Serial Volume Three (4 page)

Donovan Blake

FBI – Behavioral Unit Field Office

The days were running on without any hope of finding the man we’d dubbed as the CK. Idly pacing the conference room, I looked over the faces of my team. Emily examined her fingernails, her mouth moving slowly as she worked a piece of chewing gum between her teeth. Agents Reynolds and Cartwright played a game of cards as Agent Ward scrolled through his phone, the backlight flashing up at his face and illuminating the way his skin wrinkled between his eyes. From the looks of it, the man needed glasses, but I wasn’t an ophthalmologist and I didn’t feel the need to break it to him that old age had crept up a while ago, stealing his ability to see along with the healthy glow of young skin.

“So what information have we received? Please, one of you fucking tell me that we have something beyond the knowledge that some asshole has outsmarted us once again. At this point, we have two missing waitresses and several missing prostitutes.”

The call had come in the day before, some woman was concerned that her daughter hadn’t come home from her evening job and she was left taking care of her infant daughter. From the report, I didn’t believe that she or her live-in boyfriend gave a shit about the child and I’d called in family services in order to have someone with half a brain look in on the family to ensure the welfare of the baby. The woman apparently believed her precious daughter worked night shifts at Wal-Mart. Only when we caught up with her boyfriend in Seattle, some two-bit drug dealer and pimp – also known as the father of her child – did we learn the truth about her nightly excursions. At first, he attempted to make us believe that she was walking the streets on her own, that he wasn’t somehow involved in her activities. However, one night of research and a quick perusal of his criminal history made it glaringly apparent that he was, at least, partially responsible for the woman’s poor choices in life.

“I canvassed the area the night after we received the report,” Reynolds stated without bothering to look up from his card game. “We received a description of a car. The witness believed it was a black Aston Martin, but I have my doubts. The possibility that a person who owns that type of car is involved in this is unlikely. The damn car costs more than my house. He could easily rent a high-class escort and do anything he wants with her. Per our profile, the man we are looking for won’t have money.”

My feet stopped in place, my head wrenching to the side to eye Agent Reynolds. “Why is this the first time I’m hearing about this, Reynolds?”

He shrugged and I made a mental note to pull him aside later on to chastise him about his lackadaisical response to my question.

“It’s like I said, Blake, I don’t think it’s our guy. The woman who told me about the car mentioned that she didn’t see it stop. My gut tells me it was a rich asshole who’d somehow gotten lost on the wrong side of town on his way into the city. It happens all the time. Most times, they don’t even bother stopping for red lights once they realize they could get jacked if they slow their vehicle down past ten miles per hour.”

“How many Aston Martins are owned by Portland residents? I would assume if the car is as expensive as you say, not many people who have it registered under their name.”

“I haven’t looked.” His eyes never left those damn cards and I walked quietly to stand behind him. “How much do you two have riding on this hand?”

Agent Cartwright looked up and answered, “Five hundred big ones.”

I smiled. “Reynolds is holding an Ace, a pair of threes and a jack and queen.”

“I fold!” Throwing down the cards, Reynolds turned in his seat to glare at me. “Dammit. I was bluffing. I could have had that round.”

“Yes. You could have. But now you don’t. That leaves you free to walk out of this room and go check with Portland Police about the identities of any persons who own a black Aston Martin in the Portland area.”

“That gives us nothing, Donovan. What if the guy was just passing through the area?”

I grinned in warning. “After you determine who owns the car, you’re going to walk the streets again until you find someone who can give you more information about it. Find someone, Reynolds. I doubt that nobody saw a waitress getting shoved into a car that costs more than your house. Do you understand me, or do I need to explain it in more basic terms?”

He was riding my last nerve. “What terms are those?”

“The kind that cause you to lose your job if you don’t locate what I’m after.”

Point made, I walked away from him, fully expecting that he would pound cement until he found the person who could tie one of our victims to that car. Only when I heard the door to the room open and slam shut again, did I bother to look back up.

Emily glared at me, finally satisfied with the polished state of her fingernails. “Was that really necessary, Blake? We’re all feeling the pressure right now. You didn’t have to weigh down Reynolds’ shoulders with our collective failure.”

“His refusal to investigate a lead does not constitute a failure on my part, Agent Chase.” Her behavior was becoming more aggressive and combative in the past few days – her anger at my lack of emotion was a simmering rejection inside her.

“Cartwright and Ward. You’re excused from the room. Go make yourselves useful by assisting Reynolds while Agent Chase and I discuss her objection to my direction of this team.”

The two men strode out of the room, their shoulders no longer wilted by the tension between Agent Chase and me. The door slammed shut and the room was rendered silent, the fury of a woman scorned glaring up at me from where she sat propped in her chair.

“You have something to say, Agent Blake?”

It was becoming apparent to me why I couldn’t remain interested in Emily. Her mind was too strong, her backbone contained a bit too much steel for my liking. Some men liked a bitchy woman, but I wasn’t one of them. I preferred them weak and obedient, subservient to a point of being frail.

