Chapter 8

"He painted over her scars with every color he could find until she lost them in the setting sun."

—Atticus

Easton

There was no way to adequately describe the feelings I had when reading Sara's story. I'd watched her during the exam, her body language so fluid, so expressive that the devil inside of me had wanted to strip her naked right there in the middle of class, spreading her legs wide open and tasting her sweet nectar. At one point, it had taken every ounce of self-control not to do so.

My attraction had been to her beauty and innocence.

Or so I'd believed.

Until I'd sat down that night, reading her story three times and each time, my cock had become harder, my balls tightening. There must have been a news report on the man I'd murdered, although I hadn't seen it. She'd taken the opportunity to get into the mind of the killer just as I'd hoped, but her spin had been as if from a point of view where she'd been there on the scene.

Or as if she'd experienced something more personal over the years.

Holding a dark secret.

After reading the vastly creative and graphic story the third time, my beliefs had forced me to take another look at her previous work, including some short exercises and poems I'd required the students to write. I'd been certain at the time she simply had an affinity to Edgar Allan Poe, but now, I wasn't convinced.

I wanted nothing more than to delve into her background, to learn every detail about her precious life.

The thought of deflowering her by introducing her to every scrap of my world, my needs, and my deep-seated desires kept me on edge and salivating the entire night. I'd barely gotten any sleep, finding it difficult to get through all the other drudgery the students had written. The only other story of interest was the daring one written by what appeared to be a good friend of my sinful assistant.

Josie Barker.

The girl Marcus was pining away for. How odd she'd selected a hunt done by her serial killer as the background. That was no coincidence.

So many of the students attending the university had at least one famous parent. That had afforded them the tuition, none of the girls and boys forced to take out a loan. It had amused me from the beginning since most acted entitled.

It was that sort of thing that turned children into criminals.

I smirked at the thought as I sped through town on my way to a corporate meeting. What troubled me about Josie's piece wasn't necessarily the subject material, our father's former hunts, but the descriptions she'd used. As if she'd been there. Or perhaps someone she knew given her age. With her father being a senator and a former police chief, a man close with several prosecutors, it was entirely possible the man had been on the right side of the law, someone my father hadn't managed to pay off or threaten into silence.

Josie had even alluded to the abuse suffered by myself and my two brothers. No one knew about that. Except for a single person. I'd made the mistake of telling a teacher something when I was very young.

I'd gotten the beating of my life after my father had found out. The teacher had suffered worse, dying in a tragic accident. But it had been ruled accidental nonetheless.

A horrible murder committed by one of my father's goons.

I'd lost what had been left of my innocence and belief in the greater good that day. From that moment on, I'd shifted into a much darker place, one even my brothers didn't know about. I'd become fascinated with death, not acting on my strange and perverse desires for many years to come, but I'd spent hours researching everything from the use of a knife to commit a crime to blood splatters, the effects of everyday poisons, and of course the use of guns in various scenarios. That's one reason I not only had a collection of weapons that would rival any soldier, but also dozens of books on the subject of death.

Sighing, I made the last turn heading for the parking garage. I didn't like that Josie had selected the story as her last hurrah. Either she'd been acting alone in her efforts to taunt me, or her father had put her up to it since our father's disappearance had never been solved.

And it was highly doubtful it would ever be.

Not that anyone missed him, including his own children.

My thoughts drifted to the night of the last hunt my father had participated in. All three of his children had been gleeful in the decision we'd made collectively, painting our bodies with war paint like any good primal beast would do. We'd screamed our joy as we'd raced after him in the woods, cornering him more than once.

Our father had still been very strong, able to fight us off for longer than most of his victims. Which had in turn allowed us to inflict more harm on his aging body. My brothers had believed me, horrified at what had occurred, the younger baby brother needing to be protected. Little did they know I'd internalized the event, indulging in even darker fantasies, building my layered desires to kill again.

And again.

I'd perfected my methods, starting out slowly with little verve to the murder, but over time I'd become more creative. I'd also worked very hard not to have a label placed on me, but some smart detective had picked up on the fact I'd only killed those who'd attempted to or had abused a woman.

Hence the Angel of Death moniker.

After I'd heard it the first time, I'd smiled and reveled in it. Why not? I wasn't entirely a bad man. Removing scum from the earth had its place in the world. I had a feeling the women involved would thank me, one after the other.

