Unleashed

Book 5: Morris Brick Thriller

by Jacob Stone

Genres: Crime Fiction

Synopsis

“A roller coaster ride between covers! A skillful blend of psychological and investigative thriller writing, Unleashed brings back the great Morris Brick and his crew, who have to stop a horrific series of murders in L.A“A roller coaster ride between covers! A skillful blend of psychological and investigative thriller writing, Unleashed brings back the great Morris Brick and his crew, who have to stop a horrific series of murders in L.A. Rarely is an author so skilled at portraying such unremitting evil and the poignant, human side of his characters in a single tale.” —Jeffery Deaver There’s a new demon in the City of Angels. The Cupid Killer targets couples in love. He mercilessly tortures women before killing them. He forces men to watch before leaving them beaten and broken—but alive—and wishing them “an especially wonderful day.” L.A. detective Morris Brick has never hunted a psyc ho who’s taken such sadistic pleasure in destroying people’s lives. The surviving male victims have all identified the killer’s snarling wolf tattoo. Now Brick knows he’s on the trail of a brutal predator who’s taunting him. But the danger is closer to home than he imagines . . . and the madman’s Praise for Jacob Stone and His Novels “Jacob Stone is equal parts Thomas Harris, Michael Connelly, Jo Nesbo, and Stephen King. CRUEL will leave you shaking . . . with fear, excitement, and the uncontrollable compulsion to keep on reading.” —Lee Goldberg on Cruel “A dark and different serial killer novel that will haunt the reader long after the book is closed.” —John Lutz on Deranged “Los Angeles has seldom seen such grisly fun. It’s James Ellroy meets Alfred Hitchcock on the psychotic side of the street.” —Paul Levine on Deranged “One of the most compelling, thrilling, and truth be told, at times look-away-from-page-frightening serial killer novels I've read in a long, long time.” —Vincent Zandri on Deranged “A fascinating and exciting blend of misdirection, topsy-turvy, and violence.” —Reed Farrel Coleman on Deranged

Release date: March 5, 2019

Publisher: Lyrical Underground

Print pages: 288

Sample

The Experts Praise Jacob Stone and His Thrillers

“Whether he’s writing as Dave Zeltserman or Jacob Stone, you can expect the best in suspense writing.”

—Max Allan Collins

“Dave Zeltserman is one of the best suspense writers in the business, and his Jacob Stone thrillers are not to be missed.”

—Steve Hamilton

Unleashed

“A roller coaster ride between covers! A skillful blend of psychological and investigative thriller writing, Unleashed brings back the great Morris Brick and his crew, who have to stop a horrific series of murders in L.A. Rarely is an author so skilled at portraying such unremitting evil and the poignant, human side of his characters in a single tale.”

—Jeffery Deaver

Malicious

“A killer with a penchant for Rube Goldberg devices has been leaving calling cards for Brick as he slaughters Hollywood actresses one by one, with the goal of destroying all of Los Angeles. Zeltserman’s writing is smart, witty, and edge-of-your-seat thrilling.”

—Ellery Queen Mystery Magazine

Crazed

“Moves fast and makes for entertaining reading…Great stuff if you like serial killer thrillers and highly recommended.”

—Bill Crider’s Pop Culture Magazine

Deranged

“Deranged is a dark and different serial killer novel that will haunt the reader long after the book is closed and back on the shelf. Author Jacob Stone transfixes us with dread, and something more. He has the rare capacity to startle. Read if you dare.”

—John Lutz

“Deranged is a fascinating and exciting blend of misdirection, topsy-turvy, and violence.”

—Reed Farrel Coleman

“Gutsy and written with such casual grace, as if the author were sitting across the bar from me, telling me the story, Deranged just might be one of the most compelling, thrilling and truth be told, at times look-away-from-page-frightening serial killer novels I’ve read in a long, long time.”

