Blackest Night Read online

  Copyright © 2017 by Stephanie Hoffman McManus

  Cover images used under license from Depositphotos

  All rights reserved by the author, including the right to reproduce,

  distribute, or transmit in any form, by any means.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, organizations, places, events and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Contents

  Prologue

  One

  Two

  Three

  Four

  Five

  Six

  Seven

  Eight

  Nine

  Ten

  Eleven

  Twelve

  Thirteen

  Fourteen

  Fifteen

  Sixteen

  Seventeen

  Eighteen

  Nineteen

  Epilogue

  For my Dad

  The first man I loved and the one

  against which all others will be measured.

  Thanks for not stopping on that bridge.

  P.S. Don’t read this. You’ll blush harder than you did at the first one

  .

  Prologue

  Betrayal comes with a price.

  So does lying and stealing and cheating.

  There are consequences for the choices we make. Someone has to answer for them.

  Like pieces on a chess board, one wrong move and you get taken out. Make too many wrong moves and it’s game over.

  That’s why you should always know your opponent. Play with the wrong person, and you’re guaranteed to lose. Take something that doesn’t belong to you, and you might just regret it.

  Thinking you’re in control when you’re not can be another fatal flaw.

  If you’re not careful, someone will slip right past and take your queen.

  Or maybe you’ll find out it’s not a game at all, and then they’ll just come straight for you.

  Either way, someone is going to lose.

  Tonight, that someone was completely unaware of what awaited her.

  The anger that had been simmering in my gut boiled over into a white-hot rage that spread through my veins and licked at my bones as I watched her step from the shiny, new, silver Lexus. She thought she had it all. The picture-perfect life. She also thought she had everyone fooled. I knew better, though. Why else would she be at this hotel tonight?

  Everything she thought was hers was about to be ripped away. The privileged bitch didn’t know how powerless she really was. I’d been powerless before. Been at the mercy of others. Nothing but a pawn on the board, moved as someone else saw fit. Had my dignity stripped away. My choices taken from me. But I got my life back. And when I did, I promised no one would ever take anything else away from me again. I would have what was mine and let no one get in my way.

  There was a lesson to be learned here tonight and I was going to be the teacher.

  Parked in the shadows across the street, I waited until she’d slipped inside the hotel before stepping out onto the dark, deserted street. The sweltering heat clung to the night even though the sun had set hours ago. Sweat beaded on my skin as my eyes darted every which direction while my feet carried me over the pavement to the corner of the parking lot where her precious Lexus sat.

  Another quick scan of my surroundings ensured that I was alone and unobserved as I clicked the flashlight on and slipped the key from my pocket that let me inside. Then I went to work. How easy it was to do a little tampering under the hood. Just enough to ensure she didn’t make it back home tonight. She wouldn’t notice anything was until it was too late.

  For extra insurance, I ducked back inside the driver’s side long enough to crush up the tablet I carried and sprinkle it in the bottle of vitamin water that sat in the cupholder. With any luck, she’d drink when she returned to the car, and it would appear as nothing more than a senseless, tragic accident.

  As quickly and easily as the task was done, I slipped back through the night, undetected. And then I waited. Patiently. Letting the anticipation and excitement build. More than an hour went by before she emerged again and briskly made her way to the vehicle that would carry her to her unfortunate, but deserved, fate.

  Right now, she was still thinking she’d gotten away with it. Smug bitch. Even under the black sky and barely-there illumination cast by the few street lights that weren’t busted out, I swore I could see the satisfied expression she wore as she hurried in her heels to what she thought was the safety of her car.

  When she climbed behind the wheel, there was a brief moment where the soft glow of the overhead light illuminated the car. It was my turn to smirk when she reached for that bottle and brought it to her lips just before the light faded and the interior of the car was dark once more.

  She pulled onto the street. I waited until her taillights turned the corner before following. I had to make sure, but more than that, I wanted to be there for it. I wanted to watch.

  She made it all the way to the Parkway, so close to home, before anything went wrong. We passed only one other car on the long stretch of road. There were few houses and businesses along this route. It was mostly industrial. I gripped the steering wheel tighter. Her eyes must be feeling heavy.

  “Come on, any time now,” I muttered.

  And that’s when it happened.

  From nearly a quarter mile back, I watched as the car going over sixty careened off the road. At that speed, when it hit the guardrail the car flipped and rolled. The shattering of glass and the crunch of metal was like a sweet melody to my ears. I slowed my own vehicle and brought it to a stop. The Lexus only stopped after plowing into a trailer that sat on a deserted construction site.

  The timing couldn’t have been more to my advantage. In this spot, with no houses or businesses in the immediate vicinity, it would be a while before someone came to investigate or happened upon the crash site.

  I climbed from my car, adrenaline pumping, and slipped through the shadows. I made my way to the overturned and mangled SUV that was beginning to catch fire. She was unconscious and bloodied when I knelt to look inside the wreckage. Unable to help myself, despite only having seconds, maybe less, before the entire vehicle was engulfed, I reached my hand in the small gap where the driver’s window used to be. I felt her slow and uneven breaths on my palm. An all too familiar sensation bubbled up in my chest. There was a pounding in my ears. I couldn’t walk away and leave it to the flames, even though I knew that her death was more imminent with every second that passed without the arrival of help. I knew I needed to back away, but I couldn’t make myself. Not until the life was snuffed from her. I wanted to do it myself. I wanted to be the one that stole the very life from her.

