Page 7

Chapter 7

Sunday Murder Club – Episode Two

CAL

I was trying to focus on the conversation around me, but my mind wasn’t cooperating. No, it was still back at the bookshop…the stockroom, to be specific. The place where an hour ago, I was on my knees for Oscar.

Satan, my sweetheart was beautiful when he came.

My phone buzzed in my pocket.

Text, Oscar: you have to stop thinking about it

I smirked as I tapped out my reply.

Text, Cal: Why, sweetheart? Don’t you like being reminded of how you held on to my hair as you fucked into my throat?

Text, Oscar: not when I’m trying to cook dinner with Bailey and Lucky

Text, Oscar: do you know how awkward it is popping a boner around your friends?

Text Cal: feel sorry for me, I’m fighting to not get one in front of my brothers

One of said brothers chose that moment to speak up. “What are you smirking at?”

I sent Oscar a promise to behave before answering Dagon. “Just chatting with Oscar.”

“Lucky was so excited for dinner,” Dagon said with the same dopey smile he wore whenever he thought of his human mate. “He and Oscar have been researching traditional Korean recipes.”

I nodded. “Yeah, Oscar’s ordered a tonne of new recipe books for the shop as a result.”

“Hope he brings some food home for us,” Dimitri added with a sigh. “Otherwise it’ll be pizza and beers.”

Dagon glanced at his mate. “You say that like pizza and beer is a bad thing.”

“It is with how often we have it.”

Dagon opened his mouth, but before they could descend into a bickering match, Harlow entered. “Hello, my fellow fire-breathing bitch queens!”

The room fell silent. Along with my brothers, we were also joined by River, Blaise, Toby, Danny, and Sebastian.

A small frisson of excitement went through the room as Harlow sat at the head of the table and clasped his hands together. We might enjoy living a human life ninety-nine per cent of the time, but there was only so much we could deny our natures.

The Sunday Murder Club was our way of expressing it. We could use our skills to exact justice without causing any drama.

“At our last meeting, Sebastian put a candidate forward,” Harlow said in a pompous voice. “Thanks to the evidence provided, we decided he was a worthy candidate for our attention.”

“Why is he speaking like a judge?” Mori asked me from the corner of his mouth.

“Fuck knows,” I whispered back. “Just let him get on with it. It’s easier that way.”

Harlow gave us both a deadly glare. “You know I can hear you.”

Unlike most supes, I wasn’t cowed by Harlow. Not because I was underestimating him—I wasn’t, I knew better than most just how unhinged he could be—at the end of the day though, Harlow was my little brother. There wasn’t anything that could make me scared of him.

Besides, he’d never hurt me. Not seriously, anyway. It would upset Oscar, which would upset Bailey.

And there was nothing Harlow feared more than an upset Bailey.

I raised a brow at my sibling. “And I was telling him to let you get on with it…so get on with it.”

Harlow’s lips twisted in a snarl, but before he could make a mistake that’d end in bloodshed and two very pissed off mates, Toby rapped on the table. “Stop. Let’s take that energy and focus it on a more…deserving subject.”

“I don’t know,” Danny drawled, his feet up on the table, “I quite like the idea of seeing Cal and Harlow going at it. We could place bets.”

Dimitri hummed, looking us both over thoughtfully. “I’ll back Cal.”

That started off a round of bidding. The end result was two in my favour, and all the rest in Harlow’s. The only other person who’d voted for me was Mori, and I thought that was out of brotherly solidarity as opposed to anything else.

Charming, the lot of them.

“Okay, well I don’t think we need to see this actually go down,” I said, pinching the bridge of my nose. “As much as I do enjoy the opportunity to put Harlow in his place, Toby’s right. That’s not why we’re here tonight.”

“I agree.” Everyone’s heads swivelled to look at Harlow in shock. He sniffed. “What? I don’t always need to prove I can best everyone.”

We continued staring at him, not a single one of us believing him.

“Fine,” Harlow huffed eventually, pulling a piece of paper from his back pocket and smacking it on the table. “I want to move on because not only am I putting forward the target, but Cal’s the one I want to do it.”

