Kindle Edition
©Mommy’s Dearest
©Black Rose Series
Copyright © 2018 Suzanne Steele
Published by Suzanne Steele
All Rights Reserved
This book is a work of Fiction. References to real people, events, establishments, organizations, or locales, are intended only to provide a sense of authenticity and are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental. All other characters, incidents and dialogue are drawn from the author’s imagination and not to be construed as real. The author acknowledges the trademark status of various products and locales referenced in this fictional work, which have been used without permission. The use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners. All rights reserved. No part of this book can be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission from the author, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.
Cover photo Dollar Photo Club
Cover Design by Mayhem Cover Creations
Edited by Eda Price Editing
Formatting by Suzanne Steele
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All content herein is protected under copyright law.
This e-book is Rated 17+
To the reader
The men I write about are Alpha males in every sense of the word. They are the men society warns us about. They are dominant males with controlling tendencies. They are the men you know you should stay away from, and yet are drawn to like a moth to a flame.
If you are looking for a sweet romance, you won't find it here. What you will find is dark passion. My heroes often carry what would be considered an obsession for the women they love. Each character I create has demanded their voice be heard. I have been true to that calling. I have stayed true to their personalities and to the beliefs that drive the choices they make, with which the reader may not always agree. The world my characters occupy is dark and often their love is dysfunctional but, nonetheless, their stories must be told.
Stalk Me…
Suzanne Steele’s Blog: http://suzannesteelesblog.wordpress.com/
Suzanne Steele’s Twitter:
https://twitter.com/Suzanne_Steele_
Suzanne Steele’s Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/author/suzannesteele
Suzanne Steele’s Facebook
https://www.facebook.com/pages/Suzanne-Steele/160387180790420?ref=hl
Acknowledgements
First and foremost I want to thank God. Without him, none of this would be possible.
I want to thank my family, who carry the weight of everything so I can write. I love you guys and I couldn’t do what I do without you.
I want to thank Eda Spivey Price, my editor, who came at a time I needed her most. Eda, you are a Godsend and I will forever be grateful to you for believing in me at a time when I wanted to give up. You were just what I needed to keep writing and pursuing my dream.
I want to thank the LGBT community for all of the research they enabled me to do. Thank you for your patience and love in answering my questions so I could get the characters of Queen Bee and Goldie on point. I love you!
Table of Contents
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty One
Chapter Twenty Two
Chapter Twenty Three
Chapter Twenty Four
Chapter Twenty Five
Chapter Twenty Six
Chapter Twenty Seven
Chapter Twenty Eight
Chapter Twenty Nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty One
Chapter Thirty Two
Chapter Thirty Three
Chapter Thirty Four
Chapter Thirty Five
Chapter Thirty Six
Chapter Thirty Seven
Chapter Thirty Eight
Chapter Thirty Nine
Chapter Forty
Chapter Forty One
Chapter Forty Two
Chapter Forty Three
Chapter Forty Four
Chapter Forty Five
Chapter Forty Six
Chapter Forty Seven
Chapter Forty Eight
Chapter Forty Nine
Chapter Fifty
Chapter Fifty One
Chapter Fifty Two
Chapter Fifty Three
Chapter Fifty Four
Epilogue
Prologue
Though a single black rose ‘tis his kiss of death, for her it holds no power. For when she doth receive, ‘tis not a mere black rose but a bouquet thereof.
Teegan leaned back in her chair and crossed her arms over her chest as she contemplated the computer monitor through narrowed eyes. Something was different about the Black Rose blog. She had discovered it about a year ago when researching a story on him. Rumor had it he was a serial killer—a serial killer with an impressive online following. For a serial killer, he had mad computer skills, too; despite considerable effort by many people, no one had been able to identify the source of the blog, so Black Rose remained a mystery. Up until now, he had been viewed as a vigilante, purging the streets of Louisville, Kentucky, of the lowlife scum that lurked in the city’s darkest corners. People ate that shit up, too. After all, Black Rose had made the streets of Louisville a safer place.
Who doesn’t love a hero? Even if it is a dark one. Some of us are more than a little partial to a dark hero.
But something about the blog seemed different on this particular day. It was darker, almost as if a different person had written it. There was only one way to find out, so she decided to do something she’d never dared to do before. Before she could change her mind, she typed a message to the notorious Black Rose…or so she thought.
I’m writing to you in an effort to possibly interview you for a book I’m writing. I’m well aware your anonymity is of the utmost importance but I believe we could converse online and therefore ensure both of our identities aren’t jeopardized.
