Blood shall Run
By Morgan Kelley
Copyright © 2016 Morgan Kelley LLC
All rights reserved. Without limiting rights under the copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored, introduced into a retrieval system, distributed or transmitted in any form or by any means, including without limitation photocopying, recording, or other electronic or technical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.
The scanning, uploading, and/or distribution of this document via the internet or via any other means without the permission of the publisher is illegal and is punishable by law. Please purchase only authorized editions and do not participate in or encourage electronic piracy of copyrightable materials. For permission requests, email [email protected]
Content Advisory: This book is intended for mature audiences and contains graphic violence, explicit sexual activity and disturbing imagery
©Copyright 2016 cover by Celestia Abraham
Other works by Morgan Kelley:
Standalone Thrillers
The Junction
Serial Sins
The Blood Betrayal
FBI Romance Series
The Killing Times (Book 1)
Sacred Burial Grounds (Book 2)
True Love Lost (Book 3)
Deep Dark Mire (Book 4)
Fire Burns Hot (Book 5)
Darkness of Truth (Book 6)
Devil Hath Come (Book 7)
Consumed by Wrath (Book 8)
Redemption is Here (Book 9)
Dead Shall Speak (Book 10)
Pledging to Die (Book 11)
Slay Bells Ring (Book 12)
Past will Haunt (Book 13)
Choices will Destroy (Book 14)
Blood shall Run (Book 15)
Croft & Croft Romance Adventure Series
Celestia is Falling (1)
Vegas is Dying (2)
Christmas is Killing (3)
Love is Bleeding (4)
Heaven is Weeping (5)
Hell is Burning (6)
Justice is Dead (7)
Littlemoon Investigations
Blood Red Rage (Book 1)
Lost & Broken (Book 2)
Unthinkable Games (Book 3)
Truth is Found (Book 4)
Haven of Nightmares (Book 5)
The Carter Chronicles Trilogy
Sinner Repent (1)
Sinner Realized (2)
Sinner Reborn (3)
Oracle/The Phoenix Files
Oracle Rising (book 1)
The Harcourte Vampyre Society series
Dangerous Revelations (1)
Dangerous Choices (2)
Dangerous Misery (3)
Dangerous Retaliation (4)
Behind Closed Doors Anthology
Illegal Fantasies ~ Behind Closed Doors (1)
Romance Under Arrest~ Behind Closed Doors (2)
Holiday Reinforcements ~ Behind Closed Doors (3)
~~~~ About the Author ~~~~
Morgan Kelley lives in the beautiful Pocono Mountains with her husband and two children. After attending college at Penn State University and studying Criminal Justice, Morgan knew her only true passion in life would be murder and books. She put them both together and began her career as a writer. Other than books and writing, you can find Morgan hanging out in her garden and digging in the dirt.
Her other works include: The Junction, Serial Sins, The Blood Betrayal, The Killing Times (1), Sacred Burial Grounds (2), True Love Lost (3), Deep Dark Mire (4), Fire Burns Hot (5), Darkness of Truth (6), Devil Hath Come (7), Consumed by Wrath (8), Redemption is Here (9), Dead Shall Speak (10), Pledging to Die (11), Slay Bells Ring (12), Past will Haunt (13), Choices will Destroy (14), Blood shall Run (15), Blood Red Rage (1) Lost & Broken (2), Unthinkable Games (3), Truth is Found (4), Haven of Nightmares (5), Celestia is Falling (1), Vegas is Dying (2), Christmas is Killing (3), Love is Bleeding (4), Heaven is Weeping (5), Hell is Burning (6), Justice is Dead (7), Dangerous Revelations (1), Dangerous Choices (2), Dangerous Misery (3), Dangerous Retaliation (4), Sinner Repent (1), Sinner Realized (2), Sinner Reborn (3), Oracle Rising (1), Illegal Fantasies (Anthology 1), Romance Under Arrest (Anthology 2), and Holiday Reinforcements (Anthology 3)
Please feel free to visit Morgan at her website: www.morgankelley.com, email her [email protected], or visit her blog at www.morgankelley.blogspot.com.
Be ready to work for it, Elizabeth Blackhawk. It’s time to up your game…
prologue
New Orleans
The French Quarter
Nightfall
He was so damn tired.
If he didn’t get his fix soon, he wouldn’t be able to fight off the sickness that threatened to consume him. His addiction was the only thing that kept him alive, and he knew it.
The doctors didn’t have a clue.
The internet searches had been useless.
The only things that had any value to him were the books in the library. When he went there, to do his research, he managed to find something that would save his life.
