Locke Brothers Series

by Ashley, Victoria

  “How do you even know that?” I question. “Have they ever killed anyone before? You never once told me they’re murderers. All you’ve told me is what you hear from others around town. But has anyone actually been killed by them? Who do you know that’s been hurt because of the Locke brothers? I’m sure it’s not just random violence.”

  “No, not that I know of. I don’t know, but that doesn’t mean they won’t start with us. The youngest Locke saw what you look like. He saw you watching him like a damn nosy person. That whole family is bad news. Everyone knows to steer clear of them. Everyone but you, apparently.”

  “Don’t you think he would’ve marched across the street and hurt me if he wanted to? It’s late at night and the whole damn neighborhood is asleep. He could’ve done anything he wanted to me, but he didn’t. All he did was look at me as if he was curious. It was like he expected me to run away, but I didn’t.”

  “Probably because his hands were already covered in someone else’s blood and he was trying to think of ways to catch you when you’re alone at a later time, damn it.” She stops to catch a breath. “I about died when I looked outside to see him staring this way. It wasn’t until I looked closer that I saw you standing on the porch, looking back at him.”

  “Those guys that live across the street…” I pause to take another drink of water while gazing at the curtain. “Didn’t you tell me they scare the shit out of you? That they’re always trying to get you alone and one of them even tried slipping something into your drink once? How do you know they haven’t done that to other women?”

  “I don’t,” she says in aggravation. “And yes, they’re fucking creepy as hell and I’m scared when I see them out at night. Every girl in their right mind is. I’m not denying that, but…”

  “Maybe the Locke brothers were there to teach them a lesson,” I say, cutting her off. “Maybe they’re not as bad as you all think. From what I’ve seen, this town is full of judgmental gossipers.”

  “Listen…the youngest Locke might look like a beautiful blond angel, but I can assure you he’s as sinful and dangerous as they come.” She lets out a tired breath and stops in my doorway. “Please just promise me you’ll stay away if you see them again? I’m trying to keep you safe. You’re my friend, and you wouldn’t even be in this shitty little town if it weren’t for me. I’m responsible for you here. I’ve been keeping my eye out for you since we were eight. I’m not magically stopping now, no matter how hard you fight me.”

  I nod my head to make her happy and ease her worry as I jump onto my bed. “All right. I get it. You’ve always been persistent and overprotective. It’s because I love your ass so much that I followed you to this small town. Well, that and my old life sucked anyway.”

  She smiles slightly before speaking. “Good,” she says firmly, getting serious again. “Now, good night and lock your window. I know how you like to open it after your nightly jogs, but don’t. Just don’t…”

  “All right, woman. On it. Good night.”

  After she walks out of my room and shuts the door behind her, I immediately rush back over to the window and look outside.

  My mind knows he’s not out there anymore, but apparently my body didn’t get the memo, because I look hard in hopes of seeing him again.

  I mean face smashed against the window hard.

  My eyes immediately land on one of the residents of the house across the street instead.

  His face is all busted up and he’s pacing across the lawn, holding something in his hand, looking extremely angry and on edge. It may be a knife.

  I can’t quite tell what it is, but seeing that the Locke brothers didn’t leave them for dead has me completely curious what their business was with them.

  I’ve been here for a little over two months, and I have never seen them across the street before tonight.

  There’s obviously something that brought them there, but what?

  It wasn’t to kill the creeps, and I don’t see or hear any sirens heading this way to check things out.

  Maybe I’ll never know, and that thought is driving me crazy and making me extremely curious.

  This might be a dangerous game, but I want to know about the youngest Locke brother.

  If I see him again, I’m not sure I’ll be able to stay away like Melissa has warned me to.

  3

  Aston

  My hands are shaky, my bare skin covered in sweat as I sit here in the darkness of the basement with a cigarette resting between my tight lips.

  Ever since we left that house last night, I’ve been slammed with visions of what I witnessed over six years ago, getting me lost in my sick, twisted mind.

  No one should’ve had to witness the fucked-up things I saw that night, let alone a kid of only fifteen.

  Nothing about me has been the same since, and with every day I die a little more inside, feeling tormented and defeated about something I had no control over.

  As time passes, I begin to realize I’m stuck in my own personal hell I’ll never break free of no matter how fucking hard I try.

  One day, I’m afraid I’ll give up altogether and just fade.

  There’s not much stopping that from happening.

  Tensing, I step into the freezing, ice-filled water and lower myself to the bottom of the tub, hoping to chill my body temperature and distract myself from the hell in my head.

  I need something else to pull me from my thoughts. Anything strong enough to keep me distracted. Something for me to fight for and remind myself I’m still alive.

  My teeth chatter, my whole body shaking as I submerge deeper in the deep water, trying to imagine the life I had before my parents died.

  Nothing comes to mind. No good memories. No happiness. Nothing. All that sits in the back of my mind is pain, suffering, and death.

  Lying here in the ice water, I open my eyes and stare up at the emptiness that surrounds me. I’m completely numb in this moment, and I have no urge to feel anytime soon.

  So I just stay here, shivering in the dark, not breathing.

