Intense: A Dark Billionaire Romance

by B. B. Hamel

  “No. It’s fine.”

  “Good.”

  Dad went back to cooking and I was lost in my own thoughts, trying to imagine what Easton was going through.

  I couldn’t decide if I was really in danger or not. I knew that there were real murders happening nearby, but Lester Seed was dead. If it was someone else involved, could they even know of my existence?

  Finally, Dad finished the meal. It was this decadent pasta dish with vegetables all covered in an amazing sauce. We dug in together, chatting about pretty much nothing. He talked about his work and I told him some more details about being a private detective. He was surprised by how boring the whole thing actually was.

  It felt good to be talking so comfortably with my dad after so many years apart. I had dreaded this moment, when I’d finally be alone with him and have to interact, but it was actually totally fine. I realized that I didn’t hate him, or even dislike him, and that I was glad to be home.

  We cleaned the dishes together, joking about the old days. By the time we were finished, I was surprised to see that it was already ten at night.

  “Well,” Dad said, finishing his drink. “Time for this old man to sleep.”

  “Okay,” I said. “I’ll finish up down here.”

  “Thanks, kiddo.” He kissed my forehead. “I’m really glad you’re home.”

  “Me too, Dad.”

  “Night.” He turned and walked upstairs.

  I began to finish straightening up, drying dishes, when I was suddenly intensely aware that I was completely alone.

  I wasn’t very comfortable in the house yet. It just wasn’t what I was used to. It was nice, but it wasn’t home. And so standing there alone in the kitchen after thinking so long about murders and serial killers, suddenly I felt a weird little crawling sensation down my spine.

  Like someone was watching me.

  I shook my head. That was stupid. I was getting worked up about nothing. I grabbed my phone but had no messages. I was almost done cleaning up; I could retreat to my room soon enough.

  As I put the last dish away, I heard it. It sounded like the front door creaking open and shut, but that couldn’t be right.

  Had I locked it earlier? I wasn’t sure. I walked toward the short hall that led out to the front foyer, my heart beginning to beat steadily in my chest.

  Every floorboard creaked underfoot. The walls loomed large, and I swore I saw shadows moving out of the corner of my eye.

  I was being stupid. There wasn’t a serial killer coming in the front door.

  “Hey, sis.”

  I nearly jumped out of my skin. I let out a short little gasp and took a step backward, my heart pounding in my chest.

  “Easton!” I said. “You asshole. You scared me.”

  He smirked hugely, coming into the kitchen. “Good. Just means you’re on your toes.”

  He was lugging a duffel bag slung over his shoulder, but he looked tired, even more tired than usual.

  “What are you doing here?” I asked him.

  He dropped the bag on the ground. “Well,” he said, “I’m moving in.”

  I stared at him for a second, shock mixing with fear. I remembered the kiss, remembered the danger. “Are you serious?”

  He nodded. “Just for a little bit. Just while I’m working this case.”

  I cocked my head. “Why?”

  He shrugged, avoiding the question. “Nicer here. I can concentrate better.”

  “I don’t need you to protect me,” I said quickly.

  “Not everything is about you, princess,” he said, smirking at me.

  I wanted to wipe that delicious grin off his face. I wanted to kiss his lips, make him throw me down against the island and finally feel his fingers against my bare skin.

  But I knew I couldn’t. Especially not in my father’s house.

  “I’m going to bed,” I said.

  “Good. Exactly what I wanted to do.”

  “Alone.”

  He shrugged as he followed me up the stairs, carrying the bag. “I’ll be right next door,” he said as he walked down the hall. “For when you change your mind.”

  I paused outside my door. “Look, about earlier—”

  “I’d rather not talk about it,” he said softly, his body close to mine. “I’d rather you just show me what you want.”

  “We can’t,” I said. “You’re my stepbrother. Our parents are important here. And everyone talks. You know that.”

  “I don’t see anybody around right now.”

