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

by Natalie Acres

  As he walked toward the front door, Randon could hear the commotion beyond the entrance. The high and low beams from approaching cars flashed in front of the windows. “Shit.” He rushed outside and came to an abrupt halt, unable to believe his eyes.

  He couldn’t see the bodies for the investigators, street cops, and onlookers, but he knew the victims. A sudden sickness left him doubled over a bush, losing his lunch and dinner from the day before. He’d been inside claiming his woman while other Bold and Free riders had been fighting for their lives, doing their best to protect them!

  By the time Randon returned to an upright stance, Sheriff McKinney was in sight, rushing his way. He pushed several people aside before he reached him. “Like I said before, you seem to be everywhere these crimes occur.”

  “I didn’t have anything to do with this.”

  “Want to tell me why three of your buddies are dead and you’re the only one alive?”

  Kurt appeared then, too. “You okay?”

  “Yeah.” He turned to the sheriff. “Wait a minute. Did you say three?”

  “Three not enough for you?”

  He looked at Kurt. “Who’s missing? When I went inside with Pageant, there were four Bold and Free riders out here.”

  “Four?” The sheriff jotted down some notes. “You’re sure?”

  “Positive.” He pointed at the motorcycles parked under her carport. “Who rode with Mac last night?”

  “Fellow from Boston. He lives in the South now and has a Nouthern twang.”

  “Nouthern?” Sheriff McKinney shook his head. “Is that a new language?”

  Kurt frowned. “Have you ever heard a Southerner talk after they’ve spent a few years in the North?”

  “No.”

  “No point in explaining right now,” Kurt said, focusing on Randon and tilting his chin toward the house. “Everything taken care of in there?”

  “Yes.”

  “Good to know.” Kurt slapped him between the shoulder blades. “I’m never disappointed when a brother hooks up with his life mate. Just more babes for me.”

  “Try to show some respect, Kurt. These men were our friends.” Randon dragged his fingers around his mouth. “How could this have happened?”

  “Apparently our guy doesn’t make a lot of noise.” Under his breath, Kurt quickly added, “Either that or you and the little lady made enough to drown out whatever was happening out here.”

  To an outsider, Kurt would’ve appeared insensitive, but Randon understood Kurt’s demeanor. The man came into this world with death surrounding him and thanks to a volatile childhood that followed him into his later years, he hadn’t seen too many months without losing someone close to him.

  One of the other bikers approached them and thumbed the air over his shoulder. “Couple of prospects from one of the local chapters stopped by to see if there’s anything we need.”

  The sheriff stormed off as soon as the television news van with bold lettering on the side pulled in the driveway. WRBV-TV hadn’t wasted time. Perhaps someone should’ve told them that a soul-stealing vampire was still running around on the loose. Maybe then the majority of the spectators, potential victims, would sense the dangers in groups and return home.

  “That’s it,” Randon muttered, realizing speculation at this point was just that, but also pretty certain he was on to something. “Our guy prefers to attack in numbers.”

  Kurt shrugged. “It’s plausible, I guess.”

  Randon turned to the other biker. “Find out who else was here with Mac. Send the prospects to find him. And pass the word along to the others, when we ride together, we ride in a loose formation. Everybody spreads out.”

  “You got it,” the biker said, disappearing into a throng of people.

  Randon moved closer to the crowd. He’d recently met Mac and knew he had a pregnant wife at home. “This sucks.”

  “Yep,” Kurt drawled. “And death wasn’t the worst thing that happened to Mac.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “You haven’t seen him?”

  “After I left the house, I didn’t make it very far.” From there, he could only see Mac’s biker boots.

  “Better be glad,” Kurt said, steering him away from the corpses. “You don’t need to see that, man.”

  “I’m used to viewing this guy’s victims.”

  About that time, a woman’s shrill filled the air. “What happened to his skin?”

  Others gathered around the victims. Soon, several people were turning away from the bodies, holding their noses and mouths.

