With Visions of Red (The Broken Bonds 1)

I circle the pool stain until I’m standing directly under the inlaid light. “Yeah, I read it. And I didn’t think anything of the lighting then, but we’re going to have to peal back the layers.” I look around. “Get me something to stand on.”

Quinn huffs a clipped laugh. “Like a ladder? Bonds, you’re too short.” I send him a glare. “Just a fact, not an insult.”

“Fine,” I say, looking around for tall furniture and finding nothing. I point at him. “Boost me on your shoulders.”

In retrospect, this wasn’t the best idea. “Hold me steady,” I say through gritted teeth as I try to keep balance. “For a big guy, you have some bony shoulders, you know that?”

He grunts. Holding a spray bottle of luminol in one hand, I push my other gloved palm against the plastic light fixture. It gives with a pop and falls open, just missing my head. “Okay. Move me closer.”

It looks clean. Too clean for a place which rarely gets attention. No creepy crawlies or dust. I mist the plastic with the reagent and drop my hand down. Quinn places the light in my hand. When I shine the UV light over the plastic, I curse.

“Is that a good shit or bad?”

But I don’t have time to answer as Quinn’s phone rings. He says, “stay still,” and grasps me at the waist to hoist me down. My gaze stays with the illuminated words as Quinn answers the call.

“On my way.” He releases a long exhale as he clicks the phone off.

“Another body?” I ask, my eyes tracing the glowing, bloody letters the UNSUB took great care to hide—maybe too well. But we were meant to find them. I was meant to find them. It’s what he wanted.

“Two,” Quinn finally says.

My head snaps around. Light angled on his face, as if it will help me read him better.

Looking up, Quinn echoes my sentiment as he reads the message. “Snap a pic of our new evidence for the task force, we need to go. Now.”

I do just that, my stomach knotted as I send the image to my tablet. I’m not sure what I’m feeling. Dread. Excitement. Anger…

I’m definitely feeling anger. And that’s wrong; this cannot become personal. But I have a sickening feeling this UNSUB wants it to be personal. Not the way some past serial killers toyed with police officials—inserting themselves into the investigation. Leaving special clues for detectives working their cases. No, this one has a very specific target.

Me.

Only I can’t confirm this…it’s just a message. To anyone else it wouldn’t mean anything. Just the random meaninglessness left behind from a disturbed mind.

She walks in beauty, like the night

Written in blood, and then wiped clean. Blood. It’s always blood.

14

The Heart

Colton

Twist and loop. Twist and loop. My fingers delicately twine the jute fibers, deftly working them to lock together. I caress the light strands, nurture them, putting myself into each tightly woven loop.

I have many ropes. All sizes, colors, widths. And I take great care of my collection. But none of them feel right for tonight. For Sadie…for this long-awaited moment…I have to create the perfect tool.

My chest stirs with warmth as I imagine the light brown rope against her pearly skin, the complexion, the contrast. Dark and bright. I almost feel drunk; the excitement coursing through me with a steady flow of adrenaline. I’m like a kid about to play with his favorite toy. A toy that’s been kept from him for too long.

Creating another painstaking loop, I twist the fibers slowly, relishing the imprint the bands will leave behind on her soft skin. Intoxicating.

“Making something special for tonight?”

Julian’s deep timbre pulls me out of my trance, and I glance up to find him leaning against the corner of the bar top, hands sunk into his black suit pockets.

Since he opened his own club, I haven’t seen him in a pair

of jeans. He’s all business now. I guess I shouldn’t judge; I’ve buried myself in my work, too.