  I shook my head quickly. “We just can’t.” I quickly opened my door and stepped into my room.

  “Your loss.” I began to shut the door. “Night, sis,” he said.

  I closed it and leaned against the knob for a second before locking it.

  My heart was pounding in my chest. I couldn’t believe Easton was staying right next door. He hated his mother and didn’t want anything to do with staying at home, and yet there he was. He said it was to be able to concentrate on the case, but I knew that couldn’t be true.

  As much as I wanted him, things were just too tangled. I was afraid of him, if I was completely honest. I was afraid of what I wanted from him, and afraid of his past.

  I climbed into bed with a sigh. I just needed to forget about him.

  Which was pretty hard, considering we worked together. And he was just next door, his muscular body barely feet away.

  I shut my eyes and tried not to remember the way he’d made me feel out there alone together on the bridge.

  10

  Easton

  Sheriff Sloan had the AC on blast even though the night was relatively cool. We moved through the night, out toward the heavy forest. He took a small detour down a dirt track, almost identical to the one I took earlier.

  We drove in silence, which suited me. I was not much interested in talking to Sloan. He was a nice enough guy, but he had no clue what he was getting himself into. How could he? Mishawaka rarely saw crime worse than drunk driving.

  Tonight, though, Sloan saw the work of a true monster.

  After ten more minutes, I could see the flashing red and blue lights of a police cruiser up ahead.

  “Line is just up there,” Sloan commented as if I were blind.

  “Yeah,” I grunted.

  “When was the last time you were on a scene?”

  “Not long enough.”

  We lapsed back into silence as we slowly pulled up next to a cruiser.

  People were milling about everywhere. The crime scene people were wandering around in their anti-contamination suits taking pictures of just about everything while the plainclothes stood around and looked important.

  Sloan parked and we climbed out. “She’s just over here,” he said.

  I nodded and followed him as we ducked under the yellow police tape line.

  I took a deep breath. It really hadn’t been long enough since I was last at a crime scene. Vivid memories came spilling back, memories I didn’t really want. Martin, his throat bloodied, his skin pale. Seed lying on the ground, unmoving. The other agents and the damn looks they gave me, like I was some scumbag criminal myself. But I wasn’t that guy anymore.

  We picked our way through the small crowd. I caught a few glances thrown my way, but Sloan’s presence meant that they weren’t going to say a word.

  Sloan stopped and turned to me. “I heard about what happened with you and the bureau,” he said.

  I nodded. “Okay.”

  “You ready for this?”

  “Let’s get it over with.”

  He gave me a long look. Sloan wasn’t such a bad guy, but I would have given anything to get the fuck away from him. He was in his mid-fifties with short-cropped hair greying at the sides and at least an extra ten pounds hanging off his tall frame. We were almost the same height, a few inches over six feet, and he looked like he had been a linebacker in his younger days.

  “Come on,” he said, and we walked the last fifteen feet.

  And t
here she was. Lying propped up against a tree was a female, approximately twenty years old. Pale skin, brown hair. Her mouth was open, but her eyes were closed. Her hands were lovingly placed in her lap, and every one of her fingers were removed.

  I knelt down next to a tech that was photographing the victim’s hands. “What can you tell me?”

  “Victim, female, eighteen to twenty, Caucasian. No I.D. yet, but it’s only a matter of time.”

  “Struggle?”

  “No. No signs of a struggle. If I had to guess, I’d say the cause of death was an overdose or a poison.”

  I nodded, looking at the girl. She looked like so many other girls I had seen, every one of them so young, none of them deserving what happened.

  “Sexual assault?” I asked.

  “Signs of it, but we’re not sure.”

  I nodded and stood up, slowly walking around the tree.

  Everything about it screamed Lester Seed, and also none of it was right.

  “What do you think?” Sloan asked.

  “I’ve seen stuff like this before.”

