Broad Daylight

by A. M. Wilson

  Copyright © 2021 by A.M. Wilson and Alex Grayson.

  All rights reserved.

  Cover Design by Covers by Combs

  Formatted by Alex Grayson

  Edited by Jenny Sims at Editing4Indies

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.

  The scanning, uploading, and/or distribution of this document via the internet or via any other means without the permission of the publisher is illegal and is punishable by law.

  Please purchase only authorized editions and do not participate in or encourage electronic piracy of copyrightable materials.

  All characters and events appearing in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real events or persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

  Contents

  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

  Epilogue

  What to Read Next

  Also by Alex Grayson

  Also by A.M. Wilson

  About Alex Grayson

  About A.M. Wilson

  Broad Daylight contains kidnapping, torture, dubious consent between adults and sexual assault. Intended for readers 18 years and older.

  Prologue

  Bolt

  Letting the curtains fall into place, I step back from the window, silently berating myself for nearly getting caught. After a few moments, I cautiously step forward and slowly move the soft cream material an inch to the side, just enough for me to peek through and see the yard across from mine. Seeing the man smoothly guiding the lawnmower across the yard instead of paying attention to my window has a sigh of relief wafting past my lips.

  The last thing I need is Reece James knowing someone is in this house. The people who actually live here aren’t due back from their vacation in Florida for another month. The house should be empty. For appearance’s sake, it needs to stay that way. Or rather, I need people to think it is.

  Tipping my head to the side, I watch in appreciation as the man I’m currently stalking whips off his T-shirt and uses it to wipe his face free of sweat. With a smooth and muscular chest with a small scattering of dark hair over his pecs and trailing down over his flat stomach, head full of dark-brown shaggy hair, narrow hips, and a tight backside, Reece would be considered every woman’s fantasy. To ordinary women, that is.

  I’ve never been ordinary and never plan to be. I have too much fun being what I am and doing what I do.

  One of the neighbors with her dog walks on the sidewalk in front of Reece’s house, and he shuts off the lawnmower. Valentine Waters; beautiful, single, and a bitch who likes to flirt. In my quest to discover everything I could about Reece, I also researched his neighbors. I have no intentions of getting caught, but if that should happen, I wanted to be prepared with whatever ammo I had. That includes blackmail to ensure if anyone discovers my plans, they’ll keep their mouths shut. No one wants their dirty laundry aired. Especially when that dirty laundry consists of dark desires of being choked during sex.

  As she juts out her chest, practically throwing her tits in Reece’s face, I want to fulfill Valentine’s fantasy. Except I wouldn’t let up. I’d squeeze her neck so tight, stealing away her air until she was done twitching and the life left her eyes.

  Reece is mine. It’s only a matter of time before I make it so.

  Anticipation fills me at the thought of finally having him after weeks of watching. Only one thing is left to do before that can happen. Find the second key player in my game. Time is running short, and patience is running thin, but you can't rush perfection. Perfection is the only way I work. Anything else won’t be tolerated.

  Valentine just bought herself a few days' reprieve as she waves goodbye to Reece with a look of disappointment and turns to go back the way she came. Anytime Reece is outside, she finds some excuse to visit him. Luckily for her, he never takes the bait. She’s not the only one, though. Several women on this street seek him out frequently—even the married ones—but he’s yet to take any of them up on their offer.

  What I find mysterious is why he doesn’t. He’s a young, good-looking, hot-blooded male who has needs. Why not date any of the desperate women vying for his attention? Why not bring them inside for a quick fuck? It’s obvious they’d be up for anything he had to offer. In the weeks I’ve been watching him, he hasn’t brought a single woman home. Is he meeting them somewhere else? Is he gay?

  I disregard that thought as soon as it enters my mind. I’ve seen the appreciation on his face when he looks at a certain woman, so that can’t be it. There has to be another reason. Maybe he’s not the love ’em and leave ’em type. Maybe he’s waiting for something more meaningful. Too bad he won’t have the chance.

  Reece starts the mower back up and finishes with the rest of the yard. Fifteen minutes later, he’s hosing down the machine before pushing it into the garage. He comes back out with a Weed eater and takes care of the edge of his lawn along the sidewalks, the driveway, and the front porch. Once that’s finished, he puts the Weed eater back. Grabbing the end of the hose, he turns the sprayer on, bends over, and douses his hair with water, then uses the shirt hanging out of his back pocket to wipe away the excess from his chest and face.

  He does the same thing every week, and for the past several, I’ve watched him from this window.

  I let the curtain go, knowing the show is over and Reece will go back into the house. Grabbing my phone from my back pocket, I plop down on the king-sized bed. I send off a quick message using an encrypted code before pulling up a website and browsing the listings provided to me.

