She has a point. I love experimenting with flavors of wine. Why not lemonade? Maybe because I haven’t had it since I was a kid, and my memories of being a kid are shaded by the evils of the adults in my life.
“What’s your poison?” If only she knew how accurate my question is.
“I’ve only had it once, but their strawberry lemonade is amazing. I hear the blackberry is out of this world as well.”
I step up to the counter and order one of each. While the kid behind the counter makes the drinks, I turn to her. “If you come here so often, why have you only had the lemonade once?”
She clutches the zucchini to her chest. “How do you know I come here often?” Panic fills her eyes.
Shit. I remain calm, as I always do, and think fast on my feet. “The ladies at the farm stand, Betsy and Ruth Anne, knew you by name. Figured you had to be a regular.”
“Oh. Okay.” The tension in her shoulders relaxes.
“Go find us a bench. I’ll bring the drinks over.”
Gia scrunches her brow at me. I can see the hesitation in her eyes. I won’t apologize for barking an order at her. She’s lucky it’s broad daylight and we’re in the middle of a crowd, otherwise I would have her tied and gagged and on my plane already.
The thought of tying up a woman during sex has never crossed my mind before. I like sex, especially rough sex, but I’ve lived in a hell of bondage and evil for too long. Bringing it to my sexual encounters is not something I want to mix.
Now, however, picturing Gia tied up to my bed at my disposal has me hardening.
“I don’t need to sit,” she says, moving my thoughts from her long, naked limbs to the current status of her sneakers and long, bare legs.
She’s annoyed by my order. I won’t apologize, but I need her to be distracted while I fix her drink. “You’ve been on your feet all day. You should take a minute to rest.”
Again, I’ve managed to cause her to stiffen and relax in a matter of a minute.
“Okay. Sure.”
I watch as she moves to the closest bench about twenty yards away. Shoving my free hand in the front pocket of my jeans, I toy with the vile.
“Here are your lemonades.”
I tuck the eggplant under my arm and discreetly remove the cap to the vile.
“Uh, sir? Can you move to the side so the next customer can order?”
I glare at the kid. It’s the casual clothes that have me blending in too well with the others. Had I been wearing one of my suits the little snot wouldn’t have attempted to tell me what to do. Not wanting to cause a scene, I push the cups down the counter and add a few drops of sedative. Exactly how much, I don’t know. I can’t see since I keep my attention on the people around me, careful to hide what I am doing.
I pocket the vile and pick up the cups. Shit. I added it to the blackberry lemonade. Turning on my heel, I spot Gia on the bench and am ultra-aware of the men walking by who give her a second glance. She is pretty in that simple, girl-next-door way. Definitely not my type.
As I approach her, I lift the strawberry drink to my lips and take two big gulps. It’s sweet. Sweeter than I usually liked. Salty, spicy food is more my weakness than any dessert.
“I hope you don’t mind.” I offer her the doctored drink. “I went with your recommendation, and since you said you haven’t had the blackberry, I got you one.”
“Okay. Sure.” The furrow between her brows deepens again. I really don’t care that I keep her on edge. She should stay on edge around me. Especially with what I have in store for her.
When she takes a sip of her lemonade, I sit next to her, keeping a watchful eye on her movements. If I put too much in her drink it wouldn’t kill her—her death would defeat the purpose of kidnapping her—but I have no idea of the long-term effects. Or how long it would knock her out.
“It lives up to its hype. I might actually like it better than the strawberry.”
I take another sip with a new appreciation of the beverage. It tastes like Gia smelled.
“It’s really good.” She takes another sip and her eyes droop. Some of the lemonade drips down her chin. She lifts her free hand to wipe it, but it drops heavily in her lap before she can do the task.
I take the cup from her before she spills it and set it on the bench next to the bag with her vegetables. Her chin is still wet so I lift my thumb and wipe it dry. Gia lifts her heavy eyes and attempts a smile.
“Th...anks.” She drops her chin to her chest. “I...I don’t feel. Oh...my God.” I can see the panic in her eyes. Realization has set in. If she wasn’t drugged, she would have darted from the bench. “Who...are...”
“Don’t fight it, Callista.”
“No.” Her body goes limp, and I’m there to catch her.
Leaving no trace, I toss the lemonades in the trash, then pick up her bag in case there is any evidence in it indicating her identity. Callista’s or Gia’s. Most likely she has no trace of Callista anywhere on her or in her apartment.
I carry her to my car. If only I hadn’t parked so far away. My mind had been clouded with childhood memories I hadn’t wished to revisit, and lust for a woman I planned on punishing.
For life.