I got to work, picking up any stray clothes and starting a load of laundry first. They were all my clothes, oddly enough. Not even a lone sock of Callie’s. Made sense, I supposed, since I hadn’t seen her in a while. She was probably with her boyfriend, John.
Ugh. I still had no idea why she would ever date someone with the same name as her brother. I also couldn’t believe I never remembered her brother in the first place. The green-eyed man from the coffee shop—I’d seen him more than once. He’d always stared at me, watched me. I’d thought he was just looking at my mismatched eyes. Why didn’t I remember him? Why did my mind block him out for the longest time?
I had no answers to the questions I wondered, and I doubted I would ever get them. Always in the dark, even when the thing in question was me. Me and my own brain.
I ran the vacuum in the living room, down the hall, and in my bedroom. I refused to clean Callie’s room, even though it was super dusty and looked like it hadn’t been touched in months. Whenever she stopped acting like a child, maybe then I’d think about it. After I put away the vacuum, I went into the kitchen and opened the cupboard beneath the sink to grab the cleaner for the mirror and the windows in the house. I pulled out the blue bottle, stopping only when my eyes landed on a big white container labeled Clorox.
“What…” I set the glass cleaner on the counter before reaching for the Clorox. Bleach. I had a huge bottle of bleach in my house, and I had no idea where the hell I got it from. Or when, for that matter. I shook it.
It was almost empty.
What in the hell…
The hairs on the back of my neck stood up, and I turned, staring at the floor on the other side of the island. There was three feet of linoleum floor on the other side of the island before the carpet started. Still holding the bleach, I crept around the island, scanning the area.
It was small, but I saw it.
On the edge of the carpet, right where the linoleum started, there was a bit of brown. A small stain I never saw before. Weird, because it almost looked like dried blood.
Ridiculous. It couldn’t be blood. If it was blood, it meant someone had lost that blood here.
The blood stain, the bleach…Killian didn’t kill John here, did he? He never told me how he found him, only that he did. No. If he had done it here, I would’ve smelled the bleach. I would’ve noticed something was wrong.
Sighing to myself, I would try not to think about it. I returned the bleach container to its spot beneath the sink and continued my cleaning. Once the house was spick and span, the cleanest it had been in years, it felt like, I took a shower, cleaned every crevice of my body, because I had no idea where this night would take us. Having all three of my killers at once…I shivered in anticipation.
I was probably getting ahead of myself, but a girl could dream, right?
I dried my hair, the heat making it a bit more poufy than it normally was, but I thought it looked good. I switched the clothes from the washer to the dryer and got dressed. Black jeggings, a long, loose dark red shirt. I even applied a bit of makeup. I had to get a little practice in, lest I want my mother going at my face for the wedding. The last thing I needed was to look like a fucking barbie doll.
When I was done, I stood back and admired myself in the mirror. I looked…good. Since I’d been eating a bit more, my cheeks were fuller, rosier. My lips looked plumper and my eyes weren’t so sunken in. The bit of makeup I’d done had mostly been around my eyes, making their colors pop. My blue eye looked calm and collected, a cool contrast to my brown one. I looked normal. A normal woman, getting ready for a date and not a dinner with her three killers.
Then I waited.
Lincoln was the first to get here. He was out of his uniform, his black hair hanging slightly over his forehead, just as tall and intimidating as I remembered. I gave him a smile as I greeted him at the door, stopping myself from leaping into his arms and kissing him when I recalled the whole canceling thing that happened last night.
So instead, as he meandered his way inside, I merely watched him.
His wide frame lumbered to the couch, and I heard him sigh. “Stella,” Lincoln said, turning his head to look at me, his sapphire eyes sparkling. “I’m sorry about last night.” He gingerly patted the cushion beside him, and I was slow in moving to it.
“Can you tell me why you couldn’t see me last night?” I asked, careful to not sound too upset.
“My family is…well, you know they’re not normal. I come from money. From some of the wealthiest people in America. They get most of their money from their sponsors, sponsors who usually want someone taken out of the picture.”
