Pleasant Extortion [The Extortionists 1] (Siren Publishing Everlasting Classic)

by Natalie Acres

  “Then you might be right.”

  “I shudder to think why he might have let one go.” Randon pondered further. Had the extortionist let someone go free because he couldn’t use them or because he wanted to later hunt them down like an animal? “How soon can you be here?” They needed to find that survivor and determine why he was set free.

  “We’re leaving Atlanta now.”

  “Good. Call in every MC charter within several hundred miles. We need to find the survivor before this mind-sucking son-of-a-bitch kills again.”

  * * * *

  An hour later, Randon sat upright when the diner doorbell jingled. His gaze immediately met the detective’s. She nodded in his direction. He nodded in hers.

  His body grew stiff, erect, and his reaction to her surprised him. Randon rarely found blondes attractive, particularly those who looked like they could kick a man’s ass, or at least make him beg for mercy.

  Randon snickered at the thought and returned to his meatloaf platter, scooping up a spoonful of mashed potatoes. He quickly washed it down with a gulp of iced tea when he noticed the detective walking toward him.

  “So you’re a vigilante.”

  He wiped his lips with a napkin. “I wouldn’t say that.”

  “How would you describe yourself?”

  “If you only knew.” His remark was as guttural as any he’d made in his lifetime. He immediately indicated the chair across from him as if he could make up for his suggestive tone by inviting her to join him.

  She didn’t hesitate. She took a seat, slammed her keys on the table, and glared at him as if she thought he could answer all her questions. “I knew those people.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “You’re sorry?” She grunted. “You show up here on the day thirty-two people were murdered in a town with the lowest crime rate in the country and you’re sorry?”

  “I didn’t kill your friends.”

  “You know who did. You said so. Blaine—Sheriff McKinney—wouldn’t have let you walk if those families hadn’t come down to the crime scene.”

  “I booked a room across from the jail and told him where to find me. I have nothing to hide, lady.”

  “Detective works. Lady doesn’t.”

  “You are a woman. Aren’t you?”

  She blushed. “Obviously.”

  “Yeah, the boobs sort of gave you away.” He enjoyed provoking her for some reason.

  “You’re trying to insult me.”

  “Detective, I’m not here to insult you.” He took a bite of his meatloaf.

  “Why are you here?” Her blue gaze bore into his. “And why are you so familiar to me?”

  “Am I?” He felt his thighs tightened and in an effort to maintain whatever limited control he’d managed to keep since she’d entered the diner, he quickly added, “I have no idea. Perhaps I resemble someone you know. Detective, all small talk aside, I want to help you.” He didn’t bother adding that he also possessed a strong need to protect her, because that shit just didn’t make sense.

  “Why?”

  “Because you need me and because I can.”

  She motioned for the waitress. “Can I get a burger with the works, large onion rings, and vanilla shake?”

  “Coming right up,” the older lady said, sauntering away.

  “I take it you’re hungry.”

  “I haven’t been to bed in over forty-eight hours. I’m tired. I want to listen to you while I eat so I can go home and sleep on the information you provide.”

  “Lady, if I tell you what I know, you won’t sleep a wink tonight. Between the belly ache those greasy foods will give you and the sickening intelligence I can provide, you’ll be lucky if you ever rest again.”

  “You let me worry about that.”

  “All right,” he said, turning sideways and swinging his arm over the seat. “Have it your way, but don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

  Chapter Three

  “So you’re saying there’s a serial killer out there who is more or less killing people with his eyes?” Pageant couldn’t believe her ears. “Do you have any idea how this sounds?”

  Randon took a deep breath, one that seemed almost erotic given the way he tilted his head, inhaled deeply, and studied her as he slowly exhaled. God, she was delirious. Perhaps the loss of sleep had made her completely delusional.

