And honestly, I’d never been able to resist temptation anyway.
My grandmother always got on to me about it when I was younger. After she died, I’d gone to live with James and Janie. My grandmother had clearly passed on this bit of information, and James continuously told me I needed to learn impulse control.
There was this one time on a road trip when I’d gone to the bathroom at a truck stop. There’d been this hole in the wall that I later learned was called a ‘Glory Hole.’
I’d learned that the hard way, too.
Mostly because I’d sat there staring at it so long that someone on the other side thought I was offering services that I wasn’t actually offering.
Meaning, at seventeen, when I’d seen a dick come through that hole, I’d run outside and immediately informed Janie, who’d then caught the attention of her father when she’d shrieked in laughter so loudly.
Anyway, holes fascinated me.
I always wanted to know what caused them, or how deep they were.
I was just weird that way.
Luckily, I managed not to poke the hole on his ass.
Only just barely.
But that was partially due to the fact that he moved faster than one would think someone as big as him could move.
My finger was literally up in the air, ready to poke it when he was starting up the steps milliseconds later.
“Oh my God!” Janie gasped, leaning forward and dislodging the baby from her breast as she did. “You almost poked him in the ass!”
The mom in front of us turned around and glared.
My lips twitched.
Janie lowered her voice.
Barely.
“You almost poked him in the ass,” she whisper-yelled again.
I shrugged. “You know how I feel about holes.”
She shook her head.
“Y’all want something to drink?” Rafe asked.
I stood up. “I have to go to the bathroom. I’ll get the drink.”
Rafe shrugged, then handed me a twenty-dollar bill.
I took it, shoving it into the front pocket of my jeans.
“What do you want?”
“Beer, please,” he said. “Whatever they have on tap.”
I nodded.
“Hey, aren’t you going to ask me what I want?” Janie called to my back.
“I’ll get you whatever I want to get you, twat,” I told her over my shoulder.
Janie flipped me off, but she had a smile on her face.
I turned back around in time to see a few other members of our large group returning to their seats with their own drinks.
Instead of staying to chat, I rushed up the steps and nearly collided with the big man himself when I caught him at the top of the stairs.
“Oh, sorry,” I said when I ran straight into his back.
He caught me before I could start to topple over, but the only way to do that was to press my body to his.
“Sorry, sorry, sorry,” I apologized. “I was looking down and not up.”
“No problem,” he said.
And only then did we both realize that his hand was on the curve of my ass.
He let me go.
I didn’t step back, though.
I couldn’t.
Mostly because there was someone directly behind me.
Apparently, the seventh inning stretch was a popular time to get up and move around. Who knew?
“I really have to go to the bathroom,” I blurted, trying to explain away why I would run straight into his back.
“Okay,” he said, seemingly uninterested.
“And Rafe wants a drink,” I said. “I’m going to get one of those eighteen-inch tall lemonades.”
“Those things cost like nine dollars,” he said. “If you get one of the regular size drinks, they give you a free refill.”
“But then I wouldn’t have the big cup,” I pointed out.
He shrugged, then took three more steps upward.
I followed suit but stayed on the step just below him so it wouldn’t seem like I was climbing onto his back.
I didn’t want to be that person.
“Bathroom is right there,” he pointed in the direction.
I didn’t really have to go to the bathroom. But now I kind of had to since I’d lied and said I did.
“Are you getting a drink?”
He nodded.
“Can I come cut in line with you once I’m done?” I asked, glancing at the long line for the concession stand.
“I guess.” He shrugged.
Grinning, I ran into the bathroom and came to a sudden halt when I saw the line.
I moaned.
Instead of using the restroom, I went to the counter and washed my hands.
If I waited in that line to release the miniscule amount of urine that I had in my bladder, I wouldn’t get to stand in line with Parker.
I removed a little imaginary lint from my shirt, touched up my Chapstick, and then high-tailed it back out of the bathroom.
I had no clue why I wanted to talk to the man.
He didn’t really seem like the kind of person to want to chat with me, but I was willing to do anything. There was something about him that called to me.
It was as if he didn’t actually belong…and I didn’t either. It was kind of nice to sense that same kind of person in another person. Like attracting like to like.
Or whatever.
I didn’t know what it was that was drawing me to him, but I wasn’t one to fight the pull.
So, I hurried up to his side and just stood there, not saying a word.
He looked down at me, then looked back up at the line.
He had his arms crossed across his chest, and my eyes were drawn to the ink I could see peeking out from the neckline of the t-shirt.
Just below the solid black line on his throat was the very tip of another tattoo.
I didn’t say a word, though, even though the questions were burning a hole through my tongue.
I nibbled on my lip and crept up in the line with him, not saying a word until he said, “You’re giving me the creeps.”
I blinked. “What?”