  My mind begins to wander to the future and what it holds for Reece. My body vibrates eagerly, and my hands twitch to get started.

  Not seeing anything of interest on the list, I grab the newspaper clipping I have sitting on the bedside table. It’s wrinkled and has creases in it from being handled so much. Unfolding it, I smooth it out and look over the words I’ve memorized word for word. It’s an article regarding the conviction of Clem Stewart, who was charged with first-degree kidnapping, first-degree murder, and falsifying information to a police officer. His sentence of 326 years was astounding, but his work was inspiring and beautiful.

  From the age of thirteen to twenty-eight, he held captive and tortured a woman named Aislin Mathers. The shit he did to her would turn a normal person’s stomach, but it only lit my blood on fire and sent delightful shivers down my spine.

  I close my eyes and moan at the images popping in my head. What I wouldn’t have given to have been there for the masterful work while it was happening.

  Opening my
eyes, I look back down at the newspaper clipping. Emboldened by Clem Stewart’s skillful performance, it’s my turn to have some fun.

  Poor Reece has no idea what’s coming for him.

  1

  Reece

  A bead of sweat rolls between my shoulder blades as the sun shines dramatically with the midday heat. Laying cinder block for this basement build is brutal on a day like today, but the work pays well enough to keep me coming back week after week. I swipe my arm across my forehead to chase away the mist forming there and glance around the crew hard at work.

  Most of them are close enough to be considered brothers. If I was the type of person to let people get close, that is. Very few people have made it into my inner circle, and I like to keep it that way. For the longest time, it was just my parents, my sister, and me. It took longer than I care to admit to let my brother, Niko, back into the fold, but that barrier broke three years ago when the love of his life returned, and old hurts were rightfully put to rest.

  My phone rings from the back pocket of my Levi’s. I snag the device, a smirk coming to my lips at the name flashing on the screen.

  “Yo, Jonas!” I shout to my business partner and foreman, where he stands with his arms crossed over his chest. Jonas oversees a lot of the onsite day-to-day while I lend a hand and focus half my time on the office side of things. At the sound of my voice, he jerks his chin at me.

  I wave the device in my hand. “Gotta take this.”

  He nods and returns to his conversation. Most guys would get shit for taking a break on the job, but I work twice as hard as these fucks, and they all know it.

  I toss down my trowel and walk to a vacant corner as far away from these bastards as I can get. After a swipe of my dirty hands on my equally dirty jeans, I stab the screen to answer the call.

  “How’s Florida treating you?” I ask without greeting.

  A warm chuckle drifts across the line. “Better than I could have imagined.” The smile in Niko’s voice is unmistakable.

  “Aislin taking well to the warm weather, I’m sure?”

  “Like you wouldn’t believe. Since we got here, I’ve thought probably a hundred times how glad I am we held out for a beachfront property. It’s nearly impossible to get the three of them out of the sand at the end of the day.”

  It’s my turn to laugh. “I’m not surprised in the slightest to hear that.”

  A clunk sounds followed by shuffling. “Uncle Weece, is dat you?” The sound of my sweet niece’s little girl voice tugs at my heartstrings.

  “Yeah, baby. It’s your uncle. How’s the ocean?”

  “It’s so fun! Yesterday, Cwis and I made a sandcastle, and when we was done, Mommy let us stomp all over it!” she squeals.

  “Next time, take a picture and have your daddy send it to me, okay? Make sure you and your brother are in it so I can see your smiles too.”

  “Okay!”

  Letting Niko go after we’d finally patched our differences was hard enough. Letting him go with his new family felt like a knife to the chest. Life was hard enough with our sister Tori and her family out of state. I think her distance was easier to swallow because she moved before getting married and starting a family. Niko and Aislin brought their lives full circle here in Westbridge before deciding to move on from the past. They sold both of their childhood homes and set off to Florida near Mom and Dad—the same place they got married.

  Their happiness is all that matters after what they’ve gone through. That doesn’t mean it doesn’t bring thoughts of my own to the surface.

  “Say goodbye to Uncle Reece, Mags. You need to finish your lunch so we can go to preschool.”

  “Goodbye, Uncle Weece! Miss you!”

  My heart compresses in a fist. “Miss you too. Tell your brother the same, and I’ll video call you both this weekend.”

  The phone shuffles again before the sound of her breathing ceases.

  “You, ah, you’re really doing good, then? The whole family?” Time to wrap this conversation up. Emotions aren’t really my thing, and I should get back to work before Jonas gets on my ass, not that he would because I own half of this fucking company.

