by Zoey Marcel
He froze. Siegfried had called him little one whenever they were alone together. Kale had never called him that. It was always pup or Brighton. The parallel freaked him out. Both men were dominant and controlling, had tamed his free rebel spirit. What happened to Brighton McAlister?
Kale might not believe in the curse. Or he could be lying, like Siegfried.
Brighton made himself stay there and refrained from pulling away like he wanted to. Kale was different. He had to be, because if he wasn’t, Brighton couldn’t handle it.
“You’re right. There’s no town curse. I can leave town whenever I want to.”
“No.”
He stilled. Silent panic sent him into an unseen frenzy.
“I want you by my side at all times, so I can fuck you.” Kale laid him down on the couch and climbed on top of him.
Brighton returned his sweet, shallow kisses, trying to control his breathing. “But sometimes I can leave.”
“Never.” Kale’s fond smile didn’t match the threatening word.
Brighton swallowed when Kale put his mouth on him. He tongued him slowly, deeply and nestled his groin against his own. Both were getting hard, but Brighton was torn between surrender and freedom.
He broke the kiss suddenly, trying to act natural. “But if I wanted to leave I could, right?”
Kale’s face dimmed with sadness. He thumbed Brighton’s cheek. “Why would you want to?”
“Oh, I don’t. It was just a hypothetical thing.”
“Good. I’ll never let you go.”
Kale’s mouth consumed his, swallowing his startled whimpers. Words that normally thrilled him now scared the hell out of him.
“What time is it?”
“Time to fuck.”
He really wanted to, but with Kale lying on top of him, vowing never to let him go, keeping him trapped here in town, he was starting to lose it a little.
“I’m supposed to have dinner with Danielle.”
“You mean you made plans that didn’t include me?” Kale teased.
He’s taking over my life!
He wasn’t, but right now anything would have freaked him out.
“Sorry, Kale. You know she needs me, too.”
“I understand. How much time do you have before you have to leave?”
“I really should go now. I don’t want to keep her waiting.”
Kale pecked his lips before getting off of him. “Have fun with her.”
“Thanks.” Brighton got up and put his hoodie on. “Is it okay if I go?”
He still couldn’t believe that he had to ask his man for permission to leave town. How degrading. It was kind of hot and he had a feeling he would only feel arousal over the control Kale had over him if not for his past experiences with Siegfried.
Kale gave him a funny look. “You just said you were leaving.”
“I know, but I wanted to make sure you were okay with that. I’m not trying to be rude or anything.”
He approached him. “Of course you can leave. You’re not my prisoner.”
Not anymore.
Brighton’s lips extended to meet his when Kale brushed a kiss on him there.
“Think of me tonight, little one.”
He shivered. Why the hell had he started calling him that? Maybe he’d heard someone calling their partner that in town or at the club. It was a sweet, adoring pet name, but Siegfried had tainted it for him.
“I will.” Brighton touched his cheek, drinking in every detail of him. “I love you.”
“And I love you.”
They shared one last kiss before Brighton left. He trudged out of McKenna Downs, numb and somewhat cold from the chilly March breeze. He figured he’d go to a friend’s party to forget his inner struggle.
He’d only been given permission to leave for the night, but there was a strong part of him that was tempted to never go back.
* * * *
Cole pushed past some people and approached the corpse outside.
“It was him again,” a female officer informed him. “This time he killed a young woman.”
“Who was she?” he asked.
“Mandy Briggs. She was twenty-five.”
Brighton’s age.
“He just left her identification alone like he always does.”
The dead woman’s name sounded familiar. He wasn’t sure why.
The female officer handed a wallet to him. “There’s money in it and her cards are still there. It doesn’t look like he robbed her or anything.”
Cole studied the picture on the driver’s license. His mind had a “God, I know this” moment before it finally came to him.
Greg Friel walked up to him just then. “Did you know her?”
“She went to school with Brighton. I remember he said he dated her for a while. He sent me a picture of her while I was living abroad.”
“That’s too bad. She was so young.”
“This isn’t the first person he’s known who has died.”
“I know you thought the serial killer was pinching off bisexuals after raping them and offering the gays and straights as sacrifices to some deity, but he raped that one straight girl, so—”
“With a condom. He didn’t use one with the bisexuals. Don’t you find that strange?”
Greg shrugged. “Well, yeah, but there’s no pattern. I think it’s all just random.”
“It’s not random,” Cole said. “This is all too precise. There’s a pattern somewhere even if it’s not based on sexual orientation.”
“I think this one was raped, too,” a female examiner said. “Let’s get her out of here before the reporters show up. My team will be able to examine her better in private.”
Cole stood there thinking. He didn’t know what Mandy’s sexual preferences had been, but if he had to guess, he’d suppose that she’d been straight. All of Brighton’s ex-girlfriends had been, to his knowledge.
