Killer
Killer
Heather C. Leigh
Shelbyville Publishing, Inc.
Contents
Copyright
Cover Art
Dedication
Quotes
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Copyright
KILLER
Copyright © 2016 Shelbyville Publishing, Inc.
for Heather C. Leigh
1st Edition
All rights reserved.
ISBN-10: 0997092874
ISBN-13: 9780997092875
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental
Copyright © 2016 by Heather C. Leigh, Shelbyville Publishing, Inc.
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
ISBN: 978-0-9970928-7-5
Created with Vellum
Cover Art
Photographer: Golden Czermak at Furious Photog
Model: Robert Simmons
Cover Design: Mayhem Cover Creations
Photographs are copyrighted property of Furious Photog and may not be reproduced for any reason. Cover image may be used unaltered to promote the book Killer with consent of the author.
Editing: Stephanie Parent
ISBN: 978-0-9970928-7-5
Created with Vellum
Dedication
To those who supported me to make this journey possible. You know who you are, and those who stood in the way? Have fun watching from the sidelines.
Special shout out to my good friend and fellow author, Melinda Harris, who spent tons of time away from her Big Girl Job to help me in my struggle to make Killer perfect.
Quotes
I'm not sure what I am. I just know there's something dark in me. I hide it. I certainly don't talk about it, but it’s there always, this Dark Passenger. And when he's driving, I feel alive, half sick with the thrill of complete wrongness. I don't fight him, I don't want to. He's all I've got. Nothing else could love me, not even... especially not me.
Or is that just a lie the Dark Passenger tells me? Because lately there are these moments when I feel connected to something else... someone. It's like the mask is slipping and things... people... who never mattered before are suddenly starting to matter. It scares the hell out of me.
—Dexter Morgan (Jeff Lindsay) Darkly Dreaming Dexter
We often allow guilt to consume us but we must realize that we can start over.
—Unknown
We’d stared into the face of Death, and Death blinked first. You’d think that would make us feel brave and invincible. It didn’t.
—Rick Yancey
1
Keller
Have you ever wished for death? Hoped it would strike you down and end your pathetic existence? No? I have. I’ve thought of a hundred different ways I should die. None of them are painful enough for what I deserve, so I continue to live.
“Come on, guys! Quit being a bunch of pussies! I can’t believe I had to twist your damn arms to get you to skip school.” I push my key fob and unlock the doors to my brand new Shelby GT500 convertible. Slinging my arm around Rory Vanderbilt, my current girlfriend—for the weekend at least—I razz my friends.
“We’re here, aren’t we, Keating?”
Craning my neck, I peek over my shoulder at Logan Sanders, one of the guys in the group I run with. Me, Logan, and our other pal Silas rule our exclusive private school. Whatever we do or say is accepted as cool, no questions asked. Now we’ve started our senior year, and pretty much everyone at North Atlanta Prep treats us like we’re gods.
I laugh. “Surprisingly, you are here, Logan. But the question is, are we going to have fun?”
Rory slides her hand around my waist and down over my ass, squeezing. “We’re going to have fun, Keller,” she whispers in my ear right before she sticks her tongue inside.
“Fuck yeah we are.”
Rory climbs into the passenger side of the Shelby, and I shut her door. She winds her hands around my neck and yanks me down for a hot, wet kiss through the open convertible top.
“Go Keating!”
“Woo-hoo!”
Smiling, I walk around the car to the driver’s side and slide in. It’s a gorgeous September day in Atlanta, so I left the top down. North Prep is so elite, the students so wealthy, I never worry about leaving the car open. There’s nothing to steal that everyone here doesn’t already own for themselves.
Logan, Silas, and two girls climb into Logan’s Range Rover, giggling and shouting while I rev the Shelby’s powerful engine. Rory slips her hand up my thigh, letting her fingers trail over my hardening cock.
I flip down my sunglasses and grin. Fuck it’s good to be me.
* * *
“I’m gonna go back out by the pool.” I climb out of the bed in Logan’s guest room and pull on my shorts.
“M’kay, Keller,” Rory murmurs as she falls asleep.
I laugh to myself, glancing back at Rory’s naked body before leaving the room. I fucked her good. The bright red handprints across her perky ass stand out against her tan skin.
“Grab a beer, Keating!” Logan shouts from across the huge patio in his backyard.
I walk over to his outdoor kitchen and swipe a bottle from the fridge. Silas is in the pool with the two girls they brought, getting all handsy and grabbing their tits. The girls squeal, pretending to be offended, but come on, if they’re going to swim topless, guys are gonna grab. Logan is watching our friend fondle his date with a heated intensity in his eyes. Logan and Silas have been known to share girls, so I know Logan’s not pissed or anything. Hell, to them this is probably just foreplay before their girl-swapping orgy.
I flip off the cap and collapse into the chair next to Logan’s. “How long are your parents out of town, Sanders?”
Logan takes a long swig of his beer while I wait. “Let me think.” His blond eyebrows rise as he counts in his head. “Today’s the fourteenth, and they’re coming back on the twentieth, so six more days.”