  “What the hell happened?” Randon pushed a few onlookers out of his way in an effort to see the bodies.

  Kurt threw his arm back and stopped him. “Don’t, Randon. Trust me, brother. You don’t want to remember this. Listen to me, man!”

  Randon searched Kurt’s face. “Start talking. How are these deaths different than the others?”

  “I’m hoping the prospects turn up with a witness who can shed some light on this, but it’s bad, man. He hasn’t done anything like this anywhere else.”

  “We got something.” Sheriff McKinney rushed them. “A woman claims she saw bodies in the air around one or two this morning.”

  “Flying bodies?” Kurt massaged the back of his neck. “So we’ve gone from vampires to aliens now?”

  “She said the only way to describe it was to imagine a paranormal movie with ghosts floating in the air. According to her, they weren’t just drifting across the lawn.”

  “What’d they do?” Kurt asked.

  “Smashed into one another, rammed up against the side of what she calls a ‘cloudy bubble’ and turned a number of quote-unquote cartwheels.” Sheriff McKinney flipped through his notepad. “She said the big guy was screaming at the others, throwing a number of punches, and seemed to put up one hell of a fight.”

  “So she’s got a description?”

  “You know that’s a shot in the dark,” Randon said, shaking his head before ducking under the newly strewn crime tape. “You can’t describe what you can’t see.”

  “You’re saying we’re dealing with an invisible force?” Sheriff McKinney snapped the end of his fountain pen and shoved it in his shirt pocket. “Is that what you’re implying?”

  Randon and Kurt shared a knowing stare. They’d all turn in their badges if they truly believed they were up against something they’d never see, let alone arrest.

  “Don’t listen to your witness,” Randon finally said. “We’ve been studying this guy for a while now. There’s nothing to suggest he sends his victims into midair. Besides, why bother with such theatrics?”

  “To disorient his victims?” Sheriff McKinney suggested.

  Kurt shrugged. “We haven’t thought of that.”

  “No one has ever come forward and said they saw floating bodies either.”

  Kurt pointed at the forest behind them. “Sheriff, where do these woods lead?”

  Randon balked at the question. All they had to do was shift, sniff, and transition back. They’d know precisely where the woods led as well as what creatures resided there.

  A cop walked up and handed a bag of clothes to the sheriff. “We found this, Sheriff.”

  “You’re just now bringing this to me?”

  Randon recognized the red plaid shirt on top and saw a portion of the Bold and Free member patch on a familiar leather jacket. He reached for the bag. “May I?”

  “Great. Now we have an exhibitionist running around town without his pants. Just terrific.” The sheriff handed over the clothing and returned to his team of investigators. “Somebody go knock on Sleeping Beauty’s door and get her out here! Detective Keen could snore through a hurricane.”

  Randon’s entire body went rigid. How the fuck would he know that?

  “I know what you’re thinking,” Kurt said, smirking. “Don’t even go there. The gal had a life before you rode into town. I’m sure it was a quite dull one in comparison to all this, but she had a life befor
e you.”

  Randon ignored Kurt and watched a few female officers approach Pageant’s home. “I should probably—”

  “Don’t even think about it,” Kurt interrupted him. “There’s too much speculation already.”

  “Why?” Randon didn’t think he’d compromised himself or Pageant by showing too much interest in public.

  “Why do you think? Between the drool on your chin and the stars in your eyes, you would’ve been a better psychological experiment than Pavlov’s dogs.”

  “You missed your calling, Kurt. You should’ve been a standup comedian.” Randon paced the yard until he sensed Pageant nearby. His sour mood eased as soon as he spotted his mate standing on the porch.

  “Well, how about that,” Kurt drawled. “There’s the lady of the hour. And look at her, why don’t you. She looks freshly fucked, recently showered, and ready to take on the world.”

  “Over my dead body.” Randon left Kurt on the lawn and marched up the short cobblestone path leading to the house.

