34. Kennedy #2
“Creepy might be an understatement,” he replied, easing the car to a stop in front of a large, crumbling warehouse. Most of the windows were shattered, and rust streaked the metal siding. “This building used to be a serial killer’s lair.”
I turned to him, intrigued. “Really?”
“Yup. The Reaper. Over two years, he abducted and killed eleven people,” he said. “According to witnesses to the abductions, he always wore a black and red mask and carried a hunting knife.”
“Wow. I can’t believe I’ve never heard of this before.”
“Last confirmed Reaper sighting was right here, five years ago,” Malachi said, nodding at the warehouse. “The cops on the case found all kinds of stuff inside. Photos, notes, trophies. But by the time they raided it, he was gone. Vanished. No leads since.”
“No more killings either?”
“None. We think he left the city. Maybe even died.” He unbuckled his seatbelt, brows rising. “Anyway… want to take a look inside?”
“Sure.”
I stepped out of the car and followed him over to the rusted door. He reached for the handle, then dropped his hand. “Shit, I forgot my flashlight. I’ll just run back and grab it.”
I nodded. “I’ll wait here.”
He jogged back toward the car, and I turned to face the warehouse door. A sliver of unease snuck under my skin, but I told myself it was just the atmosphere. Just the story. Like Malachi said, the Reaper was long gone.
Two minutes passed, and the breeze shifted, stirring grit across the cracked asphalt beneath my feet. I turned around again, wondering what was taking Malachi so long… and then I froze.
A figure stood around ten yards away. Tall. Still. Wearing a black and red mask. Hunting knife brandished in one hand.
My heart stuttered, and I took a faltering step backward.
The figure started walking toward me. Then running.
I turned and bolted around the corner of the warehouse, gravel skidding beneath my sneakers. I went straight for the chain-link fence, but it was too high for me to climb.
Shit.
A wall loomed on my left, boxing me in, and I couldn’t go back the way I’d come, so I pivoted and slipped through a gate on my right, heart slamming against my ribs. Footsteps pounded behind me, fast and relentless.
I didn’t dare look back. I darted inside the warehouse through a half-open side door, letting its darkness swallow me whole. Then I backed up against a support beam, trying to quiet my breathing as I strained to listen.
A creak came from somewhere to the left, followed by a soft shuffle. My blood turned to ice. The masked man had followed me inside… but he was no longer running after me. Instead, he was toying with me. Hunting me.
I started moving again, feeling my way through the dark with my hands. A moment later, my fingers grazed cold metal. Some sort of rusted shelving unit. I moved past it, edging deeper inside the warehouse.
Slivers of moonlight spilled through broken panes high above, casting fractured shadows on the floor, and my heart leapt into my throat when I thought I saw one of the shadows move. A second later, a sound came again, and this time, it was right behind me.
I turned, but there was no one there.
I started walking again, faster this time, weaving through the skeletal remains of old machinery and crates. The warehouse was bigger than it looked from the outside, with rows and rows of forgotten junk.
A sudden crack of thunder reverberated through the space. I jolted from the shock of the noise, stumbling forward, and my shoulder clipped a hanging chain, making it rattle violently.
Shit. I’d just given away my position.
I froze, listening. Nothing. Until… another sound, getting closer. A low, deliberate scrape, like a boot dragging across concrete.
I ducked into a narrow aisle between two rows of shelving and pressed my body against the cold metal, heart racing hard enough to make me dizzy.
I was sure the masked man wouldn’t spot me before I had a chance to slip away and double back to the door, because there were so many other hiding spots nearby.
But then the air shifted, and suddenly he was right there, silhouetted body at the end of the aisle.
He didn’t speak. Didn’t need to. Just moved toward my frozen body like a shadow stretching through the dark until he was only inches from me.
The hunting knife in his hand glinted in the low light as his other hand braced against the rack beside my head. “That didn’t take me long, did it?” he said, deep voice dripping with triumph.
“P-please…” I said, voice coming out in a broken whisper. “Let me go.”
He grabbed my wrist and pinned it above me in one fluid motion, his body pressing into mine, hard and unyielding. Then his head dipped, lips brushing the shell of my ear through the mask. “You really think I give second chances?”
“Please,” I begged. “I… I’ll do anything.”
“Oh, I know you will, baby. I know .”
