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My mind is moving a mile a minute, and while I would typically enjoy the twisted places it takes me, today it is just pissing me off.
After dropping Baby Williams off, I head home to process today. I know Derek doesn’t like me calling him ‘Baby Williams,’ but I have a feeling it’s not for reasons I can see. There’s so much I don’t know about Derek, and I’m going to make it my job to find out. Starting with: why didn’t he put up more of a fuss about killing two people in cold blood and then helping me clean up the mess? I have cleaning up down to a science, but Derek barely lifted a brow before helping me. Normal people would have freaked out about this, right? I don’t have the correct tools to understand normal people, but I can fake it.
I always knew there was something wrong with me. Maybe not wrong, but different. The cats in my neighborhood all disappeared, but not because I hurt them. They just tended to end up in my backyard, and I loved playing with them. Kentucky is farm country, so they’d bring me all the dead rats, and I enjoyed cutting them up and seeing what made them tick.
In high school, I had a lot of ‘friends’, but they were people who followed me around, wanted to be around me because I was the quarterback, but none of them knew me. It's always been too dangerous to let people in. I spent high school parading through the flow of parties, homework, and popularity walking through it but never letting it touch me. They were just things I had to do to be normal.
My father has always known I was different. It started when I killed my babysitter when I was ten, and continued from there. Another time he walked in on me when he was supposed to be at a work conference and I was covered in blood. I found a hitchhiker whose description also matched the police reports looking for a rapist. I may enjoy killing, but rape turns my stomach. I usually clean up well after myself, but I didn’t expect my father to return so soon.
When Dad and Grant started working together, he immediately recommended I join them as an enforcer for the campaign. There’s a lot I don’t know about what is happening, and now that my interest is piqued, I need answers.
Numbers, death, and calculated risks are things that come easy for me. Why isn’t this something I can put on a job application? So fucking rude.
Parking the SUV in the garage of my house, I haul myself out. Waiting until the door closes, I begin turning on all of the lights and unloading my car before thoroughly cleaning it. It’s almost nine at night, and with all of the dismemberment and driving, I’m tired.
My brain is still telling me I’m missing important information I need. Huffing in annoyance, I throw all of my rags into a bleach solution, strip off my clothes, and begin doing laundry. All evidence that anyone has been in my car is now gone, because I hate loose ends. It’s why I am still a free man, there’s no evidence of wrongdoing, and powerful men let me kill people for fun.
Well,Ihave fun. The men I kill deserve it in some way. I’m a killer with a small moral compass: Grant and my father have to provide me with evidence before I will do their dirty work, which is why I have felt like part of their collaboration for the campaign… until now.
Why didn’t I know Lennon O’Reilly is a part of their plans? Chewing on the inside of my lip in concentration, I step into my house still naked. I live alone, so there’s no one to offend. I can’t live with anyone because of my work, and there are few people I can deal with outside of small increments.
That’s another mindfuck. I was looking forward to working with Derek, because the work is beginning to get monotonous, but I wasn’t expecting him to do as well as he did. He was in tune to my movements, a sparkle in his eye as he fucked over the douchebags we killled today. I am looking forward to continuing to work with him, but there are some things I need to figure out.
Walking through the hallway, past the front entryway and to my office, I head to my desk. I have a few burner phones I keep for calls like this, and I need to find the right one. Thank God I label my burners. Grant was working with a private investigator to figure out what his son was up to, but the man didn’t really find much. I know I didn’t imagine the moment of panic that entered Derek’s eyes when I asked him why he was joining the campaign now.
Grant is not a good man. I know this. I was a year ahead of Derek in school, and I know I didn’t imagine the bruises he brushed aside with the excuse of a rough football practice. I fucking played football with him for three years, and I know for a fact it never got that rough. While shit happens behind closed doors, I know in my bones that I’m missing very important information.
The nerd in me is itching to deep dive into their lives and find out.
Grant is ruthless, and his grab for power is going to lead him all the way to the White House if Xav has anything to do with it. His wife was ready to leave him, she had the paperwork in hand to serve him, and I am the reason she’s currently rotting in a mental health facility. I saw them at a restaurant several towns away, and being the curious bastard that I am, I sent it to a private detective I work closely with.
Marian Williams was kidnapped from the home she lived in with her sister in Owensboro three days later and involuntarily committed to Hidden Hills. A deep dive into her life found she was going to deliver the paperwork to Grant the following week, and he couldn’t allow this to happen. Sighing, I pull two phones from my desk. One to find out what Grant’s private detective found out, and the other to call my own.
Sitting in my chair, I lean back, still uncaring of my nudity. If it wasn’t so frowned upon, I’d never wear clothes. Pants are constricting and I feel as if I’m suffocating in clothing. Derek showing up all dressed up made me laugh to myself, because it’s obvious he had no idea what his ‘meetings’ were about.
I teeter between amusement and anger at how in the dark Derek is. I was much more comfortable today in my jeans and T-shirt, though the man was the picture of intimidation. I have never seen the line of attraction between men and women, though I can appreciate fine looking specimens.
Grunting at the path my thoughts are taking, I call Grant’s private detective under the guise of checking up on a new coworker. Tack isn’t one to ask questions, and I have called him for other things in the past on Grant’s behalf.
I honestly don’t think he’ll blink as long as I play this right.
“Hey, Tack,” I greet him warmly. One of the reasons people don’t realize how deadly I am is because I rarely lift the mask. I’m a happy go lucky midwesterner who has no problem following directions, and I’ll kill anyone who tells you otherwise.
“Hi Orion, what brings you to call me so late?”he asks. I wince slightly as I remember it’s outside of office hours. Thankfully, this man is always awake anyway.
“Sorry, man. I was out all day with Grant’s son working, and the time got away from me. I like to check out anyone I spend any kind of time with, did anything weird come up when you were investigating him?” I ask innocently.
Tack hums as he rifles around on his desk, and I’m happy to find he was in fact working late. “I thought a guy working with rock stars would have some kind of dirt, but Derek really didn’t. He fucked a couple of girls in the bathroom, but I mean who hasn’t, ya know?”
I snort with amusement I don’t feel because I have never stuck my dick in anyone, let alone fucked someone in a bathroom stall. The only thing that really gets my dick hard is beating the shit out of douchebags and killing them. Horny women in a club just don’t do it for me.
“Do you mind sending me over the photos you took while you were collecting data on him?” I ask blandly. I feel like there has to be something I can see that he didn’t. Tack is great, but it wouldn’t be the first time I caught something he missed.
“Yeah, yeah. Same email as usual alright? Did something happen today to make you want to look into him, or is this your natural obsessive need to know everything?”Tack asks. I can almost see him rolling his eyes from here and my lip twitches.
“The latter, Tack. Derek was really great today, and he’ll be an asset to the campaign. The same email is great,” I confirm.
Tack clicks a few keys on his computer and my own beeps with incoming mail. Smirking at his efficiency, I thank Tack and hang up.
