I set my phone down on the stool and stare at the unfinished painting. The canvas that’s been sitting on the easel for years glares back at me. It reminds me of the night my life changed for the worst. I thought I’d be okay after Maxen left. That I’d survive the heartbreak that came with watching the one person I loved, walk out of my life. The stupidity that comes with lost love is a sickness that consumed me.
My cell phone blares at me from the stool, dragging me away from the thoughts that usually take over this late at night. My mother’s name blinks at me, begging me to answer. It’s been a while since we spoke, and I don’t feel the need to answer, but I give in and swipe my thumb over the screen.
“Hello, Mom.”
“Kasen, darling,” she coos. “How are you?”
“I’m good. Busy, but good. And you?”
Silence greets me, and I wonder if the line has been cut, but with a quick glance at the screen, I realize she’s still there.
“I have some news.” Her words send ice through my veins, and a cold trickle of awareness races down my spine. “Mr. East passed away last night.”
My heart stills in my chest, my breathing harsh and pained. I want to say something, but I don’t know what. The man I’ve known since I was a kid, the one who helped me through so much, is no longer here.
“He went in his sleep, peacefully. He wasn’t in any pain or anything like that,” my mother continues, but I can’t find the words to respond. My first thought is of my best friend. “I spoke to Irene, and she said Maxen is coming home for the funeral.”
“Oh,” is all I can manage.
“It would be lovely if you could be here as well. You were always welcome in their home, and I know Irene would like it if you were here for Max.” Yes, I’m sure she wouldn’t mind me being there. But would Max mind? No, my best friend, or former best friend, doesn’t know what his father did for me. And because of that, I’m going to the funeral, and I’m going to pay my respects.
“Sure, I’ll leave tomorrow night after work.”
“It will be good to see you again,” Mom tells me, and I can hear the sadness lacing her words. I haven’t been home often, and this will be the first time in a few months since I last saw her.
Granted, she’s been to the city to see me, but I haven’t felt the need to go back. I didn’t want a reminder of what happened in that small, sleepy town.
“You know, you and Max could try to sort things out . . .” Her words taper off, leading into nothing because she’s waiting for me to give her something to hang onto about my ex-best friend and me.
“Goodnight, Mom,” I tell her before hanging up. If I don’t, she’ll want to know more, and right now, I can’t tell my mother about what happened between Max and me. She’s tried to get it out of me since he left, but I could never admit that I said those three stupid words to him.
His dad is gone. I feel the ache in my chest, and I wonder just what he’s going through right now. I wish I could be with him, hold him, and comfort him through this tough time.
But he wouldn’t want me near him.
There’s always been a dark entity that has followed Max around, and now that his father’s dead, I have a feeling it will only become worse when he arrives back.
I wish with everything I have that Maxen decides not to return. I don’t want him to know the truth about what’s been happening while he’s away. The house that sits on the beach overlooking the white sands we spent our childhood on is nothing more than an empty shell.
The East house is crumbling, and when he sees the truth, he’ll never forgive me. Lies are the only thing that’s been keeping us alive, but now that his father is gone, now that there’s nothing more to hide, the truth will most certainly rip everything to shreds.
Chapter Two
Maxen
Going home.
Two words I never thought I’d be saying, but now that I have to go back, anxiety has twisted in my stomach because I’m not sure if I’m ready for it. But I have no choice but to step back into that shitty town and show my face again.
Even though I need to see my mom, the fear of seeing him makes it much more real than I care to admit. I ran far away when I realized I was in love with my best friend. I was angry, confused, and I walked out, leaving him even after he told me he loved me.
I should’ve said it back. I should’ve told him that I felt the same, but I chickened out like I always did, and I came to LA to find myself. Only, the person I found here was the same one in love with Kasen Abbott.
Shaking my head, I focus on the road, hoping I can escape the glitz just for a couple of weeks. When I decided to go home and attend the funeral, I was thankful for the reprieve from being stuck in Los Angeles, attending a New Year’s Eve party instead of consoling my mother.
I think back to that day in Kasen’s bedroom when he uttered the words that I’d waited almost my whole young life for. And I remember my feet moving away from him instead of toward him. I knew I broke him, and in the process, I broke myself too.
It was stupid to think I could survive without him. My stubbornness didn’t want me to give in, to admit I was in love, so instead of trying to find happiness, I ran like a fucking asshole.
The three words he uttered before I walked out the door weighed on my shoulders all those years ago, the same way my guilt sits like a lead weight in my gut right now. The thought of going back there, of seeing him is pure torture. Just like my job. When I stumbled into Los Angeles, a young, naïve teenager, I stayed with one of Dad’s good friends. That’s when I learned more about my father than I cared to admit.
When he was my age, he was also confused about his sexuality. He experimented and I figured, perhaps, that’s what I was feeling. But Derrick, the man who agreed to look after me until I hit eighteen as a favor to Dad, explained that those feelings don’t just go away. He didn’t force me to come to the conclusion, it happened naturally, and I realized that I was making a mistake by walking away from my best friend.
LA offered me an escape from my thoughts of leaving Kasen. The small advert that sat on a Craigslist job page caught my attention.