  He raised an eyebrow. “So you know this sicko?”

  “Guy’s name was Lester Seed. It was, at least.”

  “What’s that mean?”

  “Seed is dead.” I paused and looked at him. “I killed him.”

  Sloan was quiet for a second, but I could see the faint surprise in his expression. “I knew you had a bust go bad but . . .” He trailed off and gathered himself before starting again. “So this is him then.”

  I nodded slowly. “Or someone that worked with him.”

  “An accomplice. What’s he doing here?”

  “I think he’s sending me a message, Sheriff.”

  “What message?”

  I looked back at the body, at the poor girl. “That he’s coming for me.”

  There was a hush in the woods in that moment as I watched the tech finish up her pictures. She stood and walked back toward the trucks, probably to drop off her film and to grab another camera.

  “But you said this isn’t like him,” Sloan said finally.

  I nodded. “Seed never left his victims out in the open like this. The ritual dismemberment, the lack of DNA evidence, and the sexual assault are all consistent with Seed, but the way he left the body here isn’t.”

  “So whoever this is, they’re changing the pattern.”

  “Seems to be the case.” I began to circle the tree again with Sloan in tow. “And if it’s not Seed, then whoever this is may get sloppy. I wouldn’t rule out the possibility of finding something.”

  “I’ll tell the techs to keep a close eye out,” Sloan grunted as we stopped walking. “Is he going to do it again?”

  I looked him in the eye. “I’d be very surprised if he didn’t.”

  “Fuck,” the sheriff said softly.

  “Yeah,” I answered. “Fuck.”

  There was not much else to say at that point. I promised to send him over my file on Seed, and he promised to share whatever they found. We got back in Sloan’s truck and started heading back toward town.

  My mind was a mess, ranging out through the possibilities. Who was killing, if it wasn’t Seed? Definitely someone with a connection to him, but also with a connection to me. Someone that wanted to find me, and to send me a message.

  I couldn’t help but start thinking about Laney. I wished I hadn’t answered the phone, wished I had just kissed her instead, told her to stop talking.

  But I also knew she was in danger. Actually, my whole family was. I couldn’t rule out the possibility that whoever was doing these killings would come at me directly.

  As Sloan dropped me off at my office and I climbed the stairs, I made a decision. I opened my office door and began to pack a duffel bag, hastily throwing stuff in without much thought.

  I was going to do something I’d never wanted to do.

  I was moving back into my mother’s house.

  11

  Laney

  I rolled out of bed, eyes a bit bleary. I stretched, my head still fuzzy with sleep as I opened my bedroom door and padded down the hallway.

  I didn’t get much sleep the night before. Visions of serial killers sneaking in through my window kept me tossing and turning until it was almost pointless to try to sleep.

  Without thinking, I pushed open the bathroom door.

  “Hey there, sis,” Easton said.

  I stopped short, my mouth hanging open.

  He was standing in front of the sink wearing only a pair of tight black boxer briefs. I took a small step backward, pretty much ready to panic and run away, but I couldn’t stop staring at him. His body was lean and muscular, tall and built, and he was just grinning at me like it was no big deal.

  “Um, good morning,” I mumbled.

  “Get much sleep?” he asked, going back to shaving.

  “Not really. I’ll give you privacy.”

  I turned and started walking away, my cheeks flushed red.

  “Stay and enjoy the show, Laney,” he called after me. “You can barely stop staring anyway.”

  I retreated into my room, shutting the door quickly behind me.

  I was so embarrassed. I had just walked in on him like it was no big deal. True, he didn’t seem to mind, and he probably got a kick out of the whole thing, but still. I didn’t know how it had slipped my mind that he was living with us now, my asshole stepbrother, the strange darkness that I was undeniably attracted to.

  I curled back up in bed and waited fifteen minutes before finally venturing out tentatively.

  Fortunately, he was gone, his bedroom door standing open, his room empty.