  “We are,” Niko confirms. “Don’t think answering my phone calls gets you out of a visit. As soon as you have a lull in projects ...”

  “Yeah. I’ll make a trip down as soon as I can. Look, I hate to cut this short, but I’m at work.”

  “I know. Thanks for answering. I really didn’t have a reason for calling. It’s nice to just check in. We worry about you in Westbridge all alone. Aislin is determined she can convince you to come down this way.”

  “Can’t say the thought hasn’t crossed my mind a time or two, but I like it here. Work is good. It’s familiar.”

  It’s all I’ve ever known.

  “I get it. Just know you have options. This house is plenty big if you need somewhere to stay while hunting for a place of your own.”

  “Thanks, brother.”

  “Saturday still good for the kids’ weekly call?”

  “Same time as always.”

  “Later, Reece.”

  “Bye.”

  The phone screen blackens when he ends the call. I slide the device back into my pocket, thankful for the few minutes' reprieve from work as I walk back to my mud and trowel.

  “Slacker!” Jonas calls. I flip him the bird and get back to work, this time with a smile.

  With twilight rapidly turning to dark, I direct my Dodge Ram into my driveway just after seven o’clock and ignore the way Juliet, one of the neighbors, jogs past my mailbox in a hot pink sports bra and matching yoga pants. The fucking woman is relentless, but I’m not a dick enough to let her know she does nothing for me. A couple of different women in the neighborhood have tried to get my attention, but I’m not interested in any of them. I gather my cooler from the back seat and offer a tight two-finger wave before turning toward my front steps. I don’t wait to see if she waves back.

  The lock to the deadbolt jiggles a bit as I insert and twist my key. Strange. It wasn’t loose this morning. Leaving the interior door wide open, I deposit my stuff and find a Phillips screwdriver in the junk drawer next to my fridge. I don’t like to leave little tasks unfinished, so I take care of the problem immediately. A memory rises of helping Niko fix a few things to get both of his houses ready for market. How he was able to sleep at night with so many little tasks is beyond my comprehension. If the faucet so much as drips, I have to fix it before I can relax.

  The screws tighten easily enough.

  “Hello?”

  “Shit.” The screwdriver falls from my hand as surprise takes over. Before I can retrieve it, the person outside opens my screen door and bends to pick it up.

  “I’m sorry to startle you. I noticed your light was on—"

  “Don’t come in here,” I order as she takes a baby step forward.

  She holds both hands up as if surrendering and halts with one foot on the threshold. The movement drags my attention to the odd way she clutches the tool in her fist—fingers wrapped tight around the handle with the tip angled behind her.

  “I just wanted to ask if you’ve seen a dog around here? My Goldendoodle took off when the babysitter left about fifteen minutes ago. I live just down the road.” She waves vaguely behind her to the east.

  I let myself roam her face. I might not be the detective in the family, but I’m decent at sniffing out a lie. She’s attractive, to say the least. Her jet-black hair is cropped short to her chin, and her big eyes are a rich brown. The redness around the edges speaks to recent tears, and the corners of her lips droop in a subtle frown.

  “Are you new around here?”

  She shakes her head. “Just don’t come down this way much.”

  I hold my hand out for my tool and inwardly relax when she sets it lightly into my palm. I don’t like strangers much, especially the kind who appear armed when I’m not.

  “Sorry to say I just got home and haven’t seen a dog. I’ll keep an
eye out.”

  “Thanks. Here’s my card with my cell. If you see him, please call.” She holds out a rectangular cardstock between two fingers. I don’t really want the damn thing, but in order not to make her feel bad, I pluck it from her grasp. Even a dumb man couldn’t miss the sparkle of interest in her brown gaze as she glances at me quickly up and down from my mud-stained shirt and pants to my worn-out work boots.

  I lift my chin. “Will do.”

  She flounces down the three concrete steps. I let my storm door slam and watch from the window as she meanders down my driveway before crossing the street to the neighbors. I should warn her they’re out of town but think better of it. She’ll figure it out herself, and I don’t want to draw her attention back to my doorway.

  Before I get caught watching, innocently enough as I’m not interested, I double-check my deadbolt is locked and strip out of my work attire. The best part of coming home after a hot day of working in the sun is removing my boots and enjoying a beer in my boxers.

  I don’t even bother taking a seat as I drink the crisp, cool liquid. Most would think my routine is mundane. As I glance at the mantel over my fireplace, the faces of my family stand out. Yeah. They definitely worry that I’m not living. It used to be Niko who Mom fretted over, but as evidenced by the pictures of him and Aislin on their wedding day and the beaming smiles in their family photo with the kids, she doesn’t worry any longer if Niko’s okay.