  “Hey Randon!” Kurt called out. “I would choose my words carefully if I were you. By the looks of things, death could be arranged!”

  Chapter Twelve

  At noon, the sheriff called a private meeting for all law enforcement officers working the case. They gathered at the jail since the sheriff’s office was relatively small. Patrol cars from neighboring counties parked out front, a fact that bothered Pageant. It wasn’t a good idea to feed a madman’s over-stroked ego, particularly if said madman was a supernatural freak with the proven ability to strike, kill, and vacate the premises without a trace.

  Pageant watched as the commons area filled with rookies, officers, and detectives from around the region. She fiddled with her cell phone, itching to text Randon, just to check in. She longed to hear his voice. The day hadn’t exactly started off how she’d hoped. She’d awakened to horrifying news. Still, his masculine scent lingering on her sheets had served as a delicious reminder of the good loving from the night before. Even now, her mind kept rolling through a variety of clips, images of Randon towering over her, pounding inside her, loving and claiming her.

  Marking her as his.

  She shivered at the thought, aware of her peaking arousal, of this unexplainable fiery need. On impulse, she quickly scoured her contact list. Glad she’d thought to ask Randon for his number, she typed out, There’s something wrong with me.

  Immediately, a message returned. What is it? Where are you? I’ll be right there.

  Hurriedly, she responded with, No, I’m fine. Horny and thinking of you, but not in any immediate danger.

  Ah…so you miss me?

  Is this normal?

  Yes. Are you still in a meeting?

  Yes. It hasn’t started yet.

  Want to go somewhere private? I can help you take care of that problem.

  She squeezed her legs together as she thought of their previous night together. I’m tempted.

  It won’t take long.

  She laughed. The room quieted but she ignored the glares from fellow officers. Instead, she typed out, The meeting is starting soon. Remembering a question she’d meant to ask, she continued, Randon, officers from neighboring towns are here. Why aren’t the feds here? How did you know they wouldn’t show up?

  Good question. One we need to discuss. Can you call me?

  She scanned the room for the sheriff. Once she spotted him, she waved her phone in the air and mouthed, “I’ve got something. Need to make a quick call.”

  He nodded. She walked outside and dialed Randon.

  “I like the way you work, honey. Using business to hear my voice is brilliant.”

  “Tell me you aren’t one of those Alpha fellas.”

  “I think you already know that’s a fact.”

  His voice made her pussy clench. Sensual sensations left her wondering if Randon was her new vice, a habit she’d quickly formed and desperately wanted to nurture and feed.

  “You’re like an addiction,” she said, laughter in her accusation.

  “After last night, I’m definitely high on you.”

  “You’re also corny.”

  “How’d you know?”

  “I said, corny, not horny.”

  “My mistake,” Randon said, a dry chuckle resonating in her ear.

  “It wouldn’t take much for you to lead this conversation in another direction, but—”

  “But you need to know why the Feds haven’t made it. I understand.”

  “Randon, tell me the truth. Why aren’t they here?”

  “Kurt and I have been following the extortionist for a while now. Most of what we have to go on is only speculation.”

  “And I’m starting to think your so-called suspicions are facts and you call them guesses or ‘speculation’ so you don’t step on toes.”

  “Perceptive and beautiful. How’d I get so lucky?”

  Her nipples tingled. God, this was bad. Even his compliments left her with heated impressions. She was seconds away from panting with desire. Determined to stay the course, she said, “Tell me what you think, please. None of this makes any sense. Cops from thirty miles away are here. Why aren’t the Feds doing their damned jobs? Why aren’t they trying to help us catch this guy?”

  The silence was deafening, but provided enough time to analyze.

  “There’s more than one.”

  “We’re not sure,” Randon admitted.

  “What do you mean you aren’t sure?” She paced. “How long have you been tracking this guy?”

  “A while.”

  “You’re being vague!” She stomped her foot. “Why won’t you tell me everything you know?”

