LRR Hood

by Cassandra Johnson

  LRR HOOD

  A LITTLE RED RIDING HOOD NOVEL BOOK ONE

  Cassandra Johnson

  LRR Hood Copyright © 2017 by Cassandra Johnson.

  All rights reserved. Printed in the United States of America. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in the case of brief quotations em- bodied in critical articles or reviews.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, organiza- tions, places, events and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Book and Cover design by Cassandra Johnson

  ISBN: 9781723747373

  First Edition: March 2017

  10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 2

  Dedication

  I dedicate this book to my mom. No matter how many times I said, “This is stupid. No one is going to read this.” She always responded with positivity. “No, it isn’t. Yes, the will.” Me and you, we’re always shoulder to shoulder. I love you Mama.

  Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter One

  Reaching the top of a small embankment of rocks, he knew this would be the perfect place to drop his package off. Summer after summer as a teenager he’d watched people climb up to the perch and dive into the water and swim their way up the sand bar like seals bobbing on top of the surf.

  It was early morning, and in less than an hour the sun would be peaking over the horizon bringing with it another blistering cold day, there was a storm in the forecast, and he could smell it on the salty brine of the ocean as it crept its way inland. Pausing, he pulled the limp body from over his shoulder and looked down into the woman’s face, three long gashes running from her right temple to the side of her jaw on the left side of her face. She’d tried to fight him, but it didn’t matter. She really was an attractive woman, but looks were only part of the motive, no one would believe this if the woman weren’t attractive. Her body popping up on the beach wouldn’t be taken seriously if she wasn’t beautiful. He knew that if he was going to pull this off, he had to think the way that his true prey did and truly get into his head.

  Her name was Carla Epstein, beautiful long brown hair, dark brown eyes that were almost black, she looked exotic, and that was what originally drew him to her in the first place although Carla barely had an idea of what he had in mind when he met her inside the bar earlier last night. Carla was just a small pawn in the game that he was playing and she couldn’t have fallen into his hands at a better time. He could have chosen any woman, any woman at all would have done, but he knew that there was a flavor that was preferred and when he saw her sitting there alone he knew that she was the one.

  Stepping up to the ledge he looked down at the water below before hurling Carla’s body into the icy water. His only real regret was that he didn’t get to fuck her, that would have ruined everything. DNA evidence would be a factor in the police investigation, of course, the police didn’t matter so much in this as it did to the Council. If the cops came back with evidence and proved without a doubt that he’d had sex with this woman and killed her, then the Council would be chasing him and not his foe, Gaerik Chaliceman. No, he had to maintain control and think about the repercussions of his actions otherwise one foolish slip up would have them all clambering in the wrong direction, the pack would be looking for the wrong man a man whose punishment had never come to fruition in all his life. He was the fucking golden boy of the Chaliceman legacy.

  The Council wanted Gaerik gone, and so did he, but how long was he supposed to be expected to live under that shadow and not seek out a way to take his rightful place at the throne? Luckily it didn’t take much convincing with the Council. They had their own plans, and together they could achieve the same end. Watching Carla’s body bob on the surface of the water for a few minutes he turned, making his way back to his car. Closing the trunk, he reached inside of his pocket to retrieve his cell phone, pulling the driver side door open and slipping inside as the call was answered on the second ring.

  “It’s done.”

  ~

  As the final key stroke fell, LRR Hood sat up straight in her chair and stretched, feeling her vertebra realign with a few snaps. The bestselling fantasy erotica author’s bum was sore, numb and tingling. Her shoulders were burning from hunching over her laptop for hours enumerable, but it was finally finished. The final installment of her bestselling series to date was ready to be sent to the publisher.

  “Christ.” A gush of her accent whispered in the silence of her New England home. Pushing her seat back from the desk, she stood up. LRR Hood was not her real name. It was, a clever, or so she thought, a pen name she was given by a beau who teased her about her obsession with werewolves. She tended to pick up men in bars she considered to have certain lupine qualities.

  Elle often pondered whether her readers would believe it if they knew that her books were ninety percent true events and ten percent creative reasoning? Pausing at her reflection in the mirror in the hall, her hair was sticking up at odd angles; a Cheeto was hanging from the lapel of her robe. Elle’s plump bow lips pulled up into a smirk. “Nah.” Melodic laughter escaped from her alabaster throat as she made her way to the restroom. She needed to clean herself up after a twelve-hour writing binge. Sometimes she just didn’t know where she got the energy from, the material could write itself, but her ability to write was at times what she often called into question.

  The purple and orange dawn was rising over the tops of houses as she came out of the bathroom feeling a bit less unkempt now that her teeth and hair had been brushed, her terry cloth robe was shaken loose of any edible debris. Elle was secure enough to admit her slovenly ways. She’d eaten that Cheeto.