Before she could wimp out she clicked Send. She thought she probably should have added I’m not a serial killer groupie, but if the guy was going to think she was some nut case nothing was going to change it. All she could do was wait and see if he responded, even though it was more likely he or she would assume she was a cop or an informant. She hoped not. She really wanted to write this book with an unbiased look at what caused a person to become a killer.
From the time she was a child, she’d been intrigued by the criminal mind. She didn’t want to simply study the act of murder, she wanted to explore the darkest recesses of a killer’s mind. Most people would do anything to live their life oblivious to the heinous things that happened on the city streets after the sun went down. Those things happened to other people, those unfortunate souls who had been foolish or reckless enough to open the door of evil and invite a monster in.
It made members of polite society feel better to believe the v
ictim had done something to cause the evil to come calling. Not exactly victim blaming, of course; just an expedient way to rationalize the conviction that it couldn’t happen to them. Teegan knew better. She had studied crime intensively. One of her favorite quotes was that of Barbara Ehrenreich: “In the city, crime is taken as emblematic of class and race. In the suburbs though it’s intimate and psychological; resistant to generalization; a mystery of the individual’s soul.”
Teegan knew that for every crime, location was important because with it either came a vibe of intimacy or was simply a case of a person being in the wrong place at the wrong time. Crimes of opportunity, the professionals called it. Those details were what drove her to dig into her research. What better way to research than to get inside the head of a killer? If she could bond with a killer and get him to open up to her, she would have insight that went way past statistics and delved into the inner workings of the criminal mind.
She should be afraid, but like a moth to a flame she was drawn to this Black Rose. In fact, she was more drawn to this new, darker side of the man. She wasn’t convinced it was the same person writing the blog now. Maybe Black Rose was dead and someone else had taken over the blog. The question was: had they taken over his legendary crime spree too? Or was there another crime groupie copycatting the kills and then writing about it because the blog provided so many followers? Statistics said copycat killers were easier to catch but what might that mean for Black Rose? Would he be blamed for killings he didn’t own? She felt a sudden, inexplicable need to protect the malevolent stranger.
Regardless of what she found out, she knew she had to get to the bottom of it. There was no place for fear. It was too late for that now. With a single flick of her hand, she had reached out to a coldblooded killer. That changed everything; he would know who she was now. He might not know her exactly, but if he wanted to find out who she was he now had the means to find out.
One thing the public knew about the deadly stranger was that he was likely rich and in a position of power, or he wouldn’t be able to so easily find out his victims’ secrets. It was common knowledge that once Black Rose set his sights on you, you were as good as dead. Teegan shivered. Would he set his sights on her now? Only time would tell.
Chapter One
Charles Wentworth looked over at his wife as they sat on their bed watching the evening news. After twenty years of marriage the love they shared was stronger than ever. Theirs was an unconventional love story, to say the least. He had basically forced her to marry him way back when, but she had eventually fallen in love with him. And his devotion to her knew no bounds. Looking at her exquisite profile now, he didn’t harbor a single doubt about her love or her loyalty. She belonged to him in every way, and he to her.
Charles had never meant for her to be pulled into his serial killing lifestyle, but the secret had become too hard to keep and, rather than allow it to come between them, he had included her in his killing sprees. She understood that his killings were the height of vigilantism. Her enthusiasm had surprised Charles. Looking back, he thought that perhaps her willingness to be involved was due to her determination to make the marriage work. Then again, perhaps Melanie had a dark side she never knew existed until she married her homicidal husband.
They had a son and although Charles wasn’t Thomas’ biological father, he was the only father Thomas had ever known. The bond between the two was closer than most fathers and sons. They had called him Tommy as a boy but the day had come when he looked up from the bowl of cereal he was eating and informed them he was no longer a baby and he wished to be called Thomas, so Thomas it was from that day on. His declaration had been so cute and a moment neither parent would ever forget. Their adorable Tommy had grown into ‘Thomas’: a skilled, handsome, natural born killer. He shared his father’s love for not only the kill but the hunt. He enjoyed watching people when they had no idea they were being observed. Stalking prey gave him the kind of power he craved. Thomas couldn’t care less about the kills being justifiable. He liked killing—period.
Charles nudged his wife when something caught his attention on the television. With a wave of his hand, he directed her attention to the reporter’s grim words:
Another body has been found. Like the other two, the remains were wrapped in layers of plastic wrap and gauze, giving it the appearance of a mummy. The police are saying that, with this being the third body found in the exact same manner as the two before it, it is reasonable to connect the three suspicious deaths. That means we have a serial killer on the loose. Although there are no suspects at this point, sources within Louisville’s police department are referring to the killer as Mummy Man.