  Still, she stayed the course. She made a somewhat conscious decision to interrogate the newcomer and she needed to hang on his every word. The sheriff would be tied up with the victims’ families until well past midnight. If this guy slipped away in the middle of the night, he could leave with answers they needed to solve this mysterious crime.

  She pulled out her phone and searched for the notepad icon. “Let’s start at the beginning.”

  “I’d like to go back that far.” He pressed his lips together and his nostrils flared. “Detective, you can search your database for Fort Lurrow, Alabama. You’ll come up empty handed, yet fourteen months ago, a very similar mass murder happened there as well.”

  “And you’re saying the case wasn’t documented?”

  “It’s not there.”

  “Then how do you know about it?”

  He looked agonized. “I lost a friend there.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  He nodded once.

  “Why isn’t the case recorded?”

  He took a drink of his beverage. “You’ll have to call the locals if you want those answers.”

  “But you know?”

  “I suspect, yes.”

  “Then tell me about these suspicions.” She typed a reminder in her phone. She’d call Alabama and press the locals for answers. When Randon didn’t say anything, she slowly lifted her gaze. “Give me something to go on.”

  “Do you believe in vampires, Detective Keen?”

  “You’re kidding. Right?”

  “No.”

  “Assuming that I might believe in supernatural creatures, let me remind you that vampires are blood suckers. If you’d paid attention today, you’d know that there wasn’t a visible cause of death.” She shook her head in disbelief. “Vampires, my ass.”

  He smirked. “I’m not sure what vampires have to do with your ass, but the visual was nice anyway.”

  Her skin heated and a tingling sensation slivered up her spine. This guy—with his full head of natural curls, good bone structure, nice thick lips, and dark eyes—could do some damage to a woman’s career. She needed to dig for data that would help the case. Sitting there gawking at a possible suspect while imagining a more fulfilling way to probe for information wouldn’t help those victims’ families.

  She cleared her throat and made an effort to straighten her shoulders while praying she hadn’t thrust her chest forward. “Tell me what you know. Give me something.”

  His expression turned serious. “We’re starting to believe there’s more than one perpetrator—”

  “We?”

  “I’m a Bold and Free patch member. The MC has been working on this for a while now.”

  “I see.” She wasn’t impressed. She knew plenty about the MC. The communities that the Bold and Free members called home weren’t exactly thrilled to have them in their neighborhoods. “So the MC believes there’s more than one ‘vampire’ behind this.” She hurriedly typed another note in her phone. “Okay, tell me about this ‘vampire’.”

  “You don’t believe me and I understand how this sounds, Detective, but mark my words. The sooner you buy into the fact that you’re dealing with a supernatural creature, the sooner you can start trying to solve this case.”

  “You don’t think this case can be solved.”

  “Your biggest concern should be whether or not he strikes again here. If he moves on to another town, then count your blessings. We have reason to believe he doesn’t go back to towns he’s already visited.”

  “Wait a minute. Are you suggesting he’s done this in several towns? You only mentioned Fort Lurrow.”

 
; “Other charters are working on similar cases.”

  “Since when does the MC stick their noses in official police business?”

  “Like it or not, we may be the only hope you have for putting this guy down.”

  “And why is that, Mr. Shane?”

  He didn’t flinch. “We have skills others don’t possess and I’ll leave it at that.”

  The investigator within would later wonder what he’d meant by that, but she let it slide. “So this guy stumbles upon a town, enjoys a killing session, and moves on?”

  “For now, we’ll go with that assumption.”

  “I still don’t buy he’s a vampire. There weren’t”—she paused in reflection as she remembered the victims—“bite marks or anything to suggest their bodies had been drained.”

  “Not all vampires seek blood. By definition they prey upon the living in an effort to obtain something of value to them.”

  “Like what?” As much as she hated to admit it, this theory was better than any of her own.

  “Athleticism, intelligence, beauty, charisma, and other traits humans take for granted.”

