Sick Twisted Minds (Cruel Black Hearts Book 3)

by Candace Wondrak

  “Did I hear you talking outside?” Stella asked, finishing up her second earring and running her hands down the sides of her dress. The only bit left of her outfit was the shoes. God, she’d look fucking amazing in heels, I knew, and I hoped she’d gotten a pair. Or took one from Callie’s room. She wasn’t the kind of woman who owned heels of her own.

  This…this was an amazing departure from her usual leggings and messy bun.

  But back to the matter at hand. Perry.

  I couldn’t tell her the truth, couldn’t tell her that Perry had just been outside, talking to me. Had he been following me? I had no idea. I was so wrapped up in being her date, I was losing my edge. My careful tendencies. Stella was good for my soul but bad for my future well-being, clearly.

  So, I did the only thing I could think of to do—I lied. “No,” I said. “I wasn’t talking.”

  Her expression fell, and I hated that she’d now wonder if it was her mind playing tricks on her. Another hallucination trying to push its way to the forefront. “Oh,” Stella whispered, looking crestfallen.

  I hated that I caused it, so I went to her, wrapped my arms around her, pulled her into my chest. “You look beautiful,” I said, moving to cup both of her cheeks. Before she could say anything else, I brought my mouth to hers, kissing her, wanting to sweep her off her feet and take her into the bedroom. Tear off the dress and make sweet, passionate love to her. Tell her that she wasn’t crazy, that she hadn’t made up me talking to myself.

  I wanted to make her believe everything was okay, because it was. For now.

  But it wouldn’t stay this way for long. We wouldn’t be that lucky.

  When I pulled my lips off hers, she whispered, “Thank you, even if it’s not true. I can’t believe my mother is making me wear this to the rehearsal…” She trailed off, studying me. “You look handsome yourself, boss.” She smiled, and God, that smile was still something I was getting used to.

  Not that I was complaining, because I most definitely wasn’t. Her smiles had been impossible to see before, because she never showed any emotion. Now she was alive, now she was whole.

  And I just put her in danger by disposing of John in such a stupid way.

  What the fuck was wrong with me? Why didn’t I spend more time thinking about it? Why didn’t I take a vacation and dump him a few states away? I should have done something else. Should have buried him. Should have burned his body in a bonfire and crushed his bones into dust. Anything else would have been better than leaving his body in a fucking field. What was I thinking?

  I wasn’t. I had been too high on Stella. Too fixated on the call I’d gotten that Edward and Lincoln had canceled their date night with her.

  What in the serious hell was wrong with me?

  “I think, just for tonight, you can call me Killian. At least when we’re in front of your family,” I said, leading us to the door.

  She laughed. “I need shoes, first.” She disappeared down the hall, but she was back a few seconds later wearing shoes that matched the dress perfectly. The same color orange and everything. Her mother or her sister must have ordered them, too. “I cannot believe I have to wear this shit to the rehearsal,” she said again, visibly hating on the dress. “What if I spill something on it?”

  We left the house and headed to my car. I said, “There’d be enough time to get it cleaned, I think.” As we got in, I added, “Wait. Does this mean there’s going to be food there? I’m not missing dinner for this?”

  Stella closed her door, glancing at me as she buckled her seatbelt. “I hope so. I don’t know. I didn’t ask. I was just told that I had to be there, and had to tell my mom who my date was so she could print out the place card.” Her mismatched eyes were lively. “Just wait until you meet her. You’ll love her.”

  I backed the car up and got us on the road, handing her my phone. “Put in the address so we know where we’re going.” As her fingers typed it out, I said, “I researched your family a bit the other day. They all seem…like lovely people.”

  “That is the worst lie,” she said, setting the phone in the middle of the dash so I could see where I was driving to. “They’re horrible. I hate them. All of them. My dad’s not bad, but we don’t really talk much. I was born the black sheep of the family. As soon as they had Bree, it was like they forgot all about me.”