Before locating them, he hung precariously between life and death.
Nothing was helping, and he was out of options.
Truth be told, his faith in humanity was gone, and it was now every man for himself. As he slipped further and further into the sickness, he was on his own. He had to fight for his life.
What choice did he have?
None.
Sadly, all of his options had run out.
He wasn’t happy that this was his only means of survival. Fate had backed him into a corner, and he wasn’t about to give up. With all the research he’d found, and the deeper he dug, it became evident that this was the only thing that would prolong his existence.
Some might think it was vile.
Some might even call him a monster.
Yet, he was neither of those things. He was simply a man struggling to survive in a city that wanted to eat him alive. It was fight or give up, and he wasn’t about to do that.
Life was looking up.
He loved his new home.
He fit in perfectly.
This was where he was meant to be.
It led him to this cure.
Every so many nights, he’d come out and find his way to his next victim. There was pity and sorrow that it had come to this, but it came down to survival of the fittest.
He’d learned a long time ago that he had to take care of himself. If he didn’t watch his own back, who would?
The answer was simple.
It was nobody.
At first, when he’d become so very desperate, he’d stolen the bodies from the local morgue. One became two, two became four, and then his world came to a screeching halt.
He saw the reports on the news, and he knew that plan wasn’t going to work any longer. The missing bodies, taken from the morgue, had thrown attention to his misdoings.
That wouldn’t end well for him if he was caught. Going to jail would be a death sentence, and he wasn’t willing to spend time locked up. Then he’d be subjected to doctors, needles, and the bullshit that sucked the life from him.
No, he needed a new plan.
A better one.
It had to be one where he could be the captain of his own destiny.
For now, he had to do whatever it took to keep the sickness at bay. Once it struck, rearing its ugly head, he was on the edge of life and death. All he wanted was to live.
Was tha
t so much to ask?
Wasn’t that fair?
You only had one life, and his was slipping through his fingers like sand through the hourglass.
The end was coming, and he was scared. There was no one to turn to at this point. It was his life, and he needed to own it.
He didn’t trust the quacks who did nothing more than tossed him a bottle of pills and said good luck. There had to be more out there than just dying.
He had to have a chance.
Well, there was, and he’d stumbled upon it.
He’d found that when he took the victims, unlike with the pills, he could prolong the pain and his life. It gave him something that no medicine ever did.
Sadly, he knew the truth.
It was the only way.
Now, he was a creature of the night, much like lore. It wasn’t lost on him that he was in the right city for the sickness. New Orleans was the home to Voodoo, witches, and all things dark and scary.
He was at home.
These were his people, and he would survive among them, one way or another.
Now, as he wandered through the streets, he had to find someone to feed his hunger, to quench his sickness, and to abate the monster taking residence in his body. If he failed, he’d pay tomorrow.
He’d be at death’s door.
The pain and suffering would be almost unbearable, and he didn’t want to experience that again.
Walking through the throngs of people, he sought out the one person who would make him healthy. That was the most important part. He’d learned that by taking the dead from the morgue.
They were past helpful.
When he tried to use them, it was a waste of time. They ended up being a lesson learned. His remedy had to have a beating heart. That was the only way.
The dead were a worthless option—especially now that the local cops were aware something was going on. The last thing he needed were New Orleans detectives on his trail.
Luckily for him, he placed the bodies where they wouldn’t be easily found.
When he took tonight’s medicine, he’d do the same to her too. She deserved more than to be dumped in the street like garbage.
He still had the utmost respect for their lives.
They were a means to an end, but he still felt bad about what he was forced to do.
He wasn’t a monster.
He really wasn’t.
He was simply a man at the end of his choices, and when faced with death, he was willing to do the…distasteful.
Survival of the fittest.
Wasn’t that the basic law of man?
What we had in life had to be fought for and that included each and every breath. God knew he was trying to stay alive with the best of them. He only wanted one more day of life, one not filled with so much pain.
It was all he thought about, day in and out.
As the sickness ravaged his body, all he wanted was another sunrise and sunset.
So, he had to kill to get it.
The victims from the morgue he’d simply stolen, but the last woman—the first one he plucked off the street—well, she was amazing. After harvesting what he needed, he felt a million times better.
Freshness did matter.
The second he had her, he was awash with health and vitality. The symptoms abated for a couple of days. They disappeared.
It was a miracle.
It was his sign.
That’s why he was out looking for his next victim. Last week, he’d felt better than he’d ever felt since figuring out what was eating away at him from the inside.
He’d found his cure.
