Chills & Thrills: Three Novel Box Set

by A. K. Alexander

  “For me? This isn’t simply for me, Chad. This is for you, for the country, for your uncle who is positioning himself to be the ruler of the free world. There is a higher purpose here.”

  Chad hung his head.

  “Tell you what, I will find someone else to take care of this, and from now on as your uncle wishes, I will make sure your position within The Brotherhood is maintained at a level the senator is comfortable with.”

  “Thank you, sir,” he muttered.

  “You’re welcome. You may go.” Peter watched as Chad left the room. He heard him shut the massive front doors as he let himself out. Peter stood, sighed, and poured himself another drink. He’d liked Chad. He really had. But it was time to send Senator Wentworth a very strong message.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

  Mark felt a sharp kick in his ribs. His eyes opened wide as he looked up at two burly dudes—guys he recognized from The Brotherhood. Mark immediately pulled his knees up to his naked chest, blubbering, “Hey, man, what the fuck?”

  “Get up, asshole. It’s your lucky day,” one of them said, a German accent clipping the end of his words. He was bald, big, and ugly. Mark recognized him. He’d led a few of the local Brotherhood meetings.

  “What do you mean?” Mark eyed him, full of suspicion.

  “What he means, shit for brains, is you just received a promotion and now you have to earn it,” The other guy was taller, skinnier, with plenty of hair—all slicked back with light blue eyes that bore into Mark. He wasn’t as big as the other dude, but he looked meaner. “Get dressed. We have a job to do. Orders came all the way down from the head brass, so you can’t fuck this up.”

  “Whose orders?” Mark asked, not entirely convinced what these guys were telling him was true.

  “I don’t really think that matters. What does matter is you get your ass up, dressed, and ready in two minutes. Something tells me if this job is done right, you’ll be a very happy man.” Baldy gave Mark one of those, I fucking mean it stares, and Mark decided it was probably in his best interest to do as they suggested.

  Twenty minutes later they were parked in front of Chad Wentworth’s townhome. Mark had been there once before. His boss. His brother. Chad seemed like a decent guy. He wasn’t an asshole like these dudes. He’d treated Mark with respect. They’d even had beers together and shot the shit. Of course, it was all very hush-hush because everyone knew Wentworth had major family connections. That’s why Mark was surprised Chad would be going with him and these goons to do any kind of job. Chad didn’t do jobs. He gave orders. Except Mark suspected Chad had been the one to do Dr. Hamilton. So, maybe he was going with them. Maybe this was kind of like a final acceptance thing. Maybe he was graduating into the big league.

  “Hey, I thought you guys said I wouldn’t be meeting with the boss until all was said and done.” Mark chuckled nervously.

  Baldy, whose real name was Thomas, turned around and faced him in the backseat of the Mercedes sedan. “You will.”

  “Then, why are we at Chad’s place?”

  Now the scarier and skinner guy, whose name was Connor, turned and shook his head. “Chad has apparently been a very bad boy, and we’re here to punish him.”

  Mark squirmed in the plush leather seat. “What? No! He’s a good guy. He’s one of us!”

  “Shut the fuck up!” Thomas said. “Look here, Chad may have been your boss, but my boss is the boss, and what he says goes.”

  Mark didn’t respond.

  Connor clapped a hand on his shoulder, “The first rule to getting ahead, brother: Do not ask questions. Ever. Do you understand?”

  Mark nodded slowly.

  “It’s easy really…” Thomas sat up front loading a gun. Mark swallowed hard. “We just follow the orders and we get paid a lot of money for moving our cause forward.” Thomas placed a silencer on the gun.

  “We’re going to shoot him?” Mark heard the quiver in his voice.

  “No,” Thomas said and grabbed the handle of the door. “He’s going to shoot himself.” Thomas held the gun up to his temple. “Pow,” he whispered, a scary little smile spreading across his face.

  Mark swallowed heavily. “Nah. Come on. No way.”

  “Here, take some of this,” Connor handed Mark a silver flask. “You’ll see how it works. We like to make it clean. Murder is so nasty. Give the guy an easy way out.”

