“Look at me, Cherish,” he demanded. I pulled back, blinking my unfocused eyes, trying to take in his handsome face. “You’re mine,” he declared. “Ours,” he amended without hesitation. Then Dante emptied himself inside me with his teeth bared in a fierce snarl.
Chapter 26
Parker
After Dante droppedme off at my cabin, I dragged myself into the shower. I used the hot water to rinse off the sweat from our encounter, while at the same time, trying to untangle my confused thoughts. The more time I spent with them, the more wrapped up my feelings got. I was becoming tangled in a mess I had never intended.
It was supposed to be casual, a short-term arrangement that ended when I left. So why was my heart falling for each of them? All three men were breaking down my walls, not with subtle knocks. No, they were smashing against it with a sledgehammer. There weren’t just cracks. Gaping holes where I’d once carefully guarded my every thought and feeling were making me bleed inside.
After I climbed out of the shower, I toweled myself dry. I couldn’t keep letting the men in. No matter what, I had to build those walls back up and shield my heart. No good would come from falling in love. Not now. Maybe not ever.
Still wrapped in nothing but a towel, I sat on my temporary bed and pulled out my laptop with my notepad and pen beside me. I had work to do, a monster to find. Once that task was completed, I could get back to my real life. One that didn’t include three men or sex.
I glanced at the list of names I had compiled of missing men over four decades. Men who had been reported for domestic abuse, yet were never sent to jail. Men who had children with mysterious injuries, or reports from schools of odd behavior consistent with sexual abuse. My fists tightened. There were reports of infidelity and drunken fights with spouses. Too many family members had gone to the hospital.
One thing that they all had in common was that the law wasn’t able to convict them, so they walked free. Then, somehow, conveniently, they disappeared. Hunting trips, fishing trips, running away with mistresses, most of whom couldn’t be reached for a statement. But those who did corroborated the story.
None of those missing people had anything to do with the serial killer we were hunting. That led me to the conclusion that we had a second killer on our hands. One who thought he was doing good, perhaps, but still a killer. A vigilante rarely ended well. Eventually, they would start to kill indiscriminately. Innocent people would die because of the vigilante’s taste for the kill.
I looked at the timeline. Forty years was a long time for a person who did justice killing to stay sane without falling into the trap of bloodlust. Still, I shook my head. A killer was a killer. A question continued to stand out in my mind. What actually happened to all the bodies?
Using the search bar, I typed in the simple phraseserial killer Selene, Texas.Then sat back as the air left me. Casey Rivers was nearly killed by the Castle Killer almost 30 yearsago, right here in Selene. He’d tracked her down where he’d kidnapped her, ready to finish what he’d started after she’d escaped him the first time. Casey Rivers, who was now Casey Hardgrove-Mason. Gage’s mother.
It was a massive coincidence. I didn’t believe in coincidences. I told myself not to do it. I tried to stop my fingers from typing, but my curiosity was too much. I began to search deeper, into Gage’s family.
I wasn’tsure how much time had passed as I sat there, my fingers trembling on the keyboard. Slowly, pieces began to fit together like pieces of a giant, fucked up puzzle. Brent Mason had a sister who was sexually abused and took her own life after it became too much. Brent had nearly killed his father the day he caught him raping his sister.
Only a few years after that, disappearances started happening all over the county. Ethan, his partner, was a cop, someone with access to information. His aunt and uncle owned a ranch, one with pigs.
“We need to move the pigs tomorrow.”
“I’ll tell the guys to have the lime ready to clear the run.”
The conversationat dinner just a few nights ago. Lime was used on ranches all the time. It was hardly unusual for ranches, big or small, to buy lime. It would also not raise any suspicion when large quantities were purchased. It was a great means forcomposting organic material —like any human blood leftover in a pig run.
My hands shook as I suddenly remembered how enraged Gage had been when Ryu Nakamura, a police detective, told him about a man who had abused his wife and murdered his unborn child. A man who was now dead, seemingly caused by a freak accident.
I shook my head. “No.” But inside, a sinking feeling had already taken hold. I closed my eyes.
Gage, beautiful Gage. A man who’d held me tenderly, even though he always looked and acted so cold.
Ry, sweet, kind Ry, who had shown me nothing but acceptance and love.
Dante, troubled by his past, who proved himself to be loyal and had a deep, innate kindness in his soul.
I thought of the police Chief. He’d been furious about the serial killer. Was it because he was against killing, or was it because the man killed innocent women?
I glanced down at the list again. All men. All who had a violent tendency towards women and children.
“Oh my god,” I sobbed, my chest heaving with emotion. All my training taught me that serial killers were monsters who needed to be locked away. Vigilantes were desperate people who turned on innocents eventually, many of whom forced the law to kill them when they felt their mission was completed.
Forty years of killing. How long had Gage been involved? Did his dad start teaching him early? Was that why he was so cold? I didn’t believe he was a psychopath. He had emotions, though he held them close. He wasn’t manipulative—he let me make the decision to have a relationship with them. Gage had left it completely up to me. He wasn’t impulsive. No, he wasn’t a psychopath.
Perhaps he had psychopathic tendencies, though I wasn’t a psychologist who could make that determination. He also did not fall into the definition of a sociopath who had zero regard for the feelings of others. Gage may hold his feelings close, but he felt deeply for those he cared about.
I couldn’t fall for a murderer. A quiet voice in my head made my stomach tighten into a ball of unease as it whispered,you already have.
I climbed off the bed and got dressed. Slowly, mechanically, I pulled a T-shirt over my head, not bothering with a bra. Next, I tugged on a pair of jeans, all the while, my mind raced. I was supposed to find monsters and lock them away. People like the one who killed my sister without remorse. He had raped and tortured her repeatedly, then dumped her body, pretending to himself she was an angel. The Angel Killer. What a pathetic name.
