Page 57 of Seducer

“I don’t think I need to tell either one of you that we need to watch our backs.” Xander’s voice was calm, but I sensed his discord. We all had a right to be somewhat edgy after the shit we’d been through. When anyone was perched high on the pinnacle of success, it was as if teetering on a stack of dominos. One wrong piece moved and the entire thing would come toppling down.

“We pay attention and don’t do anything rash,” I recommended, which was nothing new.

“Said like a man who’s just gotten laid.” Wilder continued laughing. The man was always fishing in my business, and it was beginning to piss me off.

I didn’t bother providing an answer of any kind. Both my brothers laughed since they knew my past track record. I’d been a womanizer in my youth. So what. So had they. I’d grown bored.

Until the other night.

The feisty woman was never far from my mind.

I was just getting started with my plans for her, as devious as they were.

I slammed my hand on the door, taking long strides onto the portico. At that very moment, a video camera appeared only inches from my face, a reporter with a decent albeit sordid reputation standing just off to the side with a microphone in his hand.

And a lurid, knowing smile on his face.

With no security present, the man advanced like some predatory creature, sticking the microphone in front of all three of us. The grin on his face widened, allowing his gaze to flow from one to the other of us.

My gut told me whatever question he was about to ask had nothing to do with the Blackwell Group or our success.

This was also very personal.

“The Blackwell brothers.” The reporter had a smile on his face.

“What do you want, David?” I threw back.

“What can you tell me about Cain DeMarco?” David asked.

The name rang a bell and almost instantly my hackles were raised.

“David, you should know better than to accost us after we’d just had lunch,” Xander offered, even laughing as if the intrusion meant nothing.

“Just answer the question,” David pushed, shoving the implement in my brother’s face.

As usual, I overreacted when being approached in this manner. I snagged the microphone, prepared to yank it from his hand and snap the flimsy material in half.

David didn’t seem troubled by my actions. In fact, he appeared satisfied. He’d known what to expect.

“You don’t remember?” he pressed. “Cain DeMarco, the most notorious serial killer in the country, born and raised right here in Chicago.”

“What the fuck are you getting at?” Wilder snarled.

I pulled my hand away, cognizant the cameraman was rolling film.

David acted as if he was shocked that we had no clue who the hell he was referring to.

Even though his mention of the name manifested itself into questions swirling in my mind. Where had I heard the name before? The news?

“Let me help you with the puzzle. Cain DeMarco, a monstrous man sentenced to life in prison with no possibility of parole for the slaughter of fifteen human beings including his own wife. A woman who happened to be the mother of three young boys. The Blackwell boys. Cain’s biological sons.”

CHAPTER 15

Sara

He was watching me.

I’d had the sense I’d been followed since making the turn leaving the neighborhood. I’d had no reason to think that. There’d been no glaring signs like a car following too close or revving up to get around me as I drove.

---