Page 23 of Only in the Dark
I didn’t complain as I sank to my knees in front of the desk, groaning when I looked at the mess, remembering how we got here. I had never seen a man come from having his prostate played with, but I wanted to see it happen to Kieran over and over again. And I had a feeling he wouldn’t fight me on that desire, or any of them.
I leaned forward, licking his splattered cum into my mouth, wishing it was coming directly from the source instead, but still enjoying its sweet taste. If we had more time, I’d have him fuck me right now while I cleaned his mess with my tongue. I made sure to lap up every drop and swallow it down, not leaving any of his semen behind, then wiped up my mess. They’d have no reason to check this spot—it looked the same as earlier.
Kieran reached out his hand and pulled me up, thanks to the weird positioning of my desk. I shoved everything into the backpack, minus the alien costume, which we were planting in Brad’s office. Thankfully, as we walked out, Brad’s office was only a few doors down. We made it look like we were trying to hide it in a locked drawer in his desk. Poor Brad.
I kept the knife because it belonged to me. They had no reason to suspect me. Olivia Mercer was at home, mourning her boyfriend’s disappearance, while Kieran was spotted with his father at the party several times. My wig and sunglasses hid me well from the cameras in the hallways that spotted us.There were none in the office areas, but we made sure a hallway camera by the exit caught us making out. Everyone would think Kieran had left with some girl he had met at the party. He was a respected detective, so no one would question him.
“So, I have to travel to Texas next weekend to meet with the detective who sent me after you. I have a plan to get him off anyone’s trail, but you’ll have to trust me on it,” Kieran explained as we settled into bed for the night, Pixie cuddled up between us.
“I do,” I responded. “But whatever you do, make sure you come back and tell me every detail.” I winked, knowing his fixes often involved murder.
Kieran Harlowe
The best part of my job had to be getting information easily. I didn’t need to spend my time stalking down suspects, trying to learn about them. I had the information readily available. Daniel Wentworth was easy to find. He was plastered all over newspapers and magazines, lived in one of the most obnoxious houses in a gated community—the same his parents lived in. Woodson gave me his information in a briefing file, and I flew to Texas to track him down.
The more I talked to Woodson about the case, the more I wondered how they believed a word out of his mouth. He claimed they had met at the hotel bar that night, but there was no footage to corroborate his story, because it was fake. Olivia mentioned they had been dating a while, but there was no one in their life that came forward to mention him having a girlfriend. Daniel told the police he believed the girl he met was Madelyn Langford, but Woodson explained that her DNA had been found at a fire. He also mentioned he believed she had been kidnapped and raised as Lucy Langford’s daughter—a security firm owner—because there was no record of her having a child, and their DNA did not match.
I wondered why Daniel tried to hide her. She was beautiful and wealthy, but she remained a secret to everyone he knew. Then, I found the answer. Daniel was married, which could’ve happened after he and Olivia broke up years ago, but a deep dive helped me discover that he had been engaged at the time. Olivia wasn’t big on social media or involved in the big social circles in Dallas, so she didn’t know.
I wondered why he had come forward at all. It had been years. Was his ego that badly bruised two years later? It turned out someone had leaked information about Olivia and Daniel sharing a room at the hotel—two photos of them outside the same room door posted in the article. He was trying to save face for what had happened years ago. His wife was clearly pissed since she was staying at her parent’s place, and that made my job that much easier.
Daniel wasn’t hard to get access to. I flashed my badge, which wasn’t even a Texas one, and his maid let me in. Because he was the kind of pretentious guy to hire a maid. I had enough money, and a nice enough penthouse suite, but I was a grown adult man, so I cleaned up after myself. I doubt Daniel worked so hard he couldn’t lift a finger, but he probably didn’t know how to.
The maid pointed me in the direction of the office, and I paid her to get her to go home for the day. It helped that I gave her a fake name, too, and I was fleeing the state before the morning. I had a fake ID created by someone I had caught making fakes in Chicago. I told them I’d let them go if they made me one, and thus the identity of Brian Thompson was created. No one would know Kieran Harlowe was in Texas.
