Page 84 of Girl, Unmasked
Kirsten must have sensed it then.She started to turn, a frown of puzzlement just beginning to crease her brow.
Too late.Far, far too late for her to do anything but twitch as Ezra's left arm clamped around her slim throat, pinning her back against his chest like a butterfly to a board.The woman might have screamed, might have kicked, but Ezra couldn’t hear or feel a thing.He had become Cain for the last time, and he could see the finish line with startling clarity.There were noises from the crowd, raised voices, gasps, whispers amplified by their unity.
Ezra spun Kirsten to face the audience, and suddenly he knew with absolute certainty that this was his purpose.
Kirsten was a frail thing, just as easy to handle as the others had been.Sounds came from her mouth and her spit coated his forearm.Then Ezra brought the blade up and pressed the edge against her throat.Out in the auditorium, people were on their feet, and there was a yellow-jacketed security guard at the bottom of the stairs with a look of terror on his face that suggested he’d be more at home in a playground.
This was it.Time to successfully complete his mission.
He was so caught up in the moment, so lost in the heady rush of power, that he almost missed the sound of the doors bursting open at the back of the theater.
Ezra's head snapped in its direction.A woman burst in, stood in the center aisle with both hands wrapped around a gun that was pointed squarely at him and his hostage.
‘Drop the knife, Ezra!’
For a moment, Ezra's mind went blank.This wasn't part of the plan.But as the initial shock wore off, a new thrill shot through him.
Of course it would end like this.
It was fitting, really.
But one question nagged at him, even as he tightened his grip on Kirsten.
Who the hell is this bitch, and how does she know my name?
CHAPTER FORTY FIVE
Ella had never put much stock in hunches.She was a creature of cold, hard facts, not flights of fancy or wild stabs in the dark.But as she stared down the gun barrel at Ezra Borgman's twisted grin, she couldn't deny the feeling of rightness that settled in her gut.
Drago LaChance was completely innocent.The real killer was right in front of her.
In that moment, Ella knew two things with the kind of crystalline clarity that only came in the throes of a life-or-death situation: one, Ezra Borgman had to be stopped, and two, the stupid son of a bitch wasn't going to go quietly.
‘I won’t tell you again,’ Ella shouted.‘Drop it.’
The look on Ezra's face was almost comical – shock giving way to confusion, then a sort of perverse glee.Like a kid caught with his hand in the cookie jar who decided to smash the damn thing anyway.
Ella quickly catalogued the details.Ezra Borgman, janitor extraordinaire and serial killer poster boy.Kirsten Lawler, bestselling author and current damsel in distress.One knife, pressed way too close to a carotid artery for comfort.And about a hundred civilians caught in the crossfire, all gawking like this was dinner theater gone horribly wrong.
She took a step forward, then another.Slow.Easy.Like she was trying not to startle a rabid junkyard dog.The distance to the stage yawned like a canyon.Too far to rush him, too close to risk a wild shot.One wrong move and Kirsten Lawler would be penning her memoirs from beyond the grave.
‘Ezra.I need you to stop and think about this.’
She was locked in a staring battle with him, but there was no flicker of reason or conscience or remorse in that gaze.Just the feral hunger of a predator interrupted mid-kill.
‘I’m finishing what I started,’ Ezra yelled back.
So he had a voice.That was a start.And Ella counted her blessings that he hadn’t already gutted Kirsten and opted for suicide by cop.
‘Listen to me,’ she said.‘That book is fiction.It means nothing.Drago doesn’t want any of this.’
It was a gamble, and for a second Ella thought it had backfired spectacularly.Ezra's face twisted as he tightened his grip on Kirsten, who let out a strangled whimper.A thin line of red appeared where the knife kissed her throat.
‘Yes he does.After this, he’s going to have a following.I’m giving him the fame he couldn’t give himself.’
Ella took another careful step forward.‘I'm listening, Ezra.Tell me what this is all about.’
‘This is my gift.To the man who saved me.’
