Ethan leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table. “Okay, but to get me up on a stage to sing, I need to be drunk.”
“Do you want to come?” Ashtyn asked me, ignoring her brother.
“I …” I hadn’t been out on the town, so to speak, in forever. I’d never sung karaoke either, but I did want to go. I wanted to have fun. But I also knew Ethan needed to be at his precinct at eight a.m. I looked over at Ethan next to me. “I would like to, but I know you need to get up early.”
“Just come,” Rhys pressed. “The latest we’ll be out is eleven—midnight, tops.”
“And the kids?” Ethan asked.
“We’ve offered to watch them while they go out tonight,” Shannon chimed in.
“I have to get the boys back by eight,” Ethan stated. It was seven.
“Drop them off and then meet us at the bar,” Ashtyn suggested. “You live right down the street.”
Ethan looked over at me again. I shrugged. “It could be fun.”
His gaze moved to Carter. “Don’t look at us,” Carter protested. “I’m on call, remember?”
“If I’m going, you’re going,” Ethan stated. “You can come sing and shit.”
“We’re in!” Rachel exclaimed, not waiting for her husband to answer.
“Then it’s settled. We’re all going,” Rhys declared.
I left with Ethan to drop the boys off. While he went to the door at Jessica’s, I waited in the truck. Jessica was at the door again, talking to Ethan with her arms crossed. They talked longer than I would have liked, but they had kids together, and I couldn’t let it get to me.
After several minutes, Ethan finally slid back into the cab. “Everything okay?” I asked.
He chuckled and started the engine. “She’s jealous.”
“Of me?”
“Of us.”
“But she divorced you,” I reminded him—as though he needed that reminder.
He started to drive down the street. “She doesn’t want to see me happy.”
I smirked, looking over at him as the streetlights cast an orange glow into the truck, one after the other. “You’re happy?”
He grinned, laced our fingers, and then kissed the back of my hand. “More than happy, Buttercup.”
“Me, too.”
We were silent for a few moments before Ethan let go of my hand and pulled over into another subdivision.
“What—”
“I need … I need to tell you something.” He put the truck into park and cut the engine.
I swallowed. “Okay?”
He turned slightly to face me the best he could, given he was still strapped into his seatbelt. I was instantly nervous. We’d had just had an amazing dinner with his family and were on our way to hang out with his siblings and their spouses. This was what I’d imagined life would be like with Ethan Valor. But then the longer I waited for him to speak, the more I second-guessed everything. He’d just told me that he was happy, but why did he seem nervous? Did he want to break my heart like I had broken his?
Ethan grabbed my hand again. “This isn’t where I wanted to do this, but I can’t wait any longer.”
I swallowed again, looking down at my lap. “Just tell me. We’re both adults. I can handle it.”
“I’m not breaking up with you.”
My gaze darted to his. I could barely see his eyes in the dark of night, but there was enough light that I could see that he was smiling. My heart instantly started to slow as a wave of relief washed over me. “You’re not?”
“God, no.” He shook his head.
“Then, why are you nervous? Why are we on the side of the road?”
“I just can’t hold it in anymore. I need to tell you …” He took a deep breath.
“Yeah?” I prompted.
Ethan cupped my cheek with his warm hand, brushing his thumb across my bottom lip. “I just want you to know that I’m still in love with you, Buttercup. I don’t think I ever stopped, and I don’t want my ex-wife to get between us. That’s over. Been over for years, and I don’t want anyone except you. I’ve always wanted you. Only you.”
I melted. Right there in the front seat of his Ford F150, I liquefied. I knew that if I needed to get out of the high cab, I would fall onto the ground because my knees felt so weak. I smiled warmly. “I still love you too.”
“Yeah?” He grinned.
“As you’ve said before, we’re not in the beginning stages of our relationship. It’s hard to know if we’re moving too fast, but what I do know is that I have never stopped loving you.”