His hand moved to my throat. Not squeezing, but just resting there, heavy and possessive, as if to remind me exactly who was in control.
“Did you really think you could get away from me?” he asked in a low voice.
His knife slipped beneath the hem of my silk blouse, the blade grazing my skin as he dragged the fabric up to expose my stomach. As the cool air hit my bare skin, I swallowed hard, breath catching in my throat.
“I could never outrun you, Malachi,” I murmured. “And I’d never even want to.”
He huffed out a dark chuckle. “I know, baby.”
The blade swept upward as he sliced right through my blouse, leaving me in nothing but my bra.
Then his mouth found the skin above my heart, teeth grazing as he licked a slow, dangerous path across my chest through the hole in the mask.
The fabric of it scratched against my skin, but the friction only made me hotter.
I arched into him, gasping when he dropped the knife and grabbed both my wrists, shoving them high above my head again. He held them there with one strong hand while the other unhooked my bra, letting it fall to the floor with a soft rustle.
“You were dripping wet the second you heard my footsteps, weren’t you?” he asked as he slowly sank to his knees in front of me.
Heat flamed through me, but I couldn’t speak as he ripped off my shoes and dragged my pants down, taking my underwear with them. I shakily stepped out of them, skin burning under his stare.
When his tongue finally dragged up the inside of my thigh, I nearly buckled.
“Stay still,” he growled. “Hands right there.”
I obeyed. I always did when he used that tone.
Then he buried his face between my legs, and I forgot the rest of the world. Everything but the wet sounds of his tongue and the filthy praise he whispered against my skin.
He didn’t let up. Not when I begged, not when I cried out his name. Not even when my knees gave out and he caught me effortlessly, dragging me down into his lap so I was straddling him, naked and breathless and shaking.
His mask stayed on. It always did during this part of the game.
He fumbled with his belt, finally freeing his cock with a groan of relief, and I whimpered as he guided me down onto him, stretching me inch by thick, pulsing inch until I was full and yet still aching for more.
I rocked my hips, and his fingers dug into my ass.
“Easy,” he bit out. “You’re so fucking tight, baby.”
“Then fuck me harder,” I whispered, mouth at his ear.
He didn’t need to be told twice.
He grabbed my hips and slammed up into me so hard the metal shelving rattled behind us. My cries echoed through the warehouse as he fucked me like he owned me, and I clung to him like I’d fall apart if I didn’t.
He came with a ragged growl, burying himself deep inside me as I shattered in his arms, head thrown back, stars bursting behind my eyes.
We stayed like that for a long moment, tangled in sweat and breath and heat. Then his gloved hand cupped my jaw, lifting my face to his.
He stripped the mask away and claimed my mouth in a deep kiss.
The shift between Malachi and my masked fantasy man was effortless for him—one moment a dangerous predator, the next a man who would burn the world for me.
He could always tell exactly which side of himself I needed, and I loved them both.
Because together, they made up the man I could never live without.
I cocked my head. “Just to be clear, the Reaper story was totally made up, right?”
“Yes. Why?”
“I was worried my local serial killer knowledge was getting rusty. Not a great look for a woman with a true crime podcast.”
He laughed. “Don’t worry, you haven’t lost your touch,” he said, slapping my ass. “Now let’s get you home so I can fuck you again.”
The drive back was quiet at first, the hum of the engine filling the silence between us as streetlights swept through the windshield in long, golden streaks, casting Malachi’s jaw in shadow. Every so often, he glanced over at me and smiled in a knowing way.
Halfway onto the highway, his voice broke through my thoughts. “My place is only thirty minutes from the city,” he said, eyes still on the road. “But Corwin Bay’s an hour. So do you want to stay with me tonight instead?”
I glanced at him, but he didn’t look over, just shifted his grip on the steering wheel.
“Yes,” I said quietly.
His mouth twitched. “You sure? You haven’t been there since… everything.”
“I’m sure,” I said, firmer this time. “I don’t even know why I’ve waited so long.”
When we pulled into his drive, it was well past midnight, and the ocean wind was sharp enough to carry the salt to my lips. Malachi’s house loomed against the cliffside, its windows spilling soft golden light into the night.
He cut the engine, then reached into his jacket pocket and held something out to me. A key.
