Marked (A Dark Serial Killer Romance)

Harley sleeps in her bed, with the bedsheets tangled around her thighs. She’s animated in her sleep, tossing and turning most of the night. In all her moving around, she’s repositioned herself diagonally across the bed.

If I were in it with her, I’d have her legs wrapped around me.

Not a bad way to sleep.

I kick my legs out from the chair I’m sitting in. I brought it from the kitchen so I could watch her sleep while I wait.

The red numbers on her alarm clock tell me it’s two in the morning.

She finished her shift at the bar two hours ago, and has been asleep for the past hour. It’s a wonder she falls asleep so quickly. The moment her eyes close, her breathing evens out and she’s off to dreamland.

Tonight, I’m hoping it’s all good dreams. But after what she came up with today, I’m not sure that’s going to happen.

Jeff hasn’t gotten back to me yet with what I want to know, but I can’t be too pissed at him. He’s got his own work to keep him busy, plus the bastard went and got married after he retired.

Looking at Harley, sleeping so soundly, I wonder if he wasn’t completely off his rocker getting hitched. There’s a profound innocence to her that I crave to protect, to keep locked up for myself, but it’s more than that. Her strength is buried just below the surface, and I want to scratch until it emerges.

She survived the horrors of being kidnapped with her sister and mother and chained up for days. And while I can sense the guilt in her, for being the one who walked out of that place, she’s never taken a single day for granted.

The woman has every reason to hide from the rest of the world, but she faces it every day. She may hate being around people, but I’ve met a lot of fucking people and she’s not missing anything. But becoming a teacher? Being responsible for the education of a little kids, and being protective of her mother? She’s got more grit than she thinks.

A click echoes in the deep silence, and I sit up in the chair. I check the windows in the bedroom—nothing there. Quietly, I stand up. Barefoot, I make no sound as I make my way through the apartment.

Another click stops me in the living room.

The deadbolt is being fucked with. I move to the side of the door, pulling my gun from my waistband.

I press my back against the wall, flush with the door. The bolt slides out of place and the door is shoved open.

The piss poor excuse for a chain lock actually keeps the door from opening all the way, but the fucker came prepared. A bolt-cutter slips through the opening and cuts the chain away.

I do one more check on the bedroom. She’s still inside. The door’s shut.

I pull back the slide on my Glock.

As the door opens, I slow my breath, waiting for the asshole to enter.

If it’s the agent herself, she’s going to be in a lot of fucking pain before I fucking kill her. I wouldn’t mind being wrong.

Just this once.

But if I’m right, this isn’t a wellness check.

The intruder is inside; he creeps into the living room. He’s in head-to-toe black. Even his eyes are covered with a sheer covering.

As he steps inside, he looks around the room. All the lights are off. The window curtains are shut so the streetlights can’t give him any advantage.

I lift my gun, pointing it at the back of his head. With a hard kick, I shove the door shut and it slams.

He freezes.

“Don’t fucking move.” But of course, the fucker isn’t going to listen.

He flips around on me, spinning on his heel. Just as he faces me, I kick out, knocking his gun from his left hand.

“Fuck!” He launches at me, but I’m not new to a little hand-to-hand. I let him come at me. His shoulder hits my stomach, but I brace for it. Leaning over just enough, I wrap my arm around his torso, keeping him pinned in the bent over position as I run him through the apartment.

He trips on his own feet, and I let him fall to the floor on his back.

“Who the fuck are you?” I point my weapon at his face.

“Fuck you.” He sneers up at me.

“All right then.” I keep my gun trained on him while I step over him, opening the small box I left on the table, and taking out the injection I prepared.

A swift kick to his ribs keeps him down when he tries to get to his feet.

I throw my knee into his stomach as I kneel on him. Using my teeth, I yank off the cap of the needle.

“Who are you?” I ask again, holding the injection in my left hand now. Good thing about this drug, there’s no need to be specific where it’s injected. A leg muscle, a neck, chest, doesn’t matter. So long as it goes under the skin, this fucker’s gonna have a world of problems once it’s in his system.

“I said. Fuck. You.” He tries to grapple, but he’s not as strong as me. Not as experienced with monsters as I am.

I jam the needle through his shirt, into his arm, and shove the plunger through the barrel, sending every drop of the liquid into his body.

“What the fuck!” he yells as the medicine makes its way into his tissue. It burns like a motherfucker. Right now, his skin feels like it’s on fire. His insides are heating up, too.

He tries to lunge at me again, but the medicine works fast. There’s no mobility in his muscles.

I sink back, sitting on his stomach as I catch my breath.

Fuck. I may need to start hitting the gym again. It’s been a while since I had a good wrestle.

“Now.” I lean over the prick, pressing my palms into the floor on either side of his head. “Who the fuck are you?” I yank off the black ski mask.

“What…did….” Each word is harder to get out. “You…do…” His head rolls to the side and he’s out.

Well shit. I’d hoped to get at least one answer out of him before he passed out.

“Zack?” Harley’s sweet, questioning voice hits me and I look up.

She’s standing in the doorway of her bedroom. The oversized T-shirt she’s wearing for a nightgown hits just above her thigh. Her hair’s all messed up in a ponytail, and she’s rubbing sleep from her eyes.

Fuck, the woman is gorgeous, no matter what time of day.

“What’s going on? Who is that?” She steps into the room, pointing at the man asleep beneath me.

“I don’t know yet.” I climb off him and go to her.

Her brow wrinkles. “You’re dressed already. Were you waiting for him?”

“I had a suspicion someone would be coming tonight; I didn’t want to worry you.”

“Did Agent Laurens send him?” She’s sharp, this girl of mine. “To hurt me?”

“I was hoping I was wrong about her. We’ll know for sure once we talk to him. But we can’t do that here.” Cupping her face, I pull her attention to me. “Go get dressed for me, all right?”

She nods.

“I can’t make out his face. Do I know him?” She tries to lean toward him, but I get in her way.

“You’ll get a better look when we get where we’re going. Go get dressed now.” I turn her toward the bedroom and send her on her way with a slap to her ass.

She looks over her shoulder. “Are we gonna hurt him?”

The woman knows exactly the way to my heart.

“Yeah, baby. We’re gonna hurt him. But first, he has to answer some questions. No more questions from you, though. Go.” I point to the door as I give the command.

She tucks her bottom lip between her teeth, trying to hide the smile playing on her lips, then does exactly what she wants to do.

She obeys.