Chapter Eight
Somewhere
In San Juan
Sunday Night
Unfortunately, this was turning into a mess. It was all over the news that another body was found, and people were out talking and discussing it. What they were saying was that camera crews caught sight of the bodies, and there were ritualistic markings.
Well, someone was well aware.
No kidding.
Those symbols took time.
Now, the talking was going to be a problem. While rumor traveling was fine, drawing attention of the law was a problem.
Because there were more to die.
The victims weren’t finished, and having people speculating only made it worse.
Oh, and it was annoying.
That’s why it became essential to up the timeline, and handle the situation before it became apparently clear what was going on there.
That was the last thing that was needed.
Sitting at the restaurant, having a late dinner, the whole spectacle was on the news, and the entire place was fixated on it.
They were muttering a few key words.
Like bruja.
Like Vudú.
Like Death.
Yes, the people who called Old San Juan home were reacting just as had been expected, and with no shock there.
Because here, where African religions from long ago collided with the Hispanic locals, a new religion was formed, and it was one that many feared.
As they should.
When the bill came, money was put down on the counter, and it was time to get down to work. Normally, there would be time, but now, it felt like anything but that was true.
Ill-winds were blowing, and the truth was in them.
This was a predicament.
Choosing these people had better have been done right, or there would be problems later.
That was the truth.
But until that happened, there was work to be done, and there was no way to stop.
There was a job to do.
Heading out of the restaurant, it was time to move quickly, silently, and with purpose.
Luckily, on this island, it was easy to find the next person. It was logical to make this man the next victim, simply because they were fairly popular, and an easy mark.
In fact, maybe they were too easy.
Time would tell.
Only, this gentleman was next, and with good reason. The last thing needed was someone out there who knew the truth.
This was all about safety, and in a way, it needed to be done.
Through the darkness of night, he was stalked, and when he was found, mostly thanks to his car, the waiting game began.
Thankfully, it was flashy enough to be spotted a mile away. Little did the man know that there was a surprise waiting for him inside.
A nasty one.
What felt like hours ticked along, but eventually, he came out as the clock struck ten thirty.
When he left the club, luckily, he was alone. Then again, it didn’t matter.
When one would be good.
Two would be better.
It was easy to take two birds, and kill them with one stone—or however that stupid saying went.
The bottom line was the night was looking up, and hopefully, this would be a distraction.
A challenging one.
When the chosen one got into the car, he was definitely a little tipsy, and that would help too. He smelled like cigars, cheap perfume, and copious amounts of women.
Oh, that was definitely a choice.
A poor one.
Silently in the back seat, the killer waited, knowing that the right moment would happen.
It was a good thing that someone was patient.
When the man made a call, it was on speaker, so easy to overhear.
“I’m on my way home. It was a late night at work. I’ll see you there,” he said. “Yeah, I know. Stop nagging. Seriously. Can’t a grown man have a drink with some friends before the work week?”
From the back seat, there was chatter to be heard, and someone was NOT happy.
A woman.
A feisty one.
Only, the call was ended, and the man driving the car began muttering to himself and cursing in Spanish.
Oh, someone didn’t need to worry about having fun or going home to an angry wife.
Someone didn’t have to worry at all.
That was coming to an end.
Now, that he’d checked in, and was driving down the deserted street toward his home, it was time to move.
As he was at a light, the person hiding in the back popped up, and covered his mouth with a rag. The guy had no chance.
He tried to get to his assailant, but the drug on the rag was just too much.
Slowly, he began succumbing to it.
Then, like the others, he was gone.
And that meant it was time to switch places, and take this ‘fine’ gentleman to a place to die.
“Don’t worry, Samuel. It’s all good. You have a purpose, and before the night is over, I’ll share what that is. Until then, I’m the one who will be having fun.”
Thankfully, he wouldn’t be missed until later.
By the time he was found, the trail would really be cold, and sometimes, that was exactly what a predator needed.
To escape.
* * * Blackhawk & Cantrell * * *
One Hour Later
Tucked Away
When he finally came to, he was tied down, and unable to move. That invoked panic and fear like he’d never felt before in his life.
His heart was racing, and he saw the figure not far away, but he, or she, was cloaked.
Shrouded.
Hidden.
When the person turned around, the plague mask did nothing to calm him down. Yeah, that visual didn’t help his freakout, at all.
