It’s Not Kidnapping if They Like You
IT’S NOT KIDNAPPING IF THEY LIKE YOU
Flynn
My friendly stakeout cop is busy reading a book when we pull onto the drive of Lachlan’s house. Hazel gapes at him as we pass. “Should I be worried that the SPD can’t catch a serial killer when he’s right in front of them?”
I nod. “Probably.”
She turns to look at the condo. “Is this your house?”
“My brother’s.”
“The lawyer.”
I smile to myself, the thought of Hazel looking me up making me absurdly happy.
I was less happy to find her only a few feet away from Senator Claren.
I may be more dangerous than him, but I would never hurt Hazel like he would.
The man is a monster and the very idea of her falling onto his radar has the pressure in my head pounding.
I throttle the leather steering wheel and wait for the garage door to open.
I took one of Lachlan’s cars deliberately so I could get in and out of the house through the garage because I didn’t exactly like my chances of carrying Hazel up to the roof.
Lach’s working from home today so even if the cop outside actually bothered to do his job, he’ll have just assumed Lachlan was the one driving. It’s almost laughable how bad the police are at their jobs, you know, if it wasn’t an indictment to the whole corrupt failings of society.
The garage door whirs shut behind us, and I get out of the car. Hazel seemed to have relaxed somewhat on the drive but by the time I open her door she has her seatbelt in a death grip.
“Hazel…”
She stares straight ahead at the windshield. “If it’s okay with you, I’m totally ready for you to take me home now.”
“Hazel.”
“Don’t get me wrong, this has been great and all but I, uh, have plants to water.”
I brace a hand against the door frame and hold back a smile. “You don’t have any plants.”
Hazel’s hands finally leave her seatbelt as she slumps in the seat and rolls her head to face me, her cheek resting against the leather. “They keep dying on me.”
I press my lips together, amusement making my cheeks ache. “Are you going to get out of the car?”
“Do I have to?” she whispers.
“Yes. But I can make it easy for you if you want.”
Hazel’s eyes narrow a little, but she nods her head.
I lean over and unfasten her seatbelt then lift her out of the car. “There, not so bad right?”
She scowls at me. I just grin and bend at the waist, lifting her over my shoulder. “Off we go.”
“Flynn!” she squeals, her little fists hitting my back. “I can walk!”
I tap her ass as I head to the door that leads into the house. “I know you can, but this is so much more fun.”
Giving up on fighting, Hazel goes ragdoll as I walk through the front hall and into the open plan kitchen. Lachlan is sitting at the island on his laptop. He looks up when we enter and blinks at me. “What the ever-loving fuck, Flynn?”
“Relax, she’s here voluntarily.”
Hazel pushes up off the small of my back. “Uh, debatable.”
I tap her ass again. “Shh, you.” I keep walking towards the corridor.
“I take it you’re the brother?” Hazel asks as we pass Lachlan.
“Lachlan, Hazel. Hazel, Lachlan,” I say, making introductions like the well-adjusted human I am.
“I can drop kick him if you want,” Lach offers.
Hazel sighs and goes slack again. “Maybe just come find me if I start screaming.”
I smile. “See, told you. Officially not a kidnapping.”
Your definition of the law, Flynny, leaves something to be desired.
Out in the corridor, I open the hidden door to the basement and carry Hazel down the stairs. She wobbles a little when I put her on her feet at the bottom and I hold her hips to steady her.
She blinks a couple of times, re-orientating herself, then does a slow turn, taking in the converted basement. Her gaze skates over the intense computer set up on the desk before landing on the pseudo-crime board with surveillance photos of all my victims.
“Oh my god, you have a murder room.”
I lean against the desk and cross my arms. “Technically, does it count as a murder room if you’ve never killed anyone in it?”
Hazel whips around to glare at me. “It’s a room where you plan who you’re going to kill.”
“So more like a murder-plotting room?”
“You—argh!” she cries out in frustration and starts pacing the small room. “Do you realize you’ve just incriminated me in any future murders you plan to commit?”
“Well, there’s only one murder so—”
“Flynn!” Hazel slices her hand through the air and I drop the jokiness, my voice turning harsh.
“You’re the one who wouldn’t stop digging, Lilac.”
Hazel drags her hands through her hair and turns back to the murder wall. She takes a couple of breaths, her panic receding as she notices the photo in the center of the board. She reaches out, her fingers brushing the long dark hair in the photo.
“Who’s the girl?”
The pressure in my head buzzes and a muted twinge tugs at my heart. “Her name was Hope.”