  I don’t come up for air until my lungs feel as if they’re on the verge of exploding and I know I have no other option but to breathe.

  Sitting up, I lean over the bathtub and take in quick, deep breaths, every part of my body hurting as I fight to gain control.

  Once I’m able to breathe without my lungs burning, I stand up and step out of the tub, making my way through the darkness to my room.

  The warm temperature of the house has my body feeling as if it’s on fire as I stare at my reflection in the mirror, taking in the damaged sight in front of me.

  Slowly my hands run over the scars on my chest and abs, left there from six years ago. My numbness quickly turns into rage and hatred, taking me over until I’m grabbing for anything within my reach and shattering the mirror with it, until there’s nothing left to look at.

  Nothing there to show me how fucked up I truly am.

  It’s the first time in a long time that the blood covering my hands has been my own. Yet I still don’t feel shit.

  Taking slow, deep breaths, I wipe my cut-up hand off and throw on a pair of jeans and a white thermal shirt before heading out the back door, not bothering to inform my brothers that I’m leaving. Maybe they heard the glass shattering, but if they did they give no indication, don’t come running to see what’s wrong. They must be preoccupied which is perfect.

  There’s somewhere I want to go right now.

  Somewhere I’ve been fighting to stay away from since last night, and I need to get out of this damn place before I lose it.

  Walking fast, almost running as I leave my house behind, putting distance between my brothers and me I pull out a cigarette and turn down the alley that’s a mile away from our property. I look straight ahead as I make my way toward my destination.

  I make it ten blocks before I hear someone come up behind me. It’s clear they want me to know they’re following me, which means this dumb ass believes he has power
over me.

  The asshole follows me for two blocks, not speaking until he realizes I’m not attempting to run from him.

  “What do you have in your back pocket, asshole? Show me. Now.”

  I keep walking just to piss him off.

  “What the fuck is that bulge? I could use a new toy.”

  A small smirk takes over as I stop and toss my cigarette at the ground, ready to take on whatever this dick thinks he’s going to do to me.

  “I asked you a fucking question.” The voice is closer now, almost right behind me. “Empty out your pocket. I want it, asshole. That and anything worth a shit.”

  Cracking my neck, I pull the lock from my pocket and slowly turn around, my gaze settling on a tall guy wearing clothes five times too big for his ass.

  He gets ready to come at me, but recognition registers in his eyes when he sees the family symbol tattooed across my neck.

  “Whoa, my bad. Didn’t realize you were one of Locke brothers.” He backs away, keeping his hands up so I can see them. “I don’t want any trouble, man. My mistake. I’ll just be on my way.”

  Usually I wouldn’t let an asshole like that leave, knowing what he’s out here doing, but tonight is different. My mind is set on where I want to be, and nothing can change that.

  He lucked out, but I have no doubt I’ll run into him again out here on the streets. He’ll get what’s owed to him.

  Before I know it, I’m standing on the same street I was last night, looking over at the same small white house that had me distracted from my job.

  My jaw flexes as I stand here and stare at the lit-up bedroom at the side of the house.

  It was about this time yesterday that she got back from a run or whatever it was she was doing out on the streets so late.

  If I timed it correctly, she should be coming down the street right about…

  My attention gets pulled to the sidewalk when I hear the pounding of her feet hitting the pavement.

  A strong urge to go to her hits me the moment her eyes land on me and she stops running.

  It’s almost as if she’s luring me in with the way she looks me over, never turning her eyes from me as she unlocks her front door and opens it.

  My heart races in my chest when she slowly shuts the door, her eyes staying on mine until she’s out of sight.

  It’s when I see the curtain in her room move that I hear her bedroom window opening, letting me know I was right.

  She’s just as curious about me as I am about her.

  Maybe I’ll feed her curiosity and give her a small taste of the youngest Locke.

  I’m pretty sure this will be the last time she leaves her bedroom window unlocked and opened for me.

  4

  Kadence

  I don’t know what’s come over me, asking this dangerous man, this stranger into my room. Even resorting to having him sneak through the bedroom window like a thief in the night, like I’m some teenager hiding him from my parents.

  God, if my roommate finds out I have a Locke brother in the house, let alone my bedroom, she’ll shit.

  She’s warned me, and I take that seriously, but the truth is ever since I saw him across the street the other night, he’s all I’ve been able to think about.

  Taking a deep breath, I step back and keep my gaze on the window, my heart speeding up when I hear rustling right outside.

  He’s not even in the house yet, and I’m already going crazy with anticipation of what’s to come.

  He pushes the curtain aside, braces a hand on the windowsill, and before I can warn him, remembering the jagged piece of metal sticking out from the frame, he’s hoisting himself up and inside.

  “Motherfucker,” he says loud enough I know my roommate could have heard. The last thing I need is her in here acting crazy.

  “Shit, I totally forgot about that,” I say and find myself moving a step closer. It’s as if I want to help him, like I can’t stand to see him hurt. Of course, I know he’s dangerous. That much is a fact, but I can’t help myself.

  He holds his hand out, and I see he has a nasty cut, blood welling up. “Let me grab a wet rag. Hold on.”

