Page 59 of Cry, Little Dove

“You took care of things yourself.”

He takes another puff. “Damn right I did. Back then I was straight as an arrow and the worst liar in the world, but I couldn’t let Mandy die. I got in touch with a guy I had a few computing classes with in university. Through the grapevine, I heard he became some big shot hacker.”

“That’s how you got into the dark web stuff.”

“Yeah. I asked him how I’d go about buying certainexotic goodsonline. He thought I meant drugs and I didn’t bother to correct him. In exchange for a steady supply of hospital grade morphine to feed his addiction, he set me up with an encrypted laptop. He tried to explain how it works, but I didn’t understand. Didn’t care either. I just needed it to ensure I couldn’t be traced while I looked for surgeons who accept jobs outside of the usual medical bureaucracy.”

My brows rise. “Underground surgery?”

“Naw, I found an upscale private clinic. A reputable doctor there agreed to do the procedure at short notice without the documents and waiting times. But there was a catch. He said hearts were hard to come by, especially this quickly and I would have to provide a suitable transplant organ myself. I improvised.”

He flicks the cigarette butt over the railing. His eyes drift along the orange horizon, a wrinkle between his brows.

“Cain, you don’t have to tell me if this topic is too painful—”

He raises a hand and smiles softly. “I don’t mind talking about it if it’s you.”

I bite my lip, averting my eyes.He trusts me.

“You know all that bullshit about the Hippocratic Oath? How doctors aren’t supposed to do harm?” he asks.

“I’ve heard of it.”

“Well, I added my own stipulation to it. An eye for an eye. I decided anybody who hurt others is fair game. From the dark web, I bought information about criminals, but strictly those who were acquitted or released under unusual circumstances. Evidence vanishing, witnesses disappearing, retracted statements, that sorta stuff. I found a woman with the same blood type as Mandy. She was 26 years old, physically healthy, and accused of suffocating her infant son because he wouldn’t stop crying. But the only witness—the boy’s father—disappeared before he could testify. She walked.”

My stomach squeezes. “Does Amanda know the true story?”

“No. I don’t want her to live with that guilt and she won’t have to lie for me if I get caught, either.” Cain shakes his head. “She didn’t suspect anything. The clinic in Mexico was clean and luxurious, the kinda place rich people go to all the time.”

“But why didn’t you stop after the first murder?” I ask. “Mandy got what she needed and—”

“Killing gives me a sense of freedom,” Cain cuts in. “My whole life has been about doing what others wanted me to do. It didn’t matter what I wanted or needed, didn’t matter what I felt. The pressure inside me became unbearable. But when I took that woman’s heart for Mandy, all the pent-up anger and resentment flowed from me like the blood from her veins. It’s a release I can’t find anywhere else. Pure euphoria.” He shudders, rolling his shoulders.

“You’re a sick bastard.” I let out a laugh, surprising myself how easy it has become to talk about gruesome murder. Then again, the victims ending up on Cain’s table seem to deserve it. I gesture toward the ballroom. “All these people in there, they think you’re some sort of angel. You’re leading a double life.”

“I do have a few rules,” he says.

“Rules?”

“No kids. No innocents. I do my research very carefully and pick my targets accordingly. Then I use my experience and contacts in hospital management to funnel the organs to donors who need them most, but are low on the waiting list like Mandy was. Every cent I make from selling spare organs goes to the Little Hearts Children’s Hospital and a few other charities, on top of my regular donations.”

I misjudged Cain. Heisa murderer, but one with morals. It’s a bizarre thought, yet I can’t think of a better way to describe the personified contradiction that is Dr. Cain Morrow.

I grin, waggling my brows. “So youarean angel.”

“I’m thedevil, Erica.”

“Even Lucifer was an angel once.” I shrug, but reflecting on his words gives me pause. “Hold up!Idon’t fit your MO, Cain. I’ve never committed a crime in my life.”

He favors me with a crooked smirk. “Naw, you don’t fit my MO and believe me, that fuckin’ messed with my head. Badly. You were a problem from the moment I saw you at the gas station. I meant to drive on the next day, had a victim picked and everything… but I couldn’t leave without you. You were mine when I first laid eyes on you, darlin’.”

My belly tingles, a lick of fire flickering between my legs. I wish that his possessive asshole behavior wasn’t such a turn-on for me, but there’s no denying it. And if I’m entirely honest, his secret generosity is damn sexy, too. My clit pulses as I imagine what it’d be like to get bent over that railing with a view over the city while he fucks me.

“My turn to ask a question,” Cain says, yanking me from my dirty daydream. “Now that you’ve seen both sides of me, which version do you like better?” He smooths over his suit jacket, straightening his cuffs. “The wealthy, well-spoken businessman in a custom-tailored tuxedo or the guy in a cowboy hat and boots, driving you around in his beat-up old truck?”

I don’t even have to think about my answer.

“The real you,” I say.

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