Looking for an assistant. No experience necessary. Ten-minute interviews will take place at 534 Shore Lane between 9a.m.-12p.m.
I walked into the small, shitty office and got the job before my ten minutes were up. And that’s how I came to be working undercover for clients in Hollywood. If you want to know something, call me. I’ll find out the darkest secrets.
The night is black, with clouds hovering across the moon, not even giving a glint of light to the city. It’s time to face the music. I have to go back to the scene of the crime—the place I shattered the one thing that held us together. I killed whatever had been growing between Kasen and me, and there’s no way of getting it back.
I peal down the road, knowing that it won’t be long until I’m back there.
Thankfully, at two in the morning, the road is not as busy as I expected it to be. The threat of a snowstorm that’s heading into New York must have people staying home. I head east to the town I grew up in, to the same place where I lost myself. When I left LA five days ago with a plan to go home to see my mother, I was waiting on her frantic call last night. I’m only a few hours out of New York, so it won’t take me long to get home.
Perhaps I can stop to see him before I go home. Before I say goodbye to my father. A man who was good to me, giving me everything I needed. He even offered to send me to school, which came in handy when I wanted to document my jobs. It reads like a diary of someone with a dark past, but it’s not fiction at all.
I wonder if dad would be proud of me. If he’d think his money was well spent.
I know Kasen moved to the city after school. Mom kept me up on the gossip from Montauk, and each time she called me for my birthday or Christmas, she’d give me another scoop of what my ex-best friend was doing.
I know he’s successful, running his own gallery. His art was always on point; the colors
, the hidden messages within the drawings, everything he did was epic. I always told him he’d become a famous artist one day. He never believed me.
I’m proud of him.
I’m happy that he’s found something he loves.
That thought brings a sour taste to my mouth. Perhaps he’s found someone he loves. Maybe he’s forgotten about me. Granted, I left when I was seventeen. It’s been ten years, and so much has changed.
I’ve become someone different.
I’m finally honest with myself.
As a private investigator, my job has allowed me to hide in plain sight. It’s offered me a chance to live out our childish fantasies that came from my father’s fiction we inhaled as if it were our next breath.
Even though I don’t do shit the legal way, I still enjoy what I do. Who knew LA was filled with assholes who needed their comeuppance? As a private investigator, I see some shit that I wouldn’t wish on anyone.
With the need to spill people’s secrets and take lives if I need to, I’ve become someone that people go to for help. Working undercover has allowed me to ignore the part of me that still aches when I think about my past.
He would probably hate me if he learned about what I’ve become without him. But then again, that’s wishful thinking. I want him to know I’m nothing like the person he let walk away.
Flicking the stereo on, I turn up the volume and allow the melodic voice of Bishop Briggs to envelop me. The road ahead is quiet. With minimal lights along the country road, I press my foot down on the gas and floor it. The sooner I get there, the better. I can get this visit out of the way and head back to Los Angeles before New Year’s Eve.
A memory hits me then, reminding me of this time last year.
* * *
The new year is almost upon us, and I’m still stuck in the middle of a fucking shit show. People stream around me, bumping into me, ignoring the fact that I’m not one of the happy partygoers.
I bring the tumbler I’m holding to my lips, sipping the bourbon and enjoying the burn as it trickles its way down my gullet. I watch as women sway, men guffawing and grabbing each other by the shoulder, giving one arm hugs.
Music blares from the speakers, but I don’t recognize the pop band that’s screaming at me. Sighing, I turn away, casting my gaze over the city. The Hollywood sign is lit up, the hills are alive with possibility, and I’m still wondering how to tell my boss to shove his dick up his ass.
They say the new year should bring new possibilities. And even though that may be true for some, I feel as if I’m going to be stuck in a dead-end job all my life. But it’s not what most would think. I started out as an assistant to an infamous private detective. When he died, I took over, finishing jobs he’d started. But the money wasn’t coming in fast enough, so I did what any MBA graduate would do—I opened my own business.
Who would hire a killer on New Year’s Eve?
Many more people than you care to imagine.
The evening slowly slips into the blackest night, and I skulk in the shadows as I normally do. It’s all part of my life. I’m the darkness that hides under your bed at night, the one who scares you when you think you’re alone, but I’m always there watching. Tonight is different, though. It’s coming up to the new year, and I have been questioning what I’m doing with my life.
Even though I love my job, there has to be something more. I’ve been hungry for a challenge, for something that will push me outside my comfort zone. Even though I hate the thought of doing it, I know I have to.
I watch the silhouette move in front of the window, and I lift my gun. The silencer is attached, and when I aim for my target, I can’t help but smile, knowing I’ll be taking out someone who deserves it.
My dick gets hard, knowing I hold someone’s life in my hands. I wish I could walk into the apartment and wrap my hands around his neck. That would be orgasmic. Perhaps I’d fucking come in my jeans. A laugh rumbles in my chest, but I shove it down before it has time to escape.
The moment the asshole passes the glass again, my finger tugs the trigger, and the silent shot zips through the see-through pane, and the body on the other side slumps. My job is done.
