Page 8 of Wicked Riddles & Bitter Heartbeats (Till Death Do Us Part #1)

Chapter Five

Atticus

I brought home a stray cat with beautiful sad eyes and a body that’s driving me to madness.

One I need to have a very serious conversation with—and soon.

As in when she gets out of the shower soon because I can’t take any risks.

I was too messy, letting my darkness control me.

It’s never good when I get like that, and it’s a lucky thing I wasn’t so far gone that I walked away from the scene.

I’ve done it plenty of times, which is how I was dubbed The Boston Phantom, but it’s always a worry when I do.

Did I leave DNA behind? Are they going to find me, knock on my door, and throw me in jail?

At least when I’m aware, I can call Rex.

He’s been doing clean-up for me for years.

Ever since he witnessed me kill someone when I was nineteen.

It was stupid of me, and I’m lucky it was him who found me and not someone who’d rat me out or arrest me.

He took care of the body by taking it to his pig farm on the outskirts of Waltham.

I hadn’t gotten my inheritance yet, but for some reason, the old guy trusted me.

Said I could owe him. He was the first person I paid when I got access to my money, and I’ll never forget the grateful look on his face.

He doesn’t dispose of the bodies for me.

He has no way to do that. What he does is go in and clean up after me, making sure forensics won’t be able to find anything to pin on me.

This only works when I can call him after, though.

I’d considered giving him my location, but that seems riskier than leaving the scene as is.

Soft footsteps sound on my hardwood floor. I look up to face the stray as she walks into the living room, her dark hair wet, cheeks pink. She’s wearing one of my t-shirts like a dress, since it’s so big on her.

“We need to talk,” I say.

She nods and sits on the couch across from me. I’m not sure I’ve ever sat on that couch a day in my life. When I lived here with my parents, we hardly used this room. And when we were in it, I’d sit right where I am now. On the small couch that faces the doorway.

From the second I saw this girl, I knew she was like me.

Not the same, not as much as Violet was, but enough that I know I can trust her.

There is darkness there, similar to mine.

I feel it. I see it in her eyes when she looks at me.

She knows what a true monster is, and she knows that isn’t me.

She knows there is evil out there, true evil, because she’s seen it.

And I don’t mean her father, because he isn’t close to being a monster, either.

There was a ton of stuff that went around about Victor Spencer, back when the news broke, and I don’t know how much is true.

Did he rape and molest his own daughter for years?

Did he brainwash her? Was killing something he did for longer than the fifteen years they learned about, without anyone knowing?

Or was it as simple as a good dad snapping due to an undiagnosed mental condition?

He won’t speak about it, she didn’t speak about it then, and the cops couldn’t prove there was more to substantiate than what he got time for.

Eleven bodies.

“I’m not going to say anything,” she says, eyes imploring me.

“I understand that, but there are things you should know about me.”

“Okay.”

I’ve never been open with anyone before, and that is not even close to what I plan on doing tonight.

There are only two people in this world who know the real me.

Violet and me. Even Rex, who cleans up my messy-as-fuck scenes, doesn’t know much about me.

I plan to keep it that way. Though I think I can trust this kitten sitting across from me, it doesn’t mean I should spill unnecessary information to her. That’s just stupid.

“One, if you even think of ratting me out, I will kill you.” She doesn’t flinch at my words.

That tells me all I need to know. The girl wants to live; I saw the fight in her eyes when she thought her life was ending.

She isn’t afraid of my threat because she has no intention of saying a word.

Had she considered it, my threat would scare her.

“Two, I don’t mind you staying here until you figure things out, but I have something I need to do which requires me to leave.

And though I trust you, as odd as that is, I won’t leave you here alone. ”

Once the black fog cleared from my mind, an idea came to me. A revelation. I need to meet my brother.

“Where are you going?”

“Haven’t decided yet.” I have the beginnings of a plan, but nothing solid. “I need to do some research first.”

“I can help you,” she offers, sitting up straighter.

She’s wearing an old Ice Nine Kills t-shirt that I got at a concert Violet and I snuck into.

It stops mid-thigh and I’m not sure if she has panties on, but she definitely isn’t wearing a bra.

Her tits are perky, nipples firm and pointy.

It’s been a long goddamn time since I’ve wanted to fuck someone, but this girl…

this girl could be dangerous for me because I can’t stop thinking about what her pussy looks like.

She’s dangerous in the way Violet was. The thought is exciting, but Violet and I parted ways for a reason.

It’s just too bad I can’t fucking remember what they are right now.

“I’ll think about it,” I say.

She scoots forward, the shirt riding all the way up to her hips before she stands and it falls back down, ruining my chance at a glimpse. Sauntering over to me in a way that is too natural and not showy, she sits beside me and puts her hand on my thigh.

“You saved my life. I owe you everything.” Her voice is soft, caring.

I hum a sound of approval, not hating the idea of keeping her. I’ve never had a pet before.

Her head tilts to the side as she takes me in. “What’s your name?” she asks.

“Atticus,” I tell her. She saw what I’m capable of, so giving her my name doesn’t give her power over me. If she thinks I won’t end her life to save mine, she’s crazy. “You’re Lilah.”

She smirks. “Memory?”

I nod, recalling the article I read that was all about Victor Spencer’s gothic daughter who was obsessed with Satanism and heavy metal music because her father was raping her.

What absolute trash that was. Just the bit I spoke about Victor to her tells me that he did not lay a harmful finger on her.

Someone did, though. And if that someone hasn’t been taken care of yet, he will be soon.

“So what do you need me to say to the cops?” she asks next.

“I’m still thinking about it.”

She nods, covering her yawn with her arm. I get to my feet and offer her my hand.

