Page 24 of Arran's Obsession

Then I held his gaze. “This is for the girls you raped and terrorised.”

With a flick of my wrist, I sliced at the stem of his dick.

His shrivelled member fell into the river below, a stream of piss and blood following. The screams echoed into the night. With a sigh, Shade slapped on more tape to save our ears.

“Teeth, remember,” he warned.

Right. Bradley’s stained set had to go, for the practical reason of making identification more difficult. No problem, because I had all the time in the world to eviscerate him.

Come to think of it, I hadn’t done a workout today.

Balancing on the balls of my feet, I shot out a quick one-two into his gut, punching holes with the blade as I went. Images of my father hitting me in the same way returned, minus the stabbing. If only Bradley was him.

“Tenderising him. Nice,” Shade commended.

Bradley moaned behind his gag, blood trickling. Every girl he’d touched deserved this revenge, even if they’d never find out. Every finger he laid on them would be fish food. Piece by piece, we’d help him regret his choices. Removing his head from his body was the least we could do.

Shade frowned and reached for his pocket, extracting his buzzing phone. “What the fuck? Thought I’d turned it off. It’s jailbird C. He knows what we’re doing tonight.”

Like with us wearing masks, Shade wouldn’t give up Convict’s crew name. Hanging-man-Bradley was as good as dead, but we didn’t take unnecessary risks.

I didn’t like the sound of that phone call. Convict was holding the fort back at the warehouse and wasn’t the type to interrupt us without reason.

A warning played on my senses. “Answer it.”

He did, listening. The frown spread. “This could’ve waited until we were back. Aye, we’ll be a while.” Shade hung up. “That murder up in North Town. The identity of the woman is now known. Her name was Chelsea Gains, known as Cherry. He said her throat was slit and she was handcuffed and gagged.”

My stomach dropped. The warning grew louder until it blared in my ears and the image of a murdered sex workerdanced before my eyes. Not Cherry, but someone more closely connected to me.

History repeating in exact details.

It didn’t feel like a coincidence that I’d been right there on that street, and the way Cherry had been killed brought back memories I didn’t want to heed.

My mind ran over the events, pulling facts together to make a picture that could be wildly wrong or right on the dirty money. I’d gone to see Genevieve, then a murder had happened on her doorstep. Had someone followed me? Killed a woman in a very specific way to give me a message? It felt unlikely, yet I couldn’t deny the connection to my past.

With a tight gut, I moved away from sobbing Bradley, the jerks of his body clattering the chain above him.

My brain offered an alternative. On that night, Genevieve had seen someone in a car and hustled me to get inside. She knew who that person was. I’d bet any money her mystery man was Cherry’s murderer. Relief washed through me. Yes, that was the more likely explanation.

I needed to find Genevieve and get information from her.

I held up my fist to Shade once more. “Rock, paper, scissors.”

“Shoot,” he said. This time, he won, wrapping his tattooed hand around my fist, though the Scottish flag was blacked out.

I jerked my chin at the rapist. “Finish him.”

Shade blinked, need clear in his eyes. He took back his weapon. “Are ye sure? You’re the best.” Then his eyebrows beetled, his enthusiasm dimming for a moment. “I’ll make it quick. Wait up and I’ll go with ye to handle whatever just fucked with your head.”

“Don’t worry. Enjoy yourself and make this good.”

Outside the boathouse, the muffled, high groans from our captive indicated that Shade was settling in for some fun. In mycar, I switched my phone back on, my thoughts still dwelling on the horror.

My thumb hovered over a name, the one person who knew me better than anyone. And my twisted past.Jamieson.

But before I could dial, it rang in my hand, my head of security calling.

At my answer, the man spoke in a worried tone. “Sorry to disturb you, boss. The game’s underway and everything’s good, but there’s a woman at the back door who’s claiming she should be in there. Natasha Reid, the last applicant. But all five women and twenty men were checked in.”

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