Something occurred to him and he immediately pulled out the list of victims’ names. Three men had been killed, two of them sacrificed. They’d all been heterosexual. The third male victim, Nate, hadn’t been sacrificed as an offering, though he’d been killed in the same manner as the bisexual female victims had, except he hadn’t been molested in any way. Cole didn’t want to rule out the possibility that Nate’s death had been the work of someone copying the real serial killer, or perhaps a mate of the serial killer had killed Nate for him as a favor.
Cole read back over the other names. The majority of the victims had been female. Most of them were straight and had been offered as a sacrifice. The bisexual women hadn’t been sacrificed, but they’d been raped. A couple of them had traces of bark or dirt inside them, like the serial killer had masturbated and then used a stick or a rock to transfer his semen into them to make it appear as though he’d raped them when he actually hadn’t. Why?
He looked back over the names of the heterosexual women. Some of them hadn’t been raped, but a handful had. The killer had worn a condom with them. Why?
If the murderer truly had penetrated the bisexual victims without a condom, he wouldn’t have used one on the straight women.
He hadn’t used the bisexuals. He only wanted people to think that he had. Why?
He’d used a condom to try to hide the fact that he’d raped some of those heterosexual women. Why?
Cole isolated the names on the list down to the heterosexual females who actually had been raped. Some of those names looked familiar.
He quickly pulled out his mobile phone and dialed home.
Greg appeared concerned. “What’s wrong?”
“I’ll tell you in a minute. Hello, Father. I need the name of that maid you fired.”
“You mean Anna?” his father asked.
“Is that the one Brighton seduced?”
“Yes.” He sounded annoyed. “Last I heard she was living in Miami. Why do you need her phone number?”
“It’s urgent. Give it to me.”
“Patience is a virtue.”
After giving it to him, Cole hung up and called it.
An older woman answered the phone. “Hello?”
“Hello. I’m sorry to disturb you, but it’s important that I speak with Anna.”
“You mean Anna Blake?”
“Yes.”
“She’s been dead for two years.”
“I’m sorry. How did it happen?”
“It was all very mysterious. They found her body dead in an alley. I’ve never understood it because she went to bed that night. I heard the doorbell late that night, but she said she would answer it. When she did, she greeted someone and it sounded like they knew each other.”
“Do you recall his name?”
“No. I’m sorry. I remember he had a really nice British accent. I went back to bed while they talked. The next morning she was gone. They think whoever killed her raped her, but the person wore a condom. I don’t know. I guess he likes to be careful.”
Cole knew. “Thank you, ma’am. You’ve been most helpful. I’m sorry for your loss.”
“Thank you, sir. You have a good day.”
“You do the same.” He hung up. “I know who the killer is.”
Greg blinked at this. “Just like that, huh?”
“It’s Siegfried.”
“Your former butler?”
“Yes. One of the maids who used to work for us was raped and murdered in Miami.”
“I’m sorry, but what does that have to do with any of this? The serial killer has been pinching off people who are from South Dakota.”
“He also killed someone from St. Paul a while back.”
“How do you know it was him?”
“Alicia Cross. She used to date Brighton in high school.” Cole showed him the list of names. “Don’t you see what he’s doing? He wants us to think he’s abiding by that cult, but it’s all a ruse to cover up what he’s actually doing.”
“What’s that?”
“He’s killing off everyone Brighton has ever been sexually involved with. He uses a condom with those victims because he doesn’t want anyone to know that he raped them as that would destroy his cover.”
“What about the bis he raped?”
“He didn’t. He masturbated and then used a stick or rock to get the semen into them to make us think he was raping them. He’s not interested in sexual orientation. He’s obsessed with Brighton. He’s raping Brighton’s exes out of some twisted means of feeling whatever Brighton felt when he bedded them and then Siegfried murders them out of jealousy. He wants to be the only living person who’s slept with Brighton.”
“Whoa. Hey, guys. Stuff’s being said.” Greg waved them over.
Dominic just looked at him in annoyance and finished his conversation with someone before coming over.
“What about when Nate was killed?” Greg asked. “Siegfried was locked up at the time.”
“It was either someone copying him or doing him a favor to make it look as though the killer was still out there.” Cole pulled his phone back out.
“How do you know everyone your little brother dated if you were living out of the country for most of it?” Greg asked.
Cole’s lips twitched as he dialed. “When Brighton’s excited about something he makes certain the whole world is aware of it.”
“Who are you calling?”
“Kale and Danielle are in danger. I have to warn them. Brighton is in even graver danger.”
“Siegfried’s gonna kill him?” Greg asked.
“No. He’s going to kidnap him.”
Chapter Ten
Brighton left the party that night in the dark. He’d heard it said that walking home alone when it was pitch-black out wasn’t smart, but he was Brighton McAlister, damn it, second only to Superman.
He thought he heard a noise, but that could have been the wind rustling through the grass. He didn’t see anyone when he looked over his shoulder, just a car parked by the side of the road. No one was in it, though. The hood on his sweatshirt acted like blinders, which obstructed his peripheral vision.
He kept walking. The sound of swift footfalls came from somewhere behind him. Spinning, he saw a man running toward him. Before Brighton could flee or react the male grabbed him and covered his mouth. He squealed into his hand, struggling in vain to free himself from the tight hold.
