Page 15 of Ruthless Rebel

Five words that change everything and he doesn’t even realize it yet.

6

LINCOLN

Istare down at the lifeless body bleeding out at my feet. Jarad Bristol, serial child molestor and all together low life piece of shit who I have been hunting for weeks to get him to this very position. Blood drips from my hands, face, and neck, from where I ripped him apart completely, the silencer of my gun too kind for a man like him. No, I used my meticulous knife skills to ensure the maximum amount of pain was inflicted on him, until there was nothing left of him to cut. Just like my daddy taught me. He is unrecognizable, and his name will never be said again, let alone feared by little girls, yet the only thing my mind can focus on is what Logan just said.

Boyfriend.

The word sends a jolt through me. I’m now his boyfriend, he’s my boyfriend, a total and completely normal step for people who have been sleeping together for months to take, yet not once did I think we would. I’m not boyfriend material, I’m a monster, a murderer, the son of the serial killer who became one himself to protect and avenge the people he loves, but those people think that stopped when the war ended. By the time Elliot Donovan’s reign was over we had all become murderers, even my playful and loyal to a fault brother, Jace. Not one of us escaped Donovan’s tyranny with a clear conscience, but now it’s over they don’t look back.

I look at my brothers and see how happy they are now. Marcus found his way back to Elle, and Riley managed to pull Jace from the depths of his despair, and I am happy for them, I am, but I never understood it. The love they have, the bond they share with one another, I never understood how you could just give your all to someone, and trust them to give it back. Not when I saw what my parents had, what I thought happiness was, until I was old enough to know better.

Which is why I don’t know why I agree with Logan when he says it. Not because I don’t want him, because I do. My feelings for him grow every day despite me not planning on it, yet can I give him my all? Hell, he is interrupting me in the middle of something that no one knows about, well no one but Asher. Which is another thing, Logan and I are exclusive except when it comes to him, a thought that shouldn’t be so taunting, especially when I know how he would feel if he knew where I was right now.

“Wanna jerk off over the phone to celebrate?” Logan asks, cutting into my thoughts, and a choked laugh escapes me.

There he is, my light in the dark, always knowing how to guide me, and I find myself wishing he were here. Well, not here in this run down warehouse where I have just committed another murder, but here in town, here at home, here waiting for me in my bed so I can fuck away the stress of another dark day inside of my head.

“As tempting as that is, I’ve got some work to finish,” I reply with a laugh, silently cursing at how much blood is on me, and how hard it is going to be to get off. “Rain check?” I ask, hoping he doesn’t pick up on my lie.

“You can make it up to me on Friday when I’m home,” he tosses back, and his words ease something inside of me.

“Sounds great, I can’t wait,” I tell him honestly, and then add, “Call me before class tomorrow?”

“Damn, is this what I can expect now, my boyfriend making demands of me?” He jokes, and I can hear the easy smile in his attitude, and I know instantly that this is something he has wanted for a while and purposely not asked for.

Something I make note to punish him for when I next see him. “You love it when I make demands of you,” I purr, cracking my neck as I almost give in to his jerking off over the phone request, despite it not even being twenty four hours since I was last inside him.

“Only when your cock is involved,” he tosses back, and I groan, knowing I need to leave before this turns into something more.

“Goodbye, Lo,” I force out through gritted teeth, and he laughs.

“Goodbye, boyfriend.”

I hear the sound of the call disconnecting yet still I keep my phone raised for a few seconds, willing him to come back to me and I’m not even sure why. Despite the carnage I have created around me, Logan somehow always seems to ground me in a way I have never felt before, and it’s slowly becoming addicting. I discard my phone back into my pocket and pull on the bloody glove I took off earlier to answer the call.

There is a lot of blood to clean up, not to mention Jarad’s body to discard, so it’s going to be another late night. Not that I mind, if anything the cleanup relaxes me. The whole process reminds me so much of my childhood. I've cleaned up the mess of a murder more times than I can even count anymore, and I’m not ashamed to say I can do it with ease, especially when the bodies belong to people who actually deserve the hand of fate dealt to them.

I make quick work of mixing up some chemicals that will erase Jarad from existence more than I already have, careful not to touch or spill them anywhere, and then I heave his body into the large container in the corner and start to pour. The smell is unlike anything you will ever experience in your life, and while his remains dissolve into nothing, I clean his blood from the floor and walls. It takes another hour for his body to completely break down, and then I just rinse him away as if he never even existed, and more importantly as if he were never here in this warehouse at all. A tried and tested method that works better than I ever imagined.

Once I’m satisfied there is no trace of him left, I head outside and strip off my clothes and throw them into a barrel to burn, standing naked in the woods, watching the flames dance under the moonlight. Then I rinse myself off with a hose, letting my body air dry as I make my way back to my SUV a couple of miles away. Most people wouldn’t walk naked through the woods at night, but it’s not like I am going to bump into anyone out here, so I don’t really think too much about it.

By the time I make it to my car my phone reads almost 2am and exhaustion clings to me, as I reach into my trunk and pull out some clean clothes for me to throw on. Then before I know it, I am back on the road and making the drive home. As expected, when I pull up to the security gates, most of the lights in the house are off, and I check to make sure there have been no other security alerts before I let myself in.

When I enter the house only the low-level lights in the hallways and stairs are lit up, telling me that everyone is asleep, and I head straight to the kitchen to grab a drink before going to bed. I grab a bottle of water and go to cut across the main living area to the back stairs when a voice halts me.

“Late night?” Asher asks quietly, and I turn to find him sitting alone in the dark, looking out towards the pool with an almost empty bottle of vodka in his hand.

I don’t know why I’m surprised, this isn’t exactly the first time he has ambushed me after one of my kills. He has been watching me like a hawk ever since he confronted me at Arthur’s birthday celebration here at the house. I still don’t know how he found out, but that doesn’t matter now, he knows, yet he hasn’t told anyone.

“I could say the same to you,” I toss right back, seeing as he isn’t exactly tucked up in his bed here or at his penthouse right now, and he laughs.

“Yeah, it’s called insomnia, maybe you’ve heard of it,” he drawls sarcastically, and I almost think he’s drunk, or most definitely tipsy at least. One because he just made a joke, but more importantly, two, because he actually just admitted to not sleeping. I mean I’m not stupid, I find him awake almost as much as me, but he always excuses himself or disappears before daring to admit he is anything other than fine.

“I’m familiar with it,” I grunt, moving slowly towards the patio doors he is looking out of, careful not to startle him as I lean and half turn myself towards him. “How long have you had it?” I ask pointlessly, expecting him to ignore me or leave entirely.

“Since I was fourteen,” he replies, and I swear I feel his words like they’ve slapped me, because it doesn’t take a genius to know the reason he stopped sleeping at fourteen.

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