Killian held me close, hands possessively holding onto my sides. He did not dare pull away yet, unless he wanted the world around us to view his hard-on. But then, I suppose it would put his theory to the truest test it could—if people were truly so oblivious in a crowd, they wouldn’t notice his erection.
What he said next I wasn’t expecting. I wanted him to comment about how he couldn’t wait to get me home, how I’d invite him in and we’d have a long night, finally discovering each other’s bodies—and maybe he meant it like this, but with the glint in his eyes, I knew his mind was somewhere far off.
With Edward and Lincoln perhaps? Did he worry about them and their reaction to us? I should be flattered, I guess, he cared enough to worry. But at the same time, I didn’t want to lose the magic of the moment, as stupid and cliché as it was. I wanted more, and I wanted it now, like a petulant child.
“We should get going,” Killian said eventually, sighing to himself. “It’ll take some time getting out of the city, and I don’t want you to be late again tomorrow for work.”
“Late?” I echoed. “Again? I wasn’t late today.”
“Not today, but you have been sometimes, after the nights you spend over there.” Though he tried hard not to, I detected the jealousy in his voice.
Ugh. Men.
If he didn’t want to be jealous, why the hell was he ending this now? Or was this his not-so-smooth way of getting us back to my house sooner? I couldn’t tell. It would’ve helped if I had more experience in this department, but I didn’t. Before Edward and Lincoln—and now Killian—I was experience-free.
The heat in my belly faded as I asked, “Jealous?”
Killian pulled away from me, still having a slight problem in his pants, saying, “Only a little. But I’m a big boy. I’ll handle it.”
As he took my hand and led me through the crowded streets, I couldn’t help but wonder if his handling it meant he’d go and kill again. He’d been quiet on the Angel Maker front since the FBI had come to town, but I knew the monster inside knew no limits, no boundaries. It would want blood whenever it decided it wanted blood. Sometimes the urge was too strong to fight.
We had to hail a taxi to get out of the city. He’d parked his car just outside it. As he paid the cabbie, I got inside the passenger’s seat, fiddling with my hands on my lap. I suppose I could invite him inside, once we got to the house. Would he deny me? I wasn’t certain if I could handle that.
Being denied wasn’t fun, I knew. I’d been denied my whole life. My family, most of my friends, and now Callie. It sucked shit, and it wasn’t something I would wish upon anyone. I might’ve been murderous on occasion, but I wasn’t outright vengeful.
Killian got inside the car in a moment, driving away without a word. The scenery started to fly by, and I let my mind wander, unable to break the silence. I wasn’t sure how much time had passed before he asked me, “Are you all right?”
“I’m fine.” The most stereotypical, cliched thing I could’ve said. But I was fine, wasn’t I? I wasn’t mad. I wasn’t upset. I was…I was just me. I was here.
“Are you…sure?” There was a long pause between the second and third word, as if Killian was truly afraid to ask. Which was ridiculous, because I wasn’t the serial killer in the car. “Did I do something to upset you?”
“No,” I said, turning my head to look at him. At his profile. It was handsomer than I thought it was. Or maybe it was all in my head. Maybe a man had to be a killer in order for me to find him physically attractive. My heart constricted, and I wanted…I wanted something. I wanted more.
I wanted Killian.
“If this is about what happened earlier,” he referenced the kiss, “I only stopped because I couldn’t let myself lose it in front of all of those people.” His green eyes darted to me for only a moment before returning to the road. “You make me want to lose myself, Stella. I’ve never felt anything like it before.”
Sweet words. Almost too sweet. I had to take a moment to let them sink in fully.
I made Killian want to lose himself. They had another meaning, coming from my Angel Maker than they would’ve if it was someone else who’d said them. If he lost himself, what would happen? Would he go on a murdering spree? Would he slip up and make a mistake the FBI would catch? Or would he just take me like an animal? I’d be lying if I said the thought didn’t appeal to me. A feral Killian was something I’d like to see.