  Pageant crossed her arms. “You had my attention at first, but you realize how farfetched this sounds. Don’t you?” When he didn’t respond, she decided to play along. “Okay, suppose you’re right. Suppose there’s this ‘vampire’ out there, and he sees me for instance. He wants my charming personality. Now what?”

  “We think he hypnotizes his victims, lures them into a remote area, and further entrances them. Once they’re mesmerized, for a lack of a better term, he takes these individual entities with force and it causes their bodies to go into shock. They never recover.”

  “If that’s true, then wouldn’t they have a heart attack or stroke, some sort of medical condition that would lead coroners to believe they died of natural causes?”

  “One would think.”

  “How do you explain that?”

  “I can’t.”

  “You seem to know a lot about this guy. Why? What aren’t you telling me?”

  “Am I under arrest, Detective?” He was toying with her.

  “Why do I get the feeling you might enjoy it if I read you your rights?”

  “Why do I have the feeling you might like slapping some handcuffs around my wrists?”

  “That was uncalled for.”

  He shrugged. “A lot about us is uncalled for.”

  About us? Why did she like the sound of that? “Care to elaborate?”

  “It’s approaching midnight. You haven’t been to bed in a couple of days, yet here you sit with a perfect stranger in the middle of a deserted diner, pretending to use your investigative skills to keep the conversation moving along.” He stroked his upper lip with the tip of his tongue. “A few times you’ve shrugged those full breasts up just enough to make a man pay attention to the cleavage you apparently don’t mind to show—and it looks great by the way—and you’ve kept your eyes on mine the whole time, as if you’re afraid I might vanish—poof! Go up in smoke—if you dare to look away.”

  Pageant gasped, certain this “stranger” as he’d dubbed himself had knocked the breath out of her. He was right on all counts. She couldn’t exactly deny the accusations, to contradict him would call for substantial evidence to the contrary and without a sound opposing argument, she wouldn’t waste her breath.

  “Busted.”

  A slow smile swept across his face. Even his eyes flickered with amusement. “What time does this place close?”

  “Now.”

  “What do you say we get out of here?”

  “Are you asking the detective or the lady?” Flirting with danger had always been her MO. She loved the excitement and adventure found in working a case, but this? Well, this skated along the lines of seducing trouble, and she wasn’t just trying to draw it out. Her attitude was cocking its proverbial hip, crooking its finger back and forth, and striking a pose. Come and get it!

  A hard look of raw masculinity washed across his face. “Are you batting those long eyelashes at the biker or the man you think can help you solve this case?”

  “I never said I thought you could help me.”

  “Then why have you spent the last two hours with me, Detective Keen?” He leaned forward, now close enough that she could smell a hint of his fresh wintergreen aftershave.

  “So the lady has your interest.”

  “The detective doesn’t want it.”

  “Why would you say that?”

  “Because I rolled into this town on a day like no other. Your citizens are grieving a loss of sizeable magnitude, one so great I can’t even begin to fathom the heartache, and here you sit.” A slight hint of disgust lingered in his expression. “More concerned with taking me back to my room and fucking me than finding out what I know that might help you solve your case.” He stood, retrieved his wallet, and threw down a twenty-dollar bill. “Go home, Detective Keen. Go home and think about that.”

  She gasped in horror as she looked up at the cold, empty eyes staring back at her. A man who obviously wore several faces no longer appeared interested in her. Instead, he seemingly wanted to belittle her. Before she could supply a rebuttal, he stormed out of the diner.

  What on earth had she done? Trembling, she rose and started for the door. She’d almost reached the exit when she noticed a poor, homeless man. She’d seen him around town. Tonight, he was dressed in a coal-black raincoat. The large fellow seemed to slump into his weathered outerwear in an attempt to hide from her, or maybe even the entire world.

  She couldn’t blame him. After she’d made the foolish mistake of flirting with the new man in town, she wanted to find a hole and bury herself. She’d like to dig deep enough so she could lay low until the town’s stranger disappeared once and for all.

