an intensity that made her hindbrain nervous.

He turned his back to her, opening the small refrigerator. “I have your favorite cheese. Crackers. Dried fruit.”

Annalise often made a meal out of a simple charcuterie platter. Her stomach knotted that he knew that even though it wasn’t a surprise.

She watched him fumble for a few minutes, getting things out of the refrigerator, and then setting everything on a small cutting board. He brought it over, placing it in front of her expectantly. Annalise was nervous about eating any of it. Though the cheese was still wrapped up in what looked like its original wrapping, it was a soft cheese, and maybe he could have injected something into it, through the packaging. Same with the dried fruit. She took a cracker, carefully taking a small bite. He smiled, relaxing.

“Why did you choose a caravan?” she asked, keeping her focus on the tray, as if she were just making conversation. He hadn’t been able to engage with a direct question, so she’d have to try to work her way around to it.

“You had one, growing up.”

“Yes, but I also had a house. You chose something portable.”

“To keep you safe.”

Annalise folded her hands, looking up. “Am I in danger?”

“Yes.”

“From whom?”

He pushed to his feet. “I have wine too.” He took her coffee cup, tipping it into the sink.

“No, thank you.”

“I got it for you.”

“I understand that, but right now I’m nervous. Will you tell me why I’m in danger?”

He didn’t answer. Instead, he pulled a bottle of white wine from the refrigerator, setting it on the small counter. But he didn’t move to open it.

“This must have been very expensive,” she said. “The caravan. The cars.”

He relaxed, opened a cupboard for a corkscrew. “I’m rich. Very successful. I could have anyone I want.”

“But you want me.”

“Yes.”

“Why?” she asked mildly.

“Why?”

She wanted, oh God, she wanted to say, “Why me? Why are you doing this? Did we meet? Do I know you? Please say something that will make everything make sense.” Instead, she said, “Women like to know what men appreciate about them.”

He frowned down at the corkscrew in his hand. “I know what women want.”

She was on dangerous ground. Rather than risk saying anything else, she picked up another cracker. Her mouth was dry from the last one, so instead of eating it, she broke it in half.

“I could have any woman I want. But I want you. Not just because of how you look.” He rushed to add, then smiled as if he were proud of himself for not being shallow. “You’re cerebral, like me.”

She was many things but “cerebral”