Mindf*ck: Siren, #4

By Katie de Long

I should be glad to have escaped the Siren without being arrested as a killer. But what is there to celebrate? Every day is on borrowed time, the question repeating over and over in my mind: how much does Calder remember? He's not dead, and I don't know whether to be relieved or dismayed by that. I've spent so long imagining his death, and it's hard to let those fantasies go, even if they've already been replaced by a new one—his lips on mine. 
I can't convince myself it's worth taking another shot at him. I can't convince myself he is who I thought he was. I can't convince myself he deserved what I tried to do to him. 
But where does that leave me? 

Mindf*ck contains explicit and mature content that may be objectionable to some readers.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Katie de Long
• Release date: Oct 17, 2016
• ISBN: 9781536568585

Katie de Long

USA Today bestseller Katie de Long lives in the Pacific northwest, realizing her dream of being a crazy cat-lady. As a kid, Katie flagged the fade-to-blacks in every adult book she encountered, and when she began writing, she vowed to use cutaways sparingly. After all, that's when the good stuff happens. And on a kindle, no one asks why there's so many bookmarks in her library. For more information on Katie's work, visit delongkatie.com.

Book preview

Love is pain.

Calder Roane has always been the spoiled youngest son, and is struggling to seize the reins to the family business following his mother's death. But when he wakes up imprisoned in a rusted death trap with several others, it's gonna take everything he has to get out alive. As the mystery unfolds and he tries to discover why he's there, a vulnerable and resourceful fellow prisoner could be the key. If he can win Milla's heart.

Under other circumstances, Camilla Greenwich would've grown up as Winchester royalty, born to a life of politics and privilege. But when the Roane family took her family's place, their actions corrupted the entire community, and cost Milla everyone she loved. Now, she has the chance of the lifetime: the chance to punish the heir to the Roane family empire, and those who've abetted him. But seizing that chance could well be her undoing. She'll have to get far closer to her enemy than she dreamed possible, and risk exposing herself. She'll have to become prey, alongside him.

As her war goes on and the collateral damage mounts, they're about to discover how deep the conspiracy runs. Each past sin is exposed, and in the end, they may be the only people who can redeem each other.

The Siren Series

Capture (Siren #1)

Torture (Siren #2)

Restrain (Siren #3)

Mindf*ck (Siren #4) (Coming October 2016)

Ravage (Siren #5) (Coming November 2016)

Deathwish (Siren #6) (Coming December 2016)

––––––––

Dedication

For the crazy bastard who side-eyes me every time the answer to What'd you do today, is Wrote mechanically assisted murder masturbation, and who hasn't DIY lobotomized me yet. For the Divas who didn't look at me like I was crazy, and for Sera, who encouraged me to at least draft the darkest, most warped version possible of any given scene, just to see if it worked.

Mindfuck

Siren #4

I should be glad to have escaped the Siren without being arrested as a killer. But what is there to celebrate? Every day is on borrowed time, the question repeating over and over in my mind: how much does Calder remember? He's not dead, and I don't know whether to be relieved or dismayed by that. I've spent so long imagining his death, and it's hard to let those fantasies go, even if they've already been replaced by a new one—his lips on mine.

I can't convince myself it's worth taking another shot at him. I can't convince myself he is who I thought he was. I can't convince myself he deserved what I tried to do to him.

But where does that leave me?

One, Camilla Greenwich

Once upon a time, Calder Roane was my life. Not in the forbidden crush sort of way, though we got there eventually, but in the arch-nemesis sort of way. I built my identity around the conceit that I would be the one to bring his whole family down, and their cronies. Instead, I barely got out alive, and only several months in the hospital saved him.

Maybe that's a statement of strength, how close I came, but for me, it's a statement of weakness, for what I gave up.

I hated him so much I gave up my very identity to watch him suffer. And living with him, day in and day out, the old identity blistered and rotted, dead in every way but name only. I fell in love with him. And... it felt like he fell for me, too.

All that ended around 4:30 AM the morning we were rescued, with a sheet of intentionally loose grating, and a much-used gun.

At the end, he knew I wanted him dead. And he still knocked me out of the way, took both bullet and fall for me. Now, I don't know how much he remembers. I'm living on borrowed time.

The world looks at me as a fellow victim of the "Siren Kidnapper", and while my coworkers respect my silence, the press hasn't faded fully into the background. Any one of them could connect the pieces, if Calder helps the right detail fall into place.

I pray to fuck he's forgotten everything of that last day.

I should accept what vengeance I got, and turn away from that path. But the pain still runs too deep, all the more without Calder's authoritative touch, and casual optimism. How can I reconcile myself, an obsessive killer of almost a dozen people, with myself, the victim, pining for a fellow survivor who wants nothing more than to forget his imprisonment and forget every promise forged in that crucible. Forget his words that we were as good as family.

I miss that gun. It was my dad's. I never asked where he got it; it certainly wasn't legal down the road, after I'd filed the serial numbers off it just in case... But he willed it to me after he used it to kill himself, and it was my most constant companion.