I knew the gist of his family, and I wasn’t sure what they had to do with yesterday.
“I got a call from my brother. The family wants me to go in for a job,” Lincoln said, frowning to himself. “If I don’t…they won’t sit by. They’ll come for me, for Ed. For you.” He reached for me, pulling me onto his lap. Even with the weight I’d gained, I still felt like a child near him. His body was so wide and strong, his muscles so defined and thick. Everything about him screamed masculinity.
He was worried about me, I realized. He didn’t want his family coming after me, but he clearly didn’t want to go in for the job.
“I don’t want you to have to deal with them,” Lincoln said, resting his forehead against mine. I was basically straddling him on the couch, which I was fine with. “They’re…let’s just say I’m like this for a reason. They’re not the nicest people around. I hate that they know about you, hate that they know you and Ed are my weakness.”
I smiled. I rather liked being his weakness, even if it put me in danger. It was a far cry from where we began this journey.
“Then go in for the job,” I suggested, running a finger along his stubbled jawline. His jaw was square, his cheekbones pronounced. He was like a model and a wrestler rolled into one, the perfect specimen of the male gender. “Do what they want so they’ll leave us all alone.”
“You don’t understand,” Lincoln said. “The job might mean me going away for months. Maybe even a year. And they won’t give me any details until I’m there, agreeing to whatever shit they ask of me.”
Months without him? A year? I wasn’t sure if I could handle that. “Then…kill them?”
He smirked a smirk that used to not affect me. Now every little twitch of those lips had my insides doing somersaults and my heart speeding up. “It’s not that easy. My family’s pretty big. Plus, the one rule we all abide by: never harm someone in the family.”
“But they’d harm me? And Edward?”
“Edward is…not related by blood to me, so he’s not technically part of the family. They’d have no qualms going after him, and definitely no hesitation in coming after you.” Lincoln shut his eyes. “I don’t know what to do, Stella. I don’t want to leave you and Ed, not with that fucking ginger—”
As if on cue, Killian strode through the front door, just in time to hear Lincoln say the last few words. Wearing dress pants and a nice button-up shirt, he looked ready for a fancy meal, not dinner at my house. “Oh, don’t mind me. Go on. The name is Killian though, not that fucking ginger.”
Lincoln rolled me off him, getting to his feet as he glared at the red-headed man. “Why don’t you shut the fuck up, ginger?” His hands clenched into fists, and for a moment, I was anxious they were going to get into it. This was, as far as I knew, the first time they’d seen each other since that night we all agreed to go about this like four adults.
Three men who all wanted me, and me. Not children playing tug of war with a toy they all wanted to possess.
“Mature,” Killian said dryly, tossing me a helpless look as he stuffed his hands into his pockets. “Very mature. I see why you like him so much.”
Before this could escalate, I stepped between them, trying to figure out something to say to break the tension. Want to have a threesome? didn’t seem like the best thing to lead with, not with these two. “Do either of you want
anything to drink?” I asked, sounding very lame—a word I had never used to describe myself before. “I have…water.” I hadn’t gone food shopping in a while. “Tap water.”
Killian grinned, and Lincoln’s scowl lightened somewhat as both men looked at me. “That’d be great,” Killian spoke the exact same moment Lincoln said, “Water sounds fine.” Then they glared at each other again.
Oh, dear. This was going to be a long night, I had a feeling.
Once we all had glasses of water, fresh and cool from the tap, we sat on the couch together. I sat in the middle to further separate the two, not knowing what the two would get up to if they were left to their own devices. It was awkward, to say the least. Silence overtook us all, a heavy elephant in the room that none of us wanted to address. It was miserable.
Where the hell was Edward?
I reached for the remote on the coffee table, flicking the TV on across from us. “Anyone have any preferences?” I asked, knowing I’d get nothing in response. Okay, scratch that. I did get two replies, but they were both grunts, as if neither of them could afford to show the other something they liked. I settled for a rerun of a sitcom I’d seen quite a few times already, about a bunch of nerdy guys and their girlfriends.
