Fatal Fugue (The Deadlier Sex Book 1)

by Maelani

  Fatal Fugue

  The Deadlier Sex Series

  Book One

  By

  Maelani

  Blurb:

  I was a monster once.

  At least, that’s what people say.

  They all know who I am. The horrible things I’ve done.

  Even if I don’t remember, they know.

  Jay is a fierce hunter—handsome, mysterious, deadly, and he knows all about me—at least he says he does. He knows the reason I’m here in Texas watching a house burn, a dead man inside of it. The empire I built in Vegas, full of violence, sex, and money.

  So. Much. Money. So much to die for. So much to kill for…

  He says he wants to help me. He says he knows me.

  But I don’t even know myself.

  I need to stay alive long enough to find out what happened to me, but there are those who’d rather stuff my body six feet under faster than a one-night stand. I need to get back to Vegas. Now.

  The ones who want me dead are waiting and there’s nowhere to run. Nowhere to hide.

  And no one to trust. Not even Jay.

  Fatal Fugue

  (The Deadlier Sex #1)

  ©January 2016 by Maelani Reese & Nataleigh Sharp

  All rights reserved

  Published by

  Cover Design by MelancholyMuse

  Photography Depositphoto

  This book is sold subject to the condition that it shall not, by way of trade or otherwise, be lent, re-sold, duplicated, hired out, or otherwise circulated without the publisher’s prior written consent in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without similar condition including this condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.

  This is a work of fiction. All characters and events portrayed in this novel are fictitious and are products of the author’s imagination and any resemblance to actual events, or locales or persons, living or dead, are entirely coincidental.

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  Table of Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  About the Author

  Chapter One

  “Dammit,” Hayley whispered, “just dammit!”

  She stood over the body, staring down with sheer horror. He’s dead! Shit, shit, shit! was all she could think. The fucker was dead, and there was no mistaking it. The man at her feet had once been beautiful, hot even, she thought. His bare chest was packed with muscle, and his exposed abdomen was tight and rippling with a hard eight-pack. Her fingers dripped a thick scarlet substance that landed on the stone floor next to his face. His jaw was a sculpted masterpiece, and covered by a fine layer of stubble. Dark, disheveled hair danced over the tan skin of his face. His still, grey eyes stared up at nothing and told her there was no more life left in him. That, and the three-foot piece of twisted, jagged steel jutting out from under his rib cage. The half-inch thick pool of blood beneath him was another giveaway.

  Hayley took in every detail carefully, desperately trying to coax her mind into processing the information. She was close to overload and didn’t know what to do next. The man’s naked torso ended in a pair of very faded blue jeans. They were unbuttoned, giving her the clue she needed that this was no ordinary encounter. They should’ve been buttoned all the way up to the fly where an ornate belt buckle connected a thick leather belt, but they weren’t. The cuffs lay limp against a pair of black leather motorcycle boots. Not that she was an expert on boots, but she saw the telltale orange bar-and-shield logo denoting Harley-Davidson emblazoned on the side of them.

  One of his hands was still gripping a short length of black nylon cord, maybe thirty inches of it, she thought. The other hand lay open and limp against the dark grey stone. Stone. Where was she anyway?

  “Fuck!” she cursed and kicked the man in the thigh. This was a rude awakening if anything and there was no way in hell the guy had any good intentions with the way things appeared. Nevertheless, no one deserved to die. Right?

  Hayley’s feet were bare, and she registered the cold of the ground beneath them. She glanced around her. It was dark but not entirely. She was in a long chamber of some sort, made out of carved stone. Am I in a cave? She slowly took inventory of her own person.

  On her bare legs she could see deep red marks on her calves and thighs, fresh bruises from something, but what? Her bare thighs came together in a pair of polka-dotted boy-short panties that rode up high onto her thin hips and waist. She was near naked, and a sticky, almost stiff black camisole covered her torso, reminding her that it was cold down here. She began shivering and lifted her left hand to pinch a bit of the black fabric. Her fingers stuck to it for a moment reminding her of the way a sticky jar of jam felt. Those fingers came away covered with a tacky, dark red substance. She lifted her right hand in front of her eyes, feeling faint yet strangely calm.

  This is a real problem, she thought.

  A dull, fiery ache radiating up her right arm made her look down to find it also drenched in congealing blood. She spread open her palm, revealing a deep, angry gash along the length of her forearm and into her hand. She couldn’t see the bone but knew this wound would require medical attention. The laceration oozed blood but could not account for all of the dark stain covering her arm. She’d have to wrap it with something clean and sew it up herself.

  Nervously, she squatted down near the slain man to examine the piece of metal protruding from his abdomen without touching it. It was a roughly t-shaped piece of steel, and to Hayley it looked like something that might be used in the walls of a big building. Only this metal was twisted and serrated and sharpened. The edges looked like they had been torn from a larger piece, leaving this lethal length behind. Hayley studied the gash on her palm with a queasiness building in her stomach. She reached her shaking, bloody hand out and placed it over the sharp metal, then jerked it back.

