Dawn of Evil_FBI Flashback

by Morgan Kelley

  REALLY angry.

  Now he was going to make sure she paid for her bitchiness. This was going to hurt her more than it was going to hurt him.

  He hoped.

  He was going to take what he wanted from her and enjoy what she had to offer.

  So, he watched.

  He waited.

  He checked out his surroundings.

  He took in everything that was going on around her place, and he deemed it safe. He could be in, rape her, and be out in under ten minutes.

  If she screamed…

  Well, she wouldn’t.

  He was ready for all the possibilities.

  So, he watched her drop her towel, get into a tiny tank top and panties, and get ready for bed. That made it even better. Now he would have something to rip off her.

  That really got a man off.

  It made his fantasy all the better.

  When the lights went off, he waited patiently for the right time to make his move.

  She needed to be asleep.

  An hour went by.

  Almost ninety minutes, and she had yet to move from her bed. He was pretty sure she was dead to the world, and soon…

  She’d just be dead.

  Glancing around one more time, he made up his mind. He was ready to get this done.

  Going to the back door, he jimmied the lock with the screwdriver he found in her own garage. She’d left it unlocked, and he never brought anything of his with him.

  That’s how you got caught. If you wanted to tie yourself to a crime, bring your own shit.

  It was a surefire way to get busted.

  And he didn’t want that.

  On top of that, he’d taken precautions. He was protected as everything was covered, and his rock-hard erection was even encased in a condom.

  He was locked and loaded.

  He was ready.

  Creeping through her kitchen, he took in all the things she surrounded herself with, and he was amused.

  She was nothing.

  Absolutely.

  Nothing.

  She was just one more woman in a sea of whores and sluts, and she had the useless trinkets to prove it.

  Books to make herself smarter—it would never happen.

  Plants to prettify her home—they were nothing more than weeds in pots.

  Oh, but she didn’t think she needed an alarm or dog to keep her safe.

  Smart.

  Yeah, she was a rocket scientist.

  The woman had filled her life with fanciful things but ignored practicality.

  While she was alive those last few precious seconds, that would be her final regret.

  Moving through the darkness of her home, he rammed his shin off of her coffee table.

  He was pissed.

  It hurt like a bitch.

  The slob couldn’t even clean up after herself. It was littered with magazines and nail polish all over the damn place. It was like a girl’s sorority had gone wild in there.

  Thankfully, they barely made a sound as they rattled and toppled over onto the magazines.

  It took him a second to get through the pain. From where he stood, he could see her legs peeking out from her doorway across the room.

  It was the perfect view.

  There were long slim legs with nothing hiding them. They made his mouth water and his junk twitch.

  Yeah, he’d earned this.

  To add to it, she was sleeping without a blanket, and that would work to his advantage. There would be nothing between him and his prey but those measly little panties.

  Moving closer, he entered her room, and it smelled like her. It was feminine, florally, and almost chaste.

  A grown woman shouldn’t smell like a child.

  Then again, who was he to judge?

  He’d simply enjoy what bounty he was about to receive by way of taking what he wanted.

  As he stood beside her bed, he unbuttoned his jeans and pulled his encased erection from his pants.

  The second he thought about what was to come, he was rock hard.

  Oh, he was ready.

  As she lay there on her stomach, he already knew what he wanted.

  Her pain.

  Her degradation.

  Her submission.

  Reaching for her neck, he got ready to pounce.

  Literally.

  The second he touched her flesh with his very eager fingertips, he dropped his body on top of hers and pressed her into the pillow and mattress to trap her.

  She came awake with a gasp.

  The entire time she struggled, his body reacted to every movement.

  She rubbed against his chest.

  Her ass ground against his dick.

  His hand found her breasts beneath the shirt.

  Oh, this was perfection.

  As she struggled to get free, to find some way to get him off of her body, he loved everything about it.

  This was his favorite part.

  The rape was nice, but the struggle…it made each and every one of his fantasies.

  She was going to get him off.

  As his fingers tightened around her throat, he forced his way into her body. She was so tight that he knew it had to hurt her, and he was glad.

  He enjoyed that too.

  In that moment, she was his, and he was going to make sure she realized it.

  He was in charge.

  He was in control.

  He decided her fate.

  The power…it was all about him.

  As he began driving himself into her body, he squeezed and squeezed his fingers, trying to make her black out.

  This was only the beginning.

  This was only the start of what was to come. As she went limp beneath him, he released her throat to pull the cord from his pocket that he found outside her home.

  When he ended her life, it would be in the throes of passion, and not when she couldn’t see him.

  He wanted her to stare him in the eyes as he took her worthless life.

  As he flipped her over, he ripped open her flimsy tank top to see her breasts. Then he wrapped the cord around her throat to do the most damage.

  As her eyes fluttered, he glared down at them as if to show her who was the boss.

