1. Prologue

Chapter one

Prologue

Wes

I came to the show tonight to distract myself, to silence a hellish work week. Godsmack was playing in town and it was a perfect way to decompress. After Siobhan died, I swore I’d rid this city of every piece of shit that shares the same ideations and I’m fulfilling my purpose.

Sitting back in the lounge area with a pitcher of beer, I watch the sea of bodies smashing into each other as the music roars. My gaze takes in the entire room, watching the concert-goers enjoying themselves as I raise my glass to my lips. The bitter taste washing over my taste buds as I catch a notification on my phone. Lifting it, I see it’s the tracker I have on a certain pedophile that I’ve been itching to get rid of. He just returned home.

Pulling my hat off, I run my fingers through my hair, flipping it back just as “Moon Baby” starts playing. Standing, I slip my phone into my pocket and make my way out to the floor. Bodies collide with me as I push toward the stage, but am stopped in my tracks when the sweet scent of jasmine floods my nose. Turning, my eyes land on a beautiful woman with obsidian hair, her body swaying back and forth to the beat of the song.

She’s covered in tattoos and piercings, wearing a band t-shirt and a black skirt; she’s a metal goddess. For some reason, I’m captivated by this dark-haired siren, and I’m frozen in place, like a teenager in love at first sight. Watching as she grabs onto the guy next to her, seeing how she moves as she dances with him. A wave of anger courses through me at seeing them touching each other. The song changes and as the band belts out “Whatever”, my dark-haired siren sings along to the lyrics with the man.

Luckily, this guy appears to only be a friend.

Seamlessly blending into the crowd, I make sure I’m not interrupting the fun she’s having as my eyes remain locked onto her, I’m determined to not lose sight of her.

As the concert continues, my attention is only on her, everything else fading away. The way her body moves and sways to the music is fucking addictive, I’ve never felt such a powerful urge to grab a woman and fuck them up against a wall in my entire life.

Since the show is nearing its end, I don’t mind ducking out early and making my way to the car where I wait. After a bit of time, she and the friend exit the venue and she walks straight to a waiting car at the curb. Watching her as she hugs him goodbye, then gets in the vehicle. Alone.

Trailing behind the car, as inconspicuous as possible, I maintain a slow speed but manage to keep up.

After a quick drive through the city streets, the car pulls up to a pizza shop where the mystery girl exits the car and walks around the back of the building. A few moments later, though, the lights in the room above the shop turn on.

A quick decision has me pulling away and going to park a few blocks down the road, and then I walk back to the alley. The side window that faces it has a fire escape and I wait until the apartment goes black before I climb up.

When I peer into the window, I see a small studio apartment curated by a metal head. Band and horror posters adorn the walls, and a massive sound system with records and CD’s sit in the center, while bookcases litter the walls.

In the apartment’s front is a couch, with a TV and sound system. A small kitchen and makeshift bedroom at the back, and a door which I can only assume is the bathroom. My mystery girl lives alone. There’s no visible sign of a boyfriend. There is, however, a bottle of vodka and a glass on the counter. Is she a drinker?

A bold urge comes over me as I reach for the window, and with a firm tug it lifts, eliciting a sigh from me as it wasn’t locked. Muttering under my breath, “Baby, I’m gonna have to teach you a lesson for your own safety.”

Slipping in through the window, I’m enveloped in her scent. Jasmine, sweet jasmine, it’s intoxicating. The glass on the counter holds the remnants of the vodka, telling me she had some before bed. The hardwood floor creaks as I walk over it, which makes me steal a glance at her lying on the bed. But she doesn’t move. Making my way over to her, I can see how deep and steady she’s breathing as she lies there in nothing but a band shirt and black thong.

My cock thickens against the zipper of my jeans at the sight of her pert, round ass. I want to reach out and touch her, feel the softness of her skin under my fingers but I need to leave before doing something so stupid. But just as I’m about to turn back to the window and go, I hear a soft whimper escape her. My attention is back on the woman as she starts to toss and turn. She’s having a nightmare and I’ve never wanted to protect someone as strongly as I do now. My girl is struggling with whatever demon is plaguing her dreams, and all I can do is stand back and watch .

After what seems like forever, she calms down again and before I get the urge to make a move on this sleeping beauty, I leave the apartment and close the window behind me. Speaking as I descend the fire escape, “I’ll be back, Ma Petite Mort . Whatever is haunting you better be terrified, once I get my hands on them they’ll wish they never fucked with you.”

The cool night air helps me regain some control over the lust that is coursing through me as I walk back to my car. Climbing into the vehicle as I reach it, I fire up the engine and it rumbles to life. Throwing it into drive, I make my way back to my office.

Being an investigator with the district attorney gives me access to every public record imaginable, which will help me find out who my mystery girl is. When I get there, I pull into my spot and head into the building, the secretary, Courtney, gives me a coy smile as I step through the doors.

“Working late tonight, Wes?”

“You know me, always on the clock.” I say as I walk past her and head toward my office. The sound of her chuckle fills the hall as I make my way down. Unlocking the door, I set my key on my desk and fire up my computer, then immediately pull up the business address of that pizza place. The owner is Fernando Gonzalez, and everything checks out about him, and as I pull up the permits for the building, I find the rental property application.

With some more digging, I find her. Layne Murphy. She’s twenty-two, born and raised in San Francisco, and when her photo ID pops up, my cock gets hard again. Jesus Christ, Wes, it’s just a picture of her, chill the fuck out. After some more digging, I see there’s not much information about her. There’s some files that have her parent’s names, but no criminal record or even traffic violations.

Emailing the files to myself, I decide to just head home for now.

San Francisco’s streets are perpetually bustling, even this late at night and it makes the drive more interesting as I make my way home. When I pull up to the gate of my property, a waterfront warehouse, it opens after I punch in a code. Driving through it, and watching it close in the rearview, hearing it click as I pull my car next to the main bay doors. Killing the engine, I head inside.

Upon entering, I go directly up to the loft and then out to the balcony where I grab a cigarette. It’s chilly by the water, but with the nicotine flooding my system I feel more relaxed and can think clearly. Layne Murphy. I can’t stop replaying the way her body moved to the music at the concert. I so badly want to go back to her apartment and touch her, claim her, make her mine.

“ You wouldn’t hurt her though, right Wessy?” My sister’s voice asking me that in the back of my mind.

Never. With my unconventional mindset, this obsession with her fuels my determination to make her mine. With my cigarette finished, I toss the butt over the balcony and make my way back inside. Heading straight for the shower, smelling of beer and now smoke, I turn on the water and let it warm as I strip. Stepping inside it after a few moments, I close my eyes as my mind wanders back to her again. To Layne. And I can’t help myself as I reach down and grip my cock, giving it a few firm tugs. Her body is perfect and I can only imagine what she looks like naked.

My breath quickening as my strokes become more determined. If only it was her soft hand around me, or those perfect plump lips. When I’m close to coming, I stop. I want the first time I come with her on my mind to be when I’m inside her. However long it takes, she will be mine. It’s only a matter of time.

After I finish showering, I make my way to the kitchen and grab some leftover take-out from the fridge, then settle down in front of the computer. Shaking the mouse, the screen lights up as I pull up my tracking software and see that that pedophile, Samuel Baker, is right where he should be; home. Soon that piece of shit will be dead, like every other I’ve killed. Their remains never to be found, and one less predator to keep the children safe.

All for Siobhan.

If only someone like me had been doing what I do back then. Maybe she’d still be alive.