by JL Mac
The Beast of Boston
J.L. Mac
J.L. Mac Books
The Beast of Boston
By J.L. Mac
Copyright 2020
All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the expressed written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, events and incidents are either the products of the authors’ imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
Created with Vellum
For all the roses that are too beautiful to not love, thorns and all.
Cover design:
Robin Harper, Wicked By Design
http://www.wickedbydesigncovers.com/
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Contents
Also by J.L. Mac
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Chapter 46
Chapter 47
Chapter 48
Chapter 49
Chapter 50
Chapter 51
Chapter 52
Acknowledgments
Also by J.L. Mac
Vital Sign
Wrecked Series
Wreck Me (Book #1)
Restore Me (Book #2)
Accept Me (Book #3)
Reach Me (Book #4)
Seven Years of Bad Luck
Oculus Series
Oculus (co-written with LG Pace III)
Social Series
Social Neighbor
Prologue
Ena
He ordered me to his office, no doubt to send me on more wild goose chases, delivering dirty money to adoring widows and dropping off laundry and picking up his cigars from the guy with one hand who provides Beast his Cuban cigars. He sends me on all these stupid missions when all I can think of is telling him the truth and asking for help while kissing his lips and touching his skin. He’s an awful human being and I am an even more abysmal human being for longing for him like I do. I drag my heels down the hall to his office, already loathing whatever he has planned for me and wondering when and if I will get the nerve to do what needs to be done for Lan.
It’s risky and going to get you killed for Lan, who you aren’t even sure is still alive. That’s why you haven’t done it.
Foolish.
Coward.
Pathetic.
I mentally stomp on my inner musings, shove away my three words for the day and focus on my gopher work. I decide that while annoying and depreciating, Beast’s stupid tasks keep me busy.
I round the corner into Beast’s office and instantaneously things shift into slow motion. Like a car accident, you see things unfolding seemingly frame by frame but you’re completely helpless to change the path you’re set on. His scarred hand darts out and I’m gripped by my throat then helplessly pinned to the wall in one fluid movement. The door slams beside me, making pictures on the walls jolt.
“Wanna tell me what a rookie cop and the daughter of a pig is doing in my fucking club, Abigail Tally?” Beast is inches from my face and he’s seething. His hazel eyes are wild and I struggle in his grip, clawing my own neck as I try to peel his fingers back. His hold is unrelenting. I grip his wrists, pulling myself up, hoping it will decrease how suffocated I feel. Blood rushes to my head making my vision blur and my brain fog. “Answer me!” He bellows so loud my ears ring and I flinch.
Fuck, I’m going to pass out.
I gasp, fighting for minuscule sips of oxygen. Carrick’s thigh roughly forces mine apart and his knee flies up to my center, successfully lifting me an inch. I slap at his hands on my throat indicating to him that I can’t fucking speak under his crushing hold.
“I don’t know what you’re…” My voice sounds hoarse and I’m even dizzier thanks to the sudden influx of oxygen. “… talking about,” I force out.
“Bullshit!” he spits as he withdraws his knee and returns full force stranglehold on my throat. Tears threaten and I let them slide uninhibited knowing that they were falling anyway thanks to him squeezing the life right out of me.
I think for a moment as I stare into his feral eyes. I could just confess now. If I do, I may be as good as dead. Or I may be able to convince him to spare me. I try sorting out my thoughts but they jumble into a ball of madness bathed in adrenaline in my brain. My heart is slamming so hard in my chest that I think I’ll suffer a heart attack. Not that that matters much seeing as how he’s already poised to kill me right here and now in his office.
Alana.
The part of me that thinks Alana is already sold or dead—the same part I’ve been ignoring since she went missing—withers, and waves the white flag and I let her. He can just kill me and maybe I’ll be with Alana again in no time. My hands fall to my sides and I compel my body to relax. I concede to this beast before me and do nothing further except stare into stormy, hazel eyes and pray it doesn’t take long.
And thank god it isn’t long at all. The look of torment in his eyes tangles with his fury and distantly I wonder if he will regret killing me. I don’t have to think about it long. My vision goes white, my hearing dims to silence and I feel… nothing.
I’m sorry Alana. I’m so sorry.
