Chapter Twenty-Four – Abby
We fall into a routine. It’s a routine that comes easily to me, and judging the others, to them, too.
Even Hawthorne gets a new routine—the man actually joins me in the bed at night every once in a while, and even though he wouldn’t admit it out loud, he’s definitely a happier, cheerier person the mornings after.
Less grumpy. That’s what sleeping in a comfortable bed will do for you.
Or it’s the sex. It could definitely be the sex.
One morning I’m on the couch in the living room, eating cereal, watching some news clip on the TV about another serial killer the police haven’t caught, one who’s been around for years. Someone who the country forgets about until their next victim.
The Night Slayer.
Not much is known, although the FBI do think it’s a woman. There has been some camera footage showing a woman leaving clubs and bars with men who end up dead, but she’s never been identified, never caught.
Honestly, if the Night Slayer is a woman? Good for her.
It’s probably too much to assume, but it’d be kind of cool if the Night Slayer was a woman and she went after bad men, just like D.D.K.
Either way, I’d love to meet her, whoever she is, wherever she is.
That’s nothing more than a pipedream, but hey, that’s the whole point of dreams, right?
To wish for things that might never happen.
I’m about done with my cereal when Ezra appears. He’s freshly showered, and he motions for me to follow him. “Come on,” he says. “Hawthorne just got word from the Benefactor.”
My heart skips a beat. “About Connor?” Though he doesn’t say anything in response, I can see it on his face: it’s about Connor. It has to be. I’ve waited for so long, and now… now it’s so close I can almost taste it.
My other two victims, it wasn’t personal. I didn’t know them. I just knew they were shitty men. Connor, on the other hand, is as personal as something can be. I’ve dreamt of finding him, of killing him, ever since I read my sister’s diary.
The not-so-funny thing is, I used to think he was an okay guy. Whenever she’d bring him around, whenever we’d be in the same room, he never gave off those kinds of vibes. If you took one look at him, you’d see a normal, if somewhat haughty-looking guy who clearly came from money.
But that’s the thing, ain’t it? They don’t come with warning signs.
There are no neon, flashing signs hanging above their heads saying: Careful, I’m a son of a bitch rapist. You never know who could be staring at you and imagining doing whatever they want to you and then leaving you dead in a ditch somewhere.
It’s not all men, no. There are some good ones out there. But, that said, it is enough of them for us to never know. Too many.
And soon? Their numbers will be knocked down by one once we get rid of Connor.
I set my bowl on the coffee table and follow Ezra to Hawthorne’s office, where Hawthorne and Royal wait for us. Hawthorne is in the middle of explaining something when we walk in, and as we enter, he straightens himself out a bit before saying, “Good morning, Abby.”
Royal rolls his eyes, but that look softens when his gaze lands on me. He gives me a nod.
“Yeah, yeah,” I say, folding my arms over my chest. “What’s this about Connor? We going to make a move on him?” I can’t imagine it’s going to be easy; I kept tabs on him throughout the years, just to make sure I kept him in my sights.
He travels a lot. Timing things, making sure we’re careful, is going to be difficult.
“We have a plan, yes,” Hawthorne says. “We move on him next Thursday.”
Makes sense. Friday is his partying night.
Even now, when the man is an adult, he goes out and parties like he’s still in college.
Maybe he’s trying to relive those days, or maybe he’s taking the time to drug more girls and have his way with them.
Doesn’t matter. He won’t be doing any of it soon enough.
As Hawthorne tells us the plan, my heart keeps beating fast. I swear, it’s so hard and loud I can hear it in my ears. It’s the same kind of anticipation that filled me before I made a move on my other kills.
“Around six is when he typically gets home when he’s not traveling,” Hawthorne says. “Fortunately for us, there is no family involved. He lives alone. A recon team has already been in the house to check for cameras—all you have to worry about is the camera on the gate that blocks the driveway.”
