Chapter 22
CHAPTER
TWENTY-TWO
SYLAS
“Wake the fuck up!” Something slaps me across the face, jolting me from my sleep. Pain radiates through my head, and I groan.
“What the fuck?” My voice sounds like how sand paper feels. Swallowing hard, it feels like it too. “God, my head.”
“You’re going to have more than your head to worry about here in a minute,” Jasper snarls, his tone sounding furious.
Cracking my eyes open, I squint up at a very pissed off, rough-looking Jasper.
“What happened to you?” I ask, rubbing at my face.
“You. You’re what happened to me. And your stupid drugs. I knew we shouldn’t have taken them.”
“Fuck,” I groan, a wave of nausea hitting me. “Where are we?”
“At the hotel,” Wesley’s voice mumbles from somewhere nearby.
Jasper steps to the side and I sit up to see Wesley laying on the ground. “You’re naked.”
“I am,” Wesley sighs.
“Why are you naked?”
“I have no fucking clue.” He sits up on his elbows, squinting over at me. “What the fuck did you give us, man?”
“I’m sorry.” I close my eyes again, trying not to puke. “I thought it was ready.”
“Clearly it’s fucking not!” Jasper snaps. “I can’t remember anything from last night. Not a single fucking thing. Do you know how dangerous that is, Sylas? Someone could have robbed us, or worse, killed us.”
“We don’t have anything of value here,” I point out softly, wishing he’d stop talking because my head fucking hurts.
“Not the point!” Jasper snarls.
“You promised us a trip. Pretty sure all we took was a nap,” Wesley grunts, climbing to his feet.
“Based on the fact that we’re both naked and Jasper is shirtless, I’m going to guess something more than sleep happened last night,” I huff.
“Seeing how my dick is covered in cum, I’m going to assume we had sex,” Wesley states dryly.
“We did not have sex!” I choke out. “It doesn’t matter how high I am, there is no way my dick is going anywhere near you.”
“Not me, you dumbass,” he grunts, going over to where his jeans lay on the floor. He bends over, showing me way more than I ever wanted to see.
I avert my gaze until he stands up. He pulls a cigarette out of his pack of smokes and lights one up, turning towards me.
“Would you put your dick away!”
“What's wrong?” He raises a brow. “Nothing you haven’t seen a million times.” He shakes his hips back and forth making his flaccid cock flap about.
“Sometimes I wonder why I fucking do this,” Jasper grumbles, pinching the bridge of his nose.
“Do what?” I ask.
“Deal with you two adult children,” he hisses.
“Hey!” I raise my hands. “Can’t blame us. You’re the one who agrees to do this shit with us. I think you secretly like our chaos.” I smirk, shooting him a wink.
“I’d secretly love to wrap my hands around your neck and watch the life drain from your eyes,” he snipes back.
“I think you have me mistaken for Nola,” I taunt, unable to stop myself from picking on him.
“The question is, was the girl we fucked last night the same one who we invited over?” Wesley asks, blowing out a stream of smoke.
“She fucking better be.” Jasper looks around the room.
“You don’t think she’s still here, do you?” I ask.
Jasper strides across the room, throwing open the bedroom door. He looks inside before heading over to the bathroom. “She’s not here.”
His eyes lock on something near the kitchen. “The girl we were with was the one we invited,” Jasper confirms, picking up a piece of paper. “This is her contract.”
Wesley joins me on the couch, still smoking. He grabs the remote, turning the TV on.
“Could you put some boxers on or something?” I ask.
“Nope,” he replies, lifting his legs up to rest his feet on the coffee table. “Why don’t you?”
I look down and curse, remembering I’m still naked. I get to my feet and find my jeans nearby, my boxers close to them. Grabbing them, I yank them on.
“Better?” Wesley chuckles.
“Oh fuck you.” I laugh, grabbing his boxers off the floor and tossing them over to him.
“That’s it?” Jasper asks, looking between the two of us, as I sit back down next to Wesley.
“What?” Wesley asks, leaning forward to flick the ash into the cup on the table.
“We don’t remember anything from last night, and you’re just okay with it?”
I shrug. “Not much we can do. The drug was a bust, I’ll make sure to give my personal feedback to the lab techs. The girl signed the contract, so what’s your issue? She won’t say anything.”
“I don’t like this,” he growls.
“You don’t like much of anything,” I tease.
“Uh, guys,” Wesley mutters. “You might wanna see this.”
We both turn our attention to the TV as Wesley turns up the volume, where a field reporter is standing in front of the camera with the headlines that read Breaking News regarding the safety of our city.
“Breaking news. Hello, my name is Tammy Westbrook, reporting live from in front of the NOPD headquarters. At six o'clock this morning, a group of older ladies out doing their morning walk stumbled upon the deceased body of a young girl around twenty-one years of age. The NOPD has made no effort to notifying the public of this incident. However, we, the reporters of News Flash, believe that you, the citizens of New Orleans, deserve to be informed of the dangers lurking within our city. We have also heard, from an anonymous source, that the NOPD had found some evidence that could possibly tie a murder to three missing persons reports. We now believe that there is a dangerous man running loose in New Orleans. So far, we’ve only been able to confirm one murder, although we believe there to be more. As of now, we are unable to determine his motive or a connection between the victims at this time, other than gender and age range. If you are a woman between the ages of eighteen and twenty-five, we advise you not to go anywhere alone. We at News Flash, are naming this murderer The Butterfly Killer due to the fact that the body found today had a preserved butterfly attached to it as well as a Polaroid picture of the victim and the killer, which appears to have been taken by the killer in a selfie style. These items seem to be the killer’s calling card.