  * * * *

  “He’s still here.” Randon lightly touched the drapes. Peering around the dated beige window treatments, he secured the phone between his ear and shoulder. “I’m pretty sure I just saw him at the local diner.”

  “Did anyone else see him?”

  “I hope not,” he muttered.

  “Why didn’t you approach him?” Kurt asked.

  “There was an unexpected complication.”

  “Innocent bystanders?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Does this innocent bystander have a name?”

  “You won’t give up. Will you?”

  “Considering I know your days as a bachelor are numbered? Probably not. Throw in the fact you’ve been acting guarded since you arrived in that Podunk town? Not a chance. What’s she like?”

  “The detective?”

  “She’s a cop? Fuck, man! What are you thinking?”

  “I’m thinking there’s something to this mating shit. Trust me, Kurt. If I had the power to choose my partner in life…” He stopped talking and narrowed his gaze on the movement outside.

  “You’d what? Bolt?” Kurt laughed.

  “Let me call you back.” Randon flipped his phone closed and waited, watched.

  A silhouette briefly appeared in the shadows before the street lamps flickered with yellow lights thanks to the activated motion sensors. The dimly lit road became much brighter. A woman’s form moved swiftly across a narrow path leading to the public parking lot. Behind her, a stealthy creature stalked her like prey. He couldn’t help but think of those old horror movie flicks where the perpetrator’s shadow was four or five times the size of an average person.

  Seemingly unaware that she was being followed, Pageant stopped long enough to dig in her handbag. She then continued toward her car.

  Randon cracked the door of his motel room before he stripped off his clothes. “All right, mother fucker. Let’s see what you’re made of.”

  Chapter Four

  Pageant clutched her gun and kept her weapon close to her person. She’d been wise to the man trailing her, but she’d tried to act as if she were unaware of his presence, of the danger he represented.

  Formerly a Mia
mi PD decorated officer, Pageant had been dubbed the department’s chemical weapon. The reason supposedly had more to do with her lack of conscience than her quiet approach during brutal attacks.

  Pageant eventually left Miami because she’d grown tired of feeling that ever-present knot in her chest, the clenching sensation that often left her gasping for air and wondering if her next breath would be her last. As she tried to remain calm, she forced herself to maintain a steady pace.

  She’d left Miami because she couldn’t stand the heat. She’d been honest and forthcoming with her superiors and told them precisely why she wanted out and what had they done? Attributed her request for transfer to the weather instead of the constant threats most officers received on a daily basis.

  They’d saved face and she’d fled Florida. She still remembered stopping for fuel, checking over her shoulder, and thinking to herself that it would be the last time she’d check underneath her car for faulty wiring or a red flag to signify someone had tampered with her brakes while she’d used the restroom. Once Miami had been in her rearview mirror, she’d been convinced of her safety.

  Pleasant, North Carolina not only carried a name depicting its mountainous scenery and overall serenity, but the small town boasted a family-like community with neighbors ready to embrace a newcomer. She shuddered then as she remembered the attributes that had drawn her to Pleasant.

  Her neighbors had likely welcomed a killer. Someone in the community, perhaps even those who lay still and dead in the morgue, had embraced a stranger. On that fine, full-mooned evening, Pageant didn’t wonder what awaited her. If the man behind her had blood on his hands—figuratively speaking since he’d apparently murdered without weapons in play—then she knew what awaited her. She understood the fate she faced. Death was upon her.

  By all accounts, there wasn’t anything she could do to stop it, except maybe pray. Her key was in hand, locked firmly between two fingers. Her gun was cocked.

  About the time she reached her sedan, a cool eerie breeze shot past her, leaving a bluish blur in its wake. At the same time, a huge animal—and she thought it might have been a werewolf but she’d never actually seen one—jumped high in the air, leaping across the front of her car. The beast dashed into the woods, completely covered by the tall trees, overgrowth of brush, and the dark night.