  I went through my normal morning routine, still a little shaken, still a little excited. I dressed, trying not to imagine how Easton would react to every outfit I considered. I needed to remember that he was my stepbrother first, my employer second, and whatever that kiss had made him a distant third.

  Dressed, shining, and ready, I descended the stairs.

  I walked into the kitchen. Sitting at the island reading the paper was my dad, and sitting across from him drinking a mug of coffee and digging into a bowl of cereal was Easton.

  “Good morning, honey,” Dad said.

  “Morning.”

  Easton just grunted at me. I rolled my eyes and poured some coffee.

  I stood there looking at the two main men in my life at the moment and felt this strange, almost surreal and crazy moment of vertigo hit me.

  One side of the island was my father, a man who I hadn’t been close with in years, and who I was trying to rekindle a relationship with.

  The other side was my stepbrother. He was the man I’d seen most over the last few days, and with who I was beginning to feel things I absolutely never should.

  And if my dad ever knew what was happening between Easton and me, I could only guess how he’d react.

  “What are you staring at?” Easton asked.

  “Nothing,” I said quickly, looking away.

  “You okay, sweetie?” Dad asked.

  “Fine.” I took a big sip of coffee to cover my embarrassment, and scalded the roof of my mouth. “Shit!” I said. “Hot.”

  Easton burst out laughing and Dad just shook his head, smiling.

  “Going to work soon?” Dad asked Easton.

  “I’m ready whenever Laney is.”

  “Don’t let me hold you up.”

  He stood, taking his bowl over to the sink. “After you, sis.”

  Dad smiled. “Great to see you two getting along.”

  “It is nice,” Easton said. “We really get along well. She’s great to work with.”

  I took another sip of coffee and put my mug on the table.

  “Come on,” I said. “See you, Dad.”

  “Have a good day.”

  Easton followed me out the front door and down toward his car.

  I stopped and whirled around. “Before we leave, one thing,” I said.

  “What?”

  “If you
’re living with us now, no bullshit jokes or gross innuendos around our parents.”

  He looked back at me innocently. “Now why would I do such a thing?”

  “Because you’re a jerk and you love to get a rise out of me.”

  “All of that is true. You’re just so damn sexy when you’re frustrated.”

  “Yeah, well, stop. I know we kissed, but our parents can never know about it.”

  He nodded. “Fine. Anything else?”

  “Just drive us to work.”

  “Sure thing, sis.”

  “Stop calling me sis,” I muttered as I climbed into the car.

  I could hear him laughing to himself as he walked toward the driver’s side.

  He handed me the coffee cup and paid the bored-looking kid at the drive-through window.

  “Thanks,” I said, sipping the hot drink.

  “Sure.” He pulled back out into traffic.

  “What’s on the agenda today?”

  He shrugged. “Not sure. I might have to go down to the sheriff’s office later, talk to them about that case.”

  “What’s happening with that?”

  He was quiet for a second. “Remember that article you read in the paper?”

  “Sure.”

  “Back when I was in the FBI, I was tracking a killer named Lester Seed. He killed in a way that’s very similar to the recent murders around here.”

  “Do you think it’s him?”

  “Maybe.” He fell silent again, staring straight ahead.

  I wanted to tell him that I’d seen the file. I wanted to admit it so badly that it almost hurt. I was tired of sneaking around and pretending like I didn’t know what was going on.

  And maybe I could help. It wasn’t like I meant to find the file in the first place. Maybe he’d be relieved.

  “I found your file,” I blurted out.

  He didn’t react. “Oh yeah?”

  “I’m so sorry,” I said, the words coming out in a rush. “I was in the bathroom and it was poking out from behind the toilet and I couldn’t help but look at it.”

  The silence between us stretched on. I wanted to keep babbling, to explain why I had looked at it, how it wasn’t my fault, but I knew it wouldn’t help. He didn’t look angry, but he wasn’t speaking either.