Because I liked stirring the pot, and partly because I wanted to know exactly what he had in store for me, whether it was tonight or another night in the future, I asked, “How do I make you want to lose it?”
“Just being around you is enough. I want to throw all caution to the wind and say fuck it.” Killian grinned. “Which, you know, would be a terrible thing to do, all things considered.”
Hmm. Maybe I should’ve been more specific with my question. Oh, well. His answer did make me feel better.
We pulled into my driveway, and as I undid the seatbelt, I met his eyes. Such a heavy, intense expression. Almost like a smolder. A real, live smolder. From Killian—and it made me feel like goo inside, go figure.
“Are you sure you don’t want to come in?”
Killian shook his head. “No, I should go. It’s getting late.” Ugh. Like we were two teenagers out past our curfew. “I’m sure Ed left you something though. Eat a piece of it for me. He’s spoiling you like crazy, but—” He undid his own seatbelt, reaching over to me, setting a hand on my leg. “—I do agree with him. You were too skinny before. He needs to keep fattening you up.”
I glared. “That is almost exactly what Edward and Lincoln have told me. You sure you guys didn’t get together when I wasn’t looking?” Having the guys get together, having them finally agreeing on something, even if it was just me and my weight—I’d consider that a win.
“Not yet,” Killian said, leaning in. This time, when he pressed his mouth on mine, it was a slow kiss. Still hungry and full of desire, but steady in its pull. I wanted to give into it, I wanted to throw my arms around his neck and stick my tongue so far down his throat he’d never be able to disentangle me. But I didn’t, because he’d made up his mind for tonight.
Soon, though.
Soon I would get him inside and know what it felt like to be loved by the Angel Maker.
We said our goodbyes, and I waited until he drove off before heading in. The minute I saw the cake sitting on the island I smiled. Edward had been here. Left me a yummy present. It was a wonder why Callie had never once tried a piece of the things he left me, but she was mad at me still. I hadn’t seen hide nor hair of her in a long time.
I got a fork from the utensils drawer and dug in without cutting a piece. Sugar. One of the best-tasting things. It was after a few bites that I suddenly remembered I wanted to talk to Killian about having a little get-together with all three of my killers.
Shit.
Well, it could wait until tomorrow. For now, this marble cake called my name.
Chapter Six - Lincoln
There was no word on the Killian front. Not that I wanted there to be any fucking word, because the absolute last thing I wanted to do was sit across from him while I ate and watch him moon over Stella. And it wasn’t about the whole sharing bit—Ed and I have shared things for forever—it was mostly because I just hated the prick.
He was the prickiest of pricks there ever was. The cockiest of bastards. I hated him. I hated him with every fiber of my being.
But…Stella didn’t. He was her bleeding Angel Maker, so Killian was special to her. I supposed that should mean he was special to me, in a way. Eh. I kind of just wanted to toss him over a cliff, but there were no cliffs around here. Now a river…a river might work. A river right after a storm, when the currents were rapid and rough, wild and untamed, where no swimmer could escape.
Fuck. I should really stop thinking about murder while I was at the station, getting my patrol route.
I shifted my weight on my chair, signing into my co
mputer. I had a small desk at the station, though I wasn’t here often. As soon as I humanly could, I always left. Checked my car and got on the road. I was supposed to pull over anyone I saw for traffic violations, namely speeding, but somehow I seemed to end up knee-deep in shit no matter what I did.
My uniform felt tight today, it's dark colors making me feel some kind of strange. Then again, it could’ve just been my mind, which I could not get off Killian to save my life. Goddamn it—I wasn’t the one who was obsessed with the guy, Stella was. I shouldn’t let that ginger get one second more in my head.
It was early enough in the morning that some of my coworkers were still eating. Donuts, of course. The chief always brought in donuts, as fucking ridiculous as it was. I never ate any, mostly because I was never hungry in the morning. Plus, one did not get a body like mine by stuffing it with sweets and fattening shit. Ed already made too decadent meals sometimes; I had to work them off too much as it was.
