Heart Rending (Best Served Cold #2)

Chapter 1

HARLOW

"That's the last of it."

Archer turned off the tap and wound the hose over on the hook on the wall.

Wry expression on his face, he tucked the wooden box which contained the last of Granger Fairfield's remains under his arm.

As if he did this daily—maybe he did—he carried it over to an industrial oven in the corner of the converted bathroom.

He pulled the handle down to open the door, letting out a blast of heat.

"Good riddance," I said softly, the words more than Fairfield deserved. Silently I added, Fuck off and burn in Hades.

"Yeah." Easing the door wider, Archer placed the contents inside, box and all.

The door shut with a clang and a rush of cooler air that made me shiver.

"I have to admire this set-up of yours," Boner said, peering through the door into the oven as the heat incinerated the last of the evidence. "I'm impressed, Hardaway.” The Englishman turned and nodded at Archer.

Archer glanced at Boner with narrowed eyes, like he wanted to toss him into the oven along with Fairfield.

"Hardwick. I researched the best ways to dispose of bodies before I got any of this."

Of course he did. The guy practically had a PhD in Internet research. In this case, though, he'd done a good job. Thorough. By the time he disposed of the ashes, no one would ever know someone was dismembered and killed here.

No one but the five of us.

"Anything else?" I walked over to where Cassius Titmus was squinting at Fairfield's phone.

His brow was creased, hair falling over half of his face.

"He's meticulously deleted every message and call that went through this phone." Cass looked frustrated. "Unless he didn't receive any. Or send anything."

"How likely is that?" I asked, the question redundant. Probably.

"This phone might have been a decoy," I added. If there was anything assholes like Fairfield were good at, it was covering their tracks. He could have had twenty different phones for twenty different uses for all we knew.

Honestly, I believed that as much as Cass did. Which, judging by the skepticism on his face, was not at all.

He shoved hair back off his face and shook his head slowly, the hair immediately falling back over the lens of his glasses.

"It looks well-used. The crack on the edge here doesn't look new." He pointed to it. "The case looks like he's handled it a lot." He turned it around to show me.

The case was generic, black leather or a material that resembled it. The sides and across the middle were worn from being held by a wide hand. It was too late to measure Fairfield's for an exact fit, but it would be close enough if I had to guess.

"I guess he won't be getting a new one when they release," I said facetiously. Not that I wasn't still using a three-year-old phone myself.

Cass chuckled and glanced in the direction of the oven, his throat bobbing in a deep swallow.

He'd adopted the same mission as the rest of us: ridding the world of people who hurt the innocent. Unlike Boner, Archer and me, he was still squeamish. Tentatively revolted by our methods. Taking part only here and there.

Right now, there was something else in his expression. Satisfaction.

He wouldn't regret the death of the man who raped his younger brother.

We had that in common. I wouldn't regret the death of the man who raped and murdered my younger sister, Lottie.

Fairfield and six others. Four of them were dead. The other three? My mission in life was to find them and make sure they ended the same way as Fairfield.

Painfully dead.

"I don't suppose there's any information on the identities of Hypnos, Eros or Zeus?" I asked, already knowing the answer. If he'd found that, he would have told me already.

Wouldn't he? I couldn't rule out the possibility he'd tell his brother Jules and try to go after them themselves.

In spite of that brief misgiving, I believed him when he shook his head.

"Just their nicknames and their phone numbers," he said, his lips twisting with annoyance. "I'm going to take a wild guess their numbers are redirected, but I'm going to need my computer to look in deeper."

"Who's going deeper?" Boner called out from across the room, grinning as he teased. "Am I missing something over there?"

While Cass' face turned pink, I called back, "You're not missing anything."

"Yet," Boner shouted back.

I shook my head at him. The man was incorrigible. I liked that about him. No matter what happened, his sense of humor remained intact. When things were dark as shit, he'd crack a joke, or be ready with a smile. Even if he was stabbing someone at the same time.

"If you don't mind, I'd like to get this phone back to my place," Cass said, drawing my attention back to him. "The sooner we can find those three, the better."

I'd lost count of how many times I'd thought, and said, that he didn't need to get involved with our crusade. With my crusade. He'd insisted. Since his brother's abuser was now dead, would he want to step back?

He must have seen all of that on my face, because he said, "I'm involved. I want to see this through with you. Let's find them and end them."

"I can't talk you out of this, can I?" I asked with a sigh.

His voice low, he said, "I care about you, Harlow. I…want to do this with you. What we're doing here, all of us, it's important. We're doing what the law can't do. I need to do this."

I leaned in and pressed a kiss to his mouth. "I care about you too. I don't want to come between you and your brother, though—"

"Don't worry about him," Cass said quickly. "He'll come around. And if he doesn’t…" He adjusted his glasses. "That's his problem."

"Do we have to worry about him squealing?" Boner had stepped over to lean against the wall, his arms and ankles crossed. His blond hair was tousled, like he'd dug both hands into it and messed it up deliberately.

"Because you know what snitches get."

"Stitches wouldn't fix what you'd do to him," Cass said, torn between defending his brother and agreeing we'd have to take steps to deal with Jules if he decided to go to the police.

"Accurate, mate," Boner told him. "He'd fit nicely into that oven over there." He jerked his thumb behind him.

