Chapter 21

Chapter Twenty-One

Kindra

W ell, I got the story and won't lose my job, so there's that, but everything I've chased for the last decade has just evaporated in front of my eyes. It should be criminal for anything to end like this. I had grandiose visions of stalking this guy for months before kidnapping him and slowly ending his miserable life. What do I do with all of this anger now?

But then I lean my ear against Ezra's chest, and that anger shrinks away from his warmth. It's pretty difficult to be outraged when I'm in his arms.

"Let's get back to your villa," he says.

He takes my hand and leads me down to the beach instead of back across the boardwalk. Tiny white crabs scurry around our feet and rush toward the incoming water.

"Did you grab the meat hooks?"

"Should I have?"

I guess not. "No, it's probably better that way. If I never see a meat hook again, it will be too soon."

We finally reach my villa door, and he leans in to give me a goodnight kiss. I don't want to be alone right now, though. Sex is the furthest thing from my mind, but I crave his company. Before I can ask him to come inside, a figure appears at the edge of the boardwalk.

"Why are you dressed like...that?" Bennett asks as he steps into the circle of light thrown by the tiny bulb by the door.

"Kindra didn't want to look ridiculous by herself."

"So you had to wear sloppily cut shorts," Bennett says. "Got it."

Kindra punches my arm. "I don't look ridiculous."

More footsteps approach as Cat enters the equation from the opposite side of the boardwalk, but she nearly runs into me because she's so focused on Ezra's bulging thigh muscles as they burst from the short shorts.

"For fuck's sake," Ezra says. "Anyone else coming to this party?"

"I think we're all here," Cat says, "but the rest of your pants are missing."

Bennett and Cat both laugh, and for a moment, we all bond over the atrocity that is Ezra's attire.

"I'm glad you all had a good laugh over my unfortunate state of dress. Excuse me while I go put on some real pants."

"I'm heading to the grotto," Bennett says, catching Ezra's arm. "Change into swim trunks and meet me there."

Ezra's gaze catches mine. "Would you like to join us?"

I was going to go back to my villa and be a miserable bitch, but the way he looks at me makes me pretty certain my bitchiness can wait.

Cat grabs my arm with childlike excitement. "Come on, Kindra, the night is young."

"No one invited you," Bennett says, but Cat just ignores him and keeps looking at me.

The night has been shit. But regardless, I force a smile toward Ezra. "I guess it wouldn't hurt to drown my sorrows in some booze. There will be booze, right?"

Cat nods her head.

"Just let me change, and I'll meet you all there."

Ezra heads toward his villa, and Bennett lets out a low groan as Cat scurries off to change as well.

The door closes behind me, and I already regret agreeing to join everyone at the grotto. I'd rather sit alone and sulk. But if anyone can bring me out of this foul mood, it's Ezra. And maybe Cat.

I squeeze into a shimmering silver one-piece suit and drape a black mesh cover-up over the top. After sliding my feet into some cheap flip-flops, I head down the boardwalk.

The Blood Grotto is gorgeous. Colorful tiki candles surround the giant hot tub, and light fixtures stick out of the sand and cast a red glow on the blood-stained stone altar.

It looks almost like a table; one solid slab lies over four fat stones. A channel winds beneath it, stained with the memory of blood as it slithers toward the hot tub. I'm assuming it's so that one could bathe themselves in the blood of whomever was sacrificed on that thing.

I stare at it and wonder what my brother's killer looked like when he lay there. How much blood did he lose before he died? Did it hurt? I hope so.

I hope it was agonizing.

"Kindra!" Cat screeches beside my head, and I envision dropping her onto that altar.

"What?"

"I've been trying to get your attention, and you're staring off into space. I asked you if you wanted a drink."

I have never needed a drink so badly, but preferably not one with Ezra's special sauce in it. "Yeah, I'll have a glass of red."

Ezra comes up behind me and grabs my shoulder. I lean into him and take my eyes off the giant rock.

"Wine for my pet," he whispers as he places a glass in my hand.

I turn around and look at Ezra. He's traded in my creation for a pair of swim trunks that fall past his knees.