Last night, detectives found a Polaroid picture of one of the missing girls with a butterfly on her lips, leading us to believe that we may be dealing with a new serial killer.
We are asking the residents of this city to be aware of the people around you and to… .”
The reporter continues to talk, but the three of us all turn to look at each other.
“Soooo,” I say. “Guess the creepy dude from the party is back at it?”
“Why the fuck did that bastard not fill me in before it made it into the hands of the fucking news outlets and went on live TV?” Jasper barks, shoving his hand into his pocket and pulling his phone out. “Fuck,” he shouts.
“Let me guess, he called you, but your phone is on silent?” I can’t help but smirk.
He sneers at me before grinding out, “I must have put it on silent last night, so we weren’t disturbed.” He puts his phone up to his ear. “Hey,” he grunts. “Wanna tell me what’s going on?”
I look at Wesley, who just shrugs. Standing, he makes his way over to the bar and makes himself a drink. “Really? This early?” I chuckle.
“It’s three in the afternoon,” Wesley deadpans, taking a sip.
“What?” My eyes widen. “Fuck, that shit really did a number on us, huh?”
“Do a better job at keeping us in the fucking loop, or it’s not your job your going to be at risk of losing, it’ll be your fucking life!
” Jasper shouts into his phone. He hangs up and looks down at the phone.
I watch as his brows pull together, then I see the dark look in his eyes, and my stomach sinks.
Jasper throws the phone across the room.
“Fuck!” He grabs at his hair, pulling it.
That has me on edge. “What’s wrong?” All playfulness vanishes from me completely.
“He told me the names of the girls who died, as well as the girls who are missing.”
“Okay,” I say. “And who are they?”
“The two girls missing are Scarlett, but we already knew that,” Jasper begins. “But the second girl is Missy Trenton.”
“Who?” My brows furrow.
“She’s the dead girl we found and took care of ourselves,” Jasper explains. “They have no proof that the killer had anything to do with their disappearance, but it fits the description of the kinds of girls the killer is going after, and the timelines are close together.”
“And who are the girls they have confirmed as his victims?”
“Robin Lark.”
“Based on the photos he sent along with the information, one of them looks just like the girl you made plans to hook up with, but she never showed up.”
“Oh.” My brows furrow.
“And the one who was found this morning is none other than…”
“The girl who we fucked last night,” Wesley finishes, cursing. “You have got to be fucking kidding me.”
“Think we’re not being targeted now?” Jasper asks me. “All of these women are connected to us in some way.”
“Why isn’t Mike doing something about it?” I ask, getting to my feet. “Isn’t he supposed to make sure nothing like this causes an issue. We’re supposed to make sure New Orleans stays out of the spotlight when it comes to crimes like this. This is the complete opposite of what should be happening.”
“He said he tried, but too many already know. Like the people who found the photo of that one missing girl, and the group of women who found the body this morning when they were on a walk. If they just brush it under the rug, it’s going to cause more damage.”
“Then what do we do?”
“We find out who’s targeting us because this is way past being a coincidence now. As for the Brotherhood, we make sure they are aware that someone is trying to fuck with us and ensure we’re working closely with the NOPD to make sure this is handled quickly.”
“Who do you think it could be?” I ask.
“Who else?” Jasper crosses his arms. “Who would love nothing more than to watch us burn?”
“Roscoe Landry.” Wesley lets out a harsh breath. “That motherfucker would love nothing more than to bring, not just us, but the whole Brotherhood down.”
“If this keeps going on, people are going to start connecting the dots and see that being with one of us is all that is connecting the victims together. We would be seen as the ones killing them. The public would demand that we be reprimanded for it, leaving the Brotherhood vulnerable for the taking. Not to mention, staining the reputations of our companies. It makes sense. Of course, this is his doing. If he keeps going, it will get him exactly what he wants. Fuck!” Jasper shouts.
Roscoe Landry is the head of one of the founding families of Baton Rouge.
Along with a few other families. They have a criminal organization similar to the Brotherhood.
But there's a difference. The members of the Brotherhood have what we have by working hard and earning it, despite what our images and actions may imply.
They, on the other hand steal, kill, and force their way into power. We’ve always had a shaky relationship with them, as did our fathers, their fathers, and their father’s fathers.
It makes sense. They’d be the ones doing this in the hopes of dragging us under, paving a way for them to swoop in and steal our city. Not fucking happening.
“Guess we’re in for a long fucking day,” Wesley mutters. “I’ll make the coffee.”
Roscoe and his brothers are going to fucking regret fucking with us. As soon as we get the proof we need, they’re dead.