  “Oh, shit,” she murmured, her breaths starting to quicken. The wound on her hand matched the sharp edge of the metal spear perfectly. She had stabbed this man.

  I killed him.

  “Oh, no,” she said and started to back away. “No, no.” She continued crawling away until her spine found the damp, stone wall behind her. Frightened tears rolled down her face, wetting her cheeks in streaks. She had killed that man. She should run for help.

  No. She’d be charged, blamed for his demise. No way in hell would she let that happen. She couldn’t remember what happened and that wouldn’t help her cause any. Her eyes darted around nervously, realizing that she didn’t know where she was.

  Where the fuck am I? Who is this man? Why did I kill him?

  Then her mind stumbled onto something even more frightening….

  “Who am I?”

  Chapter Two

  Sex, drugs, money and power. It was all hers, and she knew it. All hers to use and abuse.

  In her bed, Hayley looked around the decadent room. It was designer everything. Nothing but the best would do for her.

  “Here, baby, try this.” She turned to find a man with lightly tanned skin and corded, rippled muscles sitting nak
ed next to her in bed. He held out a small wafer, coaxing her to take it. She’d had some of these before but wondered if she wanted to take any more.

  “Not now.” She motioned to the table. “Later.”

  “What do you want to do now?”

  Hayley eyed him up and down, his complete nakedness beckoning to be used and taken.

  “Who are you?” she asked. Confused, but she knew better. She knew what he was there for. She knew why she had summoned him but had lost the moment somehow. She struggled to gain it back.

  “You called me in to satisfy you, Madame. I’m here to fuck your brains out.”

  Hayley laughed, turning away and jumping up from the bed. The fool thought her stupid. He was a fine damn specimen of a man, but he thought she had no brains. That was fine. It wouldn’t matter in the end. She would take what she needed and then give him his just desserts.

  “I am a business woman above all things.” She grabbed a bottle off the dresser and took a long, hard swig from it. Whiskey? She didn’t really taste it. It didn’t matter. “And being in this sort of business, Ricky, I have to say, I am most disappointed in you.”

  The guy shifted in the bed. His flaccid member was shrinking in the coolness of the night air wafting into the room.

  “Excuse me?”

  She laughed. “I’ll tell you later. First”—she handed him the bottle which he took a gulp from as he watched her open her silk robe, revealing her ample breasts—“first we take care of me. Then, I’ll take care of you. Deal?”

  He nodded, placing the bottle on the nightstand. His cock responded immediately to her nakedness, and his eyes widened when she shed the robe completely. Reaching out, she touched his waiting member, stroking its length in her hand. He was small at first, but with her touch, he grew enormous, larger than most of the lovers she’d taken.

  “That’s good. You want this, don’t you?”

  Again, he gave his head a little tip, his breathing shallow but fast as she worked him under her fingers. He was ready in no time, and she wanted him to do to her what he was paid to do.

  “Fuck me. Hard.”

  “Yes, Madame.” He reached over, grabbed her and shoved her down onto the bed, pulling her legs around his waist before teasing her entrance with his swollen length. It was smooth, hairless and ready to slide into her folds. Impatient, she yanked him closer, rocking her hips up, beckoning him. He slid inside, letting her hot wetness cover every hardened inch of his cock.

  “Yes,” she whispered into his ear. “Faster.” He did as he was told and continued, pumping faster and slapping his hips against hers until they were both soaking wet. Reaching up to take her breasts into his hands, he pinched her tiny nipples, rolling them in his fingers and relished how hard they became under his rough touch.

  “Yes!” Her pleasure-filled moans made him even harder, and he breathed in to hold back his orgasm. She was so tight, so wet and horny as fuck. He liked this job. It was a lot more fun than the last job he’d had, double-crossing her.

  “Tell me when you’re going to come,” she hissed in his ear.

  He was so close. He could feel it. He told her he would, leaning back some so he could get a good view of her breasts bouncing with the rhythm. Madame H. had a nice rack. He loved breasts and wanted to suck on them hard enough to leave a mark. He liked marking his bitches. He loved leaving them to bleed.

  “I’m going to come!” he groaned. He closed his eyes, ready to feel his burst of pleasure. But then… then something happened. A streak of crimson. A scream in Hayley’s head. A struggle for breath.

  Was it even real?

  It’s all in your head. It’s all in your head. Nothing is real….

  “Will that be all, miss?”

  Hayley gasped. She looked around, wondering where she was again. That feeling of perpetual amnesia crept into her once more, giving her a lost, perplexed and dazed feeling. Her heart was racing, and she didn’t even know why. The scene had faded away faster than she could grasp onto it and hold on. She was grabbing for straws which were just not there. Nothing tangible. Nothing truly cohesive.

  Damn.