  Now, if she knew her next door neighbor like she thought she did, Alice no doubt had lost just as much sleep as Elle while she had anxiously been waiting for the appropriate time to show up to her doorstep. Chuckling gently Elle skipped into her bedroom clicking the print button. Watching as one pure white sheet of paper was littered with her labors and being spit out into the retrieving tray as the knock came at her door. “Right on time.”

  The small hairs within her ear canal prickled as she opened the front door to the sound of birds chirping in the trees even though it was freezing outside. What they had to be so happy about Elle never understood. The life of a bird must have been rife with hardships, yet they always made the best of it with a song to sing.

  Elle was greeted by the eager, red cheeked face of her next-door neighbor and sometimes her Saturday night companion on the couch with a bottle of wine.

  “Good morning, I brought your paper. Is it ready?” Alice blurted the choppy sentence out, positively bouncing.

  “Just finished it.” Elle smiled holding the door open so that Alice could come inside. Retrieving her coffee cup from the woman’s hand as well as slipping the paper out from under her arm. The slightly rounded middle aged lady scurried into the bedroom lured by
the sounds of her printer churning out page after page of fantastical smut. Elle couldn’t be too displeased with the invasion of her privacy. Women like Alice were her core audience and far be it for her to disappoint them.

  “Yes, just help yourself,” Elle mumbled softly under her breath as she took a sip from the coffee mug and grimaced. Alice was a wonderful woman, but her coffee making skills weren’t as strong as her friend-making skills.

  Her slippers clip-clapped over the hardwood floor as she made her way into the heart of the house, the kitchen, to make a proper pot of coffee. Setting the cup down and shaking the newspaper out, azure orbs scanning over the front page. Another car bombing in the Middle East, local senator caught in a gay scandal, mutilated body found washed up on the beach near Lighthouse Point; the oldest woman in Connecticut celebrates one hundred-fifth birthday. Wait, Elle paused for a few minutes before scrolling back through what she read. Of course, she wasn’t that interested in a hundred-year-old woman’s birthday, although at that age it certainly was something to celebrate, that wasn’t what caught her attention.

  “Mutilated body found washed up on the beach near Lighthouse Point, see page four.”

  Turning to page four she spread the newspaper out on the kitchen island, pulling herself up a bar stool as she leaned over the paper, elbows on the counter, chin in her palms she read.

  “New Haven Police are awaiting autopsy results on a partially decomposed body found washed up on the beach at Lighthouse Point early Wednesday morning. Police Chief Clayton Eisner is reported saying that the body couldn’t have been in the water more than twelve hours and authorities are being led to believe that the body was dumped there. New Haven Police Officials are not releasing any more information on the victim at this point other than the victim is female and appears to be in her mid to late twenties. Anyone with information on the identity of the woman is being asked to please come forward.” The blonde’s ashen brows linked up with curiosity as she processed the information before mistakenly taking another drink of the scorched coffee. Dribbling some down her chin

  “Lovely.”

  Taking the cup to the sink and pouring it out before she managed to finally make coffee that wouldn’t be considered rocket fuel by the international space program. Listening she wondered how Alice was doing in her bedroom; coffee in hand, Elle went down the hall past the bathroom and peaked inside, a smile tugging at the corners of her lips as she found that Alice had made herself a fort of pillows and was propped up against the headboard zealously devouring the pages from the printer.

  “Mind if I catch a few z’s while you read the latest exploits of Mistress Delilah: Werewolf Huntress?” Elle grinned setting her mug down and flopping onto the spare side of the king size bed.

  Chapter Two

  “Gaerik has gone too far this time.” Vapor poured from the male’s mouth as the words escaped. It was yet another freezing day in Connecticut and the two figures that stood on the beach sentinel in the sand near the water’s edge. Neither man looked pleased with the sight of the waves rolling up to the coast.

  “Father has turned a blind eye to his behavior for too long. He was always the bright and chosen son, but something has to be done. If not the humans will get suspicious.” Marik spoke harshly, his icy stare turning to his companion as his jaw set.

  “We can’t do anything without the Council’s approval as well as your fathers too,” Jamal said shaking his head slowly.

  “With the latest turn of events? I don’t think we will have a hard time swaying the Council in our favor. After all, my father may be head of the Council, but it is a majority.”

  “If you say so, Marik. Your brother has a talent for talking his way out of punishment.”

  “The silver-tongued bastard.”

  Gaerik was the oldest with his twin following three short minutes after him on the day of their birth. While the two were similar in appearance, they couldn’t have been any more alike than the sun and the moon. The twin’s father, Gallen Chalicemen was the pack elder. Alpha status had been dispensed with years ago, for a more democratic rule. One where each pack in the state got a vote, but the old man was beginning to waver in his old age. Gaerik was his first born and stood first in line to take his father’s place as head of Council, but the man he was appeared to be was nothing but a mutt by his behavior.