"Who's up for a game of truth or dare?" Bennett asks as he walks over. He's double-fisting beer bottles, one of which he hands to Ezra.

"Are we twelve?" Ezra clips.

"No, even better," Bennett says. "We're adults."

"I'll play," I say, and everyone turns to look at me.

"If Kindra is in, I'll play too," Cat says.

Bennett scoffs. "Of course you will, little tag-a-long."

Ezra gets another glass of wine because I've already guzzled the first in one swallow, and then we all settle into the hot tub.

Cat turns toward Bennett. "Truth or dare, dickhead?"

"Truth."

"Lame," Cat mumbles.

"No, not lame," Bennett says. "It's smart. You'd probably dare me to jump into the bonfire and count to one hundred."

"I would absolutely do that," Cat says with a sly smirk. "Truth. Um. Tell us your real serial killer name and MO."

Bennett takes a hearty drink before standing up, turning around, and lifting the back of his shirt. Between his shoulder blades, nestled among his other tattoos, are two words.

Chaos. Killer.

"They call me the Chaos Killer," he says.

"By they, he means me and him," Ezra says.

"Don't hate me because my chaos is what makes me so unknown. That's my MO. It might be a hammer this time, but next time it might be an ax. Maybe fire."

Cat curls her lip. "You tattooed your own killer name on your body? That is?—"

"Why don't you let me know what you do once you kill at all? As of right now, you're someone who desperately wants to be part of this little group, and you aren't." Bennett's smile widens as Cat's fades. "You probably won't ever be one of us."

Maybe it's the glass of wine I chugged as soon as it was placed into my hand. Maybe it's the absolute absurdity that has become my search for my brother's killer. Either way, the way Cat's lip wobbles as Bennett's words hit home strikes a nerve inside me.

I sit forward and take another pull from my wine glass. "Do you always have to be so goddamn cruel, Bennett?"

He spares a quick glance at Cat. She's already stuffed her pain deep down inside her, and she's done so at such a brisk pace that I can tell she's had a lot of practice.

"Let's move on," Ezra says, trying to keep the game going.

Bennett turns toward Ezra. "Truth or dare."

"Truth."

I don't miss the devilish gleam that runs through Bennett's eyes when he says, "How did you get the name Crumpet Killer?"

"I'm not getting into this again." Ezra shakes his head and lowers himself in the water until only his head sticks above the bubbles. "Give me the dare."

"I dare you to show Kindra your tattoo."

"Absolutely not," Ezra says, and my curiosity is piqued.

I've seen Ezra's body. Most all of his body, I think. But I haven't noticed an embarrassing tattoo. Then again, I was pretty busy looking at other things.

"Don't be a poor sport," Bennett says.

"Fine, you twat."

Ezra stands up, turns around, and lowers his swim trunks. On his left cheek is a greenish...snake? I think it's supposed to be a snake. I squint really hard because it looks like a penis sitting on top of a red rose.

"Who did this to you?" I ask, dropping my hand from my mouth.

He raises his swim trunks and slips back into the water. "When I first moved to the States, my brother and I got drunk and decided to get tattoos. He got his stupid name on his body, and I picked out a cobra on a rose. That tattoo ‘artist' clearly hasn't seen a cobra in his life, so now I'll look like I have a dick on my ass for the rest of eternity."

"That's not even the best part," Bennett says through a laugh. "When he dies, the coroner is going to flip him over and come face to face with that beauty."

"Oh, fuck off," Ezra says.

"If it makes you feel any better, I almost got a drunk tattoo myself," Cat says. "I ended up throwing up all over the guy before he could start."

"It doesn't make me feel better, but thanks," Ezra says with the cutest pout I've ever seen. "My turn. Kindra, truth or dare?"

While I have a nice little buzz going, I haven't imbibed enough to play this game. I shake my head and wave for him to pick someone else, but he levels me with a pointed stare that tells me I'm not getting out of this.

"Truth," I say.

"Tell us about your brother's death."

I study Ezra's face, but I find no malice in his eyes. So what possessed him to ask such a painful question?

