With Visions of Red: Book 2 (The Broken Bonds 2)

Jefferson is hanging out in the living room as I enter with a towel draped around my shoulders. I scrub the end over my damp hair and nod to him.

“Long night, bro?” he asks, looking over my still, very worn appearance.

“Long two days,” I say. I fall down on the couch and notice him holding a piece of paper. “What’s that?”

“It’s for you. It was shoved under the door when I got in. I only read enough to know it was yours, but uh, yeah. Doesn’t seem like the friendly type.” He leans over to hand it to me, and I note the tremble of his fingers. “Look, man. I don’t know what’s going on, but there’s some seriously fucked up shit going down right now. I was thinking of heading out of town for a while.”

As I read over the note, my blood roaring in my ears, I manage to say, “I think that’s a good idea.”

“You could come with,” he says, getting to his feet. “Get out of the city for a while. Let things chill out with your brother.”

No. That’s not happening. “I’m good.” I look at him as he shrugs and heads toward his room. “But thanks.”

“Just thought I’d throw it out there,” he hollers.

I’ve barely reached the end of the letter before I’m off the couch and in my room throwing on clothes. Within a minute, I’m out the door, still wet from the shower. The brisk night air is a smack to my damp skin, but it’s just the wakeup I need.

I stare down one end of the street, then the other. Shit. Fuck! I dial Sadie’s number, listen as it rings and rings. Pick up. Pick up. It goes to voicemail and I dial again. As I take off on foot toward her apartment, my phone vibrates. I stop to open the message from an unknown sender.

It’s just a pic. No text. An image of the voyeur room. Then I zoom in on Sadie, sitting at her table by herself. She’s watching the stage. And someone is watching her.

My heart bangs violently against my chest as I run in the direction of the club.

The damn letter replays on a loop. I can’t make it stop.

Colton,

She’s so special, isn’t she? It’s a shame we can’t share, but I was never one to share my toys. Now pets…that’s a whole different thing. I’ve been breaking my pets for ages, and wouldn’t have minded sharing the credit for that little beauty you gifted me, but I’m a man of particular tastes. Though it is the highest form of flattery, I find imitation insulting, especially when the work itself is lacking. You deserve all the praise for that job.

But I do appreciate the sentiment. So much, in fact, that I thought it only right to deliver you a gift in return. I know the ACPD is enjoying it; they seem apt to give you all the praise you deserve. Who would’ve thought that a length of rope could cause so much trouble for you?

Maybe next time you’ll remember just how important the details are. It’s not nice to rip off an artist, Colton. We tend to take it very personally.

I did want to express my thanks, however, for bringing this astonishing creature to my notice. Without you, she may have gone unseen. She likes to creep in the shadows, doing her dirty little deeds. Right under everyone’s noses, she’s so tricky.

I can’t wait to show her my tricks.

Regards,

(As she so named me) The UNSUB

My feet pound the asphalt. I’m not even breathing, can’t take a breath until I’m with her. The same sick fuck that wrote that letter is there. Right there near her. And I’m still so far away.

I round the corner of the building and slam into someone. I get shouts and a push, but I don’t stop. My heart rate jacks as the bass hits my ears. I’m in the door and then shoving my way through the crowd, not slowing until I reach the stairs.

The voyeur room is at the end of the

hallway, and I force myself to breathe, take slower steps, cautious of everyone I pass. Once I enter the room, I glance around, taking in every body at every table. Every sub lining the black wall. Every person on stage. Then I start toward Sadie’s table.

A woman wearing a red wig is sipping a glass of pink champagne, but it’s not her. “How long have you been sitting here?” The question leaps out of my mouth with my labored breaths.

Pulling back, she looks up at me with a furrowed brow. Then her lips twist into an easy smile. “All night if you want me to. But I’d rather we—”

“How long?” I demand.

Her smile dips into a pout. “I don’t know. About half an hour?”

Panic gripping me, I look around the room. Then down at my phone and pull up the image again. It’s Sadie. No wig. No disguise. It’s her.