"I'll talk to him," Cass assured both of us. "So…" He held up the phone.

"I'll come with you," I said. "I want to see what else is on there for myself."

"Me too," Boner said.

"I need to finish up here." Archer peered into the oven, neck stretched, meticulously checking its job was complete before he turned it off.

"I'll dispose of the ashes when they're cool enough. The river is a popular place for scattering them. That's too good for this asshole." His mouth turned down, conflict in his eyes.

"Pretend he's a goldfish?" Boner suggested.

"I've already washed enough of him down the pipes," Archer said. "I don't want to clog the plumbing." The conflict slowly eased. "There's a nice park a couple of blocks down. He could feed a tree."

"Finally, he does something useful with his existence," I said dryly. "Hopefully he doesn't poison the tree." I stepped over to give Archer a hug and a quick kiss. "Thank you for everything. Tonight was perfect."

I scooped up the jar containing the heart Archer cut out of Fairfield's chest and held it carefully while I followed the other two out the door.

"You're going to keep that?" Boner eyed the jar.

"Of course I am," I said. Otherwise, I would have thrown it into the oven along with the rest of Fairfield.

After a moment, I realized the real reason for the question. "It's okay that you didn't think of it first."

He huffed, but the pout was pretend. The smile in his blue eyes gave him away.

"I didn't think of it first either," Cass pointed out. He tucked the phone into the back of his dark jeans and pressed the button to call for the elevator.

"Would you have done it if you had?" Boner kept his words deliberately vague, mindful other people lived in the building.

He wasn't judging Cass; he was curious to know the answer.

It wouldn't bother him in the slightest if the other man didn't take part in cutting off any more fingers or toes, much less going any further.

Cass glanced over his shoulder, his lips pressed together.

"That's what I thought." Boner clapped him on the shoulder. "Nothing wrong with being squeamish. Not everyone is as fucked up as me and Harlow. And Archer."

"That's the thing," Cass said softly. "I think maybe I am. Did either of you… When you first…"

I didn't think it would have mattered if we were in public or not, he wouldn't have been able to bring himself to say all the words of the questions he wanted answers for. Not given how confronting those answers were.

Boner draped an arm over his shoulder. "It's like fucking. The first time is always messy. Usually not as good as it is later. Thing is, we have to start somewhere. I remember mine. All bodily fluids and regret. Now? I have skills, and a bigger dick."

"I guess so," Cass said. He looked like he was going to ask something else, but the elevator doors opened.

Boner's arm slid from his shoulder and we followed him into the car.

"I feel like I just became a professor at Vigilante University," Boner remarked. "Stick with me, young grasshopper, I'll teach you all our ways." He spread his fingers like a fan and gestured across in front of his face.

I snorted softly.

"What?" Boner glanced over at me. "You don't think Professor Boner has a ring to it? Better yet, Doctor Boner."

"Only if I get to be Doctor St. James," I said.

That sounded pretty good if you ask me. Although, there was nothing wrong with Chef St. James either. I'd worked hard to build my career and my restaurant. I owned every moment. Every drop of blood, sweat and tears.

Boner stepped over to me, cupped the back of my neck and whispered in my ear. "You can be anything you want to be, love. As long as you're mine."

"Ours," Cass corrected, that firm, dominant tone in his voice.

Boner looked over to him. "I love it when you talk bossy like that. Gets me going something fierce." His eyes darkened.

"Me too," I said, suddenly even warmer with Boner's body pressed against mine. The pulse in my pussy throbbed in response to them, and to our recent kill.

Watching a man die, one who'd tormented my sister, was its own special kind of satisfying and arousing at the same time.

"How about we—" The ping of the elevator and the doors parting in front of us interrupted Boner.

"Get to Cass' apartment and look into this phone," I finished for him, with some reluctance.

I'd love to stop for a fuck here in the elevator, but we had to act quickly.

It wouldn't take long for someone to discover Fairfield was missing.

What would they do then? Men like him didn't run off and hide.

No, chances were, they'd try to figure out what happened to Granger Fairfield. Or should I say, who happened to him?

"Yeah, that." Boner looked equally disappointed, but he still hadn't stopped smiling. He adjusted his pants and stepped out of the elevator, drawing us out behind him.

We headed out into the cool of the early morning, the city still buzzing with activity. Pedestrians, cars, bicycles delivering food for after-midnight snacks. It never stopped.

I loved every minute of it.

"Have you hacked many phones before?" Boner asked, making casual conversation as we made our way down the street.

"One or two," Cass said. "You'd be surprised how much data there is left on a phone after someone thinks they wiped it clean."

"I'm going to guess…lots," Boner said. He nodded like there was no other possible response.

"Right. And this one isn't wiped," Cass said, tapping his pocket. "With any luck, I can bring up text and call logs."

"With no luck?" Boner asked.

Cass sighed. "We try calling the numbers and see who answers."

"They'll get a bit suspicious when they hear someone else's voice on the other end of the phone," Boner pointed out.

"Then they don't hear someone else's voice," Cass said, as if that explained everything.

I frowned for a moment. "You were recording him when we confronted him?"

"Every word," Cass agreed. "I figured his voice might come in useful."

"That's fucking genius," Boner said. "I could kiss you right now."

They exchanged a glance and we all started walking a little faster.