Page 27 of The Love Obsession (Bloody Desires #11)

KEATON

Work was better than sitting around being sad. Fuck that. Instead of staying home, I’d decided I needed to be here. It wasn’t like there were enough people to invite to justify paying for a funeral for Mom anyway.

I rolled my shoulders, staring at the thick tree trunks scattered around the forest we used for harvesting.

We were in the process of removing the limbs so we could buck them—cut them into portions—before transporting them to the mill.

My muscles ached like they always did after a hard day’s work, but I’d also been fucked within an inch of my life this morning by Zayn before we both left in the car to take Ginny to kindergarten.

He’d dropped me off at work with a deep kiss, one I was able to enjoy without worry since I didn’t live in the park, before he sped off to head to his own job.

None of my coworkers said anything, but I got a few strange looks when I walked in with an extra skip in my step.

It was a nice day, not too hot and not too cold, and a soft breeze weaved through the trees, ruffling my hair. The scent of fresh air and leaves tickled my nose. I’d never get sick of the smell. There was something calming about it.

“Hey, Moose.” Thorley’s heavy boots crunched the leaves on the ground as he stomped toward me, a wide smile on his round face. The wind swept through his shaggy blond hair, making the mop messier.

I winced at his use of my nickname but let it slide. He came from the park and probably had no idea what my real name was. Stretching, I nodded at him. “Hey, dude. What’s up?”

He nudged my shoulder with his own as he came to a stop beside me. He was smaller than me in both height and width, but not by much. “You hear about that friend of yours?”

I frowned, watching as the skidder pulled the logs we’d bucked through the forest, heading toward the roadside, where they’d be picked up and taken back to the lumber mill.

Johnny was in the skidder today, and we’d already said hello earlier, so he was focused hard on the job, moving the machinery with expertise.

“Who?” I didn’t have many friends, though I had a lot of acquaintances. To my left, the loader rumbled as it moved our bucked logs into a better spot for Johnny.

“The guy who used to visit you at the trailer. You said he was a buddy. Randy?”

My frown deepened as I glanced at him. “Roger?”

“Yeah, him.”

I grabbed Thorley’s arm and guided him back as Mitch moved through with the loader. We wore reflective vests to make sure everyone in the machinery could see us, but it was best to always keep an eye on our surroundings, unless we wanted to be crushed roadkill.

“What about him?” I rolled my shoulders again to get rid of the ache before I tugged out my phone to check the time.

We could punch out for the day and I was ready to go.

Zayn had given me money for an Uber home and told me he was going to buy me a car.

I’d argued because I was no sugar baby or whatever the fuck they were called, but he’d insisted it was better for me to have my own vehicle in case I needed to pick up Ginny. How was I supposed to argue with that?

“He’s dead.”

I froze as soon as the words left Thorley’s mouth. My heart punched against my sternum, leaving me breathless for a moment. I blinked at him. “Dead?”

He nodded eagerly, excited about the prospect of telling me. “Yeah. Shit, man, you need to check the news. It was gruesome.”

A loud whistle sliced through the air and the machinery’s engines cut for the day. Johnny and the newbie in the loader shoved open their doors and climbed down, heading toward us.

“Fuck yeah, homeward bound!” Thorley didn’t give me a chance to ask more questions. If the man loved anything, it was clock-out time. He was the first one to grab his shit and leave. I watched him, a thousand questions filling my head.

Roger was dead? How?

That was the last news I’d expected to hear.

Johnny slapped me on the shoulder as he reached me. “You ready to go, man? Another day done.”

I gave him a small smile and let him lead me to the transport vehicle.

The driver, Ed, drove us toward the lumber mill.

As desperate as I was to ask Thorley more questions, he sat at the front of the bus with another one of his buddies.

The only seats left for me and Johnny were in the back.

Johnny talked the entire way, but I barely heard a word he said.

I pulled out my phone, searching Roger Postman .

A few articles came up, and the first link I clicked on gave me basic info.

He’d been murdered, according to the report.

Stabbed to death in his home last night. The next link had even less details.

Johnny leaned over me to look at my screen.

“Oh, you into true crime? There’s a podcast I listen to.

The Final Chapter with Riot Page . Pretty fucking awesome.

