Total pages in book: 110
Estimated words: 105506 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 528(@200wpm)___ 422(@250wpm)___ 352(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 105506 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 528(@200wpm)___ 422(@250wpm)___ 352(@300wpm)
But there was always evidence that they’d been killed at another location. Though there were significant wounds, blood at the scene itself was minimal. The torture would take time and privacy. And there was evidence that this had been done by one perp. All of the women’s wounds were inflicted with similar brutality and precision.
But the killer had dropped them all in different jurisdictions. As if they knew that the police stations would not communicate with each other. That the local news would put them as a footnote, if they wrote about them at all.
Most of the people investigating these murders would assume they were a result of the woman’s lifestyle. ‘Loose’ women lived dangerous lives, after all. They gave their bodies to whoever could pay. And eventually, someone would harm them, or worse.
A story as old as time.
No one cared enough. No one would care enough until it was a pretty white girl from a good family.
And I had a hunch that this motherfucker was too smart for his own good. Meaning he would continue choosing victims who wouldn’t be so easily missed and wouldn’t make the headlines.
The latest murder had just happened. This time, the girl was my age. In college. Paying her tuition by working at a strip club. She was pretty, from what some would call a ‘low income’ family. It seemed her parents had issues with booze and drugs, and she’d been in and out of foster care growing up.
But she had been trying to make something of herself. Taking charge of her own life.
Before she was brutally fucking tortured and discarded on the side of the road like she was nothing. Like she didn’t matter.
This murder had hit close to home.
This girl could’ve fucking been me. Hadn’t I come from a ‘low income’ family? Sure, my parents stayed away from drugs … only to consume the bible and its teachings in excess.
I was going to an Ivy League college, financing all of it by taking my clothes off for money. It made me mad. Fucking furious.
I had to do something beyond pouring over crime scene photos and musing with Ollie over potential unsubs.
Going to the police station had been my idea.
Arguably, I should not have taken my pregnant best friend with me, but in my defense, I didn’t think taking her to a police station would be putting her in any danger. Plus, I didn’t expect Violet to throw down with the sheriff.
I thought I was the one who was pissed off enough to go head-to-head with a sheriff who was doing nothing to protect women. But my bestie and her pregnancy hormones had me beat.
“I’m sure some of the nation's foremost news organizations would love to hear about a jumped-up sheriff wanting to make a name for himself, not only ignoring a serial killer but then arresting two innocent, young women who simply want justice for a misunderstood group who have done nothing but good for this town,” she spat at him, her face red, her eyes wild.
The sheriff had initially thought we were nothing but young girls, coming to disrupt his day. Once it became apparent that we were young women there to fuck up his life, his stare turned chilly. “I don’t do well with threats.”
“Good thing I’m not threatening you, I’m literally informing you of what I plan on doing if you don’t leave the fucking Sons of Templar alone and start investigating these murders,” Violet said evenly, not backing down.
I was so fucking proud; I was about to burst into applause.
“Violet,” a masculine and very pissed off voice had barked.
And that was kind of the end of that.
I hadn’t expected Elden and Colby to show up. Although I should’ve. I was coming to learn that the Sons of Templar ran this town. In addition to that, Elden was next level protective over Violet, so it shouldn’t have been a shock that he was tracking her movements in some kind of way.
Colby was a … complication.
I didn’t need to get wrapped up with an outlaw biker. Even one I was ridiculously and indescribably attracted to. One I’d fantasized about every night since I met him.
If he didn’t wear a Sons of Templar cut, I would’ve already jumped into bed with him and gotten him out of my system.
But things were a little … messier now. I planned on being the coolest aunt ever, and I’d already fallen a little bit in love with Garnett, deciding to live there at least part time after I graduated.
I couldn’t shit where I ate.
From what I’d learned about the Sons of Templar, they had no problems bedding women and forgetting about them. Fuck, they had a whole stable of ‘club women’ who existed purely for the purpose of no strings sex.
I thought that was kind of awesome for the women, who were all there by choice and who all got to ride some seriously yummy badasses.