  I knew how true that could be, especially considering how different Stella seemed to be from the rest of her family. At least, judging from their online personas. With one hand on the wheel, I reached toward her, grabbing the hand nearest to me. I squeezed gently, and I hoped she knew that I was here for her. I would never leave her, never abandon her and make her feel like nothing. I might’ve said some regrettable things when I was drunk, might’ve done some not-so-nice things at the last Christmas party, but I was staying away from the bottle. As Irish as my blood was, I cared about Stella more.

  And since I was here, going to this thing, I would make sure no one else made her feel like shit, either. And if they wanted to, they’d have to go through me. Going through me was tougher than it looked.

  “Just remember,” I said, “I’m here. I’m not going to let anyone talk down to you.”

  Her small fingers squeezed back. “You’re going to have your work cut out for you, then. My family is ridiculously good at making me feel like shit about every aspect of my life. I’m sure they’ll make comments about you, too. My mom knows you’re my boss, so there will be words about that.”

  I gave her a smile. “I’ll handle it. I’ll handle everything. All you have to do is stand and look pretty. Sit and look pretty. Just look pretty, okay? That shouldn’t be too hard, considering you look amazing.”

  “All of these compliments, I might start to get a big ego, like you.”

  I laughed. “My ego is not big.”

  Stella gave me an exaggeratingly dramatic look. “Your ego is bigger than Lincoln’s and Edward’s, I think.”

  “Bullshit!” I couldn’t believe she was saying all this, but it was amusing. Still, it did make me wonder if my ego was, in fact, larger than I thought it was. I mean, I knew I was good at what I did—usually, and John notwithstanding—but didn’t that mean my ego wasn’t huge? That it was well-deserved?

  “It’s not bullshit. It’s true. I’m surprised I can fit in this car with you, considering how huge your ego is.” Stella paused, letting her good-natured jeer sink in. “But it’s okay, because I love you.”

  “And I love you, even if you insult my wounded ego,” I said, bringing the hand I held to my lips and kissing it gently.

  We continued to laugh and talk during the car ride, and I did my best not to think about John, about his body, if his rotting corpse was the reason Perry had been called away. Maybe it was something else. Maybe it was nothing. Maybe all of this was in my head. Maybe we’d be fine after all.

  I knew better than to hope for something so far out of reach. This was the beginning of the end for us all, and I had a feeling it would be a spectacularly bloody end.

  Chapter Eighteen - Edward

  Stella was off on her date with Killian, leaving me and Lincoln alone in the house. To think, it wasn’t so long ago when we would bring women home with us each and every night, parading them in and out, sharing them, making their sexual fantasies come true. Most of them survived the night with us, a few of them didn’t; the ones we were certain weren’t watched or needed. The ones who hadn’t gone out with friends that night. All those women I would gladly give up now, more than gladly kill if it meant I got to hold onto Stella forever. I would trade away all my memories of everyone else if I got to keep her. She was the only one that mattered to me now.

  Her, and Lincoln.

  Lincoln, who currently sat hunched on the couch, wearing clothes, oddly enough—because he usually strolled around this house naked every chance he got—talking on the phone to the one person he never wanted to speak to again.

  Markus. His brother.

  I knew Markus well enoug
h. I was a teenager when I was introduced to the family, but those were some of my best and simultaneously worst memories. The family had taught me how to kill and get away with it, how to choose victims that society wouldn’t miss. They also let me kill and get paid for it, although I was always a tad messier than Lincoln was—and Lincoln was a brute, so that said something.

  Markus was just…he was an asshole. A rude, conniving dick who you couldn’t trust further than you could throw him.

  “All right,” Lincoln said, hanging up his phone before looking at me.

  I was in the kitchen, chopping carrots, but when his dark eyes met mine, I stopped. “And?”

  “Saturday morning they’re sending a driver to pick me up. It sounds like it’s going to be a long one.” He ran a hand through his black hair, and I could see the anxiety in his expression. It was not a normal look for him, and I wished I could make it all better. Take his anxiety away. We were like brothers, born in blood and mayhem, chaos and destruction. We were family, as twisted as we were.