“Cool.” I nod. Logan’s parents are never home. They’re both big time movie producers. A lot of their stuff is filmed right here in Atlanta, but tons of their movies are done in other states or countries, or lots of times his parents are in LA for meetings and shit.
“I wish my mom and dad would take a fucking vacation,” I grumble, picking at the soggy label on my beer. My own parents are the exact opposite of Logan’s. First, if my mom and dad worked together, they’d have killed each other by now. They fight a lot. About stupid shit, like my dad working too much or my mom’s drinking or prescription drug use, or the other doped-up, rich bitches my mom hangs out with.
“Yeah, well, if your dad ever sells his company, he’ll have plenty of time to do whatever the fuck he wants. And plenty of money,” Logan points out. He holds his bottle up for a toast. I tap mine against his with a clink and roll my eyes.
“The old man’s talked about selling. Some crap about missing our entire childhood and wanting to make up for lost time. Screw him. He’s too fucking late. I’m eighteen in two months.”
“Your sister is still young. What is
she, fourteen?”
I nod. “Yeah, she’s a freshman this year.”
“So… maybe he’ll at least put some effort in and show up in her life before she graduates,” Logan says. He puts his empty bottle on the ground. “It’s hot as hell out here and there’s naked chicks ten feet away. I’m going in.” Logan stands up, shedding his shirt and shorts before doing a cannonball into the pool wearing only his briefs.
The girls screech in delight and Silas laughs his ass off. I’m buzzing from the satisfying filthy, rough sex with Rory and the multiple beers. I finish the one in my hand and grab another, downing half of the cold drink before stopping to take a breath.
That would be the day my dad would ever stop working. I’d bet everything in my enormous trust fund he’ll eventually drop dead of stress or old age while sitting at his desk. Dad’s company is his life. My dad started and runs Hybrid Technologies, one of the largest software companies in the world. My mom, my sister, me… we always come second to Hybrid.
Six beers later, I wake up to Rory’s hot mouth around my dick. I squint in the bright sunlight. The pool is empty, which means Logan and Silas went in the house with their girls. My mouth is dry and I would love a drink of water, but there’s no way I’m going to stop a blow job. Instead, I lie back and let Rory work her magic mouth up and down my cock.
Britton
Have you ever looked death in the eye? Felt the icy chill of it crawling over your skin until you taste it? No? I have, and sometimes I think death would be preferable to living with that knowledge. Thankfully, I can’t remember.
I glance at the clock… again. Ugh! Only two minutes have passed since the last time I checked. Today is the slowest day in the history of school. It’s as if time stopped and is on a constant loop of the most boring ten minutes in the history of my existence. When the bell finally rings, I waste no time leaping from my chair and darting for the hall.
“Britt! Wait!”
Darn it!
My best friend, Reece, catches me the second my shoe hits the ground. Whatever, I’m in too much of a hurry to stop and talk, so I continue down the hall. If she has something to say, she can do it while I head to my locker to get my stuff.
“What is your hurry, Britt? Pants on fire or something?” she huffs, increasing her pace to keep up with me.
I dodge the other students, all of whom are eager to start the weekend. It takes forever to weave through them to get to my locker all the way on the opposite side of the school.
My face heats up and I duck my head to keep Reece from seeing. “Nothing. I, uh, just really need to get home on time today. No big deal.” My casual shrug ends up more like a stilted jerk of my head.
Reece’s hand darts out, gripping my upper arm, yanking me to a stop. “Hold up, Britton. I want to talk about tonight. Are you coming out with us?”
I’m so frustrated I want to scream. Friday is the only day of the week I get my fill of my favorite eye candy. Those few, meager minutes have to last seven whole days before I get another hit. And now my, used-to-be best friend is going to make me miss my weekly dose.
Agitated, I agree to going out later so she’ll let me go. “Call me, okay? I’ll talk to my mom about getting dropped off at your house.”
Reece grins and gives me a hug. “See? I’m easy? All you needed to do was say yes!” She releases me and flounces down the hall, flipping her long hair over her shoulder. As I stuff my books in my locker and grab my bag, Reece turns around, walking backwards as she calls out, “Don’t forget, Britton!”
I can’t help but laugh at my friend. Spunky, redheaded, and gorgeous, Reece Fielding and I have been inseparable since the second grade. Our dads are both executives at the same Fortune 500 company in Atlanta, so we’ve known each other practically forever.
I pull my phone out of my bag and check the time. Shoot! With a gasp, I hustle out the front door of the school, down the steps. If I’m really lucky, Keller will still be in the parking lot and I’ll be able to get a glimpse of his perfect, gorgeous face before he hops in his car and leaves.
I snort behind my hand, holding back a giggle. A freshman crushing on a senior—a super hot, super popular senior. I’m a walking 80s movie cliché.