“Me?” Wow, whoever this was, they must’ve pissed Harlow off. “I mean, I’m happy to, but you know I can’t do it without making them suffer. It won’t be a clean kill.”

Harlow’s expression turned sinister. “Oh, it won’t be a kill at all. That’s why I’ve chosen you.”

My confusion was mirrored around the table, but it was Dagon who asked the obvious question. “You know this is the Sunday Murder Club…right?”

Harlow waved dismissively. “Please. Are you telling me we can’t deliver justice without fully murdering them?”

I exchanged a look with Mori. “Well, yes. But isn’t the whole point that we remove them from this world so they can’t hurt anyone else? Then they live out eternity being tortured by other demons. Why wouldn’t you want that?”

“I do.” Harlow slumped down in his seat. “Believe me, if that option was on the table, I’d take it.”

Realisation dawned on Blaise’s face. “This is someone who’s hurt Bailey.”

We all stiffened. It was all well and good murdering a guy who’d defrauded a band, but someone who’d hurt a member of our family?

That made it personal.

“Yup,” Harlow said glumly. “And because of that stupid fucking deal, I can’t physically allow harm to come to him.”

“Who is it?” Dagon asked curiously.

“His ex,” Harlow said. My eyes narrowed. I’d heard enough from Oscar to form my own opinion on the twat long ago. If anyone deserved to suffer, it was Matt Wilkins. “He’s the reason Bailey thinks less of himself. Even with me telling him he’s perfect all the time, he still has his bad days. Days when he worries about how he looks or asking for what he wants. And it’s all because of that cunt.”

A tense silence followed Harlow’s words, and I knew it was because we’d all visualised what we’d do if we got our hands on Matt.

Blaise was the one who broke it. “Fuck. Are you sure we can’t kill him? Like, if you don’t tell us to, we can bump him off, right?”

All the demons around the table shook their heads, but it was Harlow who answered. “Sadly, our deals are watertight. It’s not worth the risk.” Blaise was now practically vibrating in his seat, and Harlow patted his hand. “It’s okay though, if I could send someone to murder him, I would’ve chosen you. I could trust you to make him truly suffer.”

Blaise settled. I suppressed a smile. His friendship with Bailey—and, by extension, Harlow—wasn’t something any of us had seen coming. Considering the mayhem he’d caused once upon a time, it was a miracle Harlow could stand to be in the same room as him at all. But they’d worked through it, and the friendship that had emerged was a thing of beauty.

Still, it was ironic that Bailey’s fiercest protector (aside from his mate) was the supe who’d once been the cause of his death.

When you lived as long as we did, you knew that life often worked in unexpected and unpredictable ways. You just learned to roll with it.

“So what do you want me to do?” I raised a brow at Harlow. “Compel him into seeing his worst nightmares? Empty his bank accounts? Get him fired? Just say the word and it’s done.”

Harlow smiled triumphantly, pulling another piece of paper from his pocket. “Don’t worry, I have a list.”

* * *

H arlow’s list was extensive. A little under a week later, I’d decided it wasn’t extensive enough. Not for this cunt.

Matt had moved to Portsmouth, a city only thirty minutes away from Southampton. A move for him was something I was adding to the list. I didn’t want him in the same country as Bailey and Oscar, let alone on the same coast.

No, once I was done with him, he’d be fucking off to a remote part of Siberia to live out the rest of his days alone in the middle of nowhere. And there was one thing I knew for certain—the sweet man who seemed to have fallen into Matt’s trap wouldn’t be going with him.

I watched Matt and his new partner for an entire day. I watched through their kitchen window as the giant teddy bear of a man made breakfast. For all the shit he’d given Bailey, Matt clearly had a type. I narrowed my eyes as I monitored exactly how he interacted with his new partner.

The answer was: not well.

The man made Matt a full fry-up before timidly sitting down with a bowl of granola and yoghurt. He only took four mouthfuls before Matt spoke up. “Fucking hell, Chester, slow down. You’re not an animal at the zoo. It’s no wonder you’re the size you are with the way you eat.”

Chester flushed from ear to ear, putting his spoon down beside his bowl. He was twice the size of Matt, but his posture made it seem like he was trying to make himself as small as possible.