“You’re bouncing on your feet, and you keep looking at me like you want to ask me something. Just fucking spit it out already,” he ordered.
I opened my mouth and then closed it.
“What makes you think I want to talk to you? Maybe I want to talk to that man on your other side,” I pointed out.
He looked to the side, and we both studied the man there.
He was a goth who looked like he’d rather be anywhere else but where he was.
His hair was in a mohawk that stood up about a half a foot into the air, too.
And he had on more makeup than I did.
Parker turned his head back my way. Then winked.
He knew damn well that I wasn’t looking at the other guy, and my face when he’d turned had proven it.
I’d never really understood the goth thing. It didn’t make any sense to me. But to each their own and all that jazz.
I was just going to be me.
“So what were you wanting to ask?”
My lips twitched. “I wanted to know what that tattoo right there was.”
I pointed at his neck but stopped just shy of actually touching it.
He lifted his arm and then caught the bottom of the tee with his hand and pulled it up, showing me the rest of the tattoo.
It was the Navy SEAL insignia.
“Wow, cool!” I said. “I want to get a tattoo. But, I’m undecided on what I actually want. So, I’ve just been researching…for years.”
His lips twitched. “Since it’s permanent, I can see wanting to like what you put on your body.”
I nodded my head. “I’m glad that you understand. Janie just wants me to do it…though she doesn’t have any tattoos either. It’s just a really hard deci
sion. I’m not impulsive at all.”
Unless we were talking about holes. Then I was fucking impulsive.
Or when someone pissed me off. Those words just slipped out before I could call them back.
Okay, so maybe I was a tad bit impulsive.
But he didn’t really need to know that.
I bit my lip and tried not to ask him the other fifty-nine questions that were on the tip of my tongue, and instead studied the bulletin board above the concession stand to see what I may or may not want.
He started to chuckle, and I gritted my teeth.
I would not ask him! I would not!
We stepped up to the counter a half a minute later, and Parker started to order.
Then looked over at me once he was done.
“Did you want something?”
I nodded and then pointed to a beer.
If I opened my mouth, I’d ask.
I knew I would.
“You want a beer?”
I nodded.
“Really?”
I nodded.
He seemed amused by my lack of communication, and I rolled my eyes.
“Anything else?”
I pointed to the lemonade.
He rolled his eyes.
“Give her one of those. Two beers. And some of those cracker jacks. Do you have any candy?”
Five minutes later we had more food than I knew what to do with, more drinks than I needed, and Parker had spent over sixty dollars.
I’d tried to hand him the twenty and another ten, but he’d refused.
Without actually opening my mouth and asking him to take it—which again I wouldn’t do because of the burning questions—there was nothing else I could do but acquiesce.
“I’m fairly sure this is the quietest I’ve heard you be since you sat down when you first got here.”
I glared and took the last few steps down that led to our seats.
“Are you sure you don’t want to ask?” he pushed, leading us back into our seats.
He passed Janie and Rafe before I finally caved.
I just couldn’t hold it in anymore.
“What’s your full name?” I blurted.
I really, really wanted to know. And it’d been killing me.
I just had to know.
I felt Janie’s pinch to my ass before she said anything.
“Don’t go there,” Janie ordered harshly under her breath. “Parker is a Bad News Bear.”
Yeah, right. Like we ever listened to anything the other said. Me? I said Rafe was a Bad News Bear. Did she listen? Hell no?
It’s like asking my opinion on her clothing choice. Whatever I tell her I just know that she’ll do the complete opposite.
There really was only one thing we agreed on…to disagree.
“Peter Parker Penn.”
My lips twitched, but before I could say another word, Loki’s cleared throat from behind me had me turning.
“You said you weren’t thirsty,” he accused.
I sat the beer I was holding down, and then brought the lemonade up to my lips.
“I wasn’t, but then I had to go to the bathroom, and saw this.” I held it up.
His eyes narrowed and then flicked from me to Parker and back.
“Huh,” he grunted.
I frowned as I watched him walk away, then turned back to my seat and took it.
“I knew this was going to happen,” Janie growled.
“Knew what was going to happen?” I asked inquisitively.
“Knew that he was going to catch your attention.” She shook her head. “You know that your new friend was the one who did that to Loki, right?”
I frowned.
“Did what?”
She gestured to her neck and then drew her finger across it as if she was slicing it open.
My mouth fell open.
“You’re kidding. Parker?” I whispered almost silently.
She nodded, looking freaked out.
“What?”
She nodded again.
“How do you know?”
She picked up her phone and typed something out, then my phone buzzed in my pocket from there.
Whore: I heard from Johnny, who heard from his dad. I’m being for real. They say that Parker really is the one who did that.
Slut: Why did you change our names in my phone again? And surely you’re joking. They wouldn’t be allowing him to be here right now if that had happened. And isn’t he from freakin’ Florida?