The books in the library had been right. Even though the information was from decades ago, and maybe a little outdated for today’s medical professionals, it had been right. Screw modern science and their skewed tests.
This was the miracle he needed.
So, when he woke that day and he was under the weather again, he knew it was time. He’d prolonged it for as long as he could.
He had to find someone else.
This time, he was going to take someone different. Maybe ethnicity mattered.
Maybe the color of skin meant different health benefits.
What did he have to lose?
He would simply pick a woman, take her somewhere quiet, and go from there.
Then he would figure it out.
As he walked through the French Quarter, late in the night, he saw her in her heels and a slick leather skirt.
Her skin was a dark mocha, and he was immediately intrigued by all of the possibilities. The last woman was full on Caucasian, and he didn’t get the remedy he craved. The medicinal qualities from her only lasted three days. Hopefully, his little theory would net him more wellness than pain.
It was decided.
He was going to go with someone a little more…ethnic.
Following her through the darkened streets, he finally found her standing outside the large gates of the cemetery.
How ironic.
That’s where he placed the other bodies when he’d finished with them.
This must be a sign that he was meant to pick her for the antidote for all his ills.
He was fine with that.
As she began whistling a happy tune, he made his move.
It was now or never.
Looking around, he scouted out the area. She was in the shadows, and he was good with that. He could do what he had to now that they were alone.
Perfect.
“Hey, sugar,” she purred, leaning against the wall. “What are you looking for?”
“I’m in search of someone to take home with me tonight.”
She grinned, her white teeth lighting up the darkness of her skin. She was pretty—in a used up kind of way.
“I could be that girl for the right price.”
She liked the way he looked. He was clean cut, decent looking, and safe. She preferred the feeling she got from the rich men who wouldn’t hurt her. Street level buyers were always a risk. He was well dressed, and that did matter.
He could afford her price, and he likely wouldn’t want to tangle with the cops if he tried to screw her out of her fee.
Perfect.
Call her crazy, but some men were insane, and she didn’t want to push her luck.
“You might be right. I think you would be ideal for what I need tonight.”
She liked how he was right to the point. “I’m not cheap.”
He shrugged. “I didn’t think you would be. I’m fine with whatever price you throw down.”
She made up a high number, hoping he’d bite.
“We both know you just inflated your price. How about you give me the real number, or I’ll walk away?”
Her feet were killing her, and she didn’t want to waste any time. She had a pimp to pay, and she would rather call it an easy night. Two blow jobs after this guy, and she could be done and home in bed.
She gave him a better deal.
“Sold.”
Before it went any further, she had to ask. “Are you a cop? Lift your shirt and prove you’re not wearing a wire. My idea of fun isn’t to spend the night in the slammer.”
He laughed. If that was what it would take to lure her away, he’d play the game. Lifting his shirt, he showed her his bare chest. “Happy? Do I pass the test? The last hooker I picked up didn’t make me do the song and dance.”
It was true.
Now she was dead.
“Let me pat you down. I want to make sure you don’t have any weapons.”
He laughed even more. He knew what was in his pocket. He only hoped she didn’t find it, or the whole thing was up.
She patted him down like a pro.
“Maybe I should ask you if you’re a cop. That was one hell of a thorough search. Maybe you should buy me breakfast.”
She laughed. “You’re funny. I like that in a client. We could make this a more permanent thing.”
He felt bad for her.
&nbs
p; She was about to expire.
“Well, are you a cop?” he asked again nervously.
She found that outrageous. “Yeah, I am. I’ve always wanted to be some dick in cheap shoes.”
She patted his back pockets, lifted his shirt in the back, and touched his ankles looking for a gun. “You’re clean.”
“I could have told you that, but thank you for the feel up. It was nice foreplay.”
She grinned. “That one was on the house.”
It was time to lure her in and do the deal.
He took the money out of his pocket and pulled off four bills. When he handed her the cash, he smiled. “I hope you don’t mind a walk back to my place. I didn’t drive.”
Shit!
Her feet were killing her.
“It’s only ten blocks. I’m right outside ‘The Quarter’.”
Yeah, that didn’t make her happy at all. That was a hike, and in those shoes, her feet would be bleeding.
“Well…”
“Unless you have a place that we can head to. I’m okay with dining alfresco.” He crossed his fingers and said a little prayer.
“What does that mean?” she asked.
“It means eating outside…never mind. Where do you want to go?” he asked, trying not to laugh.
She looked around until her eyes focused on the most logical option—the cemetery.
“We could go in here and get it done. I’ve never done it in one before. It might be hot.”
Blood Shall Run (An FBI Romance Thriller Book 15) Page 1