Chapter 1
KIP
“What’s up, motherfucker?” I slapped one of my best friends, Hal, aka Dope, on the back before I settled onto the loveseat in the basement of his house, or as his friends referred to it, his dungeon.
Dope leaned over and turned down the music, “Liquor Talkin’” by Don Louis.
He shoved his hand through his red hair and rolled his computer chair back.
“Locating the next family.” He raised a light eyebrow.
“And of course the son of a bitch that deserves a long, torturous death. Some monsters don’t deserve redemption,” Dope muttered.
I gave him a look but didn’t argue. Absolution was a fantasy for those who still believed they could be forgiven. I wasn’t one of them. I used to believe in saving people. Now I made sure the predators were put down before they hurt others.
But sometimes I wondered if I was simply cleaning up a mess I’d helped create.
There were nights I couldn’t sleep. Ghosts I couldn’t forget.
And one I couldn’t quite remember—only the sound of her screaming.
I leaned back, stretching my legs in front of me. “What do you have so far? Death is getting restless.”
Death, a notorious serial killer and childhood friend of ours, had killed multiple people in the Portland area and across the country, leaving a trail of victims and attracting unwanted attention from the authorities.
Once Safe Horizon, an underground operation that helped women and children leave horrible, warped living situations, had been established, Dope and I realized Death would get caught soon if left to his own devices.
We took it upon ourselves to protect him.
We gave the police misinformation, planted evidence, cleaned crime scenes, and fed him sick fucks to murder.
It was all planned so we could manage and sidestep the authorities.
It was our job to cover his tracks and point him toward the bastards who sold kids and beat their wives.
Most of those vile pieces of shit were identified when we found the right families to help.
Not only did Death get what he needed, but the men who hurt and tortured women and children were punished for their crimes.
We used the society to feed a serial killer his victims. It was fucked up and twisted, but no one had a clue how alike Death and I really were.
I fed on the aftermath and cleaned up the murder scenes, but lately it had turned into more.
The beast inside me had awakened with an insatiable hunger, consuming my every thought and toying with my emotions.
As hard as I tried to keep the memories buried in the back of my mind, they continued to emerge through the cracks and crevices, haunting me with reminders of my past and taunting me with uncertainty about my future.
A part of me was driven by selfish motives.
By doing good deeds, I wished I could somehow redeem myself for the sins of my past. But deep down, I knew it was too late for me.
My humanity had been stripped away over the years, and once it was gone there was nothing to put back into that empty space.
Still, working with these vulnerable individuals and seeing the glimmer of hope in their gazes was the only thing that kept me going, an anchor in the blackest corners of my soul.
“Sorry, what did you ask?” Dope gave me a lopsided grin. It was the same one he gave his friends when he knew he’d been caught not paying attention.
“I asked what you have so far. Death is getting irritable. He needs his next victim.”
He rubbed his palms together, nearly giddy.
“As always, I’ve got his back. We need to hop over to Ohio and help a mom of three.
She’s tried to leave her husband, Collin, twice, and he’s made her pay for it.
” Dope folded his arms across his chest, his expression twisted with fury.
“The bastard is trading guns for girls to sell. He’s in deep, so we have to watch our asses on this one.
He’s connected with a shit ton of powerful men. ”
“Understood. At least we can put an end to Collin. If someone else comes after us, then Death will have another victim. We can keep feeding his dark side.” Grinning, I laced my fingers behind my head.
Dope’s hands flew over the keyboard, then he said, “Is Riley going to cover the bar at Velvet Vortex while you’re gone?”
“We need more people than her. I’ll work on changing the schedule. It’s a little more difficult covering the bar and restaurant since Bass left.”
Sebastian, who we called Bass, my other best friend and business partner, had moved to New York with his wife, Ella, for a while, but after serious shit went down, they’d returned to Portland.
Even though Bass loved to cover the bar and chat up the customers, his situation had changed, and he ran the club behind the scenes the majority of the time.
“It’s not only Collin’s enemies we have to watch for.
We’ve made enemies while working at Safe Horizon, and not to mention the other crazy motherfucker that’s now in our lives.