As I moved to my usual private parking space, my thoughts returned to the oh-so lovely Sara. Little did she know what she'd committed herself to, but her desire to obtain the job had also swayed me.

She was more like me than she was ready to admit. I could only imagine the joy of hunting down a perpetrator together. It would be the most glorious day of my life.

A smile had crossed my face, my decision to hire her the best one I'd made in a very long time, but she'd made it easy. As I climbed out, I scanned the parking lot as I always did when arriving at our corporate offices. Whether or not people believed our family consisted of nothing but bad seeds, devils disguised in Armani and Gucci suits, the fact we were one of the wealthiest companies in the world kept a target on our backs.

Given I refused to have soldiers protecting me on a daily basis, I knew I could be the first one taken out by a hired assassin. That only added to the excitement.

I did enjoy taking risks.

Grabbing my briefcase, I headed to the private elevator, which eliminated all those hoping to talk to me about getting a job with the company or even hoping to be considered for my next arm candy. All three of us had been listed as the most eligible bachelors in the city.

Until my two brothers had caved into the idea of love, getting themselves hitched. I liked the women they'd each determined was the one. I even enjoyed their company when necessary, but my idea of a partner had nothing to do with watching movies and making babies. I'd leave that to them.

As I stood in the steel box, I hated the fact my one true weakness had always been claustrophobia. There were reasons why, including my father's particular method of punishing me. We'd learned the hard way never to show a single fear around our dad. He only exploited it to his benefit. Sighing, I did my best with the breathing exercises I'd taught myself but a single bead of sweat still slipped down my cheek.

Fuck it.

I'd won the battle of no longer fearing tight spaces.

Or at least I liked to tell myself.

The truth was I couldn't stand them.

That's why I would never be dragged to prison. I'd prefer to end my own life instead.

As the ping hit my ears, the smile returned. I had three days before a new life began with someone of great interest.

And my cock was aching all over again.

For her.

The woman with the same demonic mind as mine.

I was laughing by the time I entered our company's main door, certainly not needing to be announced. I was a board member, a stockholder, the CFO, and the man who'd parlayed our fortune into lucrative investments in real estate, art, movie production, and other wise purchases that had kept us in estates, yachts, sports cars, and every other toy bad boys enjoyed.

As I moved down the lengthy hallway, several of the employees watched me. I was the brother who spent the least amount of time in the office, although I had a posh and well-equipped space, an assistant of my own. Still, I was lucky I could handle the financials from the creature comforts of my private space, which I much preferred. Being a loner had its perks.

"Mr. Saint. I need your signatures on a few contracts," Misty said. My beloved employee kept me informed with every need, while having learned early on what not to bother me with. She was a godsend, her intelligence keeping me on track.

"Then let's do it." She trailed behind me as I headed to my office first, laying out the three separate stacks of paper. "What do we have here?"

"An estate purchase in Bali. The weapons contract you were anticipating for the Italians and a new addition to the arts facility your brothers cultivated."

My brothers were both art lovers, one with piano and violin, the other with dance. The expansive arts facility for underprivileged students had taken off over the last year, becoming one of Chicago's most talked about facilities. I'd been to two of the swank parties, hobnobbing with the city's most powerful and influential people.

And I'd been bored to death.

However, as with any family, there were obligations to follow, brotherly love to be shown in the media. Our reputation had soared over the last few months. Awards had been given to our selfless love of the arts.

If only the people knew that we were monsters in disguise they would run far away, praying we wouldn't hunt them. Another laugh pushed up from my throat. I signed off on the two contracts easily, glancing at the three photographs of the property in Bali. "What in God's name do we need this for?"

"Creed merely said it was for family vacations."

Right. It was another location to consider dumping bodies given the ocean was right there on the doorstep. Perhaps I could find the location useful in my determination to finish a book in a short period of time. I could certainly see my prized possession in a bikini.

After signing all three contracts, I noticed the two non-family board members heading into the meeting. I handed Misty the signed contracts, shaking my head. The two members had been selected on purpose. While they'd had some dealings with our father over the years, neither could fully embrace the often precarious position they were in by holding thirty percent of the stock in our firm.

If any of the three brothers were indicted for our various heinous crimes, they'd likely lose their wealthy portfolio and their freedom at the same time. They were mere puppets, fulfilling tasks assigned, but for their obedience, they'd been made very wealthy men. Plus, their presence on the board had allowed for added comfort for our investors.

I'd often studied how the majority of psyches preferred to shove aside the horrible deeds potentially done by someone, preferring to look for the good in them.