Fuck, this was so much worse than what Matt had done to Bailey. I’d seen that look on Chester’s face before, but not with Bailey.

With Oscar.

Chester didn’t eat another bite, just sat with his head bowed while Matt guzzled down his greasy food. Once he was finished, Chester grabbed his plate before rushing to clean up after them both. The speed at which he moved suggested this was another thing he’d been critiqued about in the past.

The whole time, Matt sat sipping his coffee and reading a newspaper. Not only did he not offer to help, the fucker actually criticised the way his partner loaded the dishwasher.

That made me pull my phone out to text Harlow.

TM, Cal: Sure I can’t kill him?

TM, Harlow: No. Doesn’t mean you can’t ruin his life though.

I pocketed my phone with a growl.

It only got worse from there. Being a Saturday, the two were spending the day together. I got to witness the depths Matt had sunk to firsthand. He berated his partner over just about everything. The speed he walked at was too slow. He spent too long looking at the art in the windows of a gallery. He’d chosen the wrong shirt.

It went on and on and on. The worst part was how Chester reacted. He never said anything other than an apology, his shoulders drawing in as the day went on.

This was a man who’d been beaten down over time. Who, like my Oscar, had been made to suffer. Who had put up with this for so long that he didn’t know any different.

I was watching them through a restaurant window, Matt shoving down a burger while Chester sadly pushed lettuce leaves around his plate, when my phone rang.

The rage filling me cooled a little at the sight of my mate’s name on the display. “Hi, sweetheart.”

“What’s wrong?” Oscar didn’t bother with a greeting. “Why are you sad and angry?”

I sighed. Ninety-nine per cent of the time, I loved that we could feel each other’s emotions through the bond. Right now though, I wished Oscar wasn’t experiencing this. “I’m doing a favour for Harlow, and…the person he’s asked me to deal with, I think he’s abusing his partner.”

Oscar was quiet for a long time. I tracked him closely through the bond. His fury. Fear. Sadness.

But most of all, he felt sympathy. Oscar had walked in this man’s shoes. He knew that life.

He knew how hard it was to escape.

“Can you help them?” Oscar whispered eventually, a tremor in his voice. “I know you’ll deal with their cunt of a partner, but can you find some way to make the other person’s life better?”

“Yes,” I promised him. Oscar was right, he didn’t need to worry about me dealing with Matt, especially not after what I’d seen today. The only reason the fucker was still going to be breathing was because of the deal Harlow had made with Bailey. “That’s why I haven’t acted yet. I’m trying to figure out what he might need to start afresh.”

“Money,” Oscar said bluntly. “Financial control is one of the key ways an abuser entraps their victim. Deposit a large sum of money in his account and compel him into thinking it’s an inheritance.”

“That’s a great idea, sweetheart.” I closed my eyes. “I’m sorry you’re having to hear this. If I had my way, I’d wrap you in Bubble Wrap and never let any of this stuff touch you.”

“I know.” There was a touch of humour in Oscar’s voice now. “But, as established, I’d be very bored if you did that.”

“I doubt it, given we own a bookshop.”

“True.” Oscar’s voice sobered again. “I wouldn’t want you to protect me from this though, Cal. If I can help just one other person escape what I went through, I’ll sleep better at night.”

“Well you can sleep well tonight, because I’m about to find out every one of Chester’s dreams and make them all come true.”

“Chester? That’s a nice name.”

I eyed the man through the window. A woman at the next table was rocking a screaming baby. Matt was glaring at them, rolling his eyes and generally making his displeasure known. Ironic that he was angry at a baby who didn’t know how to behave, yet his own behaviour was far worse.

Chester though, he picked up his napkin. When Matt’s eyes were on his plate, he subtly started playing peek-a-boo with the baby.

Within seconds, the baby was giggling. Chester’s lips curled in response, making him seem years younger.

But when Matt caught him, all of that disappeared in an instant.

“Cal? Are you still there?”

“Yes, sweetheart. Sorry. Chester is a nice name, and I think it suits the man well indeed. He just needs to be free to find his happiness.”

Oscar hummed. “Go make it happen, baby. Then come home so I can reward you for being so caring.”

“I don’t need rewarding for this, Oscar. I wouldn’t ever ignore someone being treated this way.”