” Dope pretended to play a flute and raised his brows at me.
We hated mentioning the sick fuck’s name, so we skirted around it as often as possible.
He didn’t need to mention who he was talking about.
I would never forget the cold, knowing stare that shot straight through me when I first came face-to-face with the Pied Piper—a notorious serial killer and one of the most dangerous men I’d ever met.
He’d taken an interest in Sebastian’s family, and now we were all looking over our shoulders.
Dope cracked his knuckles before he rolled his chair forward and returned to his computer. Multiple screens covered his workspace, so he could work as fast as his brain moved, unless he was super stoned.
“Want some?” Dope reached for the rolled joint tucked behind his ear and stuck it between his lips.
“I’m good, man.” Weed wasn’t my friend. It opened some fucked-up shit in my head that I preferred to leave alone. Lately, memories were surfacing without my permission, and the last fucking thing I needed was to open the door and invite them in.
“You seem distracted again. What gives?” Dope’s fingers tapped a few keys on the keyboard. “There it is,” he mumbled while he shook his head, then grabbed his lighter and lit up.
“Nothing for you to be concerned about.” I had to mask my thoughts better. Absentmindedly, I rubbed my arm where the faint scars of my heroin days still taunted me.
Dope didn’t miss my movements. He blew out the smoke and asked, “How long have you been clean now?”
“Fucking years, man. It’s in my rearview mirror. Don’t sweat it.”
“Easy to say, but you’re coming apart at the seams, dude. Either tell me what the fuck is eating you alive, or I’m going to keep asking.”
I stood, not in the mood to deal with his meddling questions. It was none of his fucking business. Smoothing my navy polo shirt, I tipped my chin at him. “Gotta go. I’ll make sure Velvet Vortex is covered, but I need to know when we’re taking care of Collin’s family.”
“In three days. Be ready.”
“I will. I have to visit Mother and make sure she’s taken care of while I’m gone.”
Dope’s shoulders visibly tensed. “How’s she doing? Sometimes I forget you’re dealing with all of that.”
I barked out a sarcastic laugh. “I wish I could forget. Until she fucking dies, she’s once again my problem.”
His forehead pinched as if his next words caused him pain. “Let me know if you need anything. Bass and I will do whatever we have to.”
He didn’t have to explain what he was suggesting. I knew exactly what that offer looked like, and I’d considered letting them help my mother disappear for good.
“I appreciate it, but it’s my issue to deal with.
” Dope and Bass knew a few things about my past, but only enough for them to understand why I’d broken ties with my family …
until Mother got sick and there was no one to pay her medical bills.
Since I was an only child, the responsibility fell on my shoulders.
Lucky fucking me. Even though I would never say it out loud, some twisted part of me hoped she would one day forgive me.
Maybe if she looked at me and saw more than a broken monster, I could find the redemption I was always chasing but could never hold on to.
“I’ll be at the club working tonight but stop by if you want something to eat.
” I shoved my hand in my jeans pocket and headed up the stairs to the living room.
“I’ll lock the door behind me,” I yelled at Dope.
I doubted he heard what I said, but he had a bad habit of not locking his windows or doors.
With the work we did, that was asking for trouble.
“Ghost” by Teo finished playing on the car stereo as I pulled into Mother’s driveway and parked my car.
I reached into my pocket and removed my contacts case, carefully removing my brown-colored lenses.
I placed them in the container filled with solution and closed it with a click.
As I tucked away the case, I felt for the familiar weight of the bulky, silver cross pendant hanging from my necklace.
With a sigh, I slipped it beneath my T-shirt, a constant source of comfort and security for me.
I opened the screen door, my stomach churning at the idea of being here again.
I hated being in her house. Every wall was a shrine to her obsession—Bible verses in gold lettering, cross-studded knickknacks, and framed photos of her with that smug pastor.
To anyone else, it looked saintly. To me, it was all a lie.
She was no better than the devils she pretended to condemn.
Worse, she hid behind scripture while creating her own hell at home.