What could I say? Since the news had died off about the Angel Maker, since I had my serial killer on the couch beside me, watching the news every night had fallen off my list of things to do. Kind of like my articles and my blog posts, in a way. All of my energy went to my guys; it was almost like I didn’t feel the need to spend time doing anything else.
It wasn’t long before Edward came, lugging cloth bags inside, full of whatever he was going to cook. “Don’t worry,” he said loudly, once he saw the three of us sitting on the couch, “I got the door. And the bags. I’m fine.” He set them all on the island, being totally dramatic about it.
I had to tell them that I was taking Killian to the wedding rehearsal, and thus the wedding by extension. I sort of felt bad now, since I defaulted to Killian when Edward and Lincoln canceled our date—because now I knew why. The why was pretty important in all of this.
Edward got straight to cooking, making some fancy dish I could hardly pronounce. Whatever it was, it smelled good. The whole house smelled like spices and meat, my favorite kind of smell. Odd, because I never smelled anything like it before.
Callie and I didn’t have a kitchen table, mostly because our kitchen didn’t have room, and our living room was full with a couch and a TV, so we had to eat squeezed on the couch together. Edward and Lincoln sat by each other, then me, then Killian on my other side. My two sides hardly spoke to one another, and this was so not how I wanted the night to go.
So I broke the silence.
“I’m taking Killian to my sister’s wedding,” I said with a mouthful, earning me stares from all three of my men. Flabbergasted ones from Edward and Lincoln, and a surprised one from Killian. The latter probably hadn’t expected me to come out and say it, but I wasn’t good with transitions. For a journalist and a blogger, I sucked.
“Bullshit,” Lincoln said, setting his plate down on the coffee table before us. “No, you’re not.”
“Well, seeing as how you might not even be in town when the wedding happens, I’m definitely not taking you,” I remarked, eyeing the well-muscled man up. Two could play at this game.
He looked to Edward for backup. “Ed—”
Edward shrugged once. “It is her decision, Lincoln. Not ours. If she wants to take Killian, she’ll take Killian.” His blue gaze landed on me, and I wordlessly thanked him for having my back with a small smile.
Grumbling, Lincoln muttered, “She can take fucking Killian, but I sure as hell ain’t going to like it.”
Edward reached for him, patting his arm. “We wouldn’t expect you to.” His words earned him a chuckle from Killian and an outright laugh from me. “You never like anything. Hell, you hated Stella at first.”
That, Killian had to address, “He hated her? How? She’s perfect.” After saying I was perfect, he shot me a smug grin, as if he’d gotten brownie points or something.
“You mean Stella never told you how Lincoln came here and tried to kill her?” Edward asked, causing Lincoln’s scowl to deepen.
Killian glared at Lincoln. “No, she didn’t. She kept that tidbit to herself.”
“I thought Stella was just a passing obsession of Ed’s,” Lincoln defended himself. “How was I supposed to know it was the real fucking deal? Don’t you look at me like that, ginger, or I’ll gouge out your fucking eyes and feed them to you.”
“I knew you guys were into some kinky shit, but forced cannibalism seems a little extreme,” Killian shot back, sounding both miffed and amused.
I laughed. I couldn’t help it. I laughed, gripping my stomach as muscles that had hardly seen the light of day in the past few years got a workout. These guys were ridiculous—and the best part about it all?
They were all mine.
Chapter Twelve - Lincoln
I really hated being in the same room as that sick fuck. Anyone who could look like him, act normal while hiding what a beast inside he truly was, you couldn’t trust. Not even a little. I wasn’t going to fall for his charm, nor was I going to sit there and pretend to be happy about all of this.
But, fuck, it was hard to be upset when Stella was laughing.
The sound was so soft, so gentle, and yet there was nothing fake about it. It was a harmonious sound, something that instantly put me at ease. I stared at her, unaware the other two men in the room were also staring. We were all rapt, enraptured in everything that was Stella. While I was a bit upset that Ed had brought up me trying to kill her, I couldn’t deny how foolish I’d been.