  She peered back down, staring at the headline of the newspaper in front of her, narrowing her eyes before jerking her gaze away from it, wondering if anyone had reported on a house fire/murder scene yet. Her head was foggy, and everything that had come rushing back like a tsunami receded just as quickly. The recent recall faded and was replaced with the memory of a burning house in the middle of the countryside.

  It’s all in your head….

  There was nothing in there anymore. Nothing worth remembering.

  The cave had been carved into the side of a basement in an isolated country house far from any nearby towns or neighbors. It could have burned down to ashes before anyone noticed, and she hoped it would, but she couldn’t be sure. Grabbing one of the papers, she added it to the pile of snacks and a hot coffee in front of the cashier.

  He was a young kid with acne scars peppering the otherwise youthful face hiding under a mop of dark blonde hair. It needed a cut badly, but that was the style nowadays.

  “Yes, that’s it.” She straightened a crumpled twenty-dollar bill that had been stuffed in her jeans, some of the little money she’d taken from the dead guy’s body a few days ago. She was burning through it too fast and would soon need another source of income.

  Grabbing her bags, she shoved the heavy glass door open with her back, bracing for the slam of frigid wind tumbling against her, sending shivers straight down her spine.

  “Have a good one, miss,” the cashier guy called out, giving her a crooked-tooth smile and googly eyes as he watched her. He seemed nice but far too young for her taste. She liked them older, dark haired and olive skinned. Much like the guy she had killed. Or did she? How the hell was she supposed to know? Maybe she liked the gangly youthful kind of guys too. Regardless, she wasn’t in the business of looking for a man at that moment and averted her eyes from him with a shy smile before leaving the convenience store.

  Hayley’s replacement clothes had come from the house above the basement where she’d killed the unknown man and fit loosely. The mothball scent from the dusty clothes was unappealing, but it was better than the alternative of walking in the blood-soaked clothes that were now ashes along with the entire contents of the house she’d left behind. It was lucky the dead guy had had keys to the basement door and his car on him. There, she’d found a jug of gasoline in the trunk of the car. It most definitely belonged to the body lying in its own puddle of sticky, slick blood.

  It was best to not leave any trace behind. She had no idea where she was going or what she’d do but was relieved to be sensible enough to think of covering her tracks as best she could.

  So she had cleaned herself up in the shower in the house above as quickly as she could, not knowing if anyone else would be coming to meet the man, and donned the loose women's clothing that hadn’t been worn in what seemed like years. Then, she’d doused the place with gasoline, making sure to cover every surface, and set it aflame before hurrying out the door to jump into the awaiting car.

  The miles had passed like a smear of memory, and she didn’t even know where she was now. It didn’t matter. Any place was better than the last. Each city passing by was another place between her and the person she’d killed. Her memory had yet to return, but her wound was healing well. Still, it was a constant reminder of that day and everything she’d lost with it.

  The only thing that had returned to her was her name. That was it. And not even her last name.

  Hayley. Yes, that sounded right.

  But what else?

  She’d been so thorough to cover her tracks that she wondered if she’d missed something crucial to help her remember. The car didn’t ring a bell, but just in case it was hot, she’d ditched the plates several towns back and stolen some off a similar car to not arouse suspicion.

  She must have watched her share of espionage movies to know such things and do them
without hesitation. Maybe that’s what she was… a spy. A secret agent. Anything would be better than not knowing who she was at all.

  Walking against the biting wind, she made her way a few spots down toward the car when someone grabbed her arm and sent her coffee splattering to the ground. A gloved hand cut off her scream as the man spoke.

  “Keep your eyes forward and don’t scream, or I’ll kill you right here,” he hushed her as she tugged to get away. His fingers dug harder against her skin, causing her to wince in pain.

  “What do you want?” she gasped, hurrying as he shoved her forward.

  He led her to the car she’d been driving and slid into the driver’s side, pulling her in after him. He grabbed her bag of snacks and tossed it to his feet then reached over to slam the door shut. She waited, gripping the steering wheel with her frozen fingers hard enough to turn them pale white.

  “Where to?” she asked, eyeing the gun he pointed at her. Who the hell was this guy? He looked oddly familiar, and she wondered if he’d been following her the entire time after leaving the burning house.

  That’s impossible, she thought. She’d made damn sure no one had followed her for days, keeping a low profile, paying everything with cash just like in the movies. How would this guy fit into all that?

  Nothing clicked, and she squeezed the steering wheel tighter, afraid to let it go.

  “Just drive the way you were going before. I know you’re running. Just keep going.”

  He had been following her. But how?

  Hayley cranked the engine and backed out. Heading west on the interstate once more, she risked a peek at her captor and noticed he’d relaxed once on the road but kept the gun in hand. His hair was dark, and his skin was a lighter olive tone, as if he didn’t go outside much. Still, his shoulders were broad, and he was a good six feet tall. She knew he was well-built from when he’d grabbed her in the parking lot, his hard chest pressing into her. He was gorgeous, she had to give him that, but some things are only skin deep. Her arm still tingled where he’d squeezed it.