  Mark brought the flask up to his lips and took a long, hard swallow. The taste of whiskey hit his tongue. It was good stuff. It burned going down, and then quickly warmed him. Sweat dripped down his back. He took another swig from the flask. The guys…his brothers…laughed.

  “I don’t get it. Chad shooting himself, I mean. How’s that gonna go down? No way in hell Chad…is going to shoot himself.”

  Thomas opened his door and Connor followed suit. “That’s where you come in, brother.” Thomas winked at him and Mark wished he’d taken a third hit off the flask.

  The three men entered Chad’s place through the French patio doors.

  Chad was asleep on the couch. A near-empty scotch glass sat next to him on the floor, and the credits of a late-night movie rolled by on the TV. Thomas bent over and gently shook Chad awake. He sat up quickly, rubbing his eyes. Mark recognized fear immediately. Hell, hadn’t he felt the same way less than an hour earlier? “What are you guys doing?” Chad asked, his voice shaking.

  Thomas and Connor sat down on either side of him. They wore thick black gloves and scowls on their faces. Mark stood over them, the gun Thomas handed him pointed at Chad.

  “What the hell is this all about? I don’t get it,” Chad said. “Come on guys, I don’t like jokes, especially not in the middle of the night.”

  “No joke, brother,” Thomas said. “Seems you upset the boss a bit.”

  “What? Redding? No. No way.” He shook his head emphatically. “I just met with him and we were good. All good.”

  “You know this is nothing personal, right? We’re simply the messengers,” Connor said.

  “Doing a job,” Thomas added. “Right, Mark?”

  Mark nodded and tried to keep his cool. “Right.”

  Chad looked at Mark pleadingly. “You’re really with these clowns?” Chad’s voice was rising. “Do you fucks know who my uncle is?”

  “Yeah man, we know, but that won’t help you. In fact, here’s the thing…okay, first get the fuck off the couch and move your ass up the stairs into your room.”

  “No.” Tears welled in Chad’s eyes. “No man. Fuck you!” He struggled as Connor took one side of him and Thomas the other.

  “Alright, if you don’t do what we need you to do, a few things will happen. None of them pretty. We will torture you. Or we can make this painless and easy. You’re going to die, no matter what.” Connor said. The blood drained from Chad’s face. “As I was saying, we can do it your way, which will be painful and ugly and there will be repercussions. For instance, the entire world will soon learn Chad Wentworth, nephew of the senator, was a criminal and a racist. How do you think that will go over? I think it would certainly break your mother’s heart at the very least.” Connor looked at Thomas who nodded in agreement. Mark didn’t move.

  “That’s bullshit. Redding and all of you need my uncle to move forward. You know that. You do. Don’t do this!”

  “I don’t know anything other than what I have been told to do. I also know no matter what, I would want to take the easy way out. Oh and I might add we know your parents’ address, your sister’s address, and the address of that girl you been banging up on Mullholland. Nice piece of ass. I would hate to see something so pretty and sweet wind up ugly and dead. In fact, I got a guy waiting there right now for, uh, what’s her name? Melissa, Maryanne?”

  “Marissa,” Thomas chimed in. “Be a shame if you didn’t do your part and she had to suffer for it.”

  “Real shame,” Connor added.

  “You’re sick,” Chad sucked back a sob.

  “I’ve been told that,” Thomas said, laughin
g. Then he grew serious. “But apparently, I understand what needs to be done to make this work—make this country—a better place. Make this world a better place. But you must have made a bad decision. I don’t know what happened and I don’t really care. As I said, this is not personal. Up the stairs. Oh, and where’s your cell phone?”

  Chad pointed to the kitchen. Connor walked over and picked it up off the counter. He stepped in front of Chad. Mark put the gun into Chad’s back as he had been ordered to. Thomas came up behind them as Chad staggered up the stairs. They reached his bedroom and went in.

  Thomas looked around and whistled, “Nice digs, Chad.” Then he glanced back to Connor. “Hand the man his phone.” Connor did. “Now send your soon-to-be-president uncle— who will be oh so sad and earn sympathy points—a text message telling him you love him and know he will be a great president.”