“Come on, Kitten. Let’s get you to bed.”

“Kitten?” She furrows her brow as she reaches for my hand.

“I’ve officially dubbed you the stray cat that I’ve brought in from the cold.”

She giggles as we walk to the stairs. “I don’t hate that.”

When we get upstairs, I lead her to the guest room beside mine and open the door.

“Feel free to do what you need to in here. It’s yours until further notice.”

She steps inside, head tilting back to look up and around. “It’s beautiful.”

It was my mother’s favorite room. She spent a lot of time in here. Said the colors made her happy. The walls and carpet are lilac, the furniture white, and there are splashes of teal here and there.

“My room is right there.” I point in the direction of my room. “In case you need anything.”

She turns to face me, biting on her bottom lip. “Anything?”

My dick twitches. It’s been a while since that happened, and I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t excited about it. I like orgasms as much as the next guy, only getting them from other people isn’t always satisfying, and so sometimes it’s not worth it to go through all the work to get one.

“Anything,” I respond, closing the door gently and heading back downstairs.

I never wanted to give in to these dark urges I have.

I fought them for a long time. Years. I’m not so far gone to think it’s okay to kill people, but I just don’t care.

I’m too selfish, I guess. Too worried about feeding my own inner-self to care about anyone else, because nothing has ever given me the same high the way ending a life does.

And not a single human on this planet has cared enough about me to think their lives are worth living.

Why the hell should I care about anyone when no one has ever cared about me?

As I walk downstairs to the library, I think over the options of a good cover story for Lilah, my pretty little kitty.

And in thinking it over, I remember how I felt as I bashed in her boyfriend’s throat until there was nothing left.

He wanted to touch her there inappropriately?

I would touch him there inappropriately.

And guess what? I did it so much better.

The high and wild rush of having some asshole’s life in your hands is too good to never do again. Ah, there it is. A small reminder of why Violet and I parted ways.

My mind gets a little crazy when I care about someone. I guess in the same way Lilah’s father went nuts… which makes Lilah potentially more dangerous than Violet ever was.

“We have our whole lives ahead of us, Atticus. Let’s not ruin it over this.”

Eight years have passed since then, and though I still have a full life ahead of me, I’m smarter than I was at that age.

Smart enough to do what I need to do and not get caught.

Smart enough to enjoy life the way I need to satisfy the darkest parts of myself.

I’m numb when I don’t give in to it. Bored.

But after tonight? I’m glowing. Everything is brighter.

Prettier. My mood is sky fucking high. Killing will do that to you.

And maybe the fact I found a sexy little cat to bring into my home helps too.

For the first time since I’ve been in this house, it doesn’t feel so lonely.

Yeah, this whole thing is going to be bad for me, I can tell. It’s dangerous, but what’s life without a little excitement?

Lilah isn’t Violet. That’s what I have to keep reminding myself.

I pull out the rolling chair and sit at my desk, resting my face in my hands.

Think, Atticus. Think.

One thing at a time. Cover story first.

Lilah needs a cover story. Something that won’t have the cops asking too many questions or getting suspicious, and something that won’t link her to me.

If they check her cell, they’ll know she was there and here.

Unless she forgot it. I didn’t see it with her, but she could still have it.

If she left it at the house, that would help.

Does she have friends? Does she go anywhere normally?

If I want to come up with a good story for her, I’ll need more information. See what her routine is and what would be believable. She needs to help me with this.

There’s a soft knock on the door, and I look up, finding her standing there as if she knew I was thinking about her.

See, we really are connected.

“I have an idea,” she says. “A cover story.”

“I’m listening,” I say, turning my chair to face her and leaning back, spreading my legs to get comfortable.

Her gaze dips between my legs, checking out my bulge, but it’s only for a quick second before she’s walking to me and sitting on the edge of the desk.

She’s still pantless, and I’m still wondering if she has panties on.

Her legs are pressed together just enough that I can’t tell.

I’m tempted to scoop the hem of the shirt up just to peek. But if I know she’s bare…

“Steven and I went out to get weed for him. We got back to the house, and I broke the terrible news—I’m leaving him for you.

You were waiting to pick me up because you know he can be abusive.

I left my cell there. Since he pays for it, I didn’t think it was right to take it.

We leave together but pass a suspicious man on the street on the way.

It was too dark to recall what he looked like. ”

It’s… a start. Not awful. Believable, mostly.

“That’s not solid enough,” I answer, my gaze dipping to her legs again. I can’t seem to stop looking. “But I like the way you’re thinking.”

I bring my hand to rest on her thigh, keeping my eyes on hers. She doesn’t react to my touch. Not even a flinch. Not a smile. Nothing.

“What’s going to make it solid is my father,” she adds, blue eyes brightening with mischief.

“Your father?” I question, brushing my thumb along her smooth skin.

She nods. “That’s right. All I have to do is tell Daddy to cover for me, and he will. He’s already in jail for life, and he’d do anything to protect me.”

Fuck, now that really makes my dick hard.

“You’re serious?” I question.

“Very.”

“You’re a genius.” I grin, sliding my fingers along her inner thigh as I scoot forward.

She shrugs, smirking. “I try my best.”

“How will you speak with your father?”

“Just leave that up to me. I’ve got it handled.”

I narrow my eyes, unsure about that. I trust her, but I don’t think I trust her that much.

She hops off the desk and my hand falls to my lap. Kitten leans forward, putting her hands on the arms of the chair.

“Trust me. I won’t let you down.” She presses her lips to the corner of my mouth in the gentlest kiss I’ve ever experienced. “Night, night.”

Then she’s gone.

Yeah… trouble, indeed.