  “Honey, as soon as I see you, I’ll tell you what I can, but before you go into that meeting, I’m not arming you with assumptions.”

  “You don’t trust me.”

  “Don’t put words in my mouth.”

  “I don’t have time for this.” She clapped the phone closed and marched back inside.

  The sheriff’s eyes met hers. She briskly shook her head before taking a seat. What wasn’t Randon telling her? Why did she have the feeling he was holding out on her to protect her?

  A text message flashed on her phone. So we’ve had our first disagreement. It may be the first of many, but I’m not a stupid fellow. I won’t let you stew on this. When I see you, I’ll explain everything. It’s not that I don’t trust you, Pageant. Knowledge places you in the line of fire. It doesn’t arm you with what you need. It makes you vulnerable.

  First of many arguments? How about the first and last. Fuck off. Oh, she was mad.

  I accept your apology. No need to type it out. Focus on the meeting and we’ll get together and make up later. LOVE, Randon.

  She glared at the incoming text. This guy was a piece of work. Maybe you should’ve spent some time getting to know me before you decided to MAKE ME your mate. I’m anything but vulnerable. I’m strong and independent. Next time you take a mate, maybe you’ll find out more about her first. Good-bye, Randon. I’m turning my phone off.

  Feeling rather pleased with herself, she jiggled her shoulders and leaned back in her chair. She crossed her arms and turned her attention to the front of the room. Suck that up, wolf man.

  A few minutes later, she was agitated, but her anxiety stemmed from something other than her typical impatience. A grueling meeting didn’t top her list of favorite ways to start or end the day, but it didn’t make her physically ill.

  She was lightheaded. Perspiration dampened her brow. If she didn’t know any better, she’d swear she was coming down with the flu. All sorts of ailments had plagued their town in the weeks leading up to the mass murders. Maybe it had been a bad omen. And maybe it was her turn to spend a few hours in bed with a cool rag on her head, too.

  She shifted in her seat. No, she didn’t buy the sick-symptoms. She rarely had so much as a cold.

  On guard then, she turned to check out the room. Familiar faces surrounded her. Talking herself down, she
decided there wasn’t anything to be alarmed about.

  She glanced to her left. A burly biker with the MC shot her a toothless smile.

  Other than the fact that she was sandwiched between two deputized bikers, everything was quite normal. She groaned at the thought.

  Sheriff McKinney stood behind a podium. “Officers, detectives, members of the press…”

  A door slammed behind them. All heads turned, with one exception—hers—and she didn’t have to look. She knew who had just entered the building because her body had responded. Her pulse quickened. Electric sensations rushed up and down her spine and her palms became excessively sweaty. And that was before she heard the first heavy footstep in her direction. As the chuck-ching, chuck-ching of his noisy boots fell to the floor, her body became one vessel of arousal, purely in tune with the man walking her way.

  “Mr. Shane, this meeting is closed to law enforcement, invited guests, new deputies, and select members of the press.”

  “And I apologize, but this is important. I need to speak with Detective Keen.”

  “Whatever he has to say to me, he can say right here.” She swiped at her damp brow, wondering if those in the crowd had noticed she was sweating bullets.

  Recently deputized, Kurt leaned over her shoulder. “Are you sure you want to piss him off?”

  Turning sideways in her metal folding chair, she whispered, “You may not be aware of this, Mr. Dandridge, but Mr. Shane and I haven’t known one another that long. Just because we had sex last night, doesn’t mean he owns me.”

  “If you say so,” Kurt said, leaning back in his chair.

  “I say so,” she said smugly, facing the front of the room once more.

  The bikers seated on either side of her snickered, but didn’t comment.

  “Detective Keen will be happy to meet with you after we adjourn,” Sheriff McKinney said.

  “Detective Keen needs to talk with me now,” Randon said, stalking her.

  “I warned ya,” Kurt sang.

  Helpless, and not at all happy about the situation, she looked at the burly fellow to her right. “Any chance you can put a stop to this?”