  “But you’ll come back,” I said, trying to make him see the bright side.

  “Yeah, but it isn’t like I can take a leave of absence from the precinct. I have to quit, Ed. My family is making me quit. I won’t have anything to come back to at this rate.”

  “No, you’ll still have me. And Stella.”

  “That’s only if she doesn’t decide to leave and run off with that ginger freak.”

  I chuckled. Lincoln always found a way to add digs at Killian to any conversation, and it was amusing, but at the same time, he had to know Stella wasn’t going anywhere. She needed all of us just like we needed her. She wouldn’t choose Killian over us; I had faith in her. We would all figure something out, and even if it took years, Lincoln would get over his jealousy of the serial killer.

  “I won’t let her run off with Killian,” I said, trying to make him feel better. I set down the knife and went to his side, sitting beside him. We weren’t ones for displays of affection towards each other, but now felt like the time to be comforting. I couldn’t let him go off on a job for who knew how long and have him think, all the while, that Stella won’t be here when he got back.

  “But what if she decides she likes him more than us?” Lincoln asked, turning his dark eyes on me. “She’s taking him to the fucking wedding. I mean, that’s got to mean something, right?” He was grasping at nothing but air, but he was a stubborn fool, so I had to squelch this here and now.

  “Maybe he cleans up better than we do? Or maybe she’s just trying to make up for lost time,” I offered. “She’s been with us longer than she has with him, and it sounds like they only recently got physical—”

  Lincoln frowned, his scowl deepening. The typical Lincoln expression. “Why the fuck would you say that? I don’t want to think of them doing…any of that. Fuck.” He stood up. “We should crash the wedding. I should take her with me when I go.”

  Okay, now the man wasn’t making any sense.

  I got to my feet, watching him start to pace the living room. In all of the years I’d known him, not once had I ever seen him act quite like this. It was…startlingly human, being worried like this. “You will not take Stella on your job. She has a life here. I’ll be here. I’ll watch over her while you’re gone. Everything will be fine, I promise.”

  “You can’t promise that. No one can, not while she’s dating the fucking Angel Maker. The feds are still over there, and as long as they’re there, she’s not safe. Not really. Until the Angel Maker thing is put to rest, Stella’s at risk. She’d probably be safer if she came with me.”

  That…that might be true, I realized in horror. But I wasn’t about to admit to Lincoln he might be right. Even if she was safer out of town, Killian would never let her leave. And then I’d really be alone.

  I didn’t want to be alone, as selfish as it was.

  “You can’t take her with you. She wouldn’t want to go,” I finally spoke. “She’d want to see this through. You know it.”

  Lincoln let out a harsh sigh, his eyes closing as he nodded once. “I know. I’m just worried, Ed. I’m worried.”

  “I know you are, and I wish I could help you, but the only thing I can tell you is, the sooner you get the job done, the faster you can come home.” I knew the words meant hardly anything to him, hardly made a dent in the worry clouding his mind, but they were all I could think of to say.

  “Tomorrow night, Stella is all mine,” Lincoln said, his eyelids lifting, a stern, no-nonsense expression filling his features.

  That was something I could agree to, though of course I would watch it all. It was only fair, considering he’d be gone for an indefinite amount of time. Stella could be his and his alone for a single night, if only to tide him over until he returned.

  Everything would be fine.

  If I kept repeating it to him, to myself, perhaps we’ll both start to believe it.

  Chapter Nineteen - Stella

  The rehearsal dinner was at the same place the actual wedding would be. A great reception hall in the city, with valet parking and the works. My parents were saving no expense with Bree’s wedding, and I didn’t know why it mattered to me, but it upset me knowing they’d do nothing of the sort if I were to ever get married.

  I couldn’t get married to my three killers at once, not legally at least, but you get the point.