Women are advised to use the buddy system and check in with a friend or family member when they leave to go somewhere and when they arrive at their destination. If you work late at night, they advise getting a security guard to walk you to your car. Lock your doors and windows and be aware of your surroundings.
“At first glance, you might think it was just some kinky fucker who’s gotten out of hand. But it could very well be a sick fuck trying to distract the police by incorporating a fetish into his M.O. Either way, that’s the last thing this city needs.”
“Those poor women. I can only imagine what they must have gone through. How terrifying.” Melanie’s face was ashen as she contemplated the victims’ grisly final moments.
The news report didn’t delve into the killer’s possible motives, but Charles and Melanie were well aware that wrapping victims in plastic wrap was one of the more intense fetishes in the kink community. This wasn’t just some guy trying to mummify his victims. In the world of kink, some people enjoyed being wrapped tightly by various means. They said it gave them a feeling of safety much like being back in the womb.
Some people were born wired differently. The Wentworth family understood that on a deep, intimate level.
Chapter Two
“Well, well, well.” He smiled. “The curious little cat has decided to come out to play.”
Teegan had opened a Pandora’s Box of sorts when she became intrigued with a serial killer. She had no way of knowing Thomas had been following her and knew her every move. When she made the mistake of trying to attach spyware to his computer months ago, she had unknowingly opened the door for him to find out all about her. In her attempt to attach herself to his computer in a voyeuristic way, she had unknowingly opened a door. And he’d quite happily walked right in, figuratively speaking. By doing so, he could now see everything she was doing via her own webcam. He smiled again. Little curious girls often got themselves into more trouble than they ever anticipated.
As he’d observed her everyday life, Thomas had grown attached to Teegan. She had no idea he had broken into her house six months ago and set up hidden cameras. There was something exciting about watching her when she had no idea he was doing so—especially during her most intimate moments. Normally he wouldn’t go to such lengths unless he intended to kill the person he was surveilling, but all bets were off when she’d attempted spying on him. What’s good for the goose and all that…
He had always known it would take a singular kind of woman to appeal to him. He hadn’t expected to feel anything for Teegan but watching her for the last six months had taken care of that. Seeing her when she was happy and playful amused him, as she sang into a hairbrush with no idea someone was watching her dance around the bathroom like a child. Watching her weep in the shower because she couldn’t let her guard down freely with anyone made him want to wipe her tears away. He worried about her adventurous nature when she interviewed killers at the jail or when she walked the streets of Louisville on her way to a crime scene.
He’d never known a woman to be so enthralled with serial killers, unless they were groupies. He worried about her research attracting the wrong kind of attention. It was inevitable, really. Her inquisitive nature put her in danger. His need to protect her was bordering on obsession. And he wanted to do so much more than protect her.
He had gotten off more than once to the sight of her pleasuring herself. He knew her nipples were sensitive and that she preferred to stroke her pussy and fingerfuck herself to orgasm rather than rely on a vibrator. But he was tired of just watching. He wanted the real thing.
Teegan believed she had reached out to Black Rose and had no idea the son of Black Rose had taken over the blog. His parents had done all they could to shield their son from their murderous lifestyle, to no avail. He had followed them one night on a job and seen firsthand what his parents were doing. In that moment, he’d had an epiphany: killing excited him. His whole body had quivered with electricity when he watched the life force drain out of that evening’s victim.
Of course, he knew they were vigilantes, but he also knew with certainty that he was a natural born killer. Somehow the darkness that consumed his parents had latched onto him with a relentless, unforgiving hold and he had no desire to try to ward it off. He welcomed the darkness with open arms and gave in to the beast that was now as big a part of him as any of his other personality traits. For now, it was enough to protect her. At a time of his choosing, he would make her his own.
Chapter Three
A thrill of excitement rippled through him as he watched the evening news. They’d already given him a name: Mummy Man. It was perfect. He wrapped his victims in the same plastic wrap his grandmother had always used for leftovers. He’d start at their feet and work his way up, up, up, meticulously enclosing them in the stretchy, transparent film. He always followed the plastic wrap with a layer of gauze for the aesthetic qualities it provided. It just looked good. But the plastic wrap was what really immobilized them. As an added bonus, it would also add to their physical discomfort and panic in the moments prior to death, and it would fuck up things at the crime scene, too, by making it nearly impossible to estimate time of death via internal temperature.
Mommy's Dearest (Black Rose Book 3) Page 1