Without another word, he leaned forward and pressed his lips to mine. Our mouths worked together as though a weight had been lifted, and we were finally able to express how we felt about each other. I poured everything into that kiss. Telling him I was sorry for breaking his heart all those years ago. Sharing my jealousy of what he’d had with Jessica: marriage, babies—she had his last name. And me—me just loving him in that kiss.
When we needed to come up for air, we broke apart, but Ethan kept our foreheads touching. “You just made this the best night of my life.”
“Even better than when Cohen and Tyson were born?” I teased with a grin.
Ethan smiled, pulling his head back. “Okay, the births of my sons and tonight are all tied.”
“What about the first time we had sex? Or the lunch—”
He took my mouth again, silencing me. “Fine. Tonight is one of the best nights of my life.”
I grinned. “Mine too.”
He kissed me again quickly. “We better go before Rhys blows up my phone.”
I chuckled. “He does seem like the type to question why we’re late.”
Ethan started the truck again and pulled away from the curb. “He’s a good guy and loves my sister. Treats her well too. That’s all that matters.”
It didn’t take long to get to the karaoke bar where we were meeting everyone. Ashtyn and Rhys had told me they met the owner, Otis, a few years back, and they were able to get free drinks whenever they came in. It was also walking distance to Ethan’s condo, which was a bonus.
After we parked in Ethan’s building’s parking garage, we walked a few blocks to the bar. It felt good, walking hand in hand, knowing that he loved me—still loved me. It gave me hope that everything was how it was meant to be. It sucked that we’d had twenty-three years apart, that we’d started our own families separately, but life didn’t always go as planned.
The bar was packed when we walked in. Judy’s was rustic, but Otis’s karaoke bar was what I would call swanky. It was dimly lit with plush, brown leather, half-moon booths facing a stage. The bar had lighting under the bartop, making it look elegant and sleek. It wasn’t what I expected a karaoke bar to look like, but more like a jazz club.
“Next to the stage is Rhys,” the DJ stated as we walked farther in, searching for Ethan’s family. Cheers erupted, and my gaze immediately flicked to the booth where the four of them were sitting.
“Looks like we’re just in time,” I observed. Ethan led us to the table as Rhys took the stage.
“You made it!” Ashtyn yelled excitedly. The three of them made room for Ethan and me. “You’re next, big brother.”
Ethan laughed. “Yeah, fucking right. My ass isn’t getting up there.”
“We’ll see about that.” She smirked.
Music started to play, and Rhys began to sing. I didn’t know the song, but I looked at the screen as he sang: “Downtown” by Majical Cloudz. The band name and title still didn’t ring a bell, but the lyrics sounded good to me, and they were perfect for how I assumed Rhys felt for Ashtyn. While he sang, he looked at his wife, causing her to beam ear to ear as she watched. I envied her. I wanted a husband of three or so years who still looked at me like that.
Carter slid out of the booth. “I’m going to the bar. What can I get you all?”
“I thought you were on call?” Ethan questioned.
“Shh,” Ashtyn scolded. “Rhys is singing. J
ust bring us all back shots or something.”
Carter left, and by the time the song was over, he was back with a round of Fireball shots for all of us except himself. Rhys slid into the booth, snatching a shot glass.
Ethan shook his head and pushed the cinnamon whisky away. “I have work in the morning.”
“Loosen that stick.” Rhys smirked at him.
“We all have work. Just take a shot,” Ashtyn coaxed.
I shrugged as Ethan looked over at me. “It’s not like we do this every night.”
Ethan groaned and grabbed his shot glass. Without another word, we cheered and downed the shots of Fireball. A few songs later, Ashtyn sang. We did more shots, and before we knew it, we were all buzzed. Rhys sang again, Rachel sang, and they kept trying to get me and Ethan to get up there.
“It’s your turn, big brother,” Ashtyn stated as she slid the sign-up sheet and book of song choices in front of him.
He looked at me as though to ask if he should. “If you do it, I’ll do it,” I offered.
Rachel and Ashtyn started to chant, “Do it. Do it. Do it.”