  It was in the hall of some fancy hotel, and when Killian and I walked into the reception area, I spotted a few of my cousins hanging around. People I hadn’t seen in years walked all around me. It was a strange sense of familiarity, even if we were in an extravagant setting and everyone was in nice clothes, clothes they normally wouldn’t be caught dead in.

  “So,” Killian said, “where do we go?”

  I shrugged. My mother didn’t tell me that part. Ridiculous, considering how important it was.

  While we glanced all around, looking for a sign or something to tell us where we were supposed to shuffle in, I heard a voice I hadn’t heard in a very long time. A cocky, annoying voice that instantly grated on my nerves and made me grip Killian’s hand harder.

  “Well, well, well. If it isn’t Freaky Stella.”

  Freaky Stella. An uninspiring nickname I hadn’t heard since high school, when kids were rude and cruel. Good to know Brendan had grown up to be just as rude and cruel as he was back then.

  And my sister was marrying the douche.

  Ugh.

  “Freaky Stella?” Killian echoed, his expression hardening as his eyes darted to the man approaching us. “Freaky Stella?” he said again, and I felt him starting to pull away from me, as if he was going to beat Brendan up, but I couldn’t let him attack the groom, so I kept my hold on his hand firm.

  “Did she not tell you? That was her nickname back in school. One of many, actually—and there were a lot,” Brendan chuckled, offering Killian his hand. Brendan was actually a few years older than me, so he was nearing thirty. I had no idea how he and my sister got together, and I didn’t care. Once a douche always a douche. “Brendan, soon-to-be brother-in-law.” He gave Killian a smile that I was certain worked wonders on everyone else.

  But not my Angel Maker.

  Killian did not try to shake his hand. He just glared at him. “I think it’s rather rude to bring that up now, don’t you think?” I wondered if Killian was debating on killing him just for slighting me. It wouldn’t be the first time. He’d done Sandy for me.

  “Oh, come on,” Brendan spoke, glancing at me. “I’m about to become family. Besides, she loves the nickname, don’t you?”

  I forced out a smile, which shut him up. Someone called out for him, and he glanced over his shoulder, saying, “Got to go. Duty calls. If you want to head down that hall—” He pointed to the back of the reception area. “—you’ll find the ballroom on the left. Once you find the table, I’m sure your mom will come find you.” And then he sauntered off, slapping the back of whoever had called out his name once he reached them, a smile on his face, o
blivious to my sudden frown.

  Killian and I watched him go, and once we were alone, Killian muttered, “He seems like an asshole. And he’s marrying your sister? Can’t wait to meet her.”

  We started walking, me clinging to him in hopes that I’d hold him back, and him to me for much the same reason. We were two monsters, walking into a hall of normal people. People who hated me because I was so different. Little did they know how different I truly was. I was a killer. I killed my best friend—which I regretted terribly—and I’d killed a hooker, which I didn’t feel so bad about.

  Clearly, even when I was on my meds, I still wasn’t quite normal.

  “Wait until you meet my mom,” I said as we turned into the hall Brendan had directed us to. “I’m sure she’s where—” My words stopped when we ran smackdab into the one woman I was talking about.

  My wonderful, loving, adoring mother.

  “What about me?” Margaret spoke, cocking her head. Her tall body wore a dark blue dress. Only her toes peeked out under it, clad in sparkly heels. Her hair was down, curled in gentle, soft waves. For once, her makeup didn’t look overly done. She kind of looked like a movie star, which made me hate her even more. I inherited none of her grace. Not her height, not her blonde hair, nothing.

  “Oh, I’m sure she was just about to say you’re where all the fun is happening,” Killian said, catching my misstep. What I had been about to say was where a lot of my issues come from, but I guess he was close enough.

  Margaret forced a smile. “Right. I’m sure. And you are?” Unlike Brendan, who was an ass through and through, my mother didn’t even offer her hand. She only glared at him, as if I’d brought a stranger without telling her. She knew his name. She just wanted to be the one in charge of the conversation.