My Beautiful Doll

Chapter Twelve

"What the hell do you want this time?" Don hissed, feeling the icy claws of fear grip his heart at the familiar voice.

"Can't I visit my boyfriend whenever I feel like it?" The man asked.

"I'm NOT your boyfriend" Don growled, hand tense on the steering wheel. Screw getting out of this alive. I'd rather die than become a serial killer's plaything.

"Not yet," the man grinned. "But soon, you'll be mine".

Don snorted, "dream on". Then he tensed up even further as he felt the gun push further into the back of his neck, pushing his head forward a bit.

"You seem to forget who is in charge right now" the man said, his tone annoyed. "I have the upper hand here. So unless you have some kind secret FBI maneuver that would get you out of this situation, I suggest you listen to what I say". The man then tilted his head to the side, "Unless of course, you want to be the reason why your family has to go through the mourning process again". The man grinned, knowing that he had hit a nerve. "Do you want to be the one to put your family through that again? Imagine what would baby brother and daddy dearest think? Do you think they'll survive without you?"

Don's jaw clenched. He knew what was going on. It didn't take a genius for him to see the blatant manipulation that was going on. But he also knew that he couldn't risk his family like that, no matter how much of a fluke he thought it was. Gritting his teeth, he bit out, "fine. I'll cooperate".

"That's my angel," the man said proudly. Don gripped the steering wheel tighter, feeling disgusted at the affectionate tone the man had. It was sickeningly sweet with a touch of obsessive insanity hidden beneath that Don could hear clearly. "Now, let's start driving shall we?".

"Where to?"

"I'll give you the directions as we drive" the man said, "I can't have you escaping me prematurely, can I?"

Damn, he's really not giving me any leeway, Don thought. Knowing he had no other option, he started the car and drove out of the parking lot basement. Reaching the ticket booth, he rolled down the window.

"Agent Eppes, how are you?" the nightguard, Anthony, asked him.

"About as good as I can be right now" he replied, putting his arm out the window.

"I saw Lt. Gary Walker drove out a few minutes ago. He was complaining to me about bull-headed FBI agents with zero self-preservation instincts and how keeping them out of trouble is harder than protecting the president". Anthony grinned, looking at Don, "I'm guessing he was talking about you. What's wrong, someone after you?"

Don nodded, "Yeah, a serial killer we're investigating. I don't need a profiler to know that this guy is a nutcase."

"You think the guy is dangerous?"

Don snorted, "Definitely. I don't doubt the fact that he'll stop at nothing to get what he wants."

Anthony gave Don a sympathetic smile. "Sounds like a rough one. You better get it in order before Edgerton or Cooper gets a whiff of the case and comes barreling down. I don't think you'll survive that".

"No, definitely not. Especially if they bring in Megan, Charlie, or god forbid...my father" Don shuddered, imagining all of them ganging up on him. They will definitely kill him, without question.

"If they do decide to execute you, how would you think they'd do it?"

"Other than mother henning me to death?" Don asked sarcastically, "They'd probably let Ian use me as shooting practice. For a supposed rifle guy, he's really attached to his glock."