—Vincent Zandri

“Los Angeles has seldom seen such grisly fun. It’s James Ellroy meets Alfred Hitchcock in a bloody, yet bizarrely humorous romp on the psychotic side of the street.”

—Paul Levine

“This series comes out of the gate swinging with the first offering, Deranged. Morris Brick’s determination and grit make him a great hero for a thriller series. The surprise twists really kept me engaged. I hope to see Brick have a long shelf life.”

—Outofthegutteronline.com

Chapter 1

Morris Brick woke up with the sound of a key unlocking the front door, which was quickly followed by the heavy thumping of his bull terrier, Parker, scampering down the staircase. He didn’t have to look at the alarm clock on the shelf next to him to know it was seven o’clock. That was the time he had arranged for their twenty-five-year-old occasional dog walker, Kat McKinty, to pick up Parker, and Kat was not only cheerful and dependable, but always punctual enough to set your watch by. Last night he’d decided that he and Natalie could use a late-morning sleep-in, so he’d arranged for Kat to take the bull terrier to Laurel Canyon dog park, which just might be Parker’s favorite spot in the world that didn’t involve food.

Although the bedroom door was closed, he heard Parker at the front door letting out several excitable grunts, and Kat shushing him. He knew she was trying to be quiet, but he still heard the door clicking shut when it closed. What could he say? He had ears like a bat. At least they were big and nearly stuck out as much as a bat’s.

Natalie had been sleeping on her stomach, but she must’ve woken up too. She rolled onto her side and scooted over so that she was up against Morris. She rested the side of her face on his shoulder and placed one of her small, delicate hands on his not-so-small belly. Morris’s hand found the curvature of her slender, pajama-covered hip.

“Kat must’ve collected the little guy,” she said in a soft, throaty whisper, her eyes cracked slightly open.

Morris turned his head so he could kiss her on the forehead. His voice was not much more than a croak as he told her that Kat wouldn’t be bringing Parker back until ten. “We can actually sleep late for once.”

Nat smiled wickedly and nestled in closer to him. “Not too late,” she said. “I have other ideas for how we can spend the time.”

“Cooking bacon without Parker mooching all of it?”

She laughed at the suggestion. “That wouldn’t be bad,” she admitted. “But I’ve got other ideas and none of them involve leaving the bed. But a little more sleep first.”

Morris soon felt the rhythmic rising and lowering of her chest and heard her light breathing as she drifted back to sleep. Life was good, especially in the wife, daughter, and dog department. Even though he and Nat were approaching their twenty-fifth wedding anniversary, she could still make him feel weak in the knees with a smile, and at times he had to pinch himself over his good fortune at not only finding her, but the fact that she seemingly fell as much in love with him as he did with her. Their daughter Rachel was a beautiful young woman who fortunately resembled Natalie more than himself, although she did have his hard, slate gray eyes. She had just started her last semester of law school while also working ten hours a week as an intern in the district attorney’s office, with plans of being hired by them once she passed the bar. And then there was Parker. The bull terrier was six now and was beginning to slow down a bit, but as far as Morris was concerned he was the best dog in the world and any runner-up would be a distant second.

Morris had no complaints about work either. His company, MBI, was flourishing with all the corporate and insurance-fraud cases they could handle, and thank God, no serial killer work since the Nightmare Man terrorized Los Angeles. But it was more than that. When Charlie Bogle left MBI, things didn’t seem quite right at the investigative firm, like they were out of balance. Since Charlie’s return six months ago, things were back to normal again. Better yet, Morris had been able to reduce his workweek to fifty hours, and it had been over two months since he had had to work over the weekend, which meant more late Saturday and Sunday mornings with Nat—at least the rare times when he remembered to call Kat McKinty the night before.

He closed his eyes and focused on the sound of Natalie’s light breathing, and soon drifted off also.