Makes sense his place wouldn’t be loaded up with cameras. If there were tons of cameras, there’d be evidence of his wrongdoings. I’d bet anything he likes to bring women back to his place, whether they’re one hundred percent willing or not.
“Your fancy little device will work on that, though, right?” I ask.
Ezra nods. “Yeah, but how do we get in if there’s a gate?”
“While you three are in position, a second team will be down the street. I don’t know the details, but I believe they’re going to cut the power to the whole street.
It’ll be late, so the response time shouldn’t be too fast—but that said, you’ll need to get in and out quickly.
With no power, the gate will be easily pushed open, and you three will drive up to the house. ”
“Then we find him and kill him,” I say. “Has D.D.K. ever gone after someone with this kind of money before?” Out of all the victims of D.D.K. the police have found across the country, I don’t think I’ve ever heard of someone like Connor being among them.
Hawthorne shakes his head. “No, but it’s no matter.
He’ll fall just like everyone else, and if something should go wrong, you’ll have the full arsenal of the Benefactor at your back.
The last thing they want is for you to get caught.
” He picks up a bundle of stapled papers on his desk and offers it to Royal, the one who stands closest to him.
“Here, the layout of his house. Each page is a different floor. Memorize it before you go.”
As Royal studies it, I ask something I’ve been wondering on and off ever since I got here: “Why does the Benefactor care so much about this? Not Connor specifically, but killing bad men.”
“If I have to guess, I’d say they lost someone, too.
Who, exactly, they lost, I have no idea,” Hawthorne tells me.
“And, before you ask, no, I don’t know if the Benefactor is a man or a woman.
When I’m in contact with them, it’s through a burner phone you can’t trace, and they use a voice modulator.
The number is different every time, and they’ve never given me any clues as to who they are. ”
“Whoever they are, they have to come from money. Like, insane multi-generational wealth kind of money, the kind of money most one-percenters can only dream of,” I say.
I pretty much grew up around rich people.
I was always a little different than them since my parents were self-made, but I know the ins and outs of that kind of life.
The Benefactor? They’re on a level of their own, whoever they are.
It would be interesting to meet them someday, to talk to them, to find out just what drove them to fund activities such as this, but in a more realistic sense, that’ll never happen.
It’s just one of those things I’ll have to wonder about the rest of my life.
I’m sure if I searched up a list of the wealthiest people in America, the Benefactor would be somewhere on that list—which is a little ironic, since rich people are usually the biggest sociopathic assholes around.
Seriously, you have to be some kind of psycho to have that kind of money and not feel guilty everyone else is pinching pennies together and children all over are going hungry because their families can’t afford three warm meals a day.
“Regardless,” Hawthorne says, “study the specs of the property, and get yourselves ready. It’ll be a long drive to get there. You’ll have to leave Thursday morning at six.”
I’d stay up for days if that’s what it took.
Hell, I’d use pins to keep my eyelids open if I had to.
Anything this particular kill demanded of me, I would give in a heartbeat…
even if it demanded one of us get caught.
I’d go down for it. I would. The guys wouldn’t like it; they’d probably fight me on it, but I would gladly step forward and take the fall after Connor is dead.
For my sister. For the old me, the girl I used to be before this world hardened me into what I am today.
But that’s not going to happen. We’re not going to get caught. The team behind D.D.K. has a system, and I’m now a part of that system.
Ezra and Royal leave, and I am starting to follow them, but Hawthorne calls me back to his desk, so I stay.
“Abby, there is one more thing,” he says.
He reaches into one of the drawers on his desk, pulling something out after typing a code into a tiny lockbox hidden in that drawer.
“The Benefactor does not like to take risks. They were… immensely cautious when I first told them about you, as you already know.”
He pulls out something small from that lockbox, and I recognize it immediately. The key to the tracking device on my wrist.
“You have proven yourself to us,” he continues, reaching for me, and I give him the wrist with the bracelet on it.
“And I’ve spoken my praises of you to the Benefactor time and time again.