“I know you love Corwin Bay,” he said, watching me closely, like my reaction mattered more than he’d ever admit. “But I’d like you here with me. Every day. And Corwin Bay isn’t far. So what do you say?”
My fingers closed around the key. “Are the window bars gone?” I asked, brows rising.
He chuckled. “Of course. And that room will be ours. Not just yours.”
I smiled. “Then it’s a definite yes.”
The moment we stepped inside, I stopped in my tracks.
A huge bouquet of crimson roses sat in the middle of the coffee table, and a giant platter of chocolate-dipped strawberries sat to their left. A banner hung along the balcony doors directly opposite from where I stood. It said: ‘ Welcome Home, Kennedy’ .
I turned to Malachi, one brow arched. “Wow. You were that sure I’d say yes?”
His mouth curved in that slow, dangerous smile that always made my stomach flip. “Yes.”
I stepped over to the roses, breathing in their sweet scent. “You know, for a serial killer, you’re actually pretty damn romantic,” I said, glancing back at him.
“Well, a lot of people say romance is dead, but I don’t believe that,” he said with a devious gleam in his eyes. “I only believe in people I don’t like being dead.”
“Oh my god, that’s so cheesy,” I said, laughing softly. “But I love it.”
Malachi laughed with me, and then his expression shifted into something more serious. “I actually have a second proposition for you tonight,” he said. He dipped his chin toward the coffee table. “There’s a file in the drawer right below the roses. Take a look.”
Curious, I stooped to yank out the file. I opened it to see a folded map covered in red circles and scribbled notes, grainy surveillance photos, a glossy headshot of a smirking young man paperclipped to what looked like a copy of his driver’s license, and a few pages of printed emails.
“What am I looking at, exactly?” I asked, brows furrowing.
“I found the Birnie Creek Slasher.”
My gaze snapped upward. “That’s the guy who’s been killing all those teenage girls in New Hampshire, right?”
Malachi nodded. “He’s the son of a senator with ties to the mayor’s office and half the police force. That means he’s practically untouchable. So it’s very likely he’ll get away with it.”
“And you’re absolutely sure it’s him?”
“Without a doubt.”
I let out a slow breath, my fingers tightening on the edge of the file. “So what’s the proposition? You want me to put this on the podcast?”
A slow smile tugged at his lips. “Yes. You have a platform and an audience that trusts you. If we tell his story, the whole world will know what he’s done. He won’t be able to hide behind his daddy’s money and political connections.”
I stared at the smirking headshot again. “So… you’re not going to kill him?”
Malachi laughed, deep and low. Then he leaned in until his lips brushed my ear. “Of course I am,” he murmured. “I just want the world to know what he did before he dies. Slowly and painfully.”
I didn’t flinch at his cold admission. The scared, anxious girl I used to be died the day I decided my father had to die, replaced by someone who matched Malachi’s darkness and preferred his raw, brutal code of justice.
Someone who craved the intoxicating thrill that came with punishing monsters who walked freely among us.
Because with him, I wasn’t broken anymore. I was whole. His partner, his equal, his perfect match.
“I’ll do it,” I said. “This sort of case is right up Freya’s alley too, so getting her on board shouldn’t be an issue.”
“As long as we leave out the part where I kill the guy after he’s exposed to the world,” Malachi replied, lips curving in a wicked grin.
I laughed softly. “Yeah. Freya’s really into true crime, but I don’t think she wants to become true crime,” I said, brows lifting. “Anyway, we can get together with her next week sometime and discuss the case.”
“You’re really sure you want to do it?” he asked, grin fading into a concerned expression. “I don’t want to pressure you.”
“You’re not. I really want to do this,” I said. “Besides… you know I would do anything for you. Even if it involves a bit of murder here and there.”
His eyes crinkled at the corners as the smile returned to his handsome face. “I knew there was a reason I’ve always been so obsessed with you.”
I grinned back at him. “Show me how much.”
He didn’t hesitate. He pulled me up and into his arms, the heat of his body radiating into me as his lips found mine. His kiss was slow at first, teasing, then deepening with a fierce hunger that sent a shiver down my spine.
As his fingers tightened their grip on me, digging in to the point where it almost hurt but sent a delicious thrill through me instead, I thought back to the moment in that cell when he’d told me he planned to keep me forever.
That had turned out to be true.
Malachi was going to keep me forever… and I was going to let him.
THE END