The Butcher of the Bay: Part II

by J Bree

  I come up from the gym, still a little sweaty, and Illi stomps up the staircase behind me. He heads straight to the bathroom while I wander into the kitchen for water. I forget it entirely when I see the little manila folder on the table, the one we'd stolen last night.

  Curiosity killed the cat, but hopefully it'll be a little kinder to me.

  I sit down at the table, flipping open the file, and the first thing I see is the photos of the corpses. There's crime scene photos and ones from the autopsy. They're disturbing but I can't look away, the blank eyes of the dead woman drawing me in.

  She has a lily growing out of her chest.

  "Don't look, baby girl. I don't need you having fucking nightmares from that shit."

  I sift through the papers slowly, reading about her missing organs. "Why do you have this? Is it someone you know?"

  He shakes his head, opening up the fridge and pulling out water for us both. I finally remember my thirst and drink half of it in one go.

  "It's a job. I had to get the file to get backup for another job I'm working on. Fuck knows why the Boar wanted it but whoever is killing those women is fucking sick."

  That means a lot, coming from a man who kills and butchers his victims the way mon Monstre does. I don't know that he kills women though, I've never heard of him killing anyone who isn't a bad man.

  I can't imagine him killing an innocent woman. Is there any such thing in the deep dark depths of the Bay?

  "The man killing them, he enjoys it. He gets sexual pleasure from removing their organs." I say, flipping through the rest of the paperwork.

  Illi shrugs. "It's almost always about getting off. Everything in this world is about power. Having it and taking it from others."

  I shiver. The notes at the end of the file chilling me to the bone.

  Every victim has been left with a Bible verse. There are similar themes but no real patterns have been found yet. None of the verses seem to relate to the victims or the perpetrator, but to a third party. A man the verses identify as 'the Devil'.

  "Fanatics are terrifying people, mon Monstre. Those who can remove themselves and their own desires from the act and say it is a higher being, they are the most dangerous of all."

  Illi finishes off his bottle of water and then mine, a frown still on his face. "What do you know of fanatics? What did you see in there that I didn't?"

  I point out the paragraph and his face sours. "We don't need that shit around here. We already have a gang war and a biker stand-off starting. Add Jesus freaks to that list and we're all going down."

  I close the file and lean back in my seat, tipping my head back until he kisses me, slow and deep with a fist in my hair and a hand curled around my throat. This lust-fueled roughness in him is my new favorite thing in our relationship. He's found the way to treat me with utter reverence but also to use my body as if he owns it completely.

  He does own me.

  “Stop thinking about that shit, baby girl. I’m about to head out for the night but I could be persuaded to stick around for another hour.” His voice is pitched in a low drawl, his breath against my neck making a shiver run down my spine.

  However he wants me, he can have me.

  I move to stand up, murmuring to him about a shower because I’m still a little sweaty from the workout but when I try to move away from him he growls at me, a rumbling noise straight from his chest like I’m displeasing him.

  I don’t like that at all.

  I’m here for his pleasure, to serve this man however he may need because his pleasure always brings me joy and ecstasy.

  He turns me around to face him and then takes a step back, his eyes hot as he looks over me approvingly, as if I'm standing here in lace and pearls and not the sweaty workout clothes.

  “Strip. Gimme that ass bare and fucking perfect for me to sink my teeth into.”

  My hands are steady as I slowly slip the sweatpants from my body and then the tank top lands on the ground. Mon Monstre’s eyes follow my every move but the only thing he does while he watches me is breathe.

  It’s as if he’s under some spell I’m casting, as if my body and my soul have lulled him into some trance and now he’s mine to possess.

  For the first time, I thank god for these looks of mine.

  I turn away from him bending over to undo the laces of my shoes to get them off and his restraint snaps. His hands grab my hips roughly and he pulls me back to grind his dick against my ass, hard enough that the air is knocked out of me.

  I love it.

  “Leave the shoes on, baby girl. I’m going to fuck you like this and you need the height.”

  My pussy clenches at the rough tone of his voice. He sounds parched, like he wants to drink me up to quench his thirst but I also know he’ll never get his fill. He’s made that clear to me now and I'm so utterly thankful.

  As he grinds his hips into me I push back, desperate for him to slide my panties aside and bury his cock into me.

  He doesn’t.

  Instead he drops to his knees and says, “Give your man a taste of what you’ve got, baby girl. I want your come running down my chin before I split you open.”

  Then he buries his face between my thighs.

  I want to shy away from him, conscious of the hour on the treadmill and mats we've just done but he leans back far enough to slap my ass, the sting making me gasp and moan, the sound drawing out of my chest in a long keening sound as he gets his lips and tongue back on me, teasing and sucking at my pussy.

  In this position, I can't grind back on his face or rock my hips how I want to, the frustration building in me until I'm a whimpering mess, shaking and begging him to fuck me properly, to give me what I so desperately need.

  I'm nearly sobbing when he finally lets go of my hips and stands up.

  "You want more, baby girl? Tell me. Beg me for what you need."

  He steps away from me and I turn to fall back to my knees at his feet. "Please, mon Monstre. Please fuck me. Please fill me up until the ache in my pussy stops hurting. Please come all over me."