I thought back to what Ed had told me. It was time for us to help Stella see the truth. He wanted to do it during the dinner, when Killian was around. Something about Stella having all three of us there might make it easier for her. That, or we’d catch her when she fell. And I had no doubt she would fall—killing your friend and not realizing it were two things that I knew were traumatizing.
Would Stella even be herself after she found out the truth? Would she hate us for opening her eyes? Would she not want us in the same way? I hated the fact that I felt anxious about it. I was me—I didn’t feel anxious about anything. I didn’t care about anything other than Ed. At least, not before her. Now, she was another person I cared about. Someone I’d do anything for, even if that meant sharing her with that fucking serial killer.
I did not view myself as a serial killer, even if I sometimes needed, craved the kill more than I wanted to breathe. I thought of myself more as an opportunistic killer. What were the differences? It’s complicated.
If only I was a cop in Stella’s city, then I could’ve been working side-by-side with the FBI, could’ve investigated them while they looked into the Angel Maker. Into Killian. I could snoop and pry all while on the clock and getting paid. Truly, there was no better time to snoop. But I wasn’t, so I had no idea how close, if at all, the FBI was to Killian and by extension, to Stella.
What would I do if that agent who’d been sniffing around her—Perry, I thought she mentioned his name was—arrested her for some kind of accessory? Accessory, accomplice to murder. If Killian dragged her down with him, I swore to myself I would not let him get away. I wouldn’t let the FBI arrest him and drag him to federal prison, put him on death row or whatever it was they did to serial killers nowadays.
I would kill him myself. I would cut into his skin and make him scream bloody murder before I ended his life. If any of his actions ever put Stella into harm’s way, into suspicions way, I would not be a happy camper. I’d be pissed.
My blood pressure rose. I could feel the skin around my neck starting to grow hot as I thought about it. Not a good thing, considering I was surrounded by my coworkers. All the Jeffs and the Marys. Everyone who had decided they wanted to serve the state and lock up the bad guys. Me? I only did it because I had a knack for it. The truth was I didn’t need a job. I came from money. I came from some of the richest people in the world.
Maybe it was because I let my mind think of them, or maybe it was because of fate, but my cell rang, a vibration in my pocket coming along with the noise. I pulled it out without thinking, eyes dropping to see the caller. It was not Ed, nor was it Stella. In fact, it was the one person I never wanted to talk to again.
If my stomach could have fallen from my gut, I was sure it would have. Dread crept over me, crawling along my skin and raising the small hairs on the back of my neck. I pushed myself out of my chair and hurried to the breakroom, waiting until I was alone to answer it.
I didn’t even have the chance to say hello. Markus’s voice rang deep on the other line, a voice I knew all too well, even if I hadn’t heard it in a long time, “Lincoln. How are you, brother? I trust you’re well. You must be, considering I haven’t seen you in years.”
Years. Had it really been that long, or was he just being an exaggerating dick? It was hard to tell with my precious little brother.
“What do you want?” I skipped the pleasantries, as I was never a fan of them. I wanted him to get to the point of the message, and I wanted him to do it now. Talking to him for even a split-second was talking to him for too long. I might’ve owed my family a lot of things, but kindness was not one of them.
“I’m sure you know why I’m calling,” Markus paused, letting the words sink in.
“And I’m sure there’s someone there more up to whatever job you have.”
It was a moment before he replied, “I’m sure you’re right, but the fact remains that you have been receiving the better end of…whatever fucking deal you and the family made. You still use our contacts, but you contribute nothing to the family anymore. That has to change.”
I practically growled into the phone, well aware that I might have a coworker walk in on me at any moment. I had to keep it calm, keep it cool. Well, as calm and as cool as I could be, given the fact that I was talking to Markus, who sounded like he wanted me to go in for a job.
A fucking job.