Ethan sighed. “One song and that’s it. I never want to do this again.”
I smirked. I’d had a feeling he’d do it, but that also meant I had to sing too. It was later in the night, maybe close to midnight, and I was hopeful that everyone was drunk and wouldn’t make fun of me. I didn’t have a good singing voice—not like Rhys and Ashtyn who clearly sang karaoke often.
Ethan took some time picking out a song while he sipped a beer. I looked over his shoulder, still not having a clue what I was going to sing. “All right.” He chugged the rest of his beer and then kissed my lips. “I’m ready.”
I grinned like a fool as I watched him turn and make his way to the DJ. He handed him the sign-up sheet and then walked up onto stage. The moment the guitar started to strum, I knew exactly what song Ethan had chosen. It wasn’t a song from our past or the ones we’d danced to at prom. It was a more recent song, and I loved it. The style—the words—everything about the song was Ethan. He was forty-two and rustic in his own way. I wouldn’t say he was an old soul, but he was country. He drove a truck after all.
Ethan started to sing about love being more precious than gold. That it couldn’t be bought or sold. When he sang the next verse, the one about having a woman with eyes that shined, his gaze locked with mine and my heart melted for the second time that night. When Rhys had sung to Ashtyn, I was jealous, wanting to know what it was like to have a man sing to me. I had that now because, at that moment, Ethan was singing to me from his heart. It felt as if the songwriter who wrote the song “Millionaire,” sung by Chris Stapleton, was written for us. It was silly, of course, and maybe I could blame it on the alcohol coursing through my veins, but I felt every word.
Ashtyn gasped, and I pried my eyes away from Ethan for a second. “What?” I asked.
“My brother’s in love with you.”
I grinned and said the only thing I could because it was the truth. “Yeah, he is.”
Daisy.
When a parent names their child Daisy, they probably assumed their little girl would grow up to be as pure and innocent as the name suggested.
Daisy Witt was anything but.
Since Amy, I’d still been keeping watch on several of the women who attended Lakeshore University. I wanted to keep my options open, and when I’d watched Daisy for the first time, I knew she needed to be next. She wasn’t supposed to be. In fact, she was the ninth person I was using for my entertainment.
Amy Kenny - #1
Reagan McCormick - #2
Michelle Cable - #3
Fiona Jones - #4
Pat Wood - #5
Samantha Pitman - #6
Wendy Ballard - #7
Debbie Taylor - #8
Daisy Witt - #9
But the more I watched Daisy, the more I wanted her to be next. And I wasn’t the only one watching her. Daisy Witt did live solo porn for coins. She reminded me of her, the one who made me watch her have sex for money because she wanted me to learn how. She always thought she was in control. I wasn’t sure if she was still living. I didn’t care.
I was in control now.
Daisy might not have sex with her watchers, but she was no different from her. I’d heard of young girls being strippers to pay for college, but this was more. More than taking off her clothes for money. She was spreading her legs and doing whatever was asked of her if the price was right.
Fuck, she got my blood racing.
At first, it was arousal as I watched her finger herself, use a dildo—or sometimes a cucumber before eating it. Men were sick like that. They wanted to see a woman do the dirtiest things imaginable because it turned them on.
At first, I didn’t pay for Daisy to do things, I’d only watch. Watching was my thing, but over the weeks, men—or maybe women too—would ask her to fuck her ass with … well, anything, but the bitch never accepted any money for anal play. Anal play was off limits to her.
How could Daisy Witt be a porn star and not do anal?
She couldn’t, and I was going to prove it to her. Therefore, I moved her up on the list. She still had her #9 on the back of her plaque. Woodworking was a hobby of mine, and when I found a good woman to watch, I immediately made my signature keepsake with her number on the back.
I’d picked Sunday night because her roommate would be out—she was always at her boyfriend’s place—and I was hopeful by the time Daisy was discovered, Detective Valor would be assigned to the case.