  It was nothing to cover my hand with my sleeve and close it over her mouth and nose, cutting off her oxygen. She remained unconscious and the only sign of her death was a few minor twitches of her body as it attempted to fight for air. That was it, and then she was still, her chest no longer rising, her lips no longer sucking in tiny breaths. She was just dead.

  One second she was alive, her body clinging to that precious life, and the next, by my hand, she wasn’t. All that remained was this grim sense of finality and the heavy fumes of burning materials and gasoline in the air.

  It was done.

  I thought I’d feel more. After all, she got what she deserved. I thought I’d want to dance or spit on her corpse, but I simply rose up to my feet and retreated from the accident that was no accident. I’d made it ten feet before I heard the whoosh of flames and felt the heat on my back.
r />   It was only when I was another mile down the road that the smile crept to my lips.

  One

  Cassie

  “Stop glaring and take these over there.” Nora set two large cups of coffee on the counter in front of me, forcing me to abandon my telepathic assault on my least favorite customer. If only I really could shrink his testicles with my mind. “And don’t spit in his coffee,” she added, already at work on the next customer’s order.

  With a dramatic and aggravated sigh, I pushed myself up from my slumped position and grabbed the coffees. I straightened my shoulders, rising to my full five-foot and three-inch height—I could thank my half Korean mother for that—and pasted on my I don’t give a fuck face. Because I didn’t. It didn’t bother me that he was here. At all. It didn’t bother me that he came here every morning. Every. Single. Damn. Morning. Looking like some dark, Russian angel of pain and death and heartbreak, because those were the only things you’d get from him. I suspected he was equally skilled at dealing out each. He was ice cold. And maybe an assassin? I didn’t know, and neither did I care. He was nothing and no one to me.

  Sure, he could turn on that blinding white smile, melt you with those startling blue eyes, and make your insides feel squishy with that deep, barely there, hint of a Russian accent that all his years in the US hadn’t completely eradicated. You might even be fooled enough to fall into the sack with the guy, whereupon he would deliver the most earth-shattering orgasms of your life, but come morning, he would revert back to his usual gruff and severe self. In fact, he didn’t even wait until morning. The second the condom was in the trash, it was all wham, bam, and not even a thank you ma’am. Just a, you can go now.

  You can go now.

  For fuck’s sake, it wasn’t like I’d expected flowers and breakfast in bed. I knew it was just a hookup, but seriously? You can go now?

  That’s it?

  Prick.

  Okay, maybe I was bitter, but he was still an asshole. His dickish behavior had continued long past our one night, which I now looked back on with only regret.

  Both guys looked up from the, no doubt, top-secret and all-important conversation they were having as I neared their table. I offered Nora’s brother-in-law, Camden, a brief smile and handed him his coffee. “Morning, Cam.”

  “Morning, Cass.” He accepted his coffee with a warm and sexy smile. Just when I thought I’d definitely decided which of the Shaw brothers was hotter, the other would show up and I’d be back to debating dimples and penetrating stares, but that was beside the point. They were both very taken anyway. I hardened my features, turning to Nikolai, and thunked his cup down in front of him.

  “Here.” If I could spit knives with my words, I would have stabbed him ten times over with that one word. He didn’t so much as blink at me. He simply sat there, his expression almost bored and slightly smug. I bit down on my frustration. He reached for the cup, one corner of his mouth curling up just slightly.

  I spun around on my heels, huffing out an annoyed breath. I knew better than to let him goad me into a reaction. It was pointless.

  “Wait.”

  I turned around. He had the cup halfway to his mouth. “You didn’t spit in it this time, did you?”

  I shrugged and smirked, then sauntered away, rejoining Nora behind the counter.

  “You ever going to tell me what happened with you two?” she asked, leaning against the counter now that there was a lull in customers.

  “Nothing to tell,” I muttered.

  “Right,” she smirked. “Ever since the wedding, you’ve looked like you wish you could chop his balls off and put them in the blender.”

  I shrugged. “I’d be doing the female population a favor.”

  “Okay, cut the shit. Obviously, you two hooked up.”

  “Maybe we did.” I chanced a look at their table. Nikolai caught me and winked as he lifted his coffee to his lips. I tore my gaze away and gritted my teeth. “If so, it was a one-time thing that will never, ever happen again. As in never ever, ever, T-Swift style. Because he’s an asshole. And he wasn’t even all that good in bed.” Lie. Lie. Lie.

  Nora’s brow arched. “What’d he do? Tie you up and spank you?” She shot a curious look at the guys’ table. “He kind of seems the type.”

  “Geez, Nora. No.” But thanks for those mental images. As if I needed any more. Not to mention that I sort of got the feeling that night that he was the type who would have been into it if I’d have let him. “You really want to know what happened?”

  Her face said, “Duh.”

  “Okay, whatever. We hooked up after your rehearsal dinner. I was drunk, he was hot and charming, or maybe I was just drunk enough to think he was.” Because I certainly hadn’t seen any of that charm since. “Afterward, he practically shoved me out of the bed and his hotel room. He’s been a complete