Locks and Lies (Twisted Ever After #2)

Chapter 1

Ryder

I don’t think he’s looked up from her tits even once. Not that I could blame him; she was cute, but you’d think he’d at least try not to make it so painfully obvious.

Sipping my beer, I watched from the corner, keeping to the shadows to avoid attention. It wasn’t easy, not with my height and unnervingly symmetrical features, but in my line of work you learned to disappear when it mattered.

“I’m sorry, did you say something?” the man asked, finally meeting his date’s eyes.

“I asked whether you’ve memorised the freckles on my breasts yet,” she said, her mellifluous voice somehow still warm despite hardening with irritation. “Or do you need a little longer?”

I snorted, covering my face with my arm when she looked back over her shoulder at the sound.

She had one of those tones that reminded me of chocolate, rich and velvety.

A voice that would sound amazing with a post-sex huskiness.

But I was getting ahead of myself. She wasn’t on a date with me. No, she had met with this fuckwit.

On a blind date, no less. I knew this because my observation skills were honed to perfection due to a rather unglamorous upbringing, and also because the pretty blonde that held my attention had posted a story on her Instagram.

Social media, invented by stalkers.

“Alright, you caught me. But how could I resist?” the man chuckled, trying to charm his way out of it. “You’re just so beautiful.”

“Hmm,” she hummed, lips pursed into a thin line as she tapped her finger on the side of her glass. “It’s getting late, Richard. I think I’m going to go.” She went to stand, only for her wrist to be caught by his hand.

Of course his name was Richard. He looked like a dick, with his coiffed hair and pompous watch that I was eighty percent sure was fake. It made total sense.

“What? You haven’t even finished your dessert.” He looked around, as if the rundown pub he’d decided to take her to was the fucking Savoy. “Come on, I promised Bridget I’d show you a good time. Sit down.”

I could tell Violet wanted to leave, her eyes darting to the doors as if her sanctuary was just out of reach, but she was clearly too polite for her own good.

“Sit, down,” he commanded with a little more authority. “You can’t just get up after I’ve bought you dinner. At least stay for one more drink? Please?”

I could see his fingers had tightened, almost yanking her back down to her seat.

“One more,” she said, her tone hardening a little even as her smile was tight.

Mr Fuckwit Dickingdon smirked, raising his arm to order. “So, did Bridget tell you I’m a footballer?” he continued almost immediately, as if he hadn’t just forced her to stay.

Violet let out a long breath, smiling at the waitress as she set down their drinks. “She said you were her dentist.”

He shrugged nonchalantly. “I do that too, but I’m also a midfielder for the Vanguard Lions. We’re part of the National League South, close to being promoted next season.”

Dick’s eyes had returned to her cleavage, and if Violet’s glare could burn, he’d have combusted by now.

That’s it, love. Have some fight.

“I can’t believe Bridget didn’t tell you.”

I’d put money down that he wouldn’t be seeing those pretty tits outside her dress anytime soon. If ever.

“I don’t really know much about football,” she said, and she deserved a gold star with how she faked that enthusiasm. See? She was way too polite. Too friendly despite him being a right prick. She’d be eaten alive in my world.

“That’s okay. I don’t really know much about… what do you do again?” Dick’s sleazy smirk felt like oil on my skin, and he wasn’t giving me the ‘fuck me’ eyes. What was she doing on a date with a douchebag like him?

“I’m an artist.”

“An artist?” he repeated, almost genuinely curious about her answer. “Are artists still a thing?”

“Well,” she replied, her expression brightening, “I specialise in murals and paintings, but I can also—”

“Wait,” he scoffed, “you’re being serious? You actually make money from that?”

Never mind. He was still a cunt.

He carried on, completely oblivious, “So, anyway, I’m really surprised she didn’t mention to you that I’m a footballer. Like, I’m a pretty big deal.”

Violet slumped a little in her chair, her sigh gentle as Dick droned on about himself. “Did she tell you I’m a stripper on the weekends?” she said at last, her voice so soft I wouldn’t have caught had I not been listening so intently. “I like to lure men to dark corners so I can steal their souls.”

I smiled into my hand, amused that she had some fire in her after all.

“Sounds cool,” he muttered, clearly not listening to a word she’d just said. Probably too busy undressing her pretty pink dress with his eyes. “You should really come to a match and watch me play.”

“Sometimes I choose to eat them, you know? Bathe in their blood for eternal youth.”

Dick sipped his drink, nodding enthusiastically.

“I find they taste like pork.”

Christ.

“Pork? Oh, I don’t eat pork,” Dick said, blinking up at her. “I’m on a super strict diet to keep myself as fit as possible.”

“Hmm,” she hummed, expression stoic. “So, yeah, if you’ll excuse me. I need to use the bathroom.” Not waiting for a response, Violet got up and headed past the bar towards the back.

Dick turned to watch her go, waiting until she was out of sight before his hand disappeared into his jacket pocket.

I sat a little straighter, leaning forward on the table as Dick pulled out a sachet of powder.

He was subtle, using his body to block anyone’s sight of the glasses as if he’d done this before.

Quickly looking over his shoulder he eased back, only for the sachet to have disappeared and his finger to be in Violet’s glass, twirling the wine.

Well, this was inconvenient to my plan.