Even though Emily wasn’t my first choice for a long-term fuck, I didn’t mind breaking the bitch every so often just to pull out the submissive whore I knew existed inside of her.

“You apparently need a lesson in manners, Agent Chase.”

Lust sparked in her eyes. “And how do you intend to do that?”

Picking up a dry erase marker from the small, silver shelf attached to the wall, I held it up for her to see. “You’re going to write sentences for me until I’m satisfied that you understand who controls this team.”

She scoffed. “I’m not in grade school, you filthy prick. Are you trying to tell me you’re into young girls now? I thought more of you than that.”

Throwing the marker at her, my eyebrow cocked when she caught it mid-air. The bitch had damn good reaction time. “Step up to the front of the classroom, Ms. Chase.”

After standing up from her chair, she approached the front of the room with a feline swagger, her hips rocking to and fro with each long legged step. Her pencil skirt bunched above her knees as she moved and the button up silk shirt she wore was pulled taut by her ample chest.

Flicking the top off the pen, she looked up at me from behind her thick-rimmed glasses. “What would you like me to write, Professor Blake?”

My hand gripped around the back of her neck as I slammed her body against the dry erase board. With my other hand I gripped her wrist, bringing the pen in her hand up to the board. “You’ll write this.”

Slowly the letters I forced her to write turned into words and her eyes widened to see them. She cried out in pain each time she resisted and attempted to peel her body away from where I had it pressed against the board.

“Now read what you just wrote, Agent Chase.”

Her words were slightly muffled by her inability to speak clearly, her mouth half pressed to the board. “I’m a dirty slut that needs to keep her mouth shut.”

I released her and she lost her balance, but caught herself before falling to the floor.

“On your knees, Agent Chase.”

She smirked. “I thought I was supposed to keep my mouth shut.”

She had a point. Gripping the back of her neck again, I bent her over the table set up in the front of the room. Her skirt ripped with the force of me pulling it up and over her ass, her panties torn from her body before she had the chance to fight back.

I was rock hard and didn’t give her the opportunity to complain. I liked fucking her when she was mad. Reaching my hands between her legs, I found that she was wet and waiting.

Apparently she liked being fucked when she was mad as well.

“You’re a stupid little bitch, you know that?”

As soon as she opened her mouth to respond, I shoved my cock inside her, pushing in so far that the only sound that fell from her lips was a pained moan. The table creaked with each thrust of my hips, her sultry moans deepening as her body was forced towards a release.

The bitch was dripping by the time I was nearing my own orgasm, but I had to bite my lip and imagine someone else to finish.

She would become the bitch I couldn’t stand as soon as this was over and I relented the fact that I’d just given her what she wanted by taking her body.

Damn if I didn’t like control and I was bound and determined to find another woman to fuck just as soon as this investigation was over.

Jude

“Juuuuuude,” Pet called out the moment she heard the door shut. I tensed and took off my coat. She was locked in her room, as usual, but had obviously been at her door listening for my arrival.

“What is it?” I asked and paused just outside on my way to my bedroom.

“Can I come out now? You’re late.”

“Long day at work. Let me shower and I’ll come get you.”

“I’ll shower with you. I can scrub your back,” she said in a seductive purr.

“It’s okay, Pet,” I replied, “I’ll be quick.”

“Jude!” she cried out as I hurried down the hall. Her constant need was already grating on my nerves and I’d only just returned from work.

Well, the warehouse.

I still had dried blood on my chin and droplets on my white work shirt. I had to destroy all evidence, throw it in the washer with double bleach before tossing it in the trash.

I set the cycle on wash, dumped a cup of bleach in with all my clothes, from the four thousand dollar custom suit to the five hundred dollar shirt, to my socks and tie. It was all in the washer on the hottest setting, in a bleachy, DNA destroying soup.

I hopped in the shower and reflected on the time I’d just spent with Patty. My cock hardened as I thought about her helpless body, used and abused for my pleasure alone.

As many men as she’d been with, I would be the last.

I stroked myself and thought about the moment I would immortalize her, slash her throat and thrust myself deep inside that hot, tight cunt of hers as her blood drained down the front of her, smearing on me as I came.

I grunted and shot another load into the drain and let the steamy water pour down me. I hit the button and felt jets of hot water hit my body from all sides, an aquatic massage, erasing any trace of Patty and the stress of the day.

If only Pet could relax, play her part a little better; I might not need to keep a girl on the side.

But the reality of keeping a real human girl alive and in my life as my love was far different than I’d ever imagined.

And mother, dear mother. She wanted to meet the girl I was living with now. She'd texted me moments after Dad had left my office, demanding I bring this girl to their house Sunday at eleven sharp.

Brunch with the parents. How pedestrian.

Although the idea of it held a certain appeal. I’d seen the disappointment in my father’s eyes from the day I was born. I’d seen his doubt and disbelief even this morning. I would prove him wrong.

This would all be worth it to see him watching me care for Pet, such a beautiful and ethereal woman.