They’ve agreed that you fit with our mission, you share our same goals, and you are a perfect fit to officially join our team here. ”
Hawthorne gives me a tiny smile as he unlocks the bracelet and takes it off me.
“Congratulations. This is a big step, especially for someone like the Benefactor. I’ll be the first to admit I never thought they’d allow you to stay with us long-term, but…
I am for once happy to have been proven wrong. ”
I rub the area where the bracelet was, touching the skin for the first time in what feels like forever. “Did you happen to tell the Benefactor that we get freaky in this house together?” My blunt way of putting it makes him blush, which is exactly why I said it like that to begin with.
It’s too easy to make him blush. I still find it adorable.
“Um, as a matter of fact, no, I did not tell them that. I figure I’ll inform them sooner or later of it. More later than soon, though.” He carefully sets the bracelet down. “I’m still a little worried the Benefactor won’t agree with it.”
“Well, it’d be pretty shitty if they say we can’t do it.
I get the whole not letting anyone leave the operation—there’s a whole lot of shit we could tell the world—but the whole no fraternizing amongst yourselves thing never sat right with me.
We’re all adults here. We’re all consenting.
That’s the most important thing, isn’t it? ”
“That, and making sure the job is done right,” he says. “Not getting, as you’d say, freaky when there’s a body a few feet away is probably not the way to do that. I am positive the cleaners at the last job did not appreciate the extra DNA they had to clean up.”
I grin. “To be fair, I didn’t plan on that happening.”
“Still, please try not to let it happen again? Let’s not give the Benefactor any reason to regret this. If we can show that we can still be on our top game, then maybe they won’t have any arguments when I break the news to them.”
Frankly, I don’t really know why he has to ever break the news. Why can’t it just remain between the four of us for the rest of our days? Assuming we’re together the rest of our days, I mean.
I… I don’t want to think about a future without them. Is that crazy?
“I will do my best to keep it in my pants,” I say as I turn and head toward the door, and I don’t miss the groan Hawthorne gives after I say that.
My smirk breaks way into a wide grin, and I trail after the guys, finding them in Royal’s room further down the hall.
They sit on his bed together, staring at the layout of Connor’s house.
I didn’t get a good look at it before, but I bet it’s more like a mansion than a house.
When I see them, I don’t go to the bed right away.
I stand there, half in the room and half out, and stare at them.
How they’re huddled together, their brows furrowed in concentration.
How Royal points what must a path through the house while mumbling something to Era, who nods and rubs his chin in thought.
My body leans against the doorframe. Crazy or not, I really can’t imagine leaving this house, leaving them, and never seeing them again.
It’d be like pulling my soul in two—or in three.
Ezra, Royal, and Hawthorne would each have a piece of me, and I’d be nothing but an empty shell, wishing I was back here with them.
I can’t leave them. Yeah, the sex is great, but it’s not just that.
It’s so much more I can’t even begin to explain.
I’ve never felt complete before, even prior to my sister’s suicide.
All the crushes, the hookups, the dates while hoping for more; none of it can compare to what I feel for these guys.
They’re my new home, my new family. They are everything to me.
You know, I might even love them.
Which is just insane to me. I never thought I could feel such warmth, such peace, ever again, but here I am. So maybe it’s not so outlandish of me to believe I’ve fallen for these guys. Maybe all these years, this is right where I was always meant to be.
Ezra glances up, and he clearly has no idea where my mind is, because he asks, “You want to take a look? I think we have a route inside the house figured out, but we’d like to hear your thoughts.” He scoots to the side, opening up a space in between them for me to sit.
I push off the door frame and join them on the bed, and Royal hands me the paper with the printed-out layout. As my eyes rake over the page of the first floor, I can’t fight the bubbly feeling rising inside.
Oh, yeah. This is where I’m supposed to be. Right here, with them, in this house, planning out a murder. It’s the stuff dreams are made of.