Except Daniel Wentworth.
“Evening, Detective. Would you like a drink?” he asked, a fake smile plastered on his face as he shook my hand. He held up a bottle of Jack Daniels.
“Sure,” I responded, flashing a brief smile. I watched him pour two shots worth into two glasses that probably cost hundreds of dollars.
Before I traveled here, I thought about all the ways I wanted to kill him. I wanted to kill him violently, watch his blood splatter on the walls, but it wouldn’t be a smart move for a man who had nowhere to clean up before hopping on a plane. I had to settle for a non-brutal method to quench my urge, and I took inspiration from the object of my obsession.
“That’s a beautiful photo there. Is that your wife?” I asked, pointing to the frame behind him. I used the brief distraction to empty the vial from my pocket into his drink.
He turned back to me and smiled. “That’s my wife, Trisha, and her parents. Her dad is my boss. So, how may I help you? Is this about my case?” he asked, his eyes full of hope.
I pulled up a photo of Olivia on my phone, flashing it to him. I had altered her appearance slightly to match the features she had in the past—colored contacts, less full lips, and a different nose. I kept her same hair, since she had changed it since they knew each other. It would be likely that she had changed her hair by now.
“Yes! Yes! That’s her. Who is she?” he asked. He looked simultaneously relieved and worried. If the police knew who she was, she could tell them the truth, but it’d be his word against hers. His ego was big enough to believe she wouldn’t be a threat, though.
“OliviaMercer,” I answered. “Let’s have a celebratory drink,” I suggested, holding my Jack in the air. We pressed our glasses together briefly, then I watched as he chugged his drink down. Daniel Wentworth had a drinking problem, according to his several almost-DUIs that Woodson had told me about. Money bought his way out of trouble though, but not anymore.
“Here’s the thing about Olivia. She’s the love of my life. The object of my obsession. The future mother of my children,” I explained, a menacing smile taking over my face. “And you hurt her.”
His eyes widened, and he looked down at his empty glass, seemingly remembering Olivia’s tricks. “Her name isn’t Olivia. It’s Madelyn Langford. You’ve been tricked, man. She doesn’t love you. Please help me,” he pleaded, his voice pathetic and whiny.
I heard myself chuckle, and the sound was so sweet, so sharp, I had to give it more. Louder. Meaner. Until it wasn’t a laugh anymore, but a jagged howl I couldn’t control. “Help you? You lied to the police. You put your hands onmywoman. I came here to kill you, so she never has to worry about you again,” I explained. “Her name isn’t Madelyn, either. She was kidnapped and raised by that awful woman. And you tried to hurt her because she freed herself.”
Sweat slid down his forehead in trembling rivulets, pooling at his jaw before falling to the desk he clutched like a lifeline. His anger rolled off him in thick, burning waves—but anger couldn’t save him now. In the end, despite everything, Olivia was the clear winner of their game, even if she wasn’t here to claim her victory. She had meto avenge her.
“What’d you use?” he questioned. “Couldn’t even kill me like a real man would. Had to use cheap poison.”
“I’m not sure. I grabbed the one labeled ‘this will kill fast’ and didn’t bother to question it,” I responded, telling the truth. Olivia showed me her stash of poison that she kept in case she needed it one day. It showed me how much trust we shared; the gesture warmed my heart. “And trust me, I would’ve loved to slice you up piece-by-piece, slowly, until nothing remained. But that didn’t seem like the best idea, and I wanted to finish Olivia’s plan for you. Well, not her original one to marry you and run off into the sun together.”
He looked at me with a shocked expression. “Marry me? She wanted to kill me.” He huffed.
“No, she didn’t. She had poison on her in case things went south, but she wanted to be with your dumbass. But your fuck-up is my win,” I said, a smug smile plastered on my face.