“And that’s why you’re getting a reward,” he said softly. “Because you’re the best man I know. Chester might not be able to thank you for what you’re going to do, but I can.”

* * *

I t had been a long time since I’d lurked in the men’s toilets, waiting for a stranger to join me.

I could’ve sat down at the table with him and Matt and talked to him there. I was more than capable of compelling Matt into forgetting everything we discussed, but that felt wrong. I didn’t want to compel Chester into opening up in front of his abuser, even if it’d be forgotten.

As I strolled past him in the restaurant, I did compel Chester to need the toilet in two minutes. Two minutes later on the dot, the door to the toilets opened and he strolled in.

He glanced up at me and then quickly away, pulling his shoulders in just like he did with Matt. It made my chest ache. The bloke was massive—if I weren’t a supe, I definitely would’ve put money on him besting me in a fight.

But it was painfully obvious that Chester was a lover, not a fighter. He was a gentle giant, one who enjoyed caring for others and making them happy.

Not wanting him to feel uncomfortable, I stepped forwards, compulsion weaving through my voice. “Hello, I’m Cal. You don’t actually need the toilet, but I wanted to speak to you privately.”

“Okay,” Chester said slowly. “Why do you want to talk to me?”

“You don’t need to be afraid of me,” I said, hating how his hands were trembling. “I’m here to help you.”

His eyes darted from side to side. “I don’t need help. Everything’s fine. It’s fine!”

I sighed. “You see, I’d believe that if my husband hadn’t once been in your place. He told everyone around him that he was fine, even if that couldn’t have been further from the truth.”

Chester turned his head to the side, but not fast enough to hide the silver lining his eyes. “No offence, but you’re a total stranger. I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“That’s fine. You don’t need to listen to me.” I let my power free, knowing it was needed. I couldn’t expect Chester to trust me with his hopes and dreams. I suspected that, after Matt, it would be a very long time before he could trust anyone else. That, if he ever surrendered his heart again, it’d take that person a lot of work to win it over. “You just need to tell me what would make you happy. If Matt wasn’t in your life, if money was no object, what would you be doing?”

“I’d become a florist,” he said immediately, his eyes clouded. “I’ve always dreamed of owning my own shop. In Scotland, maybe. It’s where my parents were from. I’ve wanted to go back to Inverness for years now, but Matt hates leaving the South.”

Matt wasn’t going to be a consideration for Chester going forwards. “Great, that sounds like a fantastic dream. What do you do now?”

“I work in a call centre. I hate it. Matt insisted I stay there though, as it’s a steady income.”

What a fucking dick. From the Louboutins Matt was wearing and the Porsche he drove, he wasn’t hurting for money. Why did he need Chester to supplement his income?

“Do you want to stay with Matt? Deep down, if you had a clear exit route with a guarantee that he could never contact you again, would you take it?”

The bonus of compulsion is that you can’t lie, so when Chester gave a desperate “ Yes ” I knew I could trust it.

“Do you have any friends or family here? Anyone you’ll miss if you leave them behind?”

Chester shook his head, widening the crack in my heart. “No. I was living in Yorkshire when I met Matt online. He convinced me to move down to Portsmouth to be with him, then he didn’t want me making friends because it’d take away my time from him”

Of course he hadn’t—isolating your victim was textbook abusive behaviour. “So there’s no ties here for you, aside from your job?”

Another shake of the head.

“What kind of house do you dream about living in?”

“One on the waterfront, where I can see it from my bedroom window.”

That seemed easy enough. I made a mental list in my mind to take action as soon as I was done with Matt. I’d need the help of several others, namely Harlow and Sebastian, but I was going to make it happen.

“Okay, Chester, here’s what’s going to happen. You never met me in these toilets. Instead, you received a phone call from a solicitor telling you that you had a great-great-uncle named Cal who was very wealthy. He’s passed away and you’re his sole living heir. Along with a large sum of money which will be deposited in your account this evening, he’s also left you a house and an empty shop in Inverness. You won’t question the veracity of this or the speed at which you receive the money and property deeds.”

My power wound through him, writing these truths into his brain.