If there’s a murder, he digs in right away.

He gets more facts than the news does. Don’t know how.

” He laughed. “It drives the cops crazy. He won’t tell them how he gets his info. ”

“I don’t think he’d have much. The murder I’m interested in happened last night.

” I shrugged. A sense of numbness swept through me as I stared down at my phone again.

It was hard to believe Roger was dead and someone had gone into his house and killed him.

I hated Roger. He’d made me feel stupid and worthless, and it shouldn’t be strange to me that someone wanted him dead, but it was.

Johnny elbowed me in the side, catching my ribs. “Just check it out. Page is on top of murders fast as fuck. And he’s in New Gothenburg. If there’s been a murder and it’s interesting, he’s got something out. Trust me. I swear the weird fuck doesn’t sleep.”

“Fine.” I opened Google and typed in the podcast name he’d given me.

As soon as the right result came up, I clicked on it and went to Riot’s page.

I froze as Roger’s name stared back at me on Riot’s newest podcast, which had only been uploaded two hours ago.

My thumb hovered over the title before I sucked it up and tapped it.

I yanked out my earbuds from my pants pocket and shoved them in my ears.

The drive back to the lumber mill was about fifteen minutes, and then I had the Uber ride from work to Zayn’s house. That gave me ample time to listen.

“Hellooo, and welcome back to another momentous hour of The Final Chapter with Riot Page . I’m your host, the one and only Riot! And yes, that is my real name. Blame my father, who, after having seven children before me, ran out of ideas.”

I snorted. Eight children? Fuck that. Ginny was enough to handle and she was a single little girl. Settling into my seat, I focused on the soft yet confident tone of the podcaster. His voice was deep and soothing, and I could see why it was so easy to listen to him.

“Now, let’s start with our newest murder in New Gothenburg. It only happened last night, so why is this crime scene interesting? Because of how gruesome it was. This wasn’t a simple murder. No, friends, this was a message of anger and violence. I’m going to start by setting the scene.”

I swallowed, shifting uncomfortably.

“New Gothenburg. Despite being known for its criminal enterprises, it’s a beautiful city.

Quiet and accepting. It has one of the country’s biggest LGBTQ plus populations.

And on this quiet, late summer night, Roger Postman didn’t think he had anything to worry about.

He was dressed in his bathrobe, fresh from a shower, lying on his bed watching his favorite movie— Love, John . ”

I held back a snort. That didn’t sound like Roger at all. He hated romance movies. It would’ve made more sense if he was watching porn. If there was one thing he did love, it was getting off.

“Roger worked as a bank teller. He was single and had no love interests. According to his coworkers, he preferred a quiet night at home over anything more extravagant. He was a hard worker and a beloved family member. His parents spoke of his kind heart and gentle soul.”

Funny what people said about a man once he was dead.

I didn’t see them telling the truth, what he was really like.

The bus came to a stop, and we filed out the door.

I paused the podcast and gave Johnny a nod as I moved toward my locker.

Once I had my personal gear, I ordered an Uber and went to sit out front of the lumber mill.

I hit Play.

“But what lies beneath this public persona? Was Roger really as nice as everyone said he was? Not according to some of his acquaintances I spoke to.”

My spine stiffened. Okay, this was new. I’d never been the type of guy who listened to this shit, but the shows I had watched on TV never spoke badly about the victim.

“He was verbally abusive, one of my sources told me. He was a mean man who got off by putting others down. One woman said that he liked to tell her she was fat and ugly, then laugh about it. Another expressed a feeling of discomfort around Roger because he’d mocked the man’s culture.

So maybe Roger wasn’t as lovely as his friends and family claimed. Is that a reason for his murder?”

I inhaled sharply through my nose. So, I wasn’t the only one he’d tortured.

“Yes. Let me explain what happened to Roger first. You see, not many of the media outlets have spoken about Roger’s demise.

There’s little information out there about his death, and there’s a reason for that.

His murder was bloody, gruesome, and personal.

His body was found by his mother, who’d come to check on him when he hadn’t shown up for breakfast like he’d said he would.

The sight alone made her vomit and sent her into a panic attack that felt very much like a heart attack.

It was...vicious and cold. His body left as a message to whoever found him. ”