The man yanked his hood down. Moist heat ghosted over his skin.
“I told you I would always find you, little one,” a dark voice murmured into his ear.
Brighton’s eyes got huge. It was Siegfried.
“I’m going to hurt you, Brighton,” Siegfried said softly against his ear.
Brighton struggled harder, but the hold only tightened. He couldn’t move.
“You had me arrested. You’re such a bad boy.”
His squeal was muffled by the hand over his mouth.
“You know what I do to you when you’re a bad boy.” Siegfried groped him through his pants, stealing a scream from him. “You’ll love your new home. It’s private and erotic, someplace no one will ever find us. It makes me so hard to know that no one will hear you scream or see your tears. And you will scream for me, Brighton, in pain and pleasure. You’ll cry in fear and then weep with ecstasy.”
Brighton tried to bite his hand. Terror shot through him when Siegfried half carried, half dragged him toward the parked car.
“There’s no use struggling, Brighton. We both know how weak and helpless you are. Honestly, I’ve known women who were stronger than you.”
That pissed him off. When Siegfried used one hand to lift the hood Brighton wriggled one arm free and took a swing at him. Siegfried caught his hand, seeming far too collected for someone who’d just blocked a fist.
“That was uncalled for, Brighton.”
Brighton cried out when the fist plowing into his gut knocked the wind from him. God, that hurt. He nearly fell over, wheezing. Siegfried shoved him forward so his head was in the trunk and then locked him in handcuffs.
“Help,” Brighton choked out.
The word came out quiet and strangled. It was the most horrible sound he’d ever heard.
Siegfried crammed a cloth into his mouth and immediately stuffed him into the trunk, overcoming his struggles. The hood slammed shut and everything went black.
He heard the car door open and then shut. The floor vibrated when the engine started. The smooth ride frightened him. Siegfried was taking him away. Would he kill him after he was done with him? Or keep him alive and never let him go?
He couldn’t decide which was worse.
* * * *
Cole was getting more frustrated by the hour. No one had seen Brighton since he left Kale’s house, allegedly to spend time with Danielle, but that wasn’t where Brighton had gone. His phone was either turned off or on silent.
David sat at his desk, repeatedly trying to hack into Siegfried’s mobile phone. It had been left behind when the butler was arrested. They’d kept it, but paid it no heed. Now it was of immense importance.
“Damn it. I’ve tried everything,” David griped. “I tried Brighton’s name, cities in England, dates that might have significance, you name it.”
“Keep trying,” Cole said calmly.
“Oh yeah, that’s helpful. You’re supposed to be the smart one.”
“I figured out who the killer was. It’s your turn to be helpful. Did you try the names of his victims?”
“Yeah. Nothing.” David shook his head, staring down at the phone in exasperation. “It could just be some random letters and numbers. Or something personal that means something to him, but we’d never know.”
Cole thought for a moment. He recalled the pet name Siegfried had referred to Brighton by in the letter he’d forged, pretending to be Kale. “Kale, what pet names do you call Brighton by?”
“I call him Pup,” Kale replied.
Cole stared out the window into the rainy darkness. “Little one.”
“What?” David asked.
“It’s litt
le one.”
His brother typed that into the phone. “Got it!”
Cole kept gazing out the window. “Any significant texts or numbers stored?”
“Hang on.” David checked. “No. It looks like he deletes calls and texts for the most part. There are three numbers in here. One’s for a pizza place. One is our bank. I’ll try the other one.”
Cole glanced over his shoulder at him.
“I got the answering machine.” David hung up. “It’s a bed and breakfast.”
“Where?”
“I’ll check.” David clicked away on the keyboard. “It’s actually here in South Dakota. That’s weird. It’s not too far from here.”
“Maybe he spent the night there with a date,” Kale said.
“Siegfried didn’t go on dates,” David told him. “He took a couple of vacations while he worked for us, but they were always out of state. A few times he went overseas. Why would he stay in a bed and breakfast a few towns over?”
“How do you know he didn’t date anyone?” Cole asked.
David shrugged. “I never saw him go anywhere or ask for the night off to go on a date. He only ever took a handful of vacations during his time here and it was more about time off or visiting friends across the pond. He never mentioned a woman or a man.”
“Give me the address of the bed and breakfast,” Cole said. “I’ll drive over there.”
“I think they’re not answering because it’s closed right now. Do you have a pen and paper?” David asked.
“I don’t need it. Just give me the address. I’ll memorize it.”
“Show off.”
* * * *
Brighton couldn’t stop trembling. Siegfried had taken him to a bed and breakfast and locked him in the basement. No one was here—no guests or staff. He didn’t understand.
His stomach roiled when he heard footsteps. The door opened and a light came on. His guts flopped when he saw Siegfried.
“Hello, little one.” Siegfried came down the steps. “Are you warm enough down here?”
It was so strange to have a psychopath asking about his comfort while keeping him chained and gagged in a dark basement.