Chapter 2

Duncan Moss bought coffee at the counter and took it outside so he could sit at one of the patio tables. This was a nice, upscale downtown LA neighborhood, and the people walking by all looked nice and upscale. Or at least clean, fit, and well-off. Quite a contrast from the boarding house he was staying at half a mile away. That area could best be described as dingy and downbeat. More than that, a heavy oppressiveness seemed to hang in the air like a bad stench that just wouldn’t go away, and the people living there carried an unmistakable hopelessness. Duncan much preferred that neighborhood. He could barely stand to see all these happy, privileged people who thought nothing bad could ever happen to them. They were so wrong. So very wrong.

On the same block as the coffee shop there was also a bakery, a café advertising Los Angeles’s best breakfast, and a diner, and across the street a small park with neatly arranged flower beds and benches. While it wasn’t quite 9:30 yet, it was one of those near-perfect early spring days, and all of that was enough to bring out a small parade of people. Duncan sipped his coffee and watched as fellow millennials walked past him. Older people were also in the mix, but it was the millennials that he focused on. They were the ones who stirred up a toxic and suffocating mix of rage, jealousy, and psychotic need to cause pain. All of them trying so hard to look hip and cool with their tattoos and piercings; the dudes with goatees, soul patches, and man buns, the women with brightly colored dye jobs. There was barely a pound of body fat among them. They kept themselves in shape by dieting and CrossFit-type training classes. Duncan was also as lean as a rail, but he accomplished this the old-fashioned way: Survival. And while he had never in his life stepped into a gym or taken an exercise class, he had a wiry strength that few of them would’ve been able to match.

Of course, most of them had their noses stuck in their cell phones. Some sort of strange sixth sense kept them from colliding with each other as they crisscrossed on the sidewalk. Jesus, what a bunch! Most of them were so oblivious to the world around them that Duncan could’ve gotten up and punched them in their smug faces without any of them having a clue what was happening until they hit the pavement. As tempting as it was, he stayed seated. He had a plan, after all. Soon he’d be unleashing his rage in a very specific, controlled way. Besides, none of them were what he really needed.

While he remained invisible to most of them, one of them noticed him. A blond woman walking a little four-legged fuzz ball that was supposedly a dog. She was in her early thirties, maybe five years older than him. Slender, yellowish hair that fell past her shoulder, cute heart-shaped face, a short dress showing off long, thin legs. She smiled at him. An invitation of sorts. Why wouldn’t she? He was a good-looking guy with dark features and at the moment was impeccably groomed and dressed smartly in slacks, sports jacket, and boat shoes. He was also making a concentrated effort to show only a carefree, pleasant expression. If this was four months ago, she wouldn’t have smiled at him, and not just because he lived 3000 miles away in the Jamaica Plain neighborhood of Boston. If she had caught sight of him then, she would’ve fled to the other side of the street. Back then he was a mess. He had gone over a month without showering or shaving or changing his clothes, and almost six months without getting a haircut or even combing his hair, but more than his ragged, disheveled appearance, it would’ve been the craziness shining in his eyes that would’ve frightened her. He had reached rock-bottom and was consumed with dark, suicidal thoughts. He no doubt would’ve ended his life had he not received the postcard when he did. It had been mailed from Los Angeles, and at first it nearly sent him out of his mind with rage and homicidal fury, but later that postcard allowed him to see as clear as day what he needed to do. After that, he came up with his plan.

Once he had the plan, everything was okay, at least as okay as it could be. He cleaned up his act—first clipping off his beard and cutting his hair short, then making sure to shower and shave each day, and taking care of other personal hygiene issues. He also made it a point not to glare with homicidal rage at the lucky, happy people he would see, and instead hide his true self behind a pleasant façade. It took effort and concentration, but it became easier once he had his plan. And while the sight of the happy, lucky people made him feel like a heavy stone was crushing his chest, at least he no longer felt like he was on the verge of suffocating. Because he had a plan…