I quickly changed our names back in my phone, and then waited for her response, which was slow in coming when her baby woke back up.
“Here, take this.”
I rolled my eyes and took her kid, tucking her into my jacket and zipping it up until just the top of her black hair poked out.
She was still really tiny. Like just a little over ten pounds tiny.
And I loved her.
I never knew that I could love another person’s baby so much, but I really did. I loved her with my whole heart.
“What did you rename me as? I can see you laughing over there,” Janie accused.
At the same time, she started to type on her phone furiously.
Big Tits McGee: It did happen in Florida…I think. Johnny was drunk that night, so I can’t really confirm for real. However, I’m not really sure why they tolerate him being here. I once asked my dad, but he told me not to ask ever again and to forget I knew anything. I did ask Rafe, but Rafe gave me this weird look and told me that it wasn’t any of our business. So I started to do some research on him on my own…and found nothing. It was as if someone is hiding him just as well as Rafe hid himself, too. But I know for sure it wasn’t Rafe who hid him. Because he would’ve at least told me that.
I bit my lip as I read her text, then sighed.
He really couldn’t be all that bad…could he?
“Now, what did you put my name in there under?”
I showed her and got an immediate burst of laughter out of her moments later.
***
Hours later, as we were heading to our car, I passed Parker waiting next to a jacked up black truck. My dream truck.
The dream truck that I couldn’t afford, and probably wouldn’t be able to afford for a long time to come.
Janie and Rafe kept walking after Rafe said his goodbyes, but I didn’t follow.
Parker looked up, and his brows rose in surprise to find me still standing there.
“Hey, PC3O?” I asked hesitantly.
Parker stopped and turned, looking at me curiously.
“Why is it that I know that you’re talking to me?” he asked. “And the Star Wars name is C3PO.”
I shrugged.
“You’re not bad, are you?”
His lips twitched. “Sometimes you should trust your friends, darlin’.”
With that cryptic comment, I walked away and only looked over my shoulder twice.
Both times it was to find his eyes securely locked on me.
Chapter 5
I’m not a glass half full or a glass half empty kind of person. I’m more of a ‘where did I put my goddamn glass’ kind of person.
-Kayla’s secret thoughts
Kayla
One month later
“Are you sure you’re okay?” Janie asked. “You don’t look okay.”
I wasn’t okay. After the things I saw while I was in Benton, I wasn’t sure I’d ever be okay again.
I’d had a rough month.
And Janie being so far away hadn’t helped.
I’d been lonely in my apartment, and I was also tired of the prying eyes of the men of Free looking at me like I’d lost my light.
I hadn’t lost my light.
I’d been scared to freakin’ death.
Was still scared to freakin’ death.
But at least I didn’t have the eyes of the men who raised me constantly looking at me like
I was about to break staring at me anymore.
My hope by coming home, and then moving to Hostel, Texas where Janie now made her home, was to get over what I experienced. The things I saw that other people had done—it’d been terrible. The worst ever. And I knew without a doubt that I didn’t want to be a detective. I couldn’t handle what I witnessed Loki going through on a daily basis. I couldn’t live with that being my life. No way, no how.
Which led me to now, back to square one. Again.
For now, I was working at Hail Auto Recovery. Rafe had called in a few favors, and now I was the newest office assistant. Only I wasn’t just working at the shop answering calls and going to pick up orders, I was also working at their club, Hail House, doing other odds and ends like stocking and payroll.
It wasn’t what I wanted to be doing. The pay wasn’t much more than minimum wage, but it came with insurance.
Everything had been going great.
Until this morning.
Until I’d turned on the news and listened with dawning horror that another murder like the one I’d experienced in Benton, Louisiana had happened here.
In Hostel.
In the tiniest town ever.
Why here?
I just didn’t understand.
“Wow, they think that someone cut him up with a freakin’ saw?”
I nodded. “The big parts, yes,” I confirmed through the gorge rising. “The smaller parts were literally cut up with shears. And then limb cutters like you’d use for trees. They think that the killer is using whatever is handy. This time it happened to be a guy who was a woodworker and had a shop at his house. He had a lot of saws.”
In fact, I’d seen the man just three nights past outside selling the Santas he’d carved out of wood using his chainsaw.
Now, though, this guy was dead, chopped up—literally—and the comparisons between his murder and the other killings indicated it was the same killer.
Plus, the guy had a fucking calling card.
He tucked the people’s scalps onto a freakin’ lamp shade and turned the lamp on. Frying the flesh and allowing it to burn and melt onto the lamp itself.
He’d done that to ten victims so far, and it seemed that number was rising.
And, if the same routine held true, over the next three months, two more murders would be committed.
For the last year, every four months, in a different state each time, three murders were committed by this man. They weren’t one hundred percent positive that the murders were committed by a man, but the profilers strongly suspected it was.
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