“You’re going to go back to Matt’s house and pack everything you want to take with you, it doesn’t matter if you purchased it or Matt did. A moving lorry will be with you in the morning, and they’ll help you finish packing and load everything. From there, you’ll take Matt’s car and drive to Inverness. You’re excited to start your new life without him.”

I didn’t need to ask Chester if he agreed or understood, the compulsion would make that happen.

And I didn’t feel a shred of doubt over using it in this way.

There was one more thing lingering in my mind, one thing I wasn’t sure of. Pulling my phone from my pocket, I called Oscar.

He answered immediately. “Hey, baby. All sorted?”

“Almost.” I eyed Chester, who was staring listlessly at the wall behind me, waiting for me to compel him to set my plan into action. “I’m sorry to ask you this, but you’re the only one who can help.”

“Ask me,” Oscar said quickly. “If it’ll help someone else in need then I’m happy to answer whatever questions you have.”

“If you could forget your life with Joe, if I could wipe all memories of him from your mind, would you want me to?”

The line was silent for a long time. I didn’t rush him, feeling everything he was working through in the bond. “No, I don’t think I’d want that. As awful as that part of my life was, it still made me who I am today. It led me to you. Also, if you make Chester forget, there’s a chance he’ll find himself in this situation again.”

“There’s a chance that’ll happen anyway,” I said gently. I’d seen this pattern repeat itself over and over again with other people. Humans who stayed in this horrific cycle because it was how they believed love was shown. Because it was familiar. Because they thought it was better than nothing. “We can’t stop that from happening.”

“That’s true, but if he doesn’t remember at all, there’s a higher risk he won’t see the signs if it happens again.”

We talked quietly for a few more minutes before hanging up. As much as Oscar had wanted to help, this had opened up old wounds for him.

I needed to get this done so I could go and close them again. To hold him and remind him he was free. That he had me.

That I’d always keep him safe.

With Oscar’s words ringing in my ears, I gave Chester my final instructions. “You dumped Matt after the phone call, knowing you’d never be happy if you stayed with him. You’re going to move to Scotland and he will never contact you again.”

With those words, I patted Chester on the shoulder. “Good luck, my friend. I’ll be watching over you from afar.”

Leaving him in the toilets, I strode back out into the restaurant. Matt was tapping his foot impatiently, a thunderous expression on his face. Clearly he wasn’t someone who liked to be left waiting.

Fortunately for him, neither was I.

His eyes flickered over me in confusion as I approached. I didn’t give him the chance to speak, my compulsion rolling out as my demon gladly rose to the surface. “Hello, Matt. Let’s go somewhere quiet for a little talk .”

* * *

F lying back to Oscar, I put my Bluetooth on and rang Harlow. “It’s done.”

His voice was uncharacteristically cold. “I need all the details.”

I broke it down for him as I shot through the skies. “His relationship has been ended. He’s moving to a remote location in Siberia where he won’t rent anything bigger than a one bed place. Every time he looks at a burger, he’ll feel sick but won’t know why.” That one had come to me while I’d watched him eat at the restaurant. “Every pair of shoes he buys will be a size too small, and he won’t be able to get an erection unless he’s preparing something involving a raw chilli.”

Harlow cackled. “Wait, so he’ll either have to jerk off having handled raw chillies, or not have an orgasm?”

“Yep. And while that’ll hurt, it won’t cause physical harm, so we’re in the clear on that.”

“Diabolical, I love it. Go on.”

I outlined various other inconveniences I’d come up with, from never sleeping for longer than three hours at a time to always feeling afraid, but never knowing why.

Harlow was right—I didn’t need to physically hurt someone to make them suffer. “Once we’re done speaking I’m going to call Sebastian and have him drain his accounts. He’ll leave enough for Matt to relocate, but he can kiss his designer lifestyle goodbye.”

“Good. Are we donating it to the usual charities?”

“No, I have other plans.”

Speaking fast, I outlined everything I’d learned that day.

Harlow’s response was predictable—very loud and full of curses. “That motherfucking cunt . Oh, he’s not going to suffer enough. That poor man. Hang on. I need Bailey.”

There was the sound of a door banging, followed by Harlow’s hurried footsteps. With my supe hearing, I had no trouble hearing Bailey in the background.