I liked the little game I had planned for him and Reagan. I had yet to give Reagan the wood plaque I’d made for her, but that would happen soon. They’d put black tape over Reagan’s webcam, and I couldn’t watch them anymore. I could still hear them through the computer, and I knew that Detective Valor was taking her on a ride-along. That would give me plenty of time to get into her condo and hang up my keepsake for her.
I had no intention of making Reagan a victim. She seemed like a good woman from what I’d seen so far. I just wanted to fuck with Detective Valor, and what better way than to make them think she was next?
I was in control, not Chicago PD.
Daisy had the same routine every time she went live. Beforehand, she’d take a shower, pour herself a vodka and cranberry, and then wait for coins to come in. I assumed the alcohol made her loosen up. Not enough for anal apparently.
That was going to change.
Letting myself in with the key I’d made from my 3D printer—the same way I had with Amy—I slipped inside the dark living room. After closing the door and locking it behind me, I moved inside quietly. Walking past the kitchen, I noticed the bottle of Absolut sitting on the counter, waiting to be mixed with cranberry juice. I knew that Daisy poured herself a drink after her shower because she’d slip out of her bedroom while she was logged into her porn site and would come back with her drink while people logged in and waited for her, so I put the Rohypnol in the vodka bottle and in the cranberry juice. I didn’t know how much it would take given she was going to drink from both bottles, but I’d put three pills in both, hoping it would be enough and she wouldn’t struggle.
I knew others would be watching, so I brought a black ski mask with me. I didn’t want to take the chance of another hacker being able to log into her computer because they wanted to watch for free like me. The problem was, I had to wait until she was done with her show or passed out. I couldn’t slip into her room and wait in her closet because I knew that her webcam showed the door, and I didn’t want someone to tell her that I was waiting. The thought of giving her ass play while her fans watched, turned me on, and the thought of killing her while they watched made my heart beat fast in excitement.
I just had to wait for the drug to kick in, and then I was going to make my fantasy my reality.
It didn’t take long for me to hear her slurring, and I knew it was time. Slipping in, I slid a ball gag over her mouth. I hoped the audience thought this was some sort
of fetish and wouldn’t tip off the cops about what I was doing. It wouldn’t take much time for them to track her IP address and find out where she lived if someone reported it to the porn site. I wanted Detective Valor on the case—it was his jurisdiction, but from what I’d heard and seen through Reagan’s webcam, he didn’t usually work weekends.
After I tore Daisy’s ass up with the head of the empty vodka bottle, I logged her out of the porn site and moved her passed out body to the couch. Daisy moaned around the ball gag and then tried to scream as I let all of my built-up rage out by stabbing her repeatedly until she was dead.
Daisy Witt - #9
Once my breathing returned to normal, I changed my gloves and stripped out of my clothes and changed into clean ones I had brought with me in a duffle bag. Before I left, I placed Daisy’s wood plaque on the fireplace and then slipped out into the dead of night.
Murder was such a rush.
After Reagan got done with classes for the day, I drove to her place to pick her up for the ride-along. I let myself in with my key and saw her sitting at her desk, laptop open, more than likely finishing her homework before the real excitement began.
“Need help?” I leaned down and pressed my lips to hers.
“Nope. Almost done.”
I slid the NDA next to her. “Sign this when you’re done and then the fun begins.”
“What are we doing tonight for the ride-along?”
“Shawn and I need to follow-up with a few witnesses about a shooting that happened yesterday.”
“I get to watch you interrogate people?”
I chuckled slightly and kissed the side of her head. “No. These aren’t suspects.”
She sighed. “Oh.”
“I’m sure we’ll have fun, though.” I didn’t think my job was fun, but I knew people who went on ride-alongs loved them because they got a glimpse into our world. I felt that way when I would go with my dad before I became a cop. Given the excitement Reagan was already expressing, I knew she would have fun.
She quickly finished her homework while I snacked on chips and salsa. Then she signed the NDA, and we left to pick up Shawn back at the station.
Watch Me Page 7