He couldn’t come out to LA right away. He was broke and he needed to raise enough cash to bankroll his plan. It had been almost five years since he had burglarized any homes or rolled drunks or robbed anyone at gunpoint, but certain skills come back quickly, and these were skills that he had always excelled at, and it didn’t take him long to raise the money he needed. After that, he bought a 2002 Cadillac Eldorado for 500 dollars at a police auction, and a week ago hit the road. He drove almost nonstop for two days, drinking enough coffee to keep himself awake, and arrived five days ago in LA. Since then he’d been getting the lay of the land and making plans for where to go hunting. He also bought himself an appropriate wardrobe so he could fit in with the happy, privileged people. Money wasn’t an issue. He had the necessary skills to always get more.

The blonde walking the fuzz-ball dog slowed down a step, her smile turning more hopeful. Duncan smiled back, but in a noncommittal way. He had no intention of inviting her to join him. She wasn’t what he needed. She tried to maintain her smile as she walked past him, but it cracked, the hurt weakening her mouth and betraying her. He looked past her toward a couple holding hands half a block away. So happy, so much in love. But they weren’t what he needed either. While they were privileged and charter members of the Beautiful People’s Club, they were in their fifties and Duncan needed them to be younger. He needed them to have their whole lives ahead of them, so that the loss and pain would be all that much more profound.

He tilted back the cardboard cup and finished off the last few sips of coffee, then got up, crushed the cup into a ball, and tossed it into a trash can. He didn’t come here to hunt, at least not exactly. If he had seen exactly what he was looking for, he would’ve gotten on their tail. But today was Saturday, and if a person like Duncan wanted to find a young, well-off couple who were oh-so-in-love, why not go directly to the source and crash a wedding?

Chapter 3

Right before waking up Alex Frey was having a delicious sex dream involving Jill. Cruelly interrupted, he lay on his back, disoriented, struggling to hold onto any last remnants of the dream and to get his bearings. His disappointment was further compounded when he reached over and found that Jill was no longer in bed. That was a shame, as he’d been hoping to immediately turn his sex dream into reality.

“Jill, where are you?” he shouted out.

“In the bathroom.”

Okay. Still a chance, then. “The honorable Willie Winkie needs immediate attention!”

“You mean wee Willie Winkie?”

Alex looked down at the pitched tent that had formed in his pajama bottoms. Wee certainly wasn’t the right adjective to use, as Jill knew perfectly well from experience!

“Come on,” he pleaded, desperate. “The more-than-adequate Willie Winkie isn’t going to blow himself!”

He heard Jill laughing. “I’m sorry, love,” she called out. “If he wants to get blown, that’s the only way it’s going to happen. At least this morning. I’m getting ready for later and I don’t have much time.”

Further disappointment! How much could one man take? Alex peered over at the alarm clock. It was only few minutes after ten and their engagement party wasn’t until two. Well, he’d have to use his smooth-talking skills to change her mind and remedy the situation. His health was in danger, after all!

He carefully maneuvered himself off the ridiculously expensive king-sized Swedish-made bed that Jill’s parents had given them as an apartment-warming present. Brett, his future father-in-law, had told him at the time that nothing was more important than a good night’s sleep. Alex murmured something in agreement, but in his mind nothing was more important than going through life with Jill at his side.

Thanks to his current predicament involving the aforementioned tent pole, he shuffled in a hobbling gait to the bathroom located outside the bedroom. His gorgeous fiancée was seated in front of the mirror, tweezing her eyebrows—not that they needed any tweezing. Jill really was gorgeous in a blond, wholesome cheerleader sort of way. He groaned, seeing that she had already put on lipstick, eyeliner, and blush. She had also slipped on silk stockings and her recently purchased and very expensive designer dress that was quite stunning on her, although almost anything she wore would’ve been stunning. Jill could’ve grabbed the first dress she saw off the discount rack and still turn heads. Alex knew immediately the situation was near-hopeless but not impossible. Clothing could always be taken off and put back on. While she was also wearing her flawless one-and-a-half carat engagement ring, a strand of pearls, and a pair of matching earrings, none of that would be an issue. They’d made love plenty of times in the past while she was wearing jewelry. It was the makeup that was going to cause him problems.