  Chad did, his fingers shaking. Thomas leaned over him as he typed. “Good. Press send. Okay. Clock’s ticking. Mark…first wait.” Thomas and Connor pulled out their own guns and pointed them toward Chad. “You’re screwed no matter what, buddy. If you try and shoot any of us, you’re still dead and, like I said, anyone you love or have ever loved, will be too. Mark…”

  Mark held the gun to Chad’s head. It was all he could do not to puke on himself. He took Chad’s hand and fingers and wrapped them around the gun.

  “Any last words?” Connor asked.

  Tears streamed down Chad’s face. “Yes. Tell Redding he will never get away with this. Tell him I will see him in hell.”

  Thomas and Connor laughed and nodded at Mark who pulled back Chad’s finger on the trigger. There was a soft thwump from the gun. Chad’s body jerked back and then fell forward. Mark looked away.

  Thomas said, “Boys let’s pack up. We got one more tonight.”

  Mark stared at the floor in front of him, not wanting to see the blood and brains splattered across Chad’s bed and wall. He did as he was told. He knew one thing for sure, he’d do whatever they wanted if it meant he never had to end up like Chad.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE

  It was almost eight a.m. and Gem was running late. She poured her fourth cup of coffee and stared blearily into the steaming cup. She’d been up half the night, developing photos. Granted, they didn’t really show her a whole lot more than what she’d seen while taking them—rich, white guys driving nice cars and heading inside a fancy house. What she did see more clearly were the men’s faces—none she recognized off the bat, but her gut told her it wouldn’t be too hard to put names to those faces.

  Gem set her mug in the sink and headed back up the stairs to her room to get her shoes on. The doorbell rang. Great. She chose to ignore it, figuring it was either a Jehovah’s Witness, or worse—her neighbor in a bind with the kid and in need of a sitter. No time today. The doorbell rang again, and then someone pounded at the door. What the…?

  She turned around and trotted back down the stairs. “Okay, okay,” She peered through the peek hole. “Oh my God,” she muttered. Gem opened the door, knowing the man on the other side was just as shocked to see her, as she was to see him. “Pazzini?!”

  “Georgia Michaels.” He shook his head in disbelief.

  “Well, yeah, the last time I checked that was still my name.” She smiled. “To what do I owe this visit?”

  “Your neighbor—caddy corner…”

  “Yeah?” She already wasn’t liking where this was going.

  “It appears he took his life last evening.”

  “What?! Oh my God. Chad, Chad... Shit. I don’t even know his last name. I don’t believe it!”

  “Last name was Wentworth and, um, he came from a pretty high profile family.”

  She nodded. She didn’t let on she knew he was a Wentworth in some fashion. “I guess that’s why they brought you in? I mean, they don’t usually bring in the detectives for a suicide, do they?”

  “No. But there may have been some funny business.”

  Her ears perked up. Now that she could buy. “What do you mean?”

  “Your neighbors, next door. The wife was up in the middle of the night. I guess their kid was sick or something. Anyway, she claims at about two a.m. she looked out the window and saw three big guys walking quickly up the walkway toward the parking lot, their heads down, dressed in black.”

  “Did she call the police?”

  “No. She says the kid started crying and she went to take care of him.”

  “Who found the body?”

  “A cleaning lady. Guess she comes a couple times a week and he was in his room.”

  “Wow.”

  “Did you see anything? I know most people aren’t awake in the middle of the night, but you’re a reporter...”

  Gem laughed, “And what? Reporters don’t need sleep? Or do you think we spend our nights spying on our neighbors in the hopes of grabbing a big story?”

  Of course that wasn’t far from the truth at all. She’d been awake, but hadn’t heard or seen anything. She’d been too focused on the surveillance pictures. Gem stood in front of Pazzini. He was a good cop. A decent guy from what she knew. Working the homicide beat as a journalist, one typically got to know these guys pretty well and although Pazzini could be rough around the edges, he always allowed her to do her job and they shared a mutual respect for one another.