I didn’t need the family in order to kill anymore. When I was growing up, sure, it was great. But now? Now I had my own system. I had Ed. I had Stella. I had things that I couldn’t just drop to go to them.
“Since you’ve been using our contacts, I think it’s only fair that you contribute to this family,” Markus went on. “Dad agrees. He’s giving you a week to think about it.”
Even though I knew the answer, even though it was stupid of me to ask, I still did it anyway. “And if I don’t do it?”
A pause as Markus contemplated my question. Or, rather, he probably wondered if I’d really gotten so dumb. We both knew what would happen. “I suggest, for your sake, for Ed’s sake, and for that pretty girl who you both seem to spend so much time with, you contemplate this seriously. You know the family doesn’t give second chances.” And then he hung up.
No second chances. We were not a family who dealt in second chances. We’d always been a primarily first-choice, gut instinct type of family. If you made a mistake, you would pay for it, usually with pain.
I stared at my phone screen, watching as it eventually dimmed and shut off, my mouth open slightly.
Frank, I didn’t really consider Frank a fucking contact, but I suppose he was, since he took the bodies off my hands. But the doctor? The fucking family doctor that I used once, that I called once, all for Stella, not that she knew anything about it.
Fuck.
I knew nothing came from them without a price; I just didn’t know what the price would be. How high it would be. I didn’t want to go back to them, to do whatever job they had lined up for me. Who knew how long it would take, if it would involve traveling to another country or going undercover for a few months. When my family was involved, killing became an art.
An art…or a sport.
If it was the latter, it would be a simple grab, but if it was the former…could I take that chance?
I didn’t have a choice. I’d have to tell Ed tonight. Sliding the phone back in my pocket, I exited the breakroom, my footsteps heavier than they were minutes ago. I was dragging. I didn’t want to do anything for the family. Right now, in fact, I didn’t want to do anything. I didn’t want to work, didn’t want to pretend to play normal.
The only thing I wanted to do right now was kill something. Someone. I didn’t care who.
But that was the number one rule. Do nothing out of passion. At least, nothing revolving around murder. To get away with it, it had to be carefully planned. I couldn’t just take a random person off the road without thinking who would see me.
Jessica, that college girl I’d taken home the night I tried fighting what I felt toward Stella
—she’d been an accident. A complete and utter accident, but luckily the whole town was rapt in the serial killer running rampant among them. Frank had taken care of her, along with her phone, and that was the last I’d heard of it.
Fine. Maybe Markus was right. I’d been using the family connections a bit too much recently. That would have to change. No more killing for a while. I could imagine it all I wanted, but the actual deed itself would have to wait.
As unfortunate as it was, I had other, more important business to attend to. Business that also involved murder.
Hmm. Maybe doing whatever job it was would sate my urge for a while.
Chapter Seven - Stella
When I woke up the next morning, I couldn’t believe a few things. One: I couldn’t believe Callie was still upset with me. And for what? I honestly couldn’t even remember what our little fight was about. Was she mad at me for being so obsessed with the Angel Maker? What the hell would she think of me if I told her I was dating him, for goodness sakes?
Two: I couldn’t believe I forgot to ask Killian about a dinner date with all three of them. I’d see him at work and make it a point to ask him there, since tonight was Edward and Lincoln’s night with me.
And last but not least, three: Killian. I couldn’t believe I wanted to be with him. I couldn’t believe it, mostly because we’d been seeing each other for the past two weeks now, and not once had I ever wanted to throw myself at him. Last night was an eye-opener, and the bastard didn’t even come inside my house. I’d made him hard on the streets, surrounded by people, with only a kiss, and it was like he refused to do anything more with me.
Maybe he liked to move slow. It could be his nature, considering what he was. But still. Selfish as I was for wanting it, I wanted what I wanted, and I could not get Killian off my mind as I got ready for work the next day. I was so wrapped up in disbelief and confusion over everything that I forgot to put on deodorant. Whoops.
Sick Twisted Minds (Cruel Black Hearts Book 3) Page 5