I knew the answer. No matter how many pairs of rose-colored glasses were worn or how many layers of armor or masks were placed on creatures of the night like my brothers and me, we were still monsters.

"Thank you, Misty. I do hope you're going on vacation soon."

"Yes, sir," she said. "My husband and I are going to Hawaii in a couple weeks."

"Good girl. I'll ensure every aspect of your trip is upgraded." And I would. She deserved it, especially since her husband had gone through a year of chemo.

Her eyes opened wide and I was certain she was going to cry. "Thank you, sir."

I moved closer, taking her hands into mine. She was another beautiful creature who hadn't deserved the hand in life she'd been dealt. Her father had been a drunken, gambling bastard who'd almost strangled her mother to death in front of her.

I'd handled the situation, providing the family with relief from his untimely death. "There is nothing too good for you, Misty. You make my life so much easier."

She blushed, which was so like her. "Let me know if you need anything. Anything at all."

I thought about her statement and smiled. "There is one small thing." I grabbed the notepad sitting on my desk, pulling my favorite pen from my pocket. "I hired a girl to help me with writing my first book. Here is her address. Please send her two dozen roses."

"Yes, sir. That's wonderful. I'm so excited to read your work. You inspire me so much." Misty was practically gushing. She was someone else I'd shielded from the darkness surrounding me, preferring to keep her protected from scrutiny.

"It should be an interesting summer."

"What would you like on the note?"

I thought about her question, grabbing another piece of paper. "This should do it."

She smiled as only Misty could do. "I'll take care of this right now. This is the local diner. Are you certain you want it sent to that location?"

Laughing, I nodded. "I'm absolutely certain, darling Misty. Just ensure that it arrives tomorrow, not today." I hated that my soon to be trained submissive had been working at a greasy spoon.

"I'll take care of it."

"I adore you, Misty. Thank you for all you do." I strode out of my office, heading toward the conference room. There was something about spending time with the girl that was refreshing, reminding me that darkness wasn't always the finest aspect of life. There were truly good people in this world, men and women trying to do the right thing.

Unfortunately, it was often those who were the people gunned down or mutilated by those pretending to care about their fellow man while having no conscience at all.

As I walked in, I could see happy faces spread across the four men in the room, my two brothers included.

Even at this time of morning, there was an open bottle of Kristal champagne, both Creed and Styx's favorite brand of bubbly. Me? I preferred darker liquor like cognac or my beloved gin, not celebratory froth. However, I would enjoy the moment, our profits up thirty-four percent over the quarter, a new record.

"To the man of the hour," Creed said after handing me a flute. "We are likely to hit the list of the wealthiest men in the world this year."

Did that really matter to him? Somehow, I doubted it.

"It was a joint effort," I reminded them, although I'd suggested the investments.

"Yes, but you pushed all our buttons," Styx said, laughing.

Both Ralph Booker and Travis Kingsley, the two non-conformist board members had already lifted their glasses. They had every reason to celebrate.

"So selfless," Creed added. He had a look in his eyes that told me he was eager for the formal aspect of our business meeting to be over with, which meant the two non-family board members would return to their offices while we handled items for our less legitimate side of things. While those were becoming more infrequent, including weapons sales to the majority of other countries, we still continued the practice when the price was right.

"Uh-huh. You'd be surprised. Let's get on with the presentation as we are all very busy," I said as I sat down, grabbing the remote for the flatscreen. I slid the jump drive into the laptop placed on the table, preparing to give my usual overview. Today's was short and sweet, my longing to prepare for my guest all that was on my mind.

"Congratulations on completing another successful semester," Ralph said with a twinkle in his eyes. How many times had the four of them made fun of the fact I'd continued to teach a few classes for a pittance of what I made with the company? Too many.

No one understood my reason why, the ability to connect directly with some of the worst abusers in the city. What so many people didn't realize is that monsters were typically cultivated, not born with a demon seed inside.

Even my brothers hadn't been made aware of the extent of the evil lurking inside of me. I was perhaps the best at hiding my needs. Likely because I remained under the radar while Styx, the oldest brother, had delivered his position as head of our mafia family and the CEO position to Creed. Meanwhile, Styx had gone on to serve as a surgeon in his attempt to rid himself of the family curse. However, his hunger for bloodshed and violence had led him to being one of the most dangerous hired assassins in the country.