“Cynthia?” I called out to let the caregiver I’d hired know I was there. “Why isn’t the screen door locked?”
A short, brown-haired woman appeared from the back of the home and gave me a warm smile. “Kip, the entire door is a screen. If someone wanted to come in, a little lock wouldn’t keep them out. Besides, we’re out here in the country, and if someone were sneaking around, Dog would start barking.”
As if on cue, a German Sheperd appeared.
I knelt and patted Dog. Mother never decided on a name, so I did.
One I knew would irritate her since she named everything around her, including her houseplants.
“You’re a good boy, aren’t you?” Dog licked my cheek as his tail wagged so hard his back feet bounced across the wood floor.
“Are you taking good care of Cynthia and making sure she’s safe? ”
I glanced up at the caregiver, who arched a dark brow at me. “He keeps your mother safe too.” She placed a hand on her hip and gave me a firm look.
“I know. I just like messing with you.” I straightened and chuckled. “How’s the patient today?”
“Cranky, but we both know that’s nothing new.” Cynthia snorted.
“I heard that, Cynthia! Tell my son to come see me,” Mother called from her bedroom.
My stomach twisted, acid burning the back of my throat. Even after all these years, the sound of her voice could still cut me open like a dull blade.
“This place is too small to have any kind of private conversation.” Cynthia wiped her forehead with the tissue she was holding. “Maybe we could get some air conditioning in here?”
I didn’t miss the hope in her voice with her question.
“I’ll have someone come out and install a few window units. It seems we’re going to have a hotter summer than usual. The shade is usually enough to keep the place cool, but no such luck this year.”
“Thank you, Kip. It will help her not be so pissy all the time too.” Cynthia laughed. “We can hope anyway.”
I grinned at her. “I’m not doing it for the old bag. It’s for you.”
“Kip?!” Her dry hacking cough echoed through the house after she attempted to yell at me.
I groaned at my mother’s sharp tone. “Guess it’s my turn. Take the afternoon off, and I’ll see you later this evening.” I squeezed Cynthia’s shoulder as I passed her to locate the patient in her bedroom.
My footsteps announced my presence, and Mother lifted the oxygen mask from her nose and mouth. “It’s about time. You have no idea what Cynthia is like when you’re not here.”
“Unless she’s poisoning the food, I seriously doubt that she’s mistreating you.” I sank into the blue recliner in the corner of the room. The ceiling fan whirred on high, the chain clinking against the light as it spun.
When she had been diagnosed with pulmonary fibrosis, I’d invested in an adjustable bed for her, so she’d be more comfortable.
What I hadn’t planned on was her mean streak.
Somehow it had gotten worse with age, and I hated spending any time with her.
Not that I’d enjoyed her company when I was younger.
Quite the opposite. The only person I’d liked was my uncle, but he was …
“Where are your contacts?” Mother asked, interrupting my thoughts. “I’ve told you not to come around here with your demonic eyes. Put your lenses back in.”
Inwardly, I grinned, knowing full well I was irritating the shit out of her.
She hated that my eyes were so pale they looked colorless, swore it was the devil’s curse, proof I was born of his blood and not any man’s.
For too damn long, I believed her. My uncle finally got sick of her screeching prayers and exorcisms, so he dragged me to get my first pair of colored contacts.
Everything changed after that—at least outside the house.
I made friends. Kissed a few girls. Pretended to be normal.
But nothing changed with Mother, no matter how much I hoped it would.
“No. I can’t wear contacts all the time. I need a break.”
She scoffed. “The devil doing the devil’s work.” She glared at me before she leaned her head on her pillow.
“It’s a good thing I do, or you’d be in a dilapidated nursing home being neglected. I know Cynthia is good to you. You like to bitch and make people feel like shit.”
She huffed. “I’ll pray for your rotten soul, then I’m going to take a nap. You’re draining me.”
I stood, glad our chat had offered an exit into another room. “Sleep well,” I muttered as I walked away, leaving her alone. Unfortunately, it rarely mattered if I was around her or not. She was always in my fucking head. It had to stop, but I wasn’t sure how to silence her.
Or maybe I did.