Page 74 of The Rowdy Ones

I stalk over to her and then guide her into her bedroom. Her eyebrows are pinched together in worry as she tilts her head up toward me.

“They’re not going to let you stay in the RV,” I say quickly, cupping her cheeks. “I’m sorry. I fought hard, but they’re not going to give in.”

She frowns at me, bottom lip wobbling. “But you said…”

Fuck.

A tear streaks down her cheek and I swipe it away with my thumb. “Dez, don’t make this more difficult than it needs to be.”

“I’ll tell them this is my decision,” she says, voice trembling. “They can’t tell us what to do.”

I groan and kiss her wet cheek. “They can.”

She hugs me tight, clinging to me. I wish I could scoop her up and carry her off like I want to.

“Please,” she begs through her tears. “Come get me. When they go to sleep.”

As soon as she mentions it, the idea takes root in my brain. What they don’t know won’t hurt them. I find myself nodding in agreement and murmuring that I will.

“Okay. Turn your lamp off when you think they’ve gone to sleep. I’ll come get you then.”

She sighs happily. “Thank you.”

I pull away from her, knowing it should be quick like ripping off a Band-Aid. This need to touch her is intense and it’s difficult to combat. My fingers twitch with the urge to yank her back to me.

I’m reminded of the addictive song the heroin used to sing to me.

Warm, blissful, aching.

It was always there, begging me.

Just like Destiny.

Fuck, I’m hooked on the drug that is her.

And I want to imbibe until she’s inside every part of me, owning my heart, body, and motherfucking soul.

“See you tonight, sweet Dez.”

Her smile is my undoing.

“The news is calling him the Brawny Slasher.”

I’m grateful Weston called me to let me know he’s fine, but now I’m just ready to end our call so I can go see Rowdy. “Why?”

“All the men killed weren’t small by any means. They were big and brawny. To be able to take down, beat unrecognizable, and sodomize those victims, the perp would have had to have been at least the same size or larger.”

I shudder at what the latest guy must’ve been thinking when he was attacked. “Do you think they knew their killer or if it was random?”

“Mom thinks they had to have known their killer,” Weston says, voice breathy with excitement. Maybe he’s still running on adrenaline after our crazy afternoon and evening. “It could be they were meeting to hook up or something and then the killer surprised and overpowered them.”

When my fingers slid into the gaping hole of the man’s neck, I was immediately traumatized. He was dead and I inadvertently, while searching for a pulse, stuck my fingers inside him. Bile creeps up my throat and I swallow it down.

“Have they released the names of the victims yet?” I stroke my fingers through Scout’s fur, happy to have him near me. “I feel so bad for their families.”

“Chief Knox spoke on the news earlier. He said they’ve identified them all but are waiting until they can get in touch with their families before releasing the names.”

I don’t want to ask Weston, but I do it anyway because I need to know. “Did the victim look like Rowdy?”