  “I wonder what hole in the wall he has slunk off to avoid your father’s wrath?” Jamal pondered aloud. His brilliant two-toned brown eyes swept over the landscape taking in the dark clouds on the horizon. The weight of a storm hung in the led colored sky and tickled his extra sensitive sense of smell.

  “It doesn’t matter. I’ll find him.”

  Jamal’s neck snapped as he looked at the profile of his sire with a mixture of awe and bewilderment. “You mean you’re actually going to go after him?”

  “I have to for several reasons; father will never send out a hunting party for his own son, and if he can’t bring Gaerik in, then the pack can’t rule against his crimes. Partiality means a complete breakdown of all the laws set in motion. Gaerik has to be brought in, and if I have to drag him to the council’s feet in chains? So be it.”

  ~

  Her body jerked as she woke. What time is it? In her sleep, Elle had rolled onto her stomach, the side of her face laying on the flat surface of her latest manuscript. Elle had been drooling in her sleep, dampening some of the paper all the way down to the mattress as she sat up on her elbows, blurry sleep-crusted eyelids forcing themselves to stay open as she looked around the dark and abandoned bedroom. How long was she out for?

  Elle questioned this as she reached for the lamp and turned it on, groaning softly from the sudden shock of the light to her dark adjusted pupils. Holding her head down for a few seconds she sniffed, cleared her throat and opened her eyes again, scanning over the sheets on the bed before blurrily looking at the note stuck to the front of her manuscript.

  “The best yet.”

  Apparently, Alice must have read the entire thing while she slept. Rubbing her head Elle could feel the beginnings of a migraine coming on already. Twenty-four hours of forcing caffeine on herself and then sleeping for nearly an equal amount of time was pushing it a little far, and she knew she was going to pay for it in the form of a major headache. Elle needed food in her belly, nicotine, and more coffee. Oddly, nicotine and caffeine helped stop her headaches.

  Swinging her legs over the side of the bed, she padded down the hallway into the kitchen, finding all the lights off in the house. She felt along the wall until she found the switch.

  This could only be described as the joys of being your own boss. Elle didn’t need to worry about being late for the job that put the food on the table and kept her bank account from bleeding dry; she often looked back on those days with a small smile. It was hard, but with enough drive, she’d met with the day when writing was no longer a hobby, it wasn’t the part-time job that most told her was a pipe dream and no matter how good the book was it might never make it to publishing. Placing her coffee cup in the microwave for a minute she reveled in the fact that those days were over.

  There were three new voice mails on her cell phone, which needed charging so while she waited for that she took her coffee into her bedroom once more, checking her e-mails to see if she had heard anything back from her publicist. The message had been opened but no response. Julie was probably still reading her manuscript, she never responded right away and usually got back to her in a week, two sometimes at the latest. It was her pattern. Julie would read her manuscripts up one side and down the other, three shades from Sunday to make sure that it was perfect - it’s what Elle paid her to do.

  Checking her voice mail, two were from her ex-boyfriend who turned out to be very into the bear scene, large hairy gay men and one was a questionnaire asking if she was happy with her phone carrier. That last one made her roll her eyes softly as she finished her first cup of coffee and went for another before looking inside of the fridge to see wh
at she could eat, finding nothing of real interest she opted for ordering out after soaking in a nice hot bath, at this point Elle couldn’t remember the last time she’d bathed, and that was never a good thing. Sometimes she got so caught up with work, she forgot how to do everything except for breathing.

  When she first bought this house one of the things that she had fallen in love with was the claw-foot bath tub, but now a year and a half later it was safe to say that her love affair with that tub was over. It was too much work moving the shower curtains around when you wanted to take a bath and then fixing them back inside of the tub if you needed to jump in for a quick shower. As the basin filled she was considering a bathroom remodel, maybe she would have an extra bathroom added to the house since there was only one, and then she would have this one remodeled that way she wasn’t forced to stay somewhere else during the interim. Elle didn’t know much about renovations aside from what she saw on home improvement shows. They usually made it look easy. Any project that big couldn’t possibly be so easy.

  Lighting a candle and grabbing her cigarettes she stripped before sinking into the hot water, releasing the drain on the tub as she turned off the cold water altogether. Leaning back her cigarette bobbed from her lips for a moment as she watched the steam rise from her body as the water rose higher and hotter.

  As a full-time writer, this was the part that she never liked, the period after you finish a big project. When you’ve spent, months pouring your blood, sweat, and tears into something to make it perfect when it’s impossible to make it perfect. There would always be a flaw in the design. Elle once considered going on vacation, to get new experiences by traveling to put into her future books, but she never did like traveling. It was exhausting, and once she reached her destination, she couldn’t enjoy it because she suddenly began to think of all the things that she could have been doing at home.