I’d just have to make sure the old man didn’t get her alone; his cock did have a nasty habit of straying.

I finished the shower, toweled off and got into comfortable sweat pants and a tee shirt. I thought about taking Pet out on the town for a practice run, to test her loyalty before Sunday, but decided against it. I was exhausted.

I unlocked her door and she threw herself into my arms, covered my neck and chest with kisses and said, “Oh my god, I miss you so much during the day!”

I imagined it would be tough on her, being locked in that room with essentially no outside communication.

“Easy,” I laughed, “I’m right here.”

“I’m so scared you won’t come back one day,” she said, “is there any backup plan in place? Just in case something happens to you? What if I’m trapped in there?”

“Shhhh you won’t be, Pet,” I said, “Everything will be all right.”

“How can you say that?” she asked and clung to me, trembling, “you can’t promise that nothing will happen.” She seemed to be working herself up into near hysteria.

“You’re meeting my parents this weekend,” I blurted. I’d wanted to size her up and gauge her reliability a little further, but dammit, I just wanted her to settle down.

“What?” she whispered and looked up at me.

My heart did a little lurch in my chest and at that moment I knew that without a doubt, this was love. I loved her more than anything else in that instant. I needed to freeze that, bottle it up, and pull it out to snort a little when she irritated me.

“Yes,” I said, “we’ve been invited over for brunch on Sunday, and after our time together, I believe you should meet.”

“Oh wow,” she said, “what should I wear? What are they like? What should I bring?”

“Oh don’t worry about a thing,” I told her, “I’m having a shopping service visit you tomorrow evening, you can pick out anything you want. I would suggest casual garden party elegance. Mother always serves brunch on the patio. As for the rest, you don’t need to think about it. They will love you, and you just need to bring yourself.”

“Oh Jude,” she said, “I’m so excited. Nervous and excited.”

“I know,” I replied, “but I’m hungry, so shall we go prepare dinner?”

“Prepare dinner,” she said affecting my accent and intonation, “I’d say make dinner, but I like the way you say it much more. Prepare dinner.”

“I’ll make a proper lady out of you after all, Ms. Doolittle,” I chuckled and followed her down the hall to the kitchen.

She turned back, “Who?” she asked.

“Never mind,” I said and smacked her perfect, tight ass, “Just go make me something to eat.”

Baby steps. She’d learn everything she needed to know eventually. She was a smart girl.

***

“Jude,” Pet’s voice broke through some barrier and woke me up. I rolled over and stared at her.

“What is it?” I asked and wondered what time it was. It was the middle of the night.

“I just had a really weird dream, I need you to hold me.”

I rolled over and opened my arms, she snuggled in and I closed them around her. We fit perfectly together, if there was any indication that our bodies had been created to be together, this was it. When we were pressed up against one another, we were absolutely, brilliantly, undeniably meant to be.

I took a deep breath and started to drift back to sleep.

“Do you want to know what it was about?” she asked sleepily.

“Sure,” I said, half awake.

“You were stabbing me,” she said and shuddered, “I was trying to push you off of me, but you were fucking me and slicing this knife into my throat. I couldn’t talk. It was like you didn’t know it was me.”

She didn’t sound upset though, that was the odd part. I didn’t detect any distress. I woke up immediately, pushed myself up slightly to look at her and said, “Did this scare you?”

“I don’t know,” she replied.

I fell back down and pulled her up onto my chest, facing me. The dim light from outside was enough to illuminate her face. “What do you mean you don’t know?” I laughed, “Did I scare you or didn’t I?”

“At first you did,” she said and then a sly grin slowly crept onto her face, “but then it was…”

“It was what?” I asked almost breathlessly. I had an idea where Pet was taking this, and it excited me very much.

“It was orgasmic,” she replied and slid her hand down my chest, along my abdomen and found my cock. It stirred in her hand and went rock hard at her next words. “I wanted to fuck,” she continued and stroked me, “it was like I was watching it happen, and all I wanted to do was fuck you as the blood came. Is that weird?”

“Not at all,” I said and angled my cock for her hot cunt, “not strange at all.”

I thrust up and found her entrance, pushed her down on top of me and heard her gasp.

“I wanted to slide myself in the blood, Jude,” she breathed out as she moved herself down my shaft, “I wanted you to stab her and fuck me as she died. Does that make me a psycho?”

“No more than me, Pet,” I said and pushed myself up again, held her arms tight and watched her beautiful breasts bounce as I fucked her from below. The look of ecstasy on her face as she described a murder egged me on. The thought of Pet sharing that particular part of my life was a greater thrill than I’d ever imagined.

We came together, babbling words of death and killing, and the madness we shared in that moment drew us closer in our bonds than anything we could do in the secular world.

She was coming into my world now, my world of madness and power, of smug superiority and elusive command over life itself.

As we lay in each other’s arms afterwards, I contemplated taking her fantasy to the next level.

And thought it might be time Pet met Patty. It might be time I integrate her fully into my life.

I couldn’t wait to see if she could kill.