"Well...I found him in the garage. His killer bled him out and hung him from meat hooks."

"Don't forget the other details," Cat adds. "It might help to talk about it."

It won't. Years of therapy proved that.

I shake my head and swallow the rest of my wine in one gulp. "I think I'm ready for another one," I say as I jiggle the glass toward Ezra.

He doesn't press me to continue. Instead, he grabs my glass and goes to the bar for a refill. Cat also helps things along by reminding me that it's my turn.

"Right," I say with a forced smile. "Bennett, truth or dare?"

"I'll go with a dare this time." He knocks back his beer, then sends the empty bottle rolling across the concrete.

Ezra returns with my wine, and I'm grateful that he's brought the bottle with him this time. I take a long sip directly from the glass neck as I consider what to do to Bennett.

Cat scoots closer and cups my ear with her hand before whispering, "Dare him to take off his swim trunks and jump into the pool."

I nod my head and turn to face him. "Strip and give Cat a good eyeful of your junk."

Cat swats my arm. "That's not what I said!"

But it's too late. Bennett has already pulled off his trunks and brought his flaccid cock within an inch of Cat's nose. He pretends to stretch his back as she squirms and squeals beside me, trying to escape the impressive (and pierced) penis that threatens her sanity.

"Why is it looking at me like that?" she squeals.

"Put it away," I say through a belly laugh. "She's seen enough, and so have I!"

I sit back and relax as the four of us share our first laugh as a group, but life has taught me that laughter only lasts for so long. Like a storm cloud, Bennett brings the mood down once again.

"Kindra, I'm shooting it back to you," he says. "Truth or dare?"

"Truth," I say, unwilling to race down the beach while baring it all.

He thinks for a moment, then says, "Did anything stand out about your brother's death? Anything strange?"

Ezra places his hand on my arm. "You don't have to answer that. I never should have started that line of questioning."

"But you did," Bennett says. "Now inquiring minds want to know."

"No, it's fine." I take a deep breath and relay the dirty details, including the missing eyes and the number scrawled into his cold skin.

"Oof, he was mutilated?" Bennett says. "Whoever killed your brother was a real asshole."

No one is laughing now. The topic of my brother's death has effectively killed the vibe. Ezra stares at me. Bennett gulps his beer. Cat sits back, unable to meet my eyes. Yeah, no one is having fun anymore.

"On that note, Kindra, I'm going to go to bed," Bennett says, wiping spilled beer off his chin.

"I guess I am too," Cat says.

They climb out of the hot tub and head opposite ways as they start toward their respective villas.

"I guess I should go to bed too," I say to Ezra. "We accomplished a lot tonight."

He nods, but he's stopped staring at me. Now, much like Cat, he won't even look at me. "I'll walk you to your villa."

We trudge through the sand and head back toward my villa. After lounging in the steaming water, the air feels like ice. The thin wrap doesn't help, so I wrap a towel around my shoulders to keep some heat close to my skin.

Ezra doesn't even notice. His gaze is glued to the ground, and he nearly takes himself out on a sign in front of him. I didn't think talking about a murder at a retreat full of killers would make everyone so uncomfortable. You'd think they'd all have enough experience with death by now.

We hit the edge of the light from the bulb above the doorway. Bugs circle above our heads.

"Do you want to come in?" I ask.

I hope he does, as I could use the company. I've brought myself down just as much as them. More, probably.

Ezra steps into me and kisses my forehead, and it's not a yes-I'll-come-in kind of kiss.

"I'm not feeling too well," he says. "I think I'm going to head back myself."

Are you kidding me? I've found my brother's killer. I've told my story in front of everyone. There's a weight off my chest that's finally letting my heart beat a little more freely. And now he's going to leave? Now?

I'm speechless.

"Go inside, Kindra. I'll see you in the morning."

"Yeah. Night."

I watch him leave, his hands slipping into his pockets as he disappears into the darkness. And isn't that always the way? The moment I let my walls down, the man decides I'm no longer worth the effort.

"At least I still have you," I say to the wine bottle in my right hand. And that's when the tears come.