  It was him.

  It would always be him.

  “Hello, slut. It’s nice to see you again. I’m free now. Let’s party.”

  With that, he drove himself back into her and tightened the cord to the point she began clawing at it with her nails to get it free from her neck.

  Awww…

  There went her pristine manicure.

  He loved every second of it as she was making herself a bloody mess. He hoped she didn’t have some disease—since her blood was getting all over him.

  He didn’t want to catch anything.

  Gross.

  Who knew what whores had?

  As she flopped around, air being cut off to her brain, he continued raping her, taking no mercy on her body.

  He had none.

  He simply didn’t care about her, and that’s what made it perfect. There was no wooing.

  No promises.

  No lies.

  It was nothing but animalistic fucking—and that’s exactly how he liked it.

  She was nothing to him, and now she would be nothing to anyone else.

  Absolutely.

  Nothing.

  She was broken, and he’d been the last one to use her. He would be her best.

  As she slowly began to give up—her brain deprived of all oxygen—her eyes rolled into her head, and her body shuddered out that final breath.

  He didn’t let up, keeping the cord tightly around her neck as he pounded himself into her body.

  He was close, and he loved this part too.

  She was about to get him off.

  His body quaked, his balls tightened, and when she died—taking that last breath—he came so hard that he could barely stay upright.

  The need rushed from him,
and he was at peace. Nothing else mattered to him at that point. He was satiated, he was covered in blood, and he was ready to call it a night.

  He’d sleep like the dead.

  Well, not quite like that.

  There wasn’t an inkling of remorse. He was good with what he’d done.

  She didn’t think he was good enough for her, and in the end, he’d proven her wrong.

  She didn’t deserve him.

  Removing the cord, he knew not to leave anything behind for the police. Pulling free from her body, he tucked his dick back into his pants, taking the condom along for the ride. He’d toss it when he was safely home—where no one would find it.

  He was beyond relaxed.

  He was happy.

  And he’d claimed his third.

  Without a care in the world, he headed out of her room, out of her home, closing the door behind him.

  He laughed.

  It was amusing to him.

  That was way too easy.

  Let the cops try and find him. They’d never be able to do it. He was safely hidden in the shadows of Boston until he had to return to kill again.

  And he would.

  Soon.

  That he could promise.

  Chapter One

  Washington D.C.

  Thursday

  H oly shit! She was three days past tired. It had been a crazy week of working. Crazy wasn’t the word for it. Elizabeth LaRue had just finished up a pretty tough case, and she was glad it was over.

  She’d been working it in DC and working it alone. Yes, she was still without a partner.

  No one, over the last few weeks had seemed to work out for her.

  The last one, who had been assigned to her, had made it a whole two weeks. He said something about not being able to handle her ‘attitude’ and her ‘workaholic nature’.

  She didn’t know what he meant by that.

  Workaholic?

  Uhhhh, a single lady had to hustle to pay the bills. She wasn’t independently wealthy or hitting the lotto anytime soon, so that meant working her ass off to get to the next pay grade.

  As for her attitude, it was perfectly fine.

  She was a bitch.

  It wasn’t like she didn’t know it.

  Elizabeth had embraced it over the last few months, and it worked for her. With her ‘attitude’ she’d closed each and every case sent her way.

  None were left open.

  If that gave her a shitty attitude, so be it. This was about solving cases—not inflating one’s ego.

  The dead needed justice.

  If being a bitch got it…well, then they were on a one-way trip to Bitchville—population one.

  That was how she rolled.

  What the people who had lost the partner lotto needed to remember was that it wasn’t personal.

  It was the job.

  Outside of work, she wasn’t bitchy—not that she had a life outside of work. That would be as elusive as some of the killers she chased.

  All she had was her job—oh, and Chris.

  That was just one very long booty call that kept going every night.

  With their jobs, his sex drive, and hers…yeah, all she had was sex with Christopher Leonard and her job.

  So, she had no reason to be bitchy with him.

  She liked him.

  A lot.

  As for partner number six, well, he needed to stop making it all about him. She was simply a woman on a mission, and that entailed making it to the top.

  It wasn’t about friends.

  It wasn’t a popularity contest.

  It was about a woman trying damn hard to survive in a world ruled by dicks in suits.

  Literally.

  Elizabeth wanted to ensure her rise through the ranks by handling a few really challenging cases, rocking them out, and making a name for herself.

  The harder, the better.

  So far, she’d done just that. It was a far cry from a few months ago when people shunned her because of ‘The Butcher’. She was well past that and making a name for herself.

  Not always good, but hey!

  It was life.

  Elizabeth had found her niche, and she was working it like there was no tomorrow. With her brain being wired the way it was, she needed to keep busy.

  Occupied.

  Entertained.

  The last week had been tough—not only because the case had been a bitch, like her, but her partner in crime was not around.

