Page 42 of Hawke

Once it did, I left, driving the short distance back to my condo. My car had essentially gone from one parking garage to another, but thankfully mine wasn’t as creepy as the one near Syn. I grabbed my things and hurried into the building. A few minutes later, I was back inside my own place.

By now, the sheer adrenaline was starting to wear off and I felt every one of my battle scars. And that was what they were. Instead of feeling sorry for myself whenever reminded of them, I’d simply think of them as the scars I had gotten when trying to fight a losing battle for Hawke’s heart. At least I knew for sure everything that I was missing, and I wouldn’t have any other curiosities to explore.

I wanted to soak in my Jacuzzi tub, but I decided my spa shower would have to suffice for now. After, I’d go to sleep before heading into work. Once in my bedroom, I removed my dress, then angled myself so I could see the marks he’d put on me. I groaned at the sight of the ones crisscrossing my ass.

“Didn’t enjoy it.” I laughed sarcastically. “Maybe not the sex, but he sure as hell looked like he had fun with my backside.”

I let out a huff, then moved into my master bathroom. When I opened the door, a sound caught my attention. I paused, waiting to see if maybe Hawke had disregarded the safe word and followed me home. All I heard was silence though, so I figured it’d just been a figment of my imagination. Stepping inside the glass enclosure, I turned on the steam feature, then played with the temperature until it was a bearable heat.

28 – KILLER

Slinking down the dark alleyway, I noticed the blonde as soon as she exited Syn. It wasn’t just any of the despicable whores who frequented the place, dropping their clothing, inhibitions, and morals to kneel at the shrine of those pervasive sinners. It was Charlotte Leigh Maxwell. Since the night I had first laid eyes on her, I’d been determined to find out everything I could about her. And I had.

The twenty-four-year-old had crossed paths with me more than once since that night. Her complete disregard for my very presence might’ve upset me had I planned on letting her live. Since I had no intentions of doing that, I was already planning her demise down to the smallest of details. She would be lucky number seven, and her death would be the greatest one yet. She was someone whose death would gain true notice, and maybe then these females would appreciate the danger they put themselves in.

It’d be so easy to complete my task now, but the obsessive-compulsiveness that fed me wouldn’t allow me to deter from my plan. In the beginning, I chose my victims at random, but I had honestly become sloppy.

After the fourth, I had chosen more wisely. The ones charged, tried, and sentenced in my mind were the epitome of evil. Sinners like Charlotte paraded their loose morals around enticing men to sin at their altar. She flaunted an appearance of purity and innocence, but she was anything but.

Lucky number seven, she’d be.

“Run, run, little whore,” I whispered into the darkness of night.

I returned to my car so I could follow the blonde. I knew where she was going as soon as I saw her car emerge from the parking garage. This time of night lent itself to secrecy, so I stayed back just far enough from her to not draw any suspicion. I had seen the local media clamoring over themselves for any leads on Denver’s very own serial killer. I despised that moniker because those evil beings were possibly more morally corrupt than the very victims I ceased to eliminate. What I was doing was righteous.

Despite what they thought, I didn’t just kill for the thrill of it. I was answering a higher calling, and in doing so, Jesus had granted me the power to give life and take it away. The divine mission had led me to Denver where so many impure sinners ran rampart. Every time I took one out, two or three more popped up in their place like roaches.

And as I thought, Charlotte Maxwell went straight home to shower. A few minutes later, I was standing in her bedroom which was a shrine to all things unholy. Lingerie was draped over the chair, and when I picked up a lacy thong, it nearly singed my fingers. I dropped it and moved closer to the bathroom where I could still hear the water running.

“You can wash the filth off of you, but your sin is more than skin-deep. Wash, rinse, and repeat, little whore. Your time is near.”

The water suddenly ceased, and I made a beeline for the door. Hovering just outside of her bedroom, I listened for any other sounds from her. She hadn’t yet left the bathroom, so I slowly made my way back to the exit. On the way, I saw a belt. The urge to wrap it around the sinner’s neck until the last pathetic breath left her lungs was strong, but unlike these immoral beings, my will to resist was much stronger.

Charlotte’s time was near, but there was one sinner whose crimes were much worse. By the time my sixth victim was sent on a one-way trip to Hell, the city would be up in arms. The seventh would then rock the entire community as a local princess met her demise. As I slipped unseen from her place, I knew I’d return soon to finish this job. For now, however, there was one name that came before hers. Gigi! She’d hear it come off the lips of the disgusting fools that worshipped at her feet, but it would soon be for the very last time.

Yes, tonight I’d strike again.

29 – CHARLOTTE

“I’m on my way now,” I told Chase as I pulled into an area parking garage. “I’ll be inside in just a few minutes.”

After I parked my Maserati, I pulled the visor in the front down and began to touch up my makeup. I had just finished reapplying my mascara and was now blotting my lipstick when something flashed across my mirror. It happened so quickly.

Cautiously, I glanced out both side mirrors, but saw nothing out of the way. Ever since I had gotten home the other day from work and noticed a few things out of place in my condo, I had been freaked out. Since nothing appeared to be missing, and I wasn’t a hundred percent convinced that I hadn’t moved the stuff myself and just not remembered, I hadn’t told my brother or even Ayden.

I had mentioned it to Emery though, but my best friend made it sound like it was nothing more than my overactive imagination. I had walked through the events leading up to it, making sure to only give a high level overview of what had transpired between me and Hawke. It was possible that I had knocked a few things off the table. I had still been in a considerable amount of pain that morning and was tired.

It wasn’t the only thing to freak me out, either. More than a few times, I felt as if I was being watched. I couldn’t really put my finger on why I felt that way, only that I did. I’d also mentioned that to Emery, who suggested it could even be Hawke.

“You said he was watching you sleep. Can it get any creepier than that?”

I had brushed that concern off. I was almost certain he’d only been there because he couldn’t find anyone else to get rid of me. The fact that he’d fallen asleep himself didn’t mean Hawke had been there for a while. He was probably as bored with the aftercare routine as he’d been during the sex.

My eyes watered, but thankfully the tears seemed to be staying at bay. I’d just applied my mascara, and I didn’t want my stupid infatuation with the jerk to ruin my makeup. My worry that someone was watching me was likely as true as the foolish idea I’d once harbored about there being something between me and Hawke.

I took a final glance at myself in the mirror, then tossed my lipstick back into my purse. My brother had perfected his big brother routine quite easily over the years but lately, he seemed more spooked than the usual himself. Hell, Ayden had even started checking in on me and Emery more, too.

Emery swore it was because the sexy cop wanted her in his bed. I hated to break it to my best friend, but the concern seemed strictly professional. There was no convincing her otherwise, however, so I let her harbor those fantasies about him.

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