In fact, it only made it worse.
All around the room, candles were lit, and they illuminated the place in a glow-y light.
There had to be a good sixty candles, placed all over, haphazardly lighting the space. It was eerie, and it was terrifying.
“Let me go!” he said, looking around at all the things in that damp, dark room. “Did my wife put you up to this? Is this because I slept around? That bitch! She used my money to buy a hit on me!”
That was funny.
And it made the shrouded figure laugh.
This man was beyond amusing.
“I’ll pay you double if you go get her, and do to her what you planned for me.”
Oh, he was mistaken.
There was no way out of this.
If anything, loyalty mattered—especially in certain lines of business. You couldn’t leave loose ends, and this man…he was one.
As the figure moved closer, he tried to get away from him, but he couldn’t.
His body was locked to that table, and shortly, the fun would begin. He was completely naked, simply so he had full access to his body.
Someone had some creative drawing to do.
With a bowl in hand, the plague doctor began doing his deeds. Those particular symbols were written on his naked flesh, and as they were, he began hyperventilating.
Then, praying.
Then, began doing anything he could think to get free from this.
Only, all that he managed to do was bruise his wrists and exacerbate the situation.
“Please don’t rape me,” he whispered.
There was even more laughter.
“Sorry, but you’re hardly my type,” the voice said, softly whispering so the voice was undetectable to the man. He wouldn’t see who was behind this until he was on the cusp of death.
And with good reason.
Chanting began with each symbol placed on his body.
Just in case.
The entire time, the man lost his shit.
“You’ll make yourself pass out, and I wouldn’t want that. What’s coming matters when it comes to you being awake or out cold.”
Samuel Padilla didn’t like that.
Not.
At.
All.
In fact, he was getting dizzy from the smell of something in the greasy substance he was drawing on his body.
When he got a little too close to the family jewels, he really panicked.
The room spun as he saw the evil-looking symbols being written on his flesh.
One was an eye, and when you came from the island, you knew the evil eye when you saw it.
“Please,” he begged.
And he was ignored.
The greasy substance smelled like animal, burnt charcoal, and some church incense.
“Why are you doing this?”
There was just laughter.
“Please! I’m married. I have a family…”
And still, no mercy was given. For all of them, they had people who loved them, but some things mattered more in the world.
Priorities.
“And you love your family?” the voice asked, knowing the man wasn’t thinking straight. The conversation with his wife had been overheard in the car.
That wasn’t love.
There was no doubt this gentleman didn’t have the capabilities to show any love.
The man nodded, tears on his cheeks.
“Yes! Please let me go home. I haven’t seen you. I won’t say shit. I promise.”
Oh, well, that was a given.
With one hand, some herbs were tossed at the candles all around the man’s body, and they flared magically.
“Oh, God. The Bruja!” he whispered.
The chanting stopped at that.
“Why do people call names? A witch, am I? Then very well, Samuel. You’re my sacrifice. Let’s begin.”
And the screams were horrific. In that abandoned space, Samuel Padilla fought for his life, but in the end, he couldn’t win.
None of them could.
For their deaths all had a purpose. With each question, they moved closer to the light.
As for the purpose, it would be one no one ever knew. In the darkness, things were balanced.
With good reason.
Lives depended on it.
The Plague Doctor’s.
* * * Blackhawk & Cantrell * * *
The Resort
Same Time
The second the door closed behind the men, and Ethan knew they were alone, that overwhelming need to be taken by his mate won out.
He was helpless against the pleasure.
It was like when he’d been dosed by Snow, but this time, he could remember, and he had cognitive thought.
And what he wanted was Gene’s dick.
Desperately.
It was like a fever had overcome him, and he couldn’t control himself. Ethan felt like he would burn up if he didn’t get into his man’s pants.
And he wasn’t the only one.
Beneath him, Gene moaned as Ethan was grinding against his body, not willing to stop. Someone was three days past horny.
That was damn clear.
As he moved, the weights dangling from his nipples swayed back and forth, and mesmerized the man.
God, but he looked so sexy like this.
“I can’t control myself,” he whispered. “I want to fuck so badly,” he said. “I need you to mount me and take my ass. I need it!”
Only, the other man remembered what Ethan had said. He wanted to be trained.
That took time, patience, and a lot of control.