  His eyelids drop and the look he gives me from under them has my pussy dripping onto the floor, my panties still pushed to the side.

  "On your feet, baby. As pretty as you are on your knees I need that pretty pussy wrapped around me tight as you come."

  I practically scramble up and then he moves me over to the kitchen table, spreading me out across the surface and splitting my legs wide so I'm splayed out for him. Then he unzips his pants and grips the base of his dick, pumping it once, twice, three times until I'm begging him to use me. Use my body and give me everything he has.

  Even after he slips a condom on, the piercing feels like heaven as he pushes in, dragging against my most sensitive walls and making me see blinding white light as I come, squeeze him tight. He grips my hips tighter, pulling my body further over the edge of the table until I'm balancing between his hands and the table precariously.

  I don't feel unsteady, I feel safe and used as his hips move faster until he's pounding into me, abusing me in the most delicious way and when he comes with a roar it pushes me over the edge with him.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Illi

  There’s still no leads for Alcatron and his cartel.

  Night after night I go out looking for them but fucking nothing comes back. I’m starting to think that I’ll need to start calling in more favors with old friends, men who were built for blood and don’t like dealing with cartel at all.

  Not my smartest idea but I need this list over with.

  After yet another night of nothing, I order burgers to take home with me so my girl doesn’t have to cook. I could throw us together something but after my night I just want to shower, eat, and then fuck my girl, slow and deep and fucking hard, before passing out.

  Neither of us are sleeping great and I know exactly what the cause is, besides Alcatron being a fucking ghost.

  The paintings are killing me.

  Killing the mood
too, I can’t look at them and contain my rage enough to fuck her right. There’s no way I’m undoing all the progress she’s had by throwing her around the fucking bed and terrifying her, no matter how badly I want to push her around and make her beg for me. I can see in her eyes that she’s ready for whatever I give her but… something has me holding back. She’s not all the way there yet, no matter what she says to me.

  If she flinches away from me right now I might fucking lose it, rage out and take to the streets with nothing but my cleavers and an insatiable need for blood.

  Not worth it at all.

  When I get back to the apartment I punch the code into the alarm, kicking the dirt from my boots and taking the stairs two at a time. I pause at the top, the sounds of music drifting through the closed door.

  She never listens to music.

  I unlock the door with the bag of food under my arm and a gun in my other hand, ready to unload my clip on whoever is in this fucking apartment with her if it isn’t one of my three friends. Can’t be any of them, I just saw the bikers and the kid is up at that big old school of hers.

  No one is here.

  But my girl is dancing around the kitchen wearing one of her new dresses, the skirt billowing out as she twirls and sings along to the song in French. Her hair is out, the blonde curls looking that ruffled sort of perfect she always manages to get it, and her feet are bare.

  I quickly move to grab my phone and snap a photo but it comes out blurred, she’s moving too quickly to capture this moment for me.

  Fuck.

  I need this burned into my brain for all of fucking time because she’s perfect, every fucking inch of her is shining and joyful and just fucking happy.

  My girl is happy.

  She spots me as she turns again, lifting a long strand of hair away from her face as she beams at me like my own personal ray of brilliant sunshine. Fuck, I want to soak up those rays of hers, the heat and light of her exactly what my dark soul needs.

  “Bonjour, mon Monstre.” She says, a flirty smile dancing around the corners of her lips. She stalks towards me, her hips swaying along with the music and I nearly go down to my knees for her. Just fucking drop down and beg for her to sit on my face until I’ve eaten my fill of her.

  “Baby girl, I don’t know what happened but whatever it is, I’m fucking glad you’re happy.” My voice is rough, just a little too much emotion there for me to be completely comfortable, but that smile of hers just gets bigger at the sound.

  “Something did happen, mon Monstre.” She looks nervous and flighty as she speaks, her hands moving a little too much as the sultry confidence melts away.

  Fuck.

  That’s not what I wanted my words to do to her and already I miss the mood she was in, the absence of it so fucking obvious now I’ve caught a glimpse.

  When she bites her lip I growl at her, a deep rumble in my chest as I tug it out from between her teeth.

  “Just get it out, baby girl. Tell me whatever’s upsetting you so we can go back to being happy. Lemme fix it.”

  She grins and rolls her eyes. “I don’t need you fixing anything for me, mon Monstre. I just… I finished the painting.”

  My eyes narrow at her and she nods in return. “I know. I know you told me to leave it alone but I had to get it out. I didn’t just paint Alcatron and his men either. I painted Maya too, to help you track her down. I know you were unhappy to miss her with the rest of the cartel. I have them all there for you. Hopefully it will make it easier for you to find them.”

  She sounds so fucking proud of herself that I don’t have the heart to tell her I already have photos of them all. This way I’ll be able to double-check them, make sure we have the right targets and don’t miss anyone when I go hunting for her.

  “Show me, baby. Show me who I’m bleeding out for you.”

  She takes my hand and leads me over to the side of the couch. Her easel is set up so the painting is facing her favorite window, away from the rest of the room. I’m glad, I didn’t want their faces to ruin my moment with her earlier. Fuck, the joy that was there still has my chest aching so bad I wanna rub at my chest to shift the feeling.