Jumping up, I was out of my seat and across the room in a few steps. Considering it was a Thursday night, the pub was relatively quiet. Which made my move all the more obvious as I purposely knocked the wine onto the fucker’s lap.

“Sorry about that, mate,” I said, giving Dick a teasing smile. “Didn’t see you there.”

Dick had already jumped up, the white wine soaking into his jeans. I even dramatically reached over the table for some tissues, making sure I knocked his beer over too.

“Aw, it makes you look like you’ve pissed yourself,” I chuckled, just to add salt to the wound. “You should really clean yourself up before your date gets back.”

“You stupid prick!” Dick snarled, shoving my arm away when I began to dab his crotch with the tissues. No wonder he resorted to vile measures to get women into bed; he didn’t have much to work with in the cock department. “Get the fuck off me!”

Let’s hope he was a grower, not a shower.

I handed him the rest of the tissues, dipping my head close to his ear.

“Don’t worry, mate, I’m sure your micro-penis can find a willing participant next time.

” I felt him still, his breath a little ragged at being caught.

“Seriously though, you should probably get checked out by a professional. Maybe they have a pump to help with your little situation?”

“Fuck you,” he snarled, trying to jerk away. But I’d already gripped the back of his neck, keeping him close even as my skin crawled at the contact.

“No need to take your small dick problems out on me. Now, you’re going to turn around and leave.

” I leaned closer, my fingers digging in hard enough to bruise.

“If I catch you contacting Violet again, I’m going to find you and cut that pathetic excuse of a pecker from your body, then shove it up your arsehole.

Sideways, because we both know you wouldn’t feel it otherwise. ”

Slapping him gently on the cheek, I stepped around him, making my way towards the emergency exit at the back. I didn’t need to be psychic to know he’d follow, his heavy hand landing on my shoulder with a tight grip only a few seconds later.

“What the fuck did you just say to me?”

I turned on the spot, grabbing his wrist and twisting. Dick screeched, but not before I dragged him through the door and out into the alley.

Hissing, he cradled his wrist to his chest when I let go, only to punch him straight in the face. My knuckles made that satisfying crunch when they hit his nose, blood pouring down his front in a glorious splatter that stirred my more darker urges that I usually kept firmly locked away.

Unless, of course, I was in the mood for a little mayhem. Like tonight.

“Fuck!” Dick snarled, pulling out a knife.

“Wow, you really pack a lot for dates, huh,” I mused, the streetlights glinting off the metal. “What’s that for, when she says no?”

Dick swung the knife between us, his grip of someone who’d used one before. “I’m going to fucking cut you,” he seethed.

“Well, yes, isn’t that the point of a knife?”

Dick stepped closer, the blade getting precariously close to my face before I managed to hit him again. He went down this time, groaning a little as I crouched beside him. I ignored the sharp sting across my thigh before I managed to grab the knife.

“Enough of that.” Reaching down, I gripped the front of Dick’s shirt, lifting him from the ground so his back was arched. “Tell me, do they laugh when you drop your trousers?”

Dick tried to struggle from my grip, but he seemed to have lost his bravado now that he didn’t have his weapon. Also, I was pretty sure he had a concussion, but to make sure I hit him once more, the fabric of his shirt ripping from the impact as his head rebounded off the ground.

Ouch. Even I winced a little.

“Say you have a baby cock, or I’ll cut up your face,” I warned, only for Dick to spit at me in return. “Option B it is then.”

Using his own knife, I began to carve across his forehead just like I’d promised. You can’t say I’m not a man of my word.

“Fuck!” Dick jerked, ruining my perfectly shaped ‘R.’

I pinched his jaw with my left hand. “Look, if you don’t keep still, you’ll ruin it.”

It took me a few tries, and my P was questionable, but I finally finished carving the word ‘rapist’ in perfect cursive. Probably helped that Dick had passed out.

“There, see? That wasn’t so bad, was it?” Tutting, I wiped my prints from the knife before reaching down for his wallet.

The alley was secluded enough, with only a few lights flickering and the stench of rubbish thick enough to almost mask the sharp, metallic tang of blood.

Dick probably wouldn’t be seen for a few hours, or maybe until morning.

For good measure, I kicked him in the balls, grunting against the throbbing pain across my thigh.

He’d sliced through my jeans, the fabric surrounding it soaked with a little red.

Shit.

Keeping the cash, I tossed his wallet and knife into two separate bins before reaching for my phone.

I immediately found the little dot flashing on my screen, knowing Violet was sitting waiting for her date to return inside like the good girl she was.

Shame he wasn’t going to be moving anytime soon.

A spark of irritation danced in my gut, almost disappointment. It was like she had zero survival instincts. Dick was literally a walking red flag, and yet she was just sitting there, waiting.

Now, I was a patient man… okay, that was a lie. I wasn’t patient at all, but I had a higher tolerance than others so long as I got what I wanted in the end. Mainly money. But I was starting to feel a little restless.

Not even restless. Just irrevocably, and unequivocally bored.

I’d spent the past two weeks following her, studying her, and waiting for her to reveal what I needed. But so far there was nothing, which meant I had to shift tactics.

Clicking through the photos I’d taken tonight, I zoomed in on her pale skin, large eyes, and freckles scattered like stars across her nose. A slow smile spread across my lips as my thumb traced her image on the screen.

Maybe it was time to finally introduce myself.