Page 25 of Black Hearts
With one glance behind my shoulder, I made sure we were alone before saying, “Keep that sentiment to yourself for now, but someday soon I might need you to make it known.”
He flashed me his perfect pearly whites. “Why? You planning something, Doc?” Ed chuckled. “Whatever it is, can’t wait to see it. I always knew you were more like us than you said.”
“I’m not—” I stopped the moment Ed threw me a skeptical look, and I knew there was no use in trying to defend myself or my morals to him. While I wasn’t a killer, I’d be lying if I said I never thought about it. I could’ve killed Will in the basement, could’ve killed Markus after he sent Lincoln after her.
So, okay. Maybe there was some darkness in me I kept tucked away, hidden, only letting it out on special occasions. But didn’t everyone have their own darkness? The difference was that it took different situations, different trauma, different pain, to bring it out. Each and every person was capable of killing; you only had to push them to their limits.
Ed took my silence with a gleeful smirk. “That’s what I thought.”
I decided to say nothing, turning around and leaving the kitchen and Ed. Heading through the hall, I reached the French doors to the backyard patio within another minute, and I poked my head outside to glance at the wicker chairs positioned around the pool. I saw no one but Lincoln, sunning himself.
The man was butt-ass naked, too—something he only got away with right now because his daughter was still at school, and today was a warm day for the season. Winter would be here soon enough, another two or three months.
Hmm. Maybe Stella went to pick Tori up? I didn’t think it was time yet for that, though—
“What the fuck you looking at?” Lincoln called out, his dark-haired head turned in my direction. He didn’t move to cover himself; if anyone had not an ounce of modesty, it was that one. It was unsurprising that Markus had chosen Lincoln to force onto Juliet; he was as psycho and unapologetic as they came.
“Where’s Stella?” I averted my eyes from his unrepentantly naked form, not wanting to stare at his dick longer than I had to.
“How the fuck should I know? I’m not her keeper.” Lincoln was much ruder than Ed, but that was to be expected. Ed was more like Will in that respect; both men could charm you if they tried, while at the same time slipping a knife in your gut. You’d be too distracted by their smile and their wit to stop them. Lincoln was much more in your face about it.
I turned away from Lincoln, back inside the house. Her room was my next destination, and I went to the main stairwell, taking two steps at a time. This house was definitely on the larger side, and it took me a few minutes to make it to her bedroom, and when I did, I found the door shut, which I took to mean she was in there.
Rapping my knuckles on the door, I didn’t dare barge inside, lest I see something I truly didn’t want to—another repeat of Lincoln’s dick, only different. Ed was in the kitchen, so that left Killian, the resident serial killer. He wasn’t as keen to show off his dick to everybody who wanted to see it, not like Lincoln, but still. Better safe than sorry.
I heard muffled voices on the other side of the door, and then footsteps as one of them came to open it. The person I was greeted with held a sheet around his midsection, covering his lower half, but his top half was very much on display—and also very sweaty, which told me what he and Stella had been up to.
Killian was exactly what you’d imagine when you thought of someone Irish. He had the reddish hair, the green eyes, and an overabundance of freckles on his white skin. I didn’t know too much about him, since he’d come to the house before I started here, but I knew enough.
The Angel Maker, someone who liked to arrange their victims into a praying position, usually by tying their hands together or shoving a metal spike through their hands to keep them together. He’d had a thing for Stella, even before they got together.
Stella had a way of attracting the most psycho of them all, I guess.
“Ah, Doc. What’s up?” Killian asked, breathing hard, not seeming to care I interrupted something intimate.
Stella, on the other hand, was laying on her bed, totally exposed. She huffed, rolled off the bed, and came walking over, her face holding annoyance, lacking its usual emotionless state. She, much like Lincoln, didn’t seem to care that she was naked, and she moved to stand beside Killian, her mismatched eyes glaring at me. One blue, one brown.
“What the fuck is it now?” she hissed, leaning against Killian.
I didn’t look at her body. I kept my eyes strictly on her face. The only girl I wanted to see naked was Juliet. “I wanted to talk to you about something,” I said.
“If you want to join us, sorry, no can do. Lincoln finds you annoying as shit,” Killian said. “But then again, he finds everyone annoying as shit, so—” He stopped when I held up a hand, and thank God he did, because I didn’t think I could bear to listen to him go on and on.
“That’s not it,” I quickly said. “That’s definitely not it.”
“Oh, well, whatever it is, can it wait? I was just about to—” Again, Killian was giving me way too much information, and again, I had to stop him.
“Yeah, yeah, go finish.” To Stella, I said, “I’ll be waiting down the hall when you’re done.” I didn’t linger; I spun on my heel and started walking away, heading down the hall, to the windows overlooking the pool. The estate was in a bit of a U, with one main hall and two wings, both of which curved around the giant stone patio and the pool.
Didn’t want to stay close to the room, lest I overhear things I shouldn’t, things I really didn’t want to.
As Stella and Killian got back to it, I ran a hand through my hair. How in the world they kept it together enough to have a daughter and raise Tori to be semi-normal I’d never know.
The sun shined brightly outside, and when I made it far enough away from Stella’s room, I leaned against the window overlooking the pool. From where I was, I could see Lincoln tanning himself—still very much naked—and I had to roll my eyes, let out a sigh, and turn around. Instead of gazing outside, I decided to take off my glasses and clean them.
Was it even possible to get Johnathan out of the house? Even if we got the household to band together, could we really force him out? The man was the patriarch of this family. I didn’t doubt everyone here would back Markus, but there were countless of others outside of the confines of this house that might back Johnathan, if worse came to worst. A lot of Scotts I’d never formally met before, many who hadn’t been back in this house for over a decade.
I didn’t know what would happen, but we had to try. For Juliet.