“How long have you been up?” he asked.

“Since eight.” Without losing her focus, she yanked out a blond eyebrow hair. “This doesn’t just happen all by itself, you know.”

“Jill, darling, your eyebrows are already perfection, as is the rest of you. In fact, you’d be every bit as stunning without a drop of makeup. I like the au naturel look on you. Why don’t you wash it all off?”

“Nice try, buster, but no dice.”

Alex grimaced noticeably. “Can’t you see I have a dire situation happening?”

She glanced at the pitched tent in his pajama bottoms, her eyes opening wide, as if in shock.

“I see that I have grossly underestimated Mr. Winkie,” she said, straight-faced. “But unfortunately, my love, I’m on a super-tight schedule and have to leave in ten minutes. And I’m not smudging my makeup, especially not my lipstick!”

Sulking, he asked, “Why ten minutes? The party isn’t until two.”

“I have an appointment with Roxanne to blow-out my hair. And one of us has to be at the hotel by noon to make sure all the arrangements are handled properly.”

“Let’s talk about being handled properly…”

“Sorry, sweetie, I’m not risking you leaving a stain on this dress. You’ll just have to wait until tonight.”

More exaggerated sulking. If there was a rock nearby, he would’ve kicked it. “You might be asking the impossible here.”

Jill reached up and touched Alex’s cheek. “I have faith that you’ll find the strength, somehow. Or take a long, cold shower.”

“You’re not being at all helpful. And you realize this is your fault.”

She arched one of her recently tweezed eyebrows. “How’s that?”

“You’re the one I had an erotic dream about. And quite a lovely one, at that. It involved you lying naked on the bed, a gallon of hot fudge, a large tub of whipped cream, and a jar of maraschino cherries.” His sulk turned into a frown. “It was a messy dream that tired out my tongue. It also got me both horny and hungry.”

“I’m flattered, of course,” she said with a wicked grin. “But my hands are tied.”

“Not yet, but they could be.”

Jill rose from the seat and reached over to kiss Alex chastely on the cheek, being careful not to disturb her expertly applied lipstick. “I must get going. I can’t help with the horny, but I can help with the hungry. There’s quiche lorraine from Madeleine’s in the fridge. Heat it at three-fifty for seven minutes in the toaster oven. And don’t use the microwave. You’ll ruin it!”

“What a gyp,” he complained, hating that he was sounding like a five-year-old about to throw a tantrum. “I don’t even get to see you naked!”

She patted him on the spot on his cheek where she had kissed him. “Tonight, my love, I promise. And I’ll take extra-special care of Mr. Winkie then.” She started to turn away, but stopped to give him a stern look with hands on her slender, but beautifully curved hips. “You’ll shave, right? And you’ll wear the suit that I picked up at the cleaners yesterday? And the shirt and tie I left on the bureau?”

Alex nodded sullenly, knowing that he was beat. “Yes, dear,” he said obediently.

Jill squinted at him as she tried to make sure he’d do as asked. Satisfied, she left the bathroom so she could finish getting ready. Alex grudgingly accepted his fate and squeezed his eyes closed and forced himself to think only about the marketing plan he was working on for the Hillsborough condominium project. Once his penis had shriveled and the pitched tent in his pajamas was gone, he emptied his bladder into the toilet, quickly washed his hands in the sink, then headed to the kitchen for some coffee and quiche. He caught Jill just as she was about to leave. She blew him a kiss, her face glowing with excitement. He waved back, forcing a goofy smile and trying to hide his earlier disappointment. He waited until the apartment door closed behind her before walking into the kitchen.