  I drop the bag of food on the dining table as we pass it and pull her more securely into my side as we walk. She’s still too nervous for my liking but at my touch some of the tension melts away from her.

  I guess I have been too pissed off about this process for her. She must have known how pissed I’ve been, known that I’ve been teetering on the edge of burning the canvas before she had time to finish it.

  I want her to have the healing that the process is giving her but fuck, knowing that’s what this is hasn’t made it any fucking easier. I’d take every last drop of her pain for her, bear it all and leave her whole and happy.

  That’s my fucking mission from here out.

  Keep her safe. Keep her happy.

  Keep her in my fucking bed.

  I lean back against the expansive glass window, her back pressed against my chest as she tucks her head under my chin. I breathe her in for one last second before I look at it, enjoying the moment of her in my arms, safe and whole and only moments away from being that shining girl again.

  Then I open my eyes and look at the fucking painting.

  She’s talented. Fucking incredible really, it looks almost like a photo but more… real. Three dimensional, the paint layered up until it’s coming off of the canvas at us both. If I just look at the colors and the images without thinking of the people behind them then fuck, it’s definitely a work of art.

  I can’t separate them like that.

  When I look at the entire thing and not the pieces of it, the rage starts all over again like a fist smashing its way into my chest and clenching around my heart, squeezing at it until I’m about to scream the fury out.

  I keep my mouth shut.

  I don’t need to scare her off, I just need to bear witness to this fucking thing with her right now. I just need to hold her and acknowledge that this shit happened to her. That these men took something away from her and now she’s taking it back from them.

  She may want their hearts but this is the catharsis she really needs, even if it sends me off the fucking deep end.

  “It’s done, mon Monstre. I’m done with it all. Our life together starts now.”

  She turns her head and tips it so her lips can seek out mine. I tear my gaze away from the canvas and focus on her, kissing her long and deep until she’s squirming in my arms, shifting until her tits are pressed up tight against my chest and my dick is rock hard against her stomach.

  “Good, baby girl. Forget them, they’re my problem now and as far as you’re concerned, they’re already dead.”

  She smiles again, her eyes still shut and those lips of hers full and pouty from my kiss. I lean down to tug on her bottom lip with my teeth, sucking on it and swallowing her groans. “Dinner. Then I’m going to make you come so hard you pass the fuck out. That’s the way our life together needs to start.”

  The restaurant is a little hole-in-the-wall place, but in the way that the Bay does that shit. From the outside you wouldn’t even know they served food here, it looks like a meth lab, but on the inside it’s clean and warm, servers who can get you fucking anything you want but see and hear nothing that happens at the tables.

  It’s like the Switzerland of the south side of the Bay.

  I pick it on purpose. I’ve done jobs here before and the guy who owns it is happy enough to cover for me. Once upon a time, his wife caught the eye of some stalker. This asshole kept popping up wherever she’d go and pretty soon she stopped leaving her house, terrified he’d kidnap, rape, and murder her. That shit happens here all the damn time and when Frank caught wind of it he called me. He didn’t want the man taken out.

  He wanted him butchered.

  So now the Switzerland state of this place extends to anyone who isn’t me. That’s the real fucking secret to being the most feared man in the city, it’s about being the m
an all of the locals call when shit happens and knowing that the moment you handle their shit, they’ve got your back.

  D’Ardo will never have the reach I do.

  He doesn’t even realize it.

  So I invite Maya to my city. I tell her I’m looking to buy and I need her to find me the perfect girl. I tell her I’ve bought before, the Coyote gets me a whole list of girls that D’Ardo has destroyed so I look legit. The list makes my rage stoke so fucking hot that it’s a struggle not to rage out and burn his fucking lair to the ground with him and his shitty little gang to the ground.

  But tonight’s not about his death.

  Tonight is something quieter, more subtle, but just as satisfying.

  I take the private room with the booth, clapping Frank on the shoulder as he walks me through.

  “How’s Antonia doing?”

  He grins wide, all his teeth on show. “She’s perfect! We have two new grand babies, eight altogether now. Big family, as it should be.”

  I nod and take my seat. He hovers for a second and then says, “I heard about your woman. Anything you need, you call. I’ve got my kids listening out at the tables. We’ll call if anything comes up.”

  I grin and shake my head. “I appreciate it, man. Tonight is good though, another from my list.”

  His face sobers up and he nods. “I wish you both the best.”

  Then he leaves me to it, one of his sons coming over with a glass of whiskey and not a single word to me.

  Everyone in the family saw what I did for their mom.

  I’m sure the image of the stalker hacked to pieces flashes through their minds every time they see me. Fuck, it probably does every time they close their damn eyes. Normal people can’t hack that shit.

  Good thing I’m not normal and thank fucking God my girl isn’t either.

  I can’t think about her right now. Not until Maya gets here and is served the death she deserves.

  I make my way through two glasses before she’s ushered in. I’m sure she has another one of her family waiting outside for her but I’d made it clear when I invited her here that I wanted her alone. I made out like I don’t trust anyone else.