  “Truth is, I wasn’t awake, so no, I didn’t see anything.” That part was true, at least. However, Gem knew she was onto something big, and letting Pazzini in on it too soon could ruin everything. First, she needed real proof. She needed that story.

  “Okay.” He nodded. “Did you know the guy?”

  “No.” She shook her head. “I didn’t really know him. He was quiet, kept to himself, you know…one of those neighbors who you could live next to for years and maybe say hello a few times. It’s L.A.”

  “Okay. This thing is going to get huge soon. Once the press…” he winked at her, “…gets wind of this and discovers who he is related to, this condo complex is going to be a nightmare. You might want to get on it before everyone else does.”

  “Get on it?”

  “The story.”

  “Ah. You want to let me in on who he was related to?” Gem was kicking herself for not being up front with him. Here the guy was cool enough to hand her a story before anyone else was getting it, and she was keeping secrets that could affect his investigation.

  “Wentworth. As in senator and, according to the rumors, planning to run for President.”

  “No shit?”

  “The kid was his nephew.”

  “Crazy. Can I ask how he did it?”

  “Shot himself. In the head.”

  She shook her head. “My God. Why? Did he leave any note?”

  “No note. But he sent his Uncle a text right before he did it saying he loved him.”

  “That’s it?”

  “That’s it.”

  Gem let out a low whistle. She had a feeling her story had just gotten much bigger.

  CHAPTER FORTY

  What a morning. After Tony wrapped up the Wentworth situation, he decided to try and track down Jake Hamilton’s ex-wife again. Hamilton’s funeral was that afternoon, so he was hopeful she was back in town to escort their daughter to the service.

  Susan Hamilton had moved out of the residence she’d lived at with the doctor. Oddly, at least to Tony, she’d agreed to allow Dr. Hamilton to have custody of their daughter. It was pretty unusual for the mother to voluntarily give full custody of her child to her ex-spouse.

  He knocked on the double wooden front doors of Susan Hamilton’s secluded beach house overlooking Malibu. An attractive, tall, blonde woman answered the door. “Yes? May I help you?” She was dressed in a tight fitting black dress.

  “Susan Hamilton?”

  “Yes.”

  He introduced himself. “I just want to ask you a few questions about Dr. Hamilton.”

  “I don’t really have time, Detective. I’m taking our daughter to the services soon
.”

  “I understand. This won’t take long.”

  She sighed and opened the door. “We can sit in here.” She walked into a family room and sat down on a small love seat. The back of the room was lined with floor-to-ceiling windows, giving an impressive view of the Pacific. “What can I do for you?”

  “You and Dr. Hamilton had a pretty rough divorce.”

  She crossed her legs. “I don’t know about that.”

  “You took him to the cleaners,” Tony said.

  She raised her eyebrows.

  “Why did you divorce?”

  “Irreconcilable differences,” she said.

  “No cheating? On either side?”

  “No.”

  “Then why make it so ugly?” he asked. “You share a daughter together.”

  “Listen, Detective, if you are here to ask me if I killed my ex-husband, I did not. I was in Monte Carlo when he died.”

  “Yes. However, given your bitter divorce, I can’t help but wonder if you’d simply had enough of him and decided to have him removed from your life. Permanently.”

  Her eyes widened. “That is preposterous.”

  “Is it?”

  “I think our little talk is over.” She rose quickly from the small sofa. Tony didn’t move.

  “One more question. Why was your daughter staying with friends when your ex was killed, and why did he have full custody of Bethany?”

  “Because my mother can’t stand me.”

  Tony turned around and saw a pretty, but very thin, teenage girl walk into the room.

  “Bethany!” Susan Hamilton said.

  “It’s true. I don’t care. When all this is over, I plan to have myself emancipated from you. You’ve never been a mother to me. I loved my dad and he’s gone now. Maybe you did have him killed, I wouldn’t be surprised.

  “That is enough, young lady!” Susan turned sharply towards Tony. “It’s time for you to go, Detective.”

  He ignored her and looked at Bethany. “Do you think it’s possible? That your mother hired someone to kill your dad?”