Chapter One
Ena
Before…
My precocious little sister waltzes into the kitchen with mischief glinting in her blue eyes with a bounce in her step—both are hallmarks of dubious plans on the horizon. I’m sure she is up to no good, particularly given that she’s never bubbly at this hour of the morning on a Saturday. She’s eighteen and perpetually shifting between mood swings and naps like it’s her job. I squint my eyes and watch as she pours herself orange juice before she plops down in the chair across from me, discarding her bag as she goes. I glance to mom and see that she’s watching Lan speculatively too.
“Good morning Lan,” Mom and I say in near unison and it sounds like an echo of one voice. Though we look nothing alike, we definitely sound the same. It’s an attribute I have always secretly relished, a link to make me feel as though I truly belong here. Still, impersonating mom on the phone when the need arises is an unfortunate skill. Unfortunate because throughout high school Lan has been all too eager to employ my help excusing her absences when the attendance clerk at her high school
called the house. I’m well versed in all things related to my trouble-making little sister.
“Good morning,” Lan says, smiling against the rim of her glass.
“There are fresh pancakes on the stovetop if you want some,” Mom offers.
“No thanks. I already ate a chocolate chip scone at the shop.”
“Oh? I thought you didn’t have to work today.” Mom rolls her wrist, checking the time on her watch.
“I don’t. I only went in to pickup my first check.” Lan pulls an envelope from her bag on the floor beside her chair and waves it in the air over her head proudly.
“Very nice,” Mom says smiling, pride crinkling the edges of her eyes.
“Thanks.” Lan fights to suppress a grin as she looks me squarely in the eye. “And it’s perfect timing since I found a new hobby for Ena and me. Now I can go pay the fee and sign us up. First class is today.” She announces this with all the confidence she can gather but it’s not enough to put me at ease. She’s a devious little shit when she wants to be. I narrow my eyes at her over the rim of my coffee cup and make a humming noise in the back of my throat.
“Oh?” Mom chirps as she slices away at her pancakes. Lan fishes a hot pink flier from her bag and slides it across the worn tabletop to the center where we can all see the advertisement. The silhouette of a curvy woman clinging to a pole is smack in the middle of the paper with the typed information surrounding the gaudy image.
“Passion Cardio and Core?” I snort loudly and shake my head as I shove the offending ad back across the table. “Not a chance.”
“Stripper class?” Mom gasps, scandalized. Her eyes widen and she promptly drops her fork causing it to clatter loudly against the plate. I laugh fully at the sight, and I would be lying if I said it doesn’t feel nice. Laughter in this house has been sparse since Dad died.
“It’s a cardio class!” Lan whines with her eyes bouncing back and forth between me and Mom. “Engages core muscles, promotes healthy circulation and flexibility while providing an upbeat, fun atmosphere for students,” she reads the ad verbatim.
“Students!” I snort-laugh again. Mom begins giggling too and Lan looks between us, fighting her own laughter.
“What? Is this not perfect? You said it had to be something fitness related since you’re applying to the academy.” I must admit I give her an A for effort but there’s no way in hell I’ll be spinning around a brass pole. Ever.
“Alana Perryman, when I made you girls promise to begin spending quality time together trying out something new I was picturing… pottery not… poles!”
I stifle my laughter long enough to make a counter offer. “How about kickboxing?”
“Sounds riveting,” she deadpans. “Yoga?” she volleys.
“You can’t keep your trap shut long enough for yoga. We’d get booted out in ten minutes for disrupting someone’s upward dog, crouching cat, or whatever that crap is called.”
“True,” she hums.
“How about the biking thing—what’s it called?” Mom furrows her brows.
“Spinning,” I provide, and we both wrinkle our noses at that idea.
“Oh, c’mon, Ena,” Lan pleads in that way that has always worked so well for her. I look from her pouty mouth and wide doe eyes to mom who is just smirking and shaking her head.
“Well it can’t hurt to at least check it out once right?” I watch in disbelief as my mom shrugs her shoulders.
“Seriously, Mom?” I gasp in shock.
“What? You’re grown women now. You’re going to be a busy police officer in no time and you too will be graduating college and working on your own career before you know it,” she explains motioning first to me then to Lan. “Now is the time to enjoy yourselves a little and really bond as adult women who happen to be sisters. I want you two to be there for each other. You are all you have when I am gone.” Just like that a torrent of ice water pours down on us chasing away the lightness that we had been enjoying just a moment ago.