“Low? What’s wrong?”

“Need you to hold me,” Harlow said. There was a muffled rustling sound, like he’d climbed onto his mate’s lap. “I love you. I’m so happy you’re safe and here with me.”

“Me too, Low.”

I cleared my throat loudly as sloppy kissing noises filled the air. I didn’t begrudge Harlow getting comfort from his mate, but if they forgot I was on the line and started fucking then blood would be spilled. “Harlow?”

“Fuck. Sorry, Cal. Okay, so tell me more about this man. What can we do to help?”

“I’ve taken care of most of it.” I filled him in on the conversation I’d shared with him. “But can you take money from my offshore account and send it to Sebastian? We also need to find Chester a house on the waterfront. Somewhere where you can see the water from the main bedroom window. Oh, and a shopfront in a prominent area. One where a cooler can be installed, or whatever it is florists use.”

“He’s a florist?”

“He wants to be.”

Harlow hummed approvingly. “Great. We’ll make it happen. Leave it with me.”

“Movers too. You know what? I’ll text you a list.”

“Whatever he needs, he’ll get it,” Harlow said simply. “I’m sending him money from my account though, not yours.”

I rolled my eyes but knew better than to argue. “Thanks, Low.”

“No, thank you. I know it can’t have been easy seeing someone going through that.”

My throat thickened as I flew faster. “No, it wasn’t.”

“Well, we can make sure Chester has the best life possible. I’m just sorry we didn’t go after Matt earlier.”

Bailey chimed up. “Hang on, Matt? As in, my ex, Matt?”

“Umm.” I could almost feel Harlow wincing through the phone. “Okay, Cal, I’ve got to go.”

He hung up before I could speak. I chuckled, trying to imagine how he was going to talk himself out of this one. To be fair, it wouldn’t take much. Once Bailey knew how Matt was behaving with his new partner, he’d be fine with it.

He might even let me kill him.

Keeping my fingers crossed for that, I landed on the roof of the home I shared with Oscar. The shop had closed hours ago, but often that was where I’d find my husband. He was never happier than when surrounded by books.

Tonight, I didn’t bother checking there, going straight to our bedroom. Sure enough, Oscar was in bed, surrounded by every pillow we owned and under his weighted blanket.

“Hey, sweetheart.” I crossed the room to him, cupping his face in my hands. “How are you doing?”

“Okay.” He looked up at me, then cringed a little. “Well, sort of okay. It’s brought up some stuff, which I guess is to be expected.”

I slid onto the bed beside him. Even after years of therapy, Oscar’s anxiety had never fully left him. What had changed was his attitude towards it. He now accepted that he’d have some days that were more difficult than others.

And on those days, he knew I’d be at his side.

Touching the fluffy purple cover of his weighted blanket, I raised a brow. “Me or the blanket?”

He rolled his eyes, shoving it to the floor. “You, obviously. It’s always you.”

That might be the case, but I’d always check first. I never wanted Oscar to feel like he didn’t have a choice, especially when his anxiety was high.

He lay flat on his back and I covered him with my body. Letting my weight sink into him, I felt Oscar’s anxiety start to dim.

“Oh, that’s better. You know, you could get a second job as a weighted blanket.”

“Only for you though.” I kissed his ear. “Talking or no?”

Over the years, we’d found ways to manage Oscar’s anxiety. He often needed different things depending on what had triggered him. I had a whole toolkit of coping mechanisms in my arsenal now, but I always let Oscar guide me in what he wanted. That was another bonus of the bond—if Oscar wasn’t capable of talking, I could rely on that to help lead me.

“No,” he said softly, stroking his hands through my hair. “Just hold me.”

I did just that, silently cradling him until his pulse settled. Until his anxiety dissipated. Until I felt nothing in the bond except his love for me.

“I’m glad you saved that man today.”

I kissed his neck. “Me too.”

“And I’m glad you saved me.”

I kissed his lips now, lingering on his sweetness for a few heartbeats. “I didn’t save you. We saved each other. And now we can be sickeningly, blissfully happy for the rest of eternity.”

Oscar grinned up at me. “I can’t wait.”

* * *

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