But the heart wants what the heart wants, and mine wants Keller Keating. Badly. I giggle again and this time, my cheeks burn as my mind wanders to my now familiar fantasy of Keller and me together, kissing as he pulls me into his strong arms. How ridiculous! Like that would ever happen.
As long as I only look, no harm can come of it. Besides, Keller Keating would never notice a girl like me. I’m not ugly by a long shot, but I’m no supermodel. The girls I see Keller leave with every Friday since school started three weeks ago are taller, thinner, and older than me. In other words, they’re women, whereas I’m stuck in half-girl, half-woman territory. Not exactly Keller Keating girlfriend material.
My feet hit the pavement and I whirl around, scanning the remaining cars. Already, the lot is nearly empty. On Fridays, people clear out fast, staff and students alike, the administration usually the only ones left. I don’t see Keller’s very conspicuous blue sports car among the few vehicles left in front of the school and sag in disappointment. My bag slides off my shoulder to land on the ground with a thud.
“Damn,” I mutter.
“Hey.”
I startle at the unexpected voice. When I turn around, a girl I recognize from around school but have never actually met is standing about a foot away.
“Hey,” I respond.
The girl squints, her perfect little nose wrinkling up as she shades the sun from her face with a hand. Her eyes immediately catch my attention. They’re the most shocking shade of silver I’ve ever seen. Literally silver.
“You okay?” the girl asks. “Are you looking for someone?”
I stare at this unknown, silver-eyed girl. I’ve seen her here and there in the hallways since school started three weeks ago. I think we’re both freshmen, but we don’t run in the same circles and we’re not in any of the same classes. North Atlanta Prep is exclusive, but not exactly small.
“Ummmm, my ride,” I stammer, not wanting to admit I’m out here stalking a guy who doesn’t even know I exist. “I’m waiting for my driver, I mean. He’s not here.”
Come to think of it, my ride isn’t here yet. Where is he? Charlie is never late. I hope he’s okay, though he’s probably just stuck in hideous Atlanta traffic.
“My ride isn’t here either,” she says. “We can wait together.” Her face is so hopeful I can’t say no. Besides, where am I going to go without a ride?
I sit on the steps next to her and pull out my phone. “I should call Charlie. Ummmm, my driver.”
She nods, her dark ponytail bobbing behind her.
“Is there anyone you can call for you?” I ask.
The girl shrugs. “My brother was supposed to give me a ride. He probably forgot since I usually have cheerleading practice after school on Fridays. Our captain is going to some big gala tonight with her boyfriend so practice was cancelled.” The girl rolls those intriguing eyes and her mouth curls into a mischievous smirk. “I don’t mind though. I know he loves me. He’s just a free spirit kind of guy.” She shrugs, accepting the fact that her brother left her stranded.
My gaze drops to her cheerleading squad T-shirt, sporting the black and red colors of the school.
“Oh. Well…I’m sure my driver can give you a ride.”
The girl smiles, two dimples framing her perfect teeth. “Thanks. I’m Kinsey.” She holds out her hand.
Befuddled, I clasp my hand around hers. What ninth grader shakes hands? It’s weird, but she’s so genuine in her actions I can’t help but smile back.
“I’m Britton.”
Finger swiping on my phone, I pull up my contacts and scroll through for Charlie’s number. While I’m searching, the loud squeal of tires on the driveway leading up to the school catches my attention. Along with the noise, the acrid scent of burnt rubber sting
s my nostrils. I glance up from my phone to watch as a black car fishtails into the parking lot, swinging widely to the left and screeching to a stop about a hundred yards away.
“Who’s that?” Kinsey asks.
I squint to block out the bright September sun. “No clue, but he probably shouldn’t be behind the wheel if that’s how he drives.” We watch as the driver’s door of the car is thrown open and a tall boy a few years older than us steps out. Despite the oppressive Atlanta heat, a chill goes down my spine. Something is very, very wrong.
“Britton,” Kinsey whispers, her voice shaking.
My eyes scan the boy, trying to make sense of what’s happening, to piece together the images, but my mind can’t rationalize what it sees—simply can’t process the horror. Fear chokes me, tightening around my throat, squeezing the air from my lungs. Kinsey tugs on my sleeve, but I’m frozen. Unable to move.
Too late, the pieces begin to drop into place—camouflage, greasepaint on his face, and guns…lots of them, in the boy’s hands and hanging from straps on his arms. Everything around me slows to a stop as my heart thunders in my chest, reaching a pace so rapid, it can’t possibly be sustainable. A bizarre lightheadedness separates my mind from my body, surely a protective instinct to keep my psyche from fracturing. It’s as if I’m watching the scene play out as a casual observer. Life is merely a movie on a screen.
The boy circles around the car and raises a large, black weapon, lining it up with his eye—at us. Kinsey’s voice breaks through the fog, hysterical and sobbing. “Britton, run!”
Kinsey grabs my hand, pulling me up the steps of the school. I twist my body to run, but not before locking eyes with the boy. They’re dead, cold, shut down—the eyes of a killer. Adrenaline propels me up the stairs and through the doors, where we burst through into an empty hall.