Chances Are

chapter Seventeen

The cessation of movement jolted Angela back to consciousness and reality. Like the first sprinkle of raindrops before a downpour, half-formed facts appeared in her mind. The Red Rose Killer. Abduction. Drugged.

She shook her head to clear it and full knowledge of the events poured down on her. How long had she been unconscious? When had the van stopped? Would he leave them here in this hellish box or let them out? She remembered that in one of her more lucid moments, she had tried to lift the top with her back. It hadn’t budged. Until he deemed it time to let them out, they were here for the duration.

“Clarissa, are you awake?”

“Yes. Thank God you are, too. We’ve been traveling forever and you’ve been mumbling about all sorts of bizarre things.”

“Sorry. Whatever he drugged me with made me hallucinate.”

“Are you feeling better?”

“Yes.”

“Will you be able to fight him when he lets us out?”

The hope in Clarissa’s voice was painful to hear—all the more because Angela wasn’t sure of the answer. Without drugs, she could handle the maniac, no problem. But she was still disoriented. On top of that, her extremities had gone numb. The moment she was released from this compartment, she’d love to think she could spring out of here and take the killer down. Truth was, she didn’t know if her legs would hold her.

“I’m going to do my best.”

“What…” Clarissa cleared her throat and asked, “What does he do to his victims?”

Facing reality was one thing, but Angela saw no point in describing the horrific things this monster had done to his other victims. Apparently Clarissa wasn’t one to watch television news or read newspapers. What the women went through before their deaths had been all too accurately reported. What purpose would it serve for her to know that he tortured his victims in a variety of ways before he slit their throats?

“There’s no need for you to worry about that. We’re going to get out of here, I promise.”

Silence descended. How long was he planning to keep them in this box? He couldn’t travel all the way back to London, could he? If he tried, she’d scream bloody murder until someone heard them.

“How did he get you to Paris?”

Clarissa gasped softly. “We’re in Paris?”

“Yes. At least, we were.”

“I don’t know. I’ve been so out of it.”

The monster had kept this poor woman in a box for how long? “Has he let you out at all?”

“I know I’ve been to the bathroom and I’ve had something to drink. Not sure how or when.”

A sound outside the compartment made both women stiffen with dread. Though unbearably uncomfortable, within the confines of the compartment they had felt relatively safe. Footsteps and other noises were dreadful reminders that this man had something evil planned for them.

As the top of the compartment rattled, indicating they were about to look upon the eyes of their abductor once more, Angela issued final instructions: “Stay out of the way and don’t draw attention to yourself. If you get the chance to run, don’t hesitate. Run like hell. Find a place to hide. Remember, help is on the way.”

As the lid was lifted, Angela whispered one last instruction “Be brave” but wasn’t sure if that was for Clarissa or for herself.



“Welcome to my world.” Derrick Delacourte smiled down at the two women who would soon fulfill his dreams. His Dark Angel lay on her stomach and he couldn’t see her face. The blonde woman looked up at him with equal parts awe and dread. Soon it would be total awe as she came to know him better.

Grabbing his Dark Angel’s shoulders, he pulled her up and dragged her from the van. She was limp, still dazed from the drug. He tried to stand her on her feet but her limbs were understandably numb from her confinement. Unfortunately, until he could get her restrained, he had no choice but to continue the drugs. One arm wrapped securely around her, he reached for the hypodermic needle lying on the table beside him. Just a bit more until he had everything in place.

Agony erupted in his head. Stunned, his arms loosened. What had happened? He couldn’t get a grip on where the hurt had come from. Confused, he touched his face, then looked down at his hand. Why was there blood on his fingers?

Piercing pain shot through his leg. Horror filled him at the scissors sticking out of his thigh. Letting go a bellow filled with denial and betrayal, he jerked the scissors from his leg and lashed out with his fist, striking something hard.

The haze of rage cleared. Blinking rapidly, he looked down at the lump on the floor. His Dark Angel. She had done this to him?



Her legs were useless. Pins and needles shot through them with relentless stabs. The screaming curses above her indicated she had been able to do some damage to the bastard. Not enough though. The head-butt had disoriented him, giving her freedom. Unfortunately her legs hadn’t held firm. On the way to the floor, her blurry eyes had spotted the scissors less than a foot away. She had lurched forward, managing to grab the handle and thrust it toward the nearest body part she could find.

Helplessly, she glared at her unmoving legs. Why wouldn’t they budge? She shouted out loud to herself: “Get up, get up, get up!” Nothing moved. The little energy she’d had was gone. Only pain remained.

She tried to look up at him and could barely see...something was in her eyes. Touching her face, she realized she was bleeding. Then she remembered the pain in her head...he had hit her with something. When? That’s why she couldn’t think straight...why her limbs refused to work. She closed her eyes, uncertain if she would ever open them again. Clarissa would die because of her. Noah, Jake and the entire LCR organization would be disappointed in her forever.

Jake? Wait. Wasn’t he coming? Yes, he was tracking her signal. He would be here soon. He wouldn’t let her down. She told herself to hang on. Jake would rescue her. She wasn’t alone.