Much like Creed was considered a brutal crime syndicate leader. But both men had softened, although I wouldn't dare tell them that. The powerful influence of women was fascinating to me.

"Yes, I think my brother is right. Let's get this show on the road." Creed sat down beside me, giving me a quick look before I began.

As often occurred with identical twins or triplets, we could easily communicate without issuing a single word.

I glanced at Styx and he seemed more agitated than usual, which was somewhat disconcerting.

As usual, there was no need to waste time, the profit and loss sheet improving every single quarter. I had to admit I did enjoy my job more than I'd thought I would.

When I was finished, I was surprised to see the bottle of champagne was empty and I'd barely touched my glass. The time for my personal celebration would be when I completed the book.

"Well, gentlemen. We have some incredible contracts that we'll be looking at tweaking in the upcoming months, but I dare say we are doing very well." Creed grinned, the two dimples almost no one saw more pronounced today.

"Yes, and we have more money than we know what to do with." Travis' smile seemed like a mile wide.

I shut down the laptop, taking my glass of champagne and moving toward the oversized window in the room. I hated to admit it but Josie's story continued to bother me. Of course many of the details had been conjured up, a guess or a puffed-up story told by someone in her family hidden under the guise of creative writing, but there were several details presented in memories that I'd done my best to shove aside, locking them in a padlocked box.

When the two men left, I sensed Creed had moved beside me. Neither brother was certain how to talk with me, which I found fascinating. Styx had once told me because they hadn't wanted to infect my goodness. I'd almost told them then who and what I was, but it was my private world, my secret to keep.

"You're quieter than usual," he finally said.

"End of the semester and still a lot to do."

"Are you still planning on writing the book?" Styx asked as he flanked the other side.

"Yes, excited about it actually." And I was. "I even hired an assistant to help with the grunt work."

"Who is he?" Styx asked, his eyes lighting up. I'd wondered more than once how he'd been so easily able to return to saving lives instead of taking them.

After all, murder was in our blood.

"Not a he. A girl, a student of mine. Or I should say former student."

Creed coughed, choking on his drink. "What? What exactly does that mean?"

He wiped his jacket where he'd spit out his champagne and I chuckled. "She'll be working and living with me for three months. We'll see what happens after that. That will allow me to continue working on the corporation's accounting."

"Well, well," Styx mused. "The prodigal son finally has an interest in a member of the opposite sex."

"It's not like that." No. It was even better.

"Right," Creed huffed. "I'll warn you that once they enter your house, you will never allow them to leave."

"She's fifteen years younger than me." Which was true.

Styx leaned in. "And that matters why? It would be good to see you with someone."

"As I said, it's not like that." We were all possessive men, so much so I continued to be surprised the two women they were married to had tolerated them and their sadistic needs.

"Take my word for it, brother. Once you're hooked, you will never be willing to let her go." Styx was shaking his head as if remembering how he'd been with his lovely bride.

I sensed, as had occurred so many times over the years, the two of them were glancing at each other. They'd only recently been able to be in the same room with each other without there being bloodshed. Now they acted as if they were best friends, another source of amusement.

"Not happening. She's going to be nothing but an employee." Having someone in my life wouldn't just bring up bad memories, it was also a weakness I refused to allow into my life under any circumstances. Fucking her, forcing her surrender was something else altogether.

"You have me curious as to the subject matter of this book." Styx's statement was also a reason to find the situation funny. They hadn't cared up to this point, barely asking any questions when I'd been frank about my plans for two years.

"Murder. What else? Hunting for blood in the dark of the night. Tormenting the victims endlessly because they were considered responsible, reputable people yet enjoyed preying on those beneath them."

"Fascinating. You won't have any female victims?"

Creed was doing his usual, making fun of me. I couldn't care less although I turned toward him, cocking my head. "It could do you some good to read a book or two, brother, and no, women are to be revered. I thought you of all people would know that by now."

A sore subject but my statement was true. The murder of our mother had certainly been a turning point, even though her death had been disguised as her leaving us. The lie had festered, something the three boys had believed yet found implausible. Somewhere in the back of our minds we'd known our father had killed her. It had taken Creed admitting it before her soul had been finally laid to rest.

"Yes, I do understand. What I find curious, brother, is that what you've described for your work sounds eerily like the deaths attributed to the Angel of Death." Creed was grinning, as if he'd discovered my secret.