I make quick work of sliding my gun away and heading toward the black sedan parked two blocks down. Slipping into the driver’s seat, I turn on the engine and pull out onto the street. I don’t turn on my headlights until I’m far enough away from the scene of the crime.
There’s only one place I need to be right now, and that’s my favorite haunt in the worst part of the city—Fat Harry’s in Brooklyn. The bar is rundown, falling apart, but it’s the only place in town that makes the best chili fries and serves the coldest beers. Harry, the owner, has been running it for as long as I can remember.
But I have somewhere to be. Maybe once I’ve ensured my plan is set in motion, I can head out there, say hi to Harry, and perhaps have a drink with him after I finish off this job.
My foot on the gas pedal is heavy, and the car zips through the empty streets toward my cabin hidden deep within the woods not far from my home. There aren’t many cars on the road on New Year’s, especially out here. I know what’s waiting for me when I get there.
I should go see Kasen again. Watch him from the shadows like I’ve done every year on this night. He’s like a drug—addictive and dangerous. Each time I go to him, I wish he’d turn around and look at me. I want to feel his eyes on me once more. Even if it’s just once more.
But as much as I crave being there, getting lost in him, I have someone who needs to breathe his last breath.
“You came back for me,” he mutters in the familiar gravely tone. The same tone that used to make me want to bend him over and take him right there. It was the only way I could take the edge off without going to Kasen and admitting how much I fucked up.
I walk further into the shadowed space. The dank basement stinks. It’s as if the blood that used to stain the walls is still there. Even though it’s been scrubbed clean, the memory of the metallic scent lingers in the paint on the walls. It makes my stomach turn.
Our forced affair ended when I ran from him. Derrick was good to me for a while. But then he turned into a monster. Father will know what I’m about to do when he hears the news tonight. The man who took me in when I was a lost teenager is now nothing more than a mark on my list.
My mind was broken for a long time, but what pushed me over the edge is all Derrick’s doing. As much as I despise him, his broad shoulders wrapped in black leather still beckon me, and my fingertips tingle with the need to touch him. I want to feel his muscles ripple when I trail my tongue over them.
A monster who made me crave.
But he’s not Kasen. Nobody can ever be Kasen.
“Why wouldn’t I?” I challenge, hoping he’ll look at me and offer me the truth I require.
He doesn’t move. I wonder if he’s thinking of all the ways he can get out of this. I take him in for a moment as I watch him struggle. I’ve never been more turned on before. The dips and peaks of his torso are like artwork come alive.
The ink that adorns his perfectly smooth skin lures me like a moth to a flame, and I take a step closer.
How can someone so beautiful be so evil?
I’ve seen the evidence. It’s in the email I received from my client. I wasn’t the only one. A man who used his power to satiate his lust. Just like my father did, this asshole is no different. I’ll make things right. I’ll make sure they all pay.
Shoving the cloth between his lips, I force it into his mouth and smile. Muffled sounds come from the filthy creature before me. The gag came in handy. I never need to use one, because, by the time the drugs wear off, my mark is dead. But I couldn’t bring myself to do it. I couldn’t slice the flesh of the man who helped me when I needed it most.
Yes, he took more from me than he was allowed to. But it’s time he paid his dues. The blood I’m supposed to spill is A-negative. He’s the same type as me. His jeans ride low on his hips, and my cock
jolts when I take in the message on his lower abdomen—"peace is a lie.”
I wonder what could have possessed him to think that. I regard him a moment longer before I make my way to where his head is lolling to one side. I shouldn’t remove the gag, but there’s no one around for miles.
My cabin is set in the woods where nobody would think of venturing on their own this late at night. When I purchased the property, the previous owner eyed me warily, and I’m sure the inner workings of his mind must’ve screamed at the danger which was only inches from him.
But he sold it to me anyway.
Even though it’s under a false name, one of my many identities, the man would never be able to find more information about me—the real me. If he searched, it would pull up that I was a crazy author living on my own to finish my next bestseller. He’d see at least fifty other books which are currently for sale—all crime thrillers.
Leaning in, I pull the cloth from the old man’s face. He’s only fifty-five. His burning gaze pierces into me as if he’s trying to find my soul. None of that is left. I sold it all to the devil years ago.
“What are you going to do to me?” His cracked voice is rather melodic when it’s filled with fear. A torturous sound to someone like me who’s turned on by the whimpers and pleas that come with this job. Perhaps my mind is broken, shattered from the torment life has afforded me.
“It doesn’t matter what I’m going to do because you deserve it. You and my father both.” I turn away, glancing at him over my shoulder. “You’ll both pay for the pain you caused.”
“If you let me go, I’ll do anything you want,” he attempts the barter that most victims offer. But I don’t have an inkling to allow him to leave. I want to keep him here and make him my tenth victim.
Shaking my head, I force the thought from my mind and grab the rope I keep on the small metal table, and proceed to bind his neck with a heavy knot. It’s a game I enjoy if I keep them alive for a while longer. It doesn’t happen often, but there are times I like the company.
Devious Resolutions Page 32