  Yes, Gabe sent Chris out on a case without her.

  It hadn’t gone over well with either of them.

  Yet, what was she supposed to do?

  Cry?

  Bitch?

  Whine?

  She couldn’t.

  So, Elizabeth had done the next best thing.

  With Chris gone, she really needed to stay focused, and that had worked.

  But GOD!

  She missed him.

  He’d gone out with a new agent on a case, and he still wasn’t back. Yes, he’d called her every day, but mostly, they missed each other’s calls, thanks to their weird working hours.

  He couldn’t just pull his phone out when he was elbow deep in a body.

  While he was away, one thing was constant.

  She worried about him.

  While he was good with the dead…the living weren’t exactly his forte. She’d been trying to get him to the gym to work out and train, but he was a nerd.

  Okay, he was a sexy nerd, but even they had to have some fighting skill.

  Right?

  There was no way she’d admit it out loud, but his body was something she really enjoyed. While he may not work out like she did, he still took care of himself.

  Healthy was always sexy.

  And Christopher Leonard was sexy.

  Now she really wished he was in town. Here she was, still in bed, and that downtime seemed to be a waste of time.

  If she wasn’t with him or working a case, she had no business lying around.

  Again, it was all about him.

  A part of her hated herself for it too.

  Elizabeth had always promised to never be one of those girls who pined away after a man.

  That wasn’t her thing.

  She was tough.

  She was badass.

  She was a Fed.

  And here she was, sniffing a pillow he’d slept on almost two weeks ago.

  Yeah, she had it bad.

  She was a fool.

  The relationship was going nowhere, and she knew it. There was no way they could be anything more than many, many, many nights of really good sex.

  Why?

  Well, for starters, he’d been quite clear that they were going to be ‘friends with benefits’, and nothing more.

  Christopher Leonard had set the ground rules, and she had been onboard with them too.

  It was the right thing to do.

  They were all about the sex, and nothing more.

  Still…

  Jesus.

  There was so much more there for him that she knew she shouldn’t be feeling.

  He was her co-worker.

  He was her ‘partner’ in crime solving.

  He didn’t want to be a boyfriend. He simply enjoyed being the dick in her bed.

  And it sucked.

  While Elizabeth fought hard not to fall for him, it was too late. She was already there.

  His dorky smile and how he always did romantic things for her when no one ever thought to do that, had caught her.

  She slipped down the slope into wanting a relationship, only to hit a cliff.

  The very same night he did all the ‘boyfriend-y’ things, he’d stay at his place, giving her mixed signals about what they had.

  She didn’t know what was going on.

  She was so tied up in knots that she didn’t think she could work her way through them.

  So, she tested the waters.

  You know…as an experiment.

  Elizabeth
had given him a key, and he rarely used it. It left her feeling confused, disappointed, and bitchy.

  Oh, wait!

  That might be where she got it from...

  So, she had resigned herself to the fact it was nothing more than sex. She fought the good fight, trying to pretend she didn’t miss him when she really did.

  He was her best friend.

  Her ONLY friend.

  Okay, maybe not only. Livy had been there a few times when she needed a distraction, but she was pregnant again, and that meant she was going into that mothering realm where Elizabeth had no business treading.

  She wasn’t mom material.

  Hell!

  She was barely FBI material—according to their rules.

  Now she was actually thinking about adding more chaos to her life.

  What was she thinking?

  Clearly, she wasn’t.

  Things were best exactly how they were. Things were best with them being nothing more than friends.

  She had to convince herself of that.

  Rolling out of bed, she stretched and began stripping out of his Newton boxers and t-shirt.

  Yes, they were his.

  Yes, she was secretly sleeping in them.

  Sue her.

  She couldn’t help herself.

  Elizabeth slept better when someone was by her side. It was a weakness and character flaw, but she tried to hide it best she could so no one would be the wiser.

  She knew he’d laugh at her if he caught her, so she always made sure to only ‘borrow’ the things he’d left there when he was sent out on a case.

  Truth be told, she missed her best friend.

  Work, as of late, was tough.

  She was blowing through cases and earning her awards. She was making waves, taking names, and doing the job. Only, without Christopher Leonard there, she was…lonely.

  No one got her.

  No one.

  He was the only person, with maybe the exception of Tony, who saw the real Lyzee.

  She genuinely missed having his company.

  If she was out in the field, it wouldn’t be so bad. Then she’d be in a hotel room, working a case, but at home…yeah, she was reminded of what they’d fallen into.

  This ‘sex only’ relationship was on her last damn nerve.

  She knew why the whole ‘booty call’ thing was pissing her off.

  It made her feel…dirty.

  It made her feel slutty.

  It made her feel like nothing but a vagina.

  Elizabeth could hear her father telling her that she was breaking his heart by sleeping with a guy just to get the cobwebs blown off her clit.