Caleb and Cooper had cleaned me up as best they could, tending to the broken skin on my cheek and dressing my tattoo before they slipped me into my bed still swathed in the familiar bergamot and leather scent of Caleb, as his t-shirt clung to my body when I woke up this morning. There was no lingering after-effects of whatever Caleb injected me with, and for the first time in a long time, I feel well-rested. I tug the collar up to my nose, burying my face in the fabric and sighing as the coffee machine chugs to let me know it’s ready.
A girl without a fascination for two brooding unhinged psychopaths that tie her up, drug her, and tattoo her without her permission, would look at those flowers on the windowsill and long for a boyfriend that is as sweet and kind as Mateo Trent. I only know that because two days ago I was that girl. Wishing I was someone else, someone who was easy to love.
‘That certainly ain’t you now, babe.’The brutal honesty of the retort makes me chuckle aloud. I wilt and blush as my friends glance my way like I’ve lost the plot entirely.
I hope they never find out how dark and depraved my thoughts truly run.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
CALEB
Huddled around the shitty fold-out dining table in our trailer, we prop the phone up as Ezra’s video call connects. “We’re searching a wide net, boys; the Horseman isn’t your regular run of the mill psychopath. He’s been able to go undetected for this long, so either he has help, or he has Einstein-level IQ and a PHD in criminology.” Ezra looks the picture of fatherhood as he bottle-feeds his little with one hand, the other typing furiously on his keyboard.
“Anyone fit that bill?” I press, not wanting to rush him but eager to get this moving. The longer we sit around throwing random possibilities out into the air is more time we’re away from Ebony.
“That Bobby kid was my best bet. Mummy and Daddy have paid a pretty penny for junior Bundy to get the best out of his time at Hells Haven. If this guy hasn’t killed anyone, he’s sure on that path.”
“Found that dickbag, decimated that path, he won’t be an issue anymore.”
“Jose came through then? Nice to know Jax has good taste in the team he’s rallying.” We knew Ezra was branching out and starting a new business, but by the looks of things, he’s venturing into a whole new area of business since breaking the chains of Blackwood Asylum. He was the best kind of crazy, so I couldn’t be happier for the guy. You could never tell by my expression, but I’m smiling on the inside.
“He did. Promptly and professionally—haven’t heard anything in the papers about a dickless body resurfacing, so our friend Bobby has got to be animal kibble by now,” my brother adds, his very present smile on show for the world to see just how happy he is with that news.
“Okay. So one pervert down—who is next on your list?” I grumble at the fact that we don’t exactly have a list, it’s more so the names of the guys that have interacted with Ebony. Sadly, none of them scream serial killer to me, and my unhinged arse is usually a good spot for likeminded people. Although, if I catch Mateo fucking Trent making eyes at our girl again like he did this morning, I might be convinced to start planting evidence. I may not be above the law, but I’ll damn well try to make a mockery of it any chance I get.
“The Dean seems unlikely, but I can’t see how the murders are still occurring right under his nose without his knowledge.” Coop had been resistant to the idea of leaving Ebony to go and babysit a few of the other possible candidates, but I was sick of hitting dead ends, and if we wantedto keep bringing in enough money to fund everything, one of us needed to be working.
“It’s more likely Dean Rollins is distracted. One of the new guys got receipts and security footage from a local hotel; give me a second.” We hear him tapping at his keyboard out of shot as he hands the baby over to Cara, and then a gruff laugh sounds through the speaker before he sits back into frame. He turns his laptop to face us. “This eighteen-year-old rent boy doesn’t look anything like his forty-eight-year-old devout Christian wife. He certainly couldn’t pull off the name Edna in those Lycra booty shorts. Unless we find his trophy cabinet displayed with the heads of the victims, I don’t think he’s our guy.”
“Fuck—another dead end.” I kick the bin beside my foot, and rubbish goes flying across the floor.
“I’ll keep searching. With the morgue being investigated, we’re having trouble getting the records we need, but the security has to lighten eventually. It’s only a matter of time.”
“Send us over the stakeout pictures of Rollins and his boytoy when you can; you never know when a good old-fashioned blackmailing is needed to grease some wheels.”
“On their way to you now. How’s everything with your mystery woman?”
“Complicated,” both Cooper and I say in unison as we share a heated glance. We haven’t seen Ebony in the flesh for a week now; I’ve even tried to stay away from the camera footage,triedbeing the significant word there. It’s almost impossible to scrub her face from my mind, and Cooper might not tell me, but I know he’s been sneaking out to patrol outside her window at night. I don’t want toadmit she’s gotten under my skin because then all this pent-up rage I’ve been lugging around will be for nothing. We murdered a man to keep her safe. Two men if you count Bobby. Everything we did—it was for her.
“You have eyes on your Dove?” Ezra’s question takes me by surprise.
“We won’t let her get far enough to lose us, not after the last time,” I say absentmindedly.
The mix of anger and guilt that flashes across my brother’s face at the mention of the night he had her in his arms and then let her go, leaving her unattended and at the mercy of that prick Bobby, it’s haunting him. It wasn’t Cooper’s fault, but I know he blames himself; it’s another facet of why his feelings towards her are shifting like they are. I bet the ‘best head of his life’as he called it also sticks in his mind. My cock twitches at the mental image, and I groan inwardly as I shuffle a little closer to the table in my chair.
It takes me a second to realise Ezra has continued talking. I catch the last of it and let Cooper say the goodbyes for the both of us.
“I’ll let you know if I find anything else. Keep your heads in the game. Whoever this guy is, he’s smart.”
Cara waves from behind him with a big smile on her face before Ezra locks off the call, and Cooper and I sit there in silence, mulling over the fact that we are no further forward in discovering who the Horseman is than we were this morning. Seeing for ourselves how much damage she could endure in such a small space of time without our protection, we’ve decided to hold off on our bid for revenge—for now. I want her tortured and beggingat my feet for my forgiveness, but I certainly don’t want her dead.
Although that might not be my call to make, since she’s become a fucking liability to herself. I know she’s been trying to coax us out of the woodwork with her little stunts, hoping that we’re in the wings watching, and it will draw us to her if we think she’s in danger. Our Dove forgets how well we know her, and truthfully speaking, she isn’t far off the mark. I’ve had to collar my brother more than once, the need to protect her outweighing any sense of comradery he might feel to my plan of hanging back. A plan that appears to crumble a little more each day. It’s hard not to see the young girl I thought I’d spend my forever with every time I look into those violet-flecked stormy grey eyes of hers, even at a distance and through a camera lens. Her full lips, her shapely hips, her… I shake away all thoughts of Ebony because it’s likely I’ll end up in the shower with my cock in my hand with that fucking feed from her room playing on repeat in the background as I get myself off, again. Jacking off is likely the least progressive thing I can be doing with myself right now. This girl has me all twisted in knots, and I hate how much I know she would love that.
Maybe we should let her know we’re still watching.
“So I’m clearing this up, am I?” Coop complains as he picks up the bin I kicked over and begins gathering up the rubbish, mumbling under his breath about me not doing my fair share.
“I think I know a way to get our Dove to come to us.” If I had a handlebar moustache, I’d be twirling it villainously right about now. I may not be a big talker, I maystruggle to express my feelings, I may leave the toilet seat up on occassion, but when an idea hits…I’m ready for action.