What a jerk he was being, pouting like a spoiled brat just because Jill was too enthusiastic about their engagement party to have a tumble with him this morning. She really was a wonderful person, and one of the many things he loved about her was how enthusiastic she got about things. She and her mom had been running around like nuts over the last month planning this engagement party, making sure to get every detail just right, and he was going to complain because she didn’t have time to blow him this morning? Part of the problem was he didn’t want an engagement party or a fancy wedding, for that matter. He would’ve been quite happy for the two of them to just drive to Vegas and elope. But he kept quiet about that. Their engagement party and wedding were important to Jill, and it wasn’t for the presents and attention (although there was nothing wrong with either of those), but because she wanted to celebrate their love. How could he fault her for that?

Alex poured himself coffee from the pot Jill had left warming on the coffee maker. He had wanted to buy a single-cup brewer that used different flavored pods, but Jill insisted those were bad for the environment. That was something else that mattered dearly to her that he never would’ve bothered thinking about. After a long sip, he moved to the refrigerator and retrieved the quiche she had left for him. He took it out of the paper bag (Madeleine’s used plastic containers for takeout, but Jill would always insist they put her orders in a paper bag instead—again, the environment) and laid it on a tray so he could reheat it in the toaster oven. Jill really was a wonderful person, thinking of every little detail to make their lives better. His life, really. He was ashamed to admit that he had considered briefly extorting her this morning. That if she didn’t have sex with him, he’d skip the engagement party. Gawd, what an asshole he was to even think of that, even though he had dismissed the idea almost immediately.

He grimaced over that thought.

That would’ve been the biggest dick move of all time. He adored Jill. How could he even have had that impulse? All because he was so damn impatient. So he would have to wait until tonight to enjoy Jill’s lovely nakedness. Not the end of the world.

He’d live.

The timer dinged, indicating the quiche was ready. He grabbed an oven mitt, removed the tray from the toaster oven, and slid the quiche onto a plate. He took a bite of it. Delicious. Once again, Jill was thinking of him, since she wasn’t touching quiche or anything else fattening, not willing to risk gaining as much as an ounce before the wedding. He took another sip of coffee and smiled as he thought about his future wife. Soon his thoughts involved peeling off her dress and panties, but he forced that image out of his head. He didn’t want a reappearance of an alert and erect Willie Winkie.

At least, not until tonight.

Chapter 4

Duncan brought a gift-wrapped box with him when he returned to the hotel, so he wouldn’t be crashing the engagement party empty-handed. To give the box some heft, he packed it with two coffee mugs decorated with a cartoon drawing of a young boy and girl kissing, surrounded by a flurry of hearts and the caption World’s Cutest Couple. Yeah, it was a tacky and incredibly cheap engagement present, but as far as Duncan was concerned, an appropriate one. Anyone catering an affair at this ritzy Bel-Air hotel already had enough money without needing an expensive gift from someone like him.

Earlier that morning, he had driven to a half-dozen luxury hotels in the Bel-Air area and studied their daily event boards. Each of them had weddings that night, but this one had an engagement party starting at two. Duncan figured he had nothing to lose by checking it out.

He parked on the street and walked up the drive to the hotel’s entrance. While the Eldorado was a Cadillac, it was worth less than five grand and was hardly a classic. A noticeable difference from the Mercedes, BMWs, and Jaguars that other guests were bringing to the valet station, and if he left his car with the valet it would draw the wrong kind of attention. Before stepping inside, he saw a Rolls-Royce driven by one of the beautiful people pull up to the hotel. Yeah, he’d made the right decision.

He checked his phone. Twenty past two. The Alex Frey and Jill Kincade engagement party was scheduled to start at two, and he figured they’d have a half hour or longer for cocktails before a sit-down lunch, which would give him enough time to pop in and see whether they were the ones he needed. Whichever way it was, he’d leave right afterward. He had their names and it wouldn’t be a problem to track them down if it came to that.