With that reassurance, Angela closed her eyes, sure that when she woke again, she and Clarissa would be rescued and all would be well.



Consciousness returned and misery consumed her. She opened her bleary eyes. She was strapped to a table. Cold…she was so cold. Her teeth chattered as her body shuddered with chills. With every shudder, her head pounded. Dear heavens, her head was going to explode.

Lights blazed everywhere. Squinting, barely able to handle the glare, she looked around. Some kind of basement? A dank and musty smell hung in the air and an insidious coldness pervaded the entire room, as if the iciness was an entity all its own. Other than three large traveling trunks stacked against a wall and a few displaced bricks, the room was empty.

How long had she been unconscious? Where was the monster? Was Clarissa still alive?

Her mouth dry, her lips felt parched and cracked as though she'd been in the sun for hours. She swallowed, hoping for moisture and found none. Opening her mouth, she said hoarsely, “Clarissa?”

No answer.

Was she already dead? Where were Jake and Noah? Why hadn't they found them yet? She had been sure when she woke all of this would be over. Why did her head hurt so much?

“You’re awake.” The hard, cold voice sounded nothing like before. When he had taken her, his voice had been warm, eerily loving. Now, there was contempt and a seething fury.

“Where am I?”

“You have no right to ask questions. If you continue to talk, I’ll close your mouth with tape. Do you understand?”

She nodded, wincing at the pain even that little amount of movement gave her.

“I'm deeply disappointed in you. You behaved terribly and must be punished. You’ve caused me great heartache. I’ve taken your clothes from you. I normally allow covering but your punishment prevents that. Once I’m through with you, I have no doubt you’ll be much more amenable.”

Her clothes? Pushing aside the nauseating ache in her head, she twisted her head and looked at her wrist. Her watch was gone. A growing horror spiraling through her, she glanced down at her chest. The silver medallion necklace should be lying between her breasts. It was gone, too.

She forced calmness. The jewelry was still here, with her clothes. He had probably just bundled them together and put them away somewhere. LCR could still track her. However, she had to be sure. “My watch and necklace, where are they?”

“Time is of no importance now that you’re with me and your necklace was ugly and common.”

“Where is my jewelry?” she demanded.

“I threw them out, along with your clothes. From now on, everything that touches your skin will come from me.”

“When?”

“When what?”

The horror taking control within her once more, she spoke through clenched teeth, “When did you take my watch and necklace?”

“When I first took you, of course. I threw them, along with your coat, into a small river as we left Paris.”

Why hadn’t she noticed he’d taken them? That was why LCR hadn’t come busting in to save them. They had no way to track her. She was at the mercy of this maniac without any back-up. Dear God, what was she going to do?

Pushing past the panic, she whispered, “Where's Clarissa?”

“She’s in another room, sleeping. She’s much more comfortable than you are.”

“Where are we?”

“In my home.”

“You live in France?”

“Of course not. I live in England.”

“What does that mean? Where are we?”

“Silence!” he bellowed. “You will not question me further.”

Before she could come up with perhaps an appeasing statement, he slapped duct tape over her mouth. She paid little attention to the indignity, as she got her first real look at the monster. He was no longer disguised and she recognized him. It was the policeman from London–the one who had helped her up when the skateboarder had knocked her down. Clarissa had said that a policeman had come to her home, with the ruse of an emergency call. Was this how he got into the women’s homes? Disguising himself as a cop?

Angela watched a transformation take place as tears filled his eyes and his mouth contorted with sorrow. “You were supposed to be the one...the special one. You were going to launch us into stardom. Yet you’ve behaved horribly. Worse than any of the others.” In an instant, the tears disappeared and an unholy evil gleamed in his brownish-green eyes turning them into a murky mud color. “However, if you survive the auditions, you might be able to come with me after all. The cleansing ritual has never failed me yet. We'll just have to wait and see.”

Auditions? Cleansing ritual? That didn't sound like it involved soap and water. The thought of this evil creature touching her in any way sent shivers throughout her body and roiled her stomach. No way in hell would she allow him to do anything to her. He thought a bump on his nose and a scissor stab hurt? He would soon learn that he had abducted the wrong woman. When she was through with him, he wouldn't be able to steal a candy bar much less another human being.

Where this surge of courage came from she didn’t know. How could she feel confident when she was tied so tightly and help wasn’t coming? The answer came like a whisper. All of her LCR life, she had envisioned a time when it would just be her and evil and she would prevail. The breakdown in London with Jake had been an anomaly. She was Angela Delvecchio, LCR operative and one very kick-ass woman. This bastard would rue the day he selected the Dark Angel as his prey.

She heard a scratching sound and then the air was filled with the scent of lit matches.

He stood at the end of the table, holding a candle in his hand. “This is your first audition. Let’s see how you fare.”

Hot flames licked at her foot. Arching her entire body, she struggled against her bonds, the flesh at her wrist tearing as she tried to escape the searing pain. Then more heat, more flames… Agony shot through her. Every confident thought disintegrated. Closing her eyes, Angela screamed behind the tape: Jake, where are you?