Hazel’s eyes crease. “I recognize her from your photos displayed at the gallery. She’s older but… is it her?”
She looks back at me and I nod. “She was my sister. Well, half-sister technically.”
Hazel’s throat bobs. “Was?”
“She killed herself five years ago.” Five years after what was done to her at college.
Hazel’s hand falls from the photo. “Flynn…”
I watch as the emotion fills her face, tears shining in her eyes, pain twisting her features. So much emotion for a woman she never knew, and I can barely feel my own heart.
I could watch Hazel all day, just chasing the feelings flickering across her face.
Hope was like that. So full of life. I look over at the photo of her on the murder wall.
She’s smiling in it, her eyes full of laughter and her long brown hair caught in the wind.
It’s the last photo she ever let me take of her.
I should have known something was wrong then, but Hope kept everything a secret until the very end.
“You want to know why I kill, Hazel? I do it for her.” I go over to the board and unpin the photo of Hope.
“I used to take photos of her all the time. Then one summer break, she came back from college, and she refused to let me take anymore. Something was off with her that whole summer, said she broke up with her boyfriend and that was why. The next year she got better. She graduated, opened a gallery with her best friend, and a few years later gave me my first show. But she still never let me take her photo.”
Hazel’s shoulder brushes against mine, both of us looking down at Hope. “Did you ever find out why?”
I drag my teeth over my lip and nod slowly. I pin the photo back up and go to the desk. “After she died, a letter arrived in the mail from her.” I open the top drawer and take out an old brown envelope. “Inside there was another letter, an old one addressed to Hope, and a memory stick.”
I hesitate, second guessing myself for the first time that I can remember.
I didn’t plan to bring Hazel back here. She’s innocence and sunshine, and I don’t want to ruin that by showing her just how fucked up this world can be, but I need her to understand how serious this is.
I need her to listen to me when I tell her to stay away.
“Flynn?”
I look up and hand Hazel the letter. I don’t need to read it again to know what it says.
Dearest Hope,
Here’s a little keepsake to remember our time together.
Your discretion will be reciprocated.
Yours faithfully,
The Kings Society
The unwritten words are clear enough. If Hope told anyone what happened to her, they would share what was on the memory stick with the public.
I turn the little black rectangle over in my fingers.
Hope didn’t leave a note, but the memory stick had a sticker on it in her handwriting. The word rape written in capitals.
Hazel looks up from the note. “The Kings Society.”
I nod. “To become a King, you must provide a sacrifice. A woman.” I stare at the men on the murder board, thick red crosses cutting through their faces.
All apart from Claren. “Every single one of those men raped my sister. Then they sent her a video of the rape, edited to make it look like it was consensual.”
“Jesus Christ.” Hazel brings a hand to her mouth, the other cradling her stomach.
“I’m not a good man, Lilac. But I’m better than them.”
Hazel reaches for the arm of the desk chair and I swivel it around, helping her sit.
“I’m sorry,” I say, crouching down and resting my hands on her thighs. “I didn’t want to scare you.”
“I’m not scared.”
“You’re trembling.”
“I’m angry.” Raging eyes pierce into mine. “You’re telling me that there’s a fucking secret society and to get membership you have to bring a girl to be…”
“It’s fucked up.”
“No shit.”
I place the memory stick on the desk and look back at Hazel. “The video is two-fold. It keeps the victims quiet but also provides blackmail material for the members of the society. If any of them betrays the others… mutually assured destruction.”
“Senator Claren was in the video?”
“He was the one filming.”
“You’re sure?”
I meet her gaze, needing her to know why I’m doing this. Why letting Claren go isn’t an option. “I’m sure.”
“DMW,” she whispers.
“What?”
She shakes her head. “Nothing, it’s just something we say at dispatch whenever a rape call comes in. It stands for Dead Man Walking.” Her breath trembles as she looks back at the board. “Because that’s exactly what someone who rapes another person should be.”
I raise a brow, stroking my thumb up and down her jeans. “Kind of dark, don’t you think?”
Her eyes spark. “Says the serial killer.”
I laugh.
Hazel leans back in the chair and we sit in the quiet for a while as she processes everything I’ve just told her.
I keep brushing my thumb over her leg, needing to be connected to her.
A hundred different thoughts and emotions flicker across her face before she lets out a heavy sigh and the furrow in her forehead softens.
A few moments later her gaze finds mine. “Hey Flynn. Can I ask you a question?”
There’s a sweet, innocent edge to her tone that makes me think I’m not going to like the question but I’m curious so I nod anyway.
“Why do you have a dozen romance books and a biology textbook?”