  It’s an excuse as much as it is me wanting to see if Melissa has heard. Her door is shut, the light off.

  I listen for just a second longer, making sure she’s not getting up, then walk over to the sink, grab a clean rag, and run it under the water. We don’t have a first-aid kit, not that I know of anyway, so I grab some paper towels, a roll of masking tape, and head back into my room.

  I shut the door silently, staring at him, his focus on all my shit scattered around the room.

  He starts running his uninjured hand over my stuff as if memorizing it, taking in the feel, the shape of everything. This is grossly intimate in a way, like he isn’t just touching my things … but me.

  But I don’t say anything and instead stand here for a moment, letting him get to know me through those artifacts, as if he has every right to even be in here, sharing the same air as me.

  “I’m gonna bleed all over your fucking floor,” he says softly, his voice deep, serrated, like this knife moving over me, barely touching me but promising to break the skin and draw blood.

  “Sorry,” I say and walk over to him, handing the wet rag to him first.

  He eyes me like he’s surprised I’m willing to help him. Maybe he’s not used to anyone not running from him. He doesn’t say anything though, and instead takes the rag and cleans his hand off, and his arm where the blood has started dripping down the length. He tosses the rag into the small trash can by my bed.

  “Here,” I say and hand him the paper towel and masking tape.

  “I’m good.”

  I look at his hand. It’s already started to bleed again. Taking matters into my own hands, I grab his arm, wrap the paper towel around his cut, and tape it up.

  When I look at him, it’s to see him staring at me, this weird, almost frightening expression on his face. It’s like this cold rush of air has moved over me, covering me in its icy touch, trying to suck the air from my very lungs.

  And he’s made me feel this way with just a look.

  “Like you said, you’ll bleed all over my fucking floor.” The words just spill out.

  I move a step back on instinct and take in the sight of him. Even now I have no idea why I’ve brought him into my room, invited the very devil himself into my life.

  Yes you do. All it took was a look across the street for you to feel something. He made you feel like you’re walking on this razor’s edge, about to fall over, drop into the very bowels of hell itself.

  His body is lean but muscular and hard. So damn sexy and tempting.

  The air is thick, charged, alive. I feel the hair on my arms stand on end, as if they know the man in front of me is dangerous, someone I should get far away from.

  With my body still damp from running, my clothes sticking to me, a part of me wants to go back out there and have my feet on the pavement. Running lets me be free, lets me feel alive. It’s the only time I feel like I can be by myself, my thoughts my own.

  Maybe that’s how he feels when he’s out doing what he does with his brothers.

  I swallow, my throat tight, my mouth dry as his eyes stay on me. I don’t know what to say. When I opened the bedroom window, it had been this automatic move.

  My hands are twitchy, my mind replaying seeing him the other night, knowing he watched me, thinking about what he could do to me if he wanted to.

  Dangerous, violent, no fucks given … all those things and more have come up in the rumors. The Locke brothers keep to themselves because they don’t do social hour. Yet here I was inviting one into my bedroom.

  When it comes to Aston Locke, I’m flirting with danger, playing with fire right in the palm of my hand.

  “You saw me last night,” he growls, moving an inch closer to me. I find myself moving one back. We do this silent dance of me retreating because I know he’s a predator and I am the prey.

&nbs
p; “Yeah,” I finally whisper, my voice soft, distant. I have no doubt he can see how scared I am, smell it on me. It isn’t that I think he’ll hurt me, which is foolish. This man could do that and I wouldn’t be able to stop him. Hell, I invited him into my room like a crazy person.

  “You see what we did to those motherfuckers across the street?”

  I watch his sexy mouth as he speaks, then lift my gaze to his eyes. God, they are so blue. I don’t know what it is about him, but I can tell the youngest Locke has seen some shit, lived through hell itself.

  And when I retreat one more step, the door stops me. He places his tattoo-covered hands on the cheap wood beside my head, leans down, and I hold my breath.

  “You know who I am?” he whispers against my lips, causing me to lose my breath for a quick second.

  I can see in the way he appraises me that he knows who I am from last night. I have no doubt about that. “Yes.”

  He grins, but it’s sadistic in nature, pleased that he made me admit it.

  “You’re about to learn who I really am soon enough.”

  5

  Aston

  I’m crowding her. She’s nervous because of it, maybe even second-guessing letting me into her room.

  I inhale. Fuck, she smells good, really damn good.

  “I’m Aston Locke, a mean motherfucker that you just let all up in your space.” I lower my gaze to her throat, see her swallow, watch the slight curve move up and down. “Tell me your name,” I demand with a growl.

  I could have said it a little nicer, tried to pretend and be sweet, gentle. But to hell with it; I’m not going to pretend to be someone I’m not.

  “Kadence.” Her voice is soft and so damn innocent. “Kadence King.”

  Kadence King.

  God, how I want to defile her, make her see what all the hype is about concerning my brothers and me and how rough we are. I can imagine her naked, spread out for me, willing to do whatever the fuck I say. And she would submit to me, let me leave my marks on her, pretty purple and blue fingerprints that showed my ownership.