How stupid.
How dumb.
How fucking idiotic.
I could never have killed this woman. She was, just like Ed had always hoped, the part we were missing. The last piece to our puzzle. Stella was one of us, whether she was on her meds or not. Whatever happened tonight, I wouldn’t let her go. I would fight for her, do anything for her, even if it meant doing what Markus wanted and agreeing to the job.
Me, Ed, Killian—the three of us would do anything for her, including sucking up and being in the same room with each other. Killian, I supposed, wasn’t all bad. He wasn’t downright horrible to be around, not a wet fucking blanket. So there was that. If she wanted me to actually like the guy, Stella had another thing coming. I would try to be amiable, even though he’d tried to kill Ed, and that was it. That was all he deserved.
“You guys are ridiculous,” Stella said, wiping tears from the corners of her eyes. Tears from her laughter. I didn’t think any of us had ever seen her laugh so hard. Hell, I wasn’t sure any of us knew she had it in her.
Was this all because Ed had been slowly getting her back on her meds? Was this what Stella was really like, when everything inside her brain was balanced? And if that was the case…how would this Stella react to finding out she’d killed her best friend?
And this last one was a purely selfish one, but I still wondered it all the same: would a Stella on her meds still want to kill with us? Would she still take pleasure in inflicting pain and watching eyes dilate and mouths sag? There was only one way to find out.
She had to know the truth, and she had to see it tonight. That was the whole point of this dinner, wasn’t it? Sure, she wanted us all together, she wanted us to get along like brothers, but Ed had his own plans for tonight. Ed wanted to make her see, to drop the curtain and reveal the horror of the truth.
“I love you guys,” Stella said, and I felt the air thicken in the room.
I met Ed’s stare, and on the other side of the couch, Killian was busy watching her, a smile slowly growing on his face. Did she mean it? Did she really love us, all of us? Even that fucking ginger?
I should be happy, I guess. I should feel a warmth inside my chest or something as fucking cheesy. But I didn’t, because all I could think was we were about to break her he
art by telling her the truth of what she’d done. If anything, her hasty declaration made me feel sad.
Oh, fuck. I had it bad for this woman.
I…I think I loved her, too.
No, I definitely did. It was the only explanation for how terrible I felt about what we had to do tonight. I cared about her, I loved her, and I didn’t want to hurt her. Not like this. In the bedroom, sure, I was all about mixing pain and pleasure, but this was worlds different. This was…
It sucked.
“Stella,” Ed grabbed her hand, the one nearest him.
“You don’t have to say it back,” Stella said. “It’s okay. I…I just realized it, and I wanted you all to know. No pressure on you guys, okay?” She glanced at each of us.
“I love you, too,” Ed said, not missing a beat. He gave her a dimpled grin. “And I don’t think I’m the only one.”
Killian shook his head. “Of course not. I love you too, you know. More than life itself—”
I groaned. “We get it,” I hissed at him. When I met Stella’s eyes, those eyes that used to tear at my soul and make me look away, I couldn’t drop my stare. She was beautiful in every way, so I couldn’t say why it took me so long to whisper, “Make this your third declaration. I’m not as good with words as these two pricks are.”
Ed wasn’t surprised. “All you have to do is try, Lincoln.”
Leaning over Ed, Stella used her free hand to reach for me. “That’s okay,” she said. “I know he’s trying.”
Silence fell over us, the only noise in the room the television set, which was still playing the same sitcom it had been two hours ago when I got here. This channel must have this show playing on repeat constantly. Its volume was low, and no one paid much attention to it.
Ed started cleaning up the dishes. I knew he’d want to clean up the mess he’d made in the kitchen before doing whatever it was he planned to do. He filled me in on it, and from what it sounded like, he just wanted to nudge Stella in the right direction, see if she stumbled upon it herself. I wasn’t certain it would work, but we had to try. She couldn’t go on like this.
Sick Twisted Minds (Cruel Black Hearts Book 3) Page 9