A sign had been placed in the lobby to direct guests for the engagement party toward the back of the hotel and to a large outdoor patio. A man wearing a tuxedo, who was either a hotel employee or private security, was guarding the door to the patio. He gave Duncan a quick look, but if he was suspicious that Duncan didn’t belong, he didn’t show it.

Duncan asked, “Is this the Frey-Kincade engagement party?”

“Yes, sir.” The man nodded toward the gift-wrapped box. “I’m safeguarding the presents for the couple.”

Duncan handed it over, glad he wasn’t handing over an empty box. The man brought it into a small room off to the side of where he was standing, and Duncan continued on to the patio area. That was the first time in his life he’d been called sir. The novelty of it wore off quickly as he saw all the food and bartender stations and the flower decorations. Tables had been set up, each with antique linen tablecloths, vases stuffed with red roses, and some seriously solid-looking glistening silverware that must’ve been the real thing, but nobody was seated at any of them. The guests, maybe as many as 150, were instead milling about in groups, all of them looking well-heeled, most of them with either wine, champagne, or cocktail glasses in their hands. A classy affair that included a quartet playing jazz, the music muted and unobtrusive. If Duncan had come to rob the place, he would’ve done nicely. But that wasn’t why he was there.

A waitress carrying a tray of appetizers appeared and asked if he wanted one. Why not? he decided. He hadn’t eaten anything since breakfast and he could feel his stomach rumbling. The waitress showed some interest in him with the way she smiled, but he wasn’t there to flirt or have anyone remember him, so he grabbed what turned out to be a piece of grilled lobster wrapped in bacon, and then headed to a nearby food station, where a chef was slicing up prime rib. After that, he grabbed a glass of champagne from a waiter, which he emptied quickly. He’d had champagne a few times in the past with Julia, but nothing like this stuff. But eating gourmet food and drinking champagne that was far better than anything he had ever had wasn’t why he had crashed the party. He did, though, need a drink in hand so he’d appear less conspicuous. He worked his way to the front of the line at one of the bartender stations, and when he asked for bourbon, the bartender handed him a menu. A quick count showed over twenty choices, and he picked one at random and asked for it with ice. It didn’t matter to him which one he drank, as long as he would look like he fit in. Whichever one it was, it would be a far cry from the bottom-shelf brands he usually drank.

It didn’t take him long after that to spot the engaged couple. Two of life’s privileged most-lucky people—Alex Frey looking like he could be a GQ model and Jill Kincade a movie star. Not necessarily one of those glamorous stars, but instead a blond, bubbly pretty one that guys secretly daydream about. They were making their way through the patio area, chatting with guests, beaming in their happiness—or at least that was true of Kincade. Frey seemed to be trying to project a ho-hum, nonchalant affectation, as if this was just a typical day for him. When Duncan caught a look the two of them exchanged, he knew he had found what he needed. It was the type of look that spoke volumes. The type you’d only see from two people who were deeply, madly in love.

He found himself mesmerized by them and couldn’t leave after that. It was partly a compulsion to keep feeding the rage that was now burning so furiously inside his chest, and partly a growing obsession to learn more about them. The thought of walking out, as he had originally planned, no longer seemed possible. And so he stayed, making sure to always keep a drink or a plate of food in hand as he stood near different groups that had coalesced, so he could listen in on their conversations. He’d wander over to the next group whenever necessary to make sure he kept a good distance between himself and the oh-so-in-love couple.

He was good at blending into the background and eavesdropping. While he had never crashed a party like this, it was still a skill that served him well when he used to hang around bars and racetracks so he could find targets with money to burglarize or rob. Now, as he eavesdropped on conversations, he learned about how Frey and Kincade met, their bright futures, and the spectacular apartment they shared in Marina del Rey. He even learned the address of their apartment, which saved him the trouble of having to discover it on his own.

He had moved over to a group of rich frat boys who had to be Alex Frey’s friends and was listening in on their crude frat