"Suspiciously so," Styx added. "I can certainly believe that's what you'd write given you were the lover of all vulnerable creatures growing up. You protected girls in your class from bullies. Do you remember the time I had to come to school in place of our father just to keep the asshole you beat to a bloody pulp from pressing charges?"

"I remember every incident with joy in my heart." And I did.

"Styx and I were wondering whether you had anything to do with the young man's death we heard about on television." I wasn't used to Creed beating around the bush. He was as direct as anyone I'd met in my life. Perhaps too much so for modern society.

"Who the hell are you talking about?"

"A guy killed in a pretty bad part of town, and if I remember, close to a bar you think no one recognizes you as frequenting," Styx added.

"Why would either one of you assume I had anything to do with the dude's murder?" I polished off my champagne, placing the empty glass on the bar.

"Because of the bully syndrome," Creed piped in, a grin forming on his face.

Styx shook his head. "Don't get caught up in your growing need to be the savior of the world, Easton. The boy who was killed was the son of the superintendent of the police. As you might imagine, every resource will be used to find his killer."

I turned my head toward him, taking a deep breath. No, I wasn't in the habit of checking identification prior to selecting my victims. They were random choices based on their entitled and abusive actions. "Well, I haven't seen the report, but I've been far too busy preparing for the last exams as both of you well know."

When Creed placed his hand on my shoulder, I cringed as usual. The one thing I didn't like was to be touched in a kind or gentle manner. While sex required it, my controlling needs were based on my hatred of being touched.

That had been something else my father had taken from me, making fun and beating me when I'd wanted to be hugged. I'd been the one who'd suffered the most from my mother's disappearance. She'd cared for all three of us tremendously but had taken time to try to nurture me out of violent nightmares that had started at a very early age. The loss had pushed me deeper into the kind of abyss few escape from.

"That's good to know, brother, because the last thing we need is to have the coalition of idiots breathing down our necks."

"We still have skeletons that could easily be found, you know." Styx had a worried look on his face.

Neither one of them ever mentioned what had been shifted from the hunting grounds to burial grounds, easily thirty men if not more buried there in one way, shape, or form. Our father had been creative in how he disposed of them.

Creed sighed.

"I thought it's a bird sanctuary now," I said, glancing back at the great mafia leader. He'd been the one to add top soil to a good portion, either installing landscaping and waterfalls or wildflowers, which had all but taken over the acreage.

"You forget people's memories are long and rumors remain in the back of people's minds," Styx said under his breath.

Nodding, I did understand we could be sitting on a ticking timebomb, which was one reason the property was required to stay in the family. "That brings me to a question. What can you tell me about Senator James Barker?" The coalition as Creed liked to call it were the people in politics or law enforcement determined to solve the age-old mysteries of where the powerful men in their primes had disappeared to.

We'd been on and off the radar for as long as I could remember.

Styx whistled. "He's an asshole for one thing. He even attempted to put a squelch on the artistic endeavor we own. When he was a detective long before he was a police chief, he tried over and over again to get something on Pop's business."

"The man has attempted to fuck with everything over the years and he's buddies with Jerry Roxford." Creed's brows were lifted. "The father of the kid killed by an unknown assailant?"

"Interesting." And I meant it.

"Why?" he pushed.

I glanced from one to the other. "Because his daughter has been in my class and wrote a fictional story about a family who hunted their enemies on a wooded piece of land."

"Fuck," Styx hissed. "You know what that means."

We looked from one to the other. Only one time had an enemy managed to escape my father's clutches, him blaming the man's disappearance on our inadequacies. We'd been tossed into a hole in the ground for three weeks, barely given food or water as punishment. For me, it had been sheer torture, the time in close, dark quarters defining my manhood. Especially since I'd just turned eighteen.

All three of us looked at each other, our oldest brother doing the talking. "It means someone attached to one of the victims from long ago is finally telling his story to any and all who will listen."

Creed closed his eyes, his anger causing him to snap the flute into several broken pieces. As blood ran down his hand, neither Styx nor I reacted. We'd seen enough blood in our lives that we were immune to it.

Or in my case, I relished the sight, the scent. I found it soothing.

"It means we need to secure the man who we made the mistake of leaving alive. If we don't," Creed stopped mid-sentence for his usual dramatic emphasis, "all this could be lost. And since I just found out I'm going to be a father, that cannot happen."

As Styx congratulated him while getting a towel, I shifted my attention back to the window and glorious view outside.

No one was going to fuck with my family or the woman I'd claimed as my possession.

And they certainly wouldn't like it if they dared try.