Page 1 of Lust

Prologue

December 31st

Aaron

Thedarkstainonthe warehouse floor looks like Florida. The room is only dimly lit by moonlight filtering in through the windows, and in the infrared view of the camera, it’s not clear whether the stain is blood, grease, or just a shadow. But I know that in the light of day, it would be the dark wine color of congealing blood.

The image on my phone is small, and the camera, built into a screw in a vent midway up the wall, is at an odd angle. I second-guess my original assessment. The stain looks more like California than Florida. Yes, there’s the bend along the coastline right around San Francisco, across from where Lake Tahoe vanishes under the tilted torso of the hitman, just above the odd jut where his left elbow sticks out above the ground.

A yawn stretches my face, and I lean back in the creaky desk chair and stretch my arms above my head. The chair is much too small for my six-foot-seven frame. Fake leather squeaks as I shift again, toggling to another app on my phone. One with a much better view.

Ruby.

My beautiful queen stands in her bathroom facing the mirror. Grime streaks her cream-colored sweater, and a darkening bruise spans from her left cheekbone down to her jaw, but a smile lifts the corners of her mouth. She bites down on her lower lip before grabbing the bottom of her sweater and pulling it up over her head. A thrill starts deep in my belly as I watch her undress.

Ruby unzips her skirt and tugs it down over her thighs. Underneath, sleek shapewear squeezes and tucks her body into a smooth form. As she rolls the stretchy fabric down her belly and over her thighs, her body eases free of its confines, and I can practically hear her sigh in relief.

“Take it off,” I whisper. “Take it off, baby. You’ll never have to wear that shit for me. Never have to pretend your body is anything other than the gorgeous shape I’ve always loved.”

My fingers trace her contours on the screen of my phone, lingering on the underside of her breasts, cupping the air as though it held the expanse of her hips, the softness of her ass. I touch and caress the image until steam from the shower obscures the camera’s view.

Returning to the warehouse, I scan the first image again. The other two bodies are just lumps of flesh and fabric, like someone dropped a couple of shopping bags and their contents spilled haphazardly across the floor. The soles of one guy’s sneakers look clean and barely worn, while grease streaks the other guy’s blue jeans. I glance at the would-be hitman one last time. His body still covers part of the bottom half of that California stain, left knee pointing, fittingly, toward Death Valley. Maybe it’s settled a bit since the last time I looked, shifted as rigor sets in? For a moment I contemplate staying and watching the progression of death, but I have better things to do.

I switch back to Ruby and watch her body blur and refocus as water streams over her creamy skin.

Chapter 1

May, Twenty Years Ago

Aaron

Mysterioussauceslopsoutof the black plastic ladle, covering my pork chop with a brown sheen. A cacophony of shouts echoes around me, and an elbow jabs into my hip, prodding me to move along the line. As the now all-too-familiar tunnel vision sets in, I close my eyes and imagine turning down a huge dial on all the commotion. Next to the dial, I picture a large red switch. With a flip of the switch, I become a scientist—an observer on an alien planet. My oversized black hoodie is a lab coat. No, a uniform. No, a space suit that protects me from the dangerous atmosphere of planet high school’s lunchroom social scene.

A cup of vanilla pudding completes my lunch, and I shuffle toward the far corner of the cafeteria. To my left, a group of girls in heavy makeup sits along one side of a plastic table. Hair ironed limp and lips shining like oil slicks, they primp themselves in little hand mirrors, jostling and giggling and glancing toward the lunch counter. Their full, bright lips remind me of the swollen asses of baboons, glowing hormonal beacons that scream, ‘fuck me! Fuck me now!’ I nod in understanding. They can’t help themselves. They’re following their natural instincts.

Slowly, I turn to follow their gaze. A row of football players peels off the lunch line and walks toward the girls, sauntering past me with exaggerated swagger.

Most of their names elude me, even though they’re tossed around the school hallway like currency. One guy, though, pauses in front of me, seeing right through my cloak of invisibility. He reaches toward my tray.

Brent. Brent Michelson. Star running back. He looks at me briefly, a flash of hatred emanating from his pale blue eyes. A boulder lodges in my chest, capturing my breath. It’s an unpleasant and unwelcome sensation. Fear.

No. I will not feel fear. Stepping back within my mind, I envision my hand reaching out and circling his neck, then squeezing until those cold eyes bulge out in a bright red fountain of blood.

“Aaron! Hey, over here!” The sound cuts through the vivid image, and Brent’s gaze whips forward, changing into something inscrutable that sends an acid drip to the pit of my stomach. With a grunt, he reaches back and grabs the pudding off my tray, then moves on.

“Aaron, are you deaf or something?” Ruby’s voice slices through the lunchroom din, a lighthouse summoning me home amid the storm. Wielding my tray in front of me, I pass the table where the football herd has joined the preening girls, staring straight ahead until I reach Ruby.

The light from a large window ignites the red in her long, wavy auburn locks. I force myself to focus on her hair and on the brilliant blue of her eyes, not on the way her large, round breasts rest on the table as she leans forward to reach for her sandwich. Not on the plump curve of her lower lip, stuck in a seemingly perpetual pout.

“Gourmet fare today, huh?” She gestures toward a carton of milk, a ham and cheese sandwich, an apple, and a pudding cup. Picking up the sandwich, she takes a big bite and chews with her eyes closed, a smile crinkling the skin around her eyes.

“That good, huh? I guess I should have gotten the ham.” My tray clatters onto the table.

Ruby opens one eye, looks at me, then at the sloppy pork chop on my plate. Shrugging, she takes another bite of her sandwich. I prod the grayish lump of meat on my plate, as if I could will some life back into it.

Hints of rose and sandalwood drift to my nostrils, mingled with whispers of jasmine and tobacco. Ruby’s signature scent. She once showed me the old bottle of Fendi perfume she’d inherited from her grandmother, who’d raised her. Since her grandmother’s death last summer, Ruby bounces around between a couple of aunts, just waiting to finish high school and move to New York City. She said the perfume makes her feel like her grandmother is still around. Also, it smells hella sexy. Trying not to think about how much I’ll miss Ruby when she’s gone, I close my eyes and let the scent drown out the clumsy odors of ham and cheese and unwashed teenagers.

“Brent looked like he was about to spit in your food.” Ruby laughs.

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