Now it's in police custody, if they found it on the ship. And even if it's still on the Siren, the ship has a regular security detail now, and I wouldn't be permitted to look for it.

Life moves on. I need to, as well.

I had my chance. Whether I blew it or gave it up, it's over now.

It's Calder's world now.

***

The news reports still blare through my skull on replay, though at the time I only experienced them as a flurry of voices and lights as a SWAT team and paramedics pried myself and Calder Roane out of the Siren's belly. It wasn't until later, when coworkers started recording the coverage for me, that I found out the extent of it.

"—Police went in around 4:30 this morning after a resident came forward with a tip that Evan Duran had driven down this road on the day of his disappearance. His car was discovered not far from the scene, leading investigators to contact local law enforcement.

"Although it's not known the exact nature of events that transpired on board the decommissioned USS Siren, early reports claim two survivors were found. One of them, a male, early 30s, is said to be in critical condition. My sources believe it may be Calder Roane, CEO of Roane Industries, who went missing nearly six months back. It's not known whether he's expected to survive the night. Another survivor, a female, mid-twenties, is said to be in stable condition. The ship remains roped off until all bodies can be cataloged and excavated."

Click.

"Between seven and fifteen bodies are rumored to be on board the Siren, though officials haven't shared exact numbers or causes of death. They have however confirmed two of the victims to be State Senator George Roane and his chief of staff Marquel Donovan. Roane was in the process of running for the US House of Representatives, when he failed to show up at a campaign fundraiser four months ago. No charges have been brought as yet, with police citing a lack of evidence for their reticence to name a suspect.

"An internal source with the department, speaking on condition of anonymity, claimed that the preponderance of DNA at the scene made it impossible to isolate any DNA that would have belonged to the mastermind, and survivors' testimony indicates a combination of drugging, circadian rhythm disruption. Other factors, too, have made it impossible to place an exact timeline on interactions aboard the Siren."

Click. You could almost hear the tangible disappointment on that one.

"The scene in Winchester is truly a nightmare, with candlelight vigils for the ship's two survivors, and its many victims, protesting the lack of official communication on the direction of the case. What details have leaked have talked about nightmarish traps, hostages being pitted against each other brutally, and around-the-clock video surveillance, like something out of a horror movie.

"In particular, the community has rallied around Camilla Greenwich, a worker at the naval shipyards, who early reports had pegged as a suspect despite the evidence pointing to her having been abducted from her home. Her neighborhood's residents believe her abduction to be related to a surge in organized crime in the area, and others have come forward with similar stories of violence.

"These events have cultivated a sense of unrest, that no one is safe, whether CEO or dockworker. Police are under intense pressure to finish gathering evidence and release information on the case, including the final number of victims, and their names.

Brian Jeffreys, a lawyer representing Calder Roane, asked for the public's understanding and courtesy during these difficult times, as his client recovers from a traumatic ordeal. Camilla Greenwich has yet to speak to the press, and those around her have been notoriously close-lipped.

Click.

"The bizarre Siren murders seem likely to become cold cases, as no further evidence has emerged, and survivor accounts are not able to produce a suspect..."

Fucking vultures. The lot of them make me queasy. This is why I haven't bothered watching TV in years.

Two

Having soared in the clouds, trudging on the ground no longer feels natural. After living with a solid, unitary purpose, waking up just to work, and coming home just to get ready for work... it feels like an erasure. It feels like cutting my Achilles tendon so I don't have to ask why I can't run anymore. Maybe someone would say it's proof I should be starting my own business instead of working as a drone for someone else's. But simple economic survival and adaptation still has nothing in common with knowing your every motion has a purpose.

I limp through each day, both physically and metaphorically. Doctors visits have showed that some of the muscle in my leg knitted together wrong, and while it doesn't rise to the level of a true disability or impediment, it still removes any semblance of grace from my steps.

I was never outgoing at work, but now I have a reason not to talk to anyone. Beck and Carl leave me be, though I know from the frequency of Carl's scrutiny, that he's looking for a reason—any reason—to suggest I take a leave of absence to recover. I unnerve him. Every so often he tries to diffuse it with a cheesy joke, but mostly it's just tense stares. That has more to do with his own mental demons, though. Ever since his brother-in-law disappeared two years ago, he's been hypersensitive to violence and conflict. Being around me, seeing my giraffe-like gait, it's a reminder of the questions he still has about his own family.

It's amazing, the things you learn. I always thought he was strict with me because of his distrust that a woman could carry her weight. It turns out, he expected I knew about his loss, and thought that at some point, I'd want to get drunk with him and cry it out, the weight of everyone taken from us too soon.

I'm not really the get-drunk-and-cry-it-out type, and with that behind us, the working relationship's eased considerably. He pairs me with the less talkative ones on the team, the ones who're less likely to take it as an affront if I'm quiet. And he puts me in areas with a little less foot traffic whenever possible,