“Damn, Mom,” I murmur rubbing at the sudden tension at the back of my neck. Lan whispers something similar and looks down solemnly.
“Sorry. I don’t mean to be a party pooper but it’s true. Anyway. Go. Signup. I’ve never known you to shy away from a challenge Ena Devlin,” she says with smirk and a raised brow.
“Fine,” I relent and how could I not, after her speech reminding me that Lan and Mom are all I have in this world.
“Yes!” Lan squeals and wiggles around in her seat clearly pleased with this outcome.
“You’re paying for it though.” I point a finger at her and she raises her hands in surrender while nodding hurriedly. I can’t possibly think of a bigger waste of time and cash. Spinning around a pole while twisting my body up like a pretzel is a skillset lost on me since A. I plan to be a police officer just like my dad was and, B. I don’t even have a boyfriend to wow with whatever I learn in Passion Cardio and Core class. I’ll never have use for knowing how to move my body like an exotic dancer but we are about to pay good money—Lan’s good money—to learn how. What a waste.
Chapter Two
Ena
One year later…
Missing.
Money gets loaned out and never gets returned to you. Receipts drift away on a breeze. Wallets get misplaced. Keys end up in the bottom of a fruit bowl. Favorite earrings vanish after that one party that ended with too many drinks. Everything is capable of going missing—everything except people that is. People are either taken or they leave of their own volition.
Missing.
I hate the word. If I could swallow it up and make it vanish forever I would. I would chew its sharp edges and swallow its coldness. I would gag on its ominous implications. I would choke down its cruelty and abruptness. I would die doing it I think.
I was wrong. About the dancing that is. As it turned out the classes were definitely an effective workout, there were no pulsing lights and disco balls or sleazy vibes. It wasn’t nearly as unbearable as I had assumed it would be. We were both quite good at it and ended up enjoying our three times per week classes at the gym—a fact Lan was all too happy to shove in my face every chance she got. I hadn’t known a thing about Lan’s intentions back then and I am still not certain if the dance classes were a hobby that just happened to turn into a money-making opportunity or if all of it was intentional training she happened to drag me into. It’s irrelevant at this point. No matter how it all came about, the end result was the same. I now know that Lan was definitely up to more than just luring me to stupid dance classes. She was practicing, getting better, refining her skills with intentions of using them.
Never in my wildest dreams did I think I would end up doing the very same thing, only for different reasons.
As it turns out for me, disappearing from my day-to-day life is a hefty undertaking and a meticulous process.
I toss my bags on the single bed and stand there taking in the place. The rental isn’t terrible. It’s not home by any means, but it’s home for now. It killed me to pack my things and kiss my mom goodbye knowing that it could very well be the last time I’d see her. That risk is very real and extremely heavy on my mind.
I take a look around at the small duplex. There isn’t much to the place and it feels smaller and emptier somehow since the adjacent duplex is vacant. I imagine it’s less than five hundred square feet total. The utilities are included and the one bedroom, one bath home is furnished, albeit modestly, and the water runs hot. That’s all I need. I unzip my suitcase and start dragging things out and putting them in their temporary places. I’ve got a couple more stops to make including my appointment at the hair salon to alter my appearance further. I get most of my unpacking done in a hurry and change my clothes for the gym as I silently thank the universe that I took to pole-dancing like a natural. I don’t think I can stand another Passion Cardio and Core class if my life depended on it but today is the last class I paid for in advance, and I am damn sure going to get my money’s worth. Practice mak
es perfect and if I have any hope of succeeding in what I have planned, one more class won’t hurt.
Hack, a computer genius I met in college is the most fortuitous friendship I have ever entered into. Still, Hack’s apartment smells like Hot Pockets, scorched coffee, and Monster energy drinks all mixed together. Supremely disgusting. I love the fact that the peculiar computer whiz doesn’t like people in his private space about as much as I don’t like people in mine. It means I won’t have to endure the stench very long. Hack is a cool nerd to chat with, but a recluse and it’s probably for the best. He’s a lightweight criminal in circle of other lightweight criminals for those that are willing to pay for certain below board services such as computer hacking and the like. He hands my battery pack and laptop over and smiles awkwardly causing his wide thin lips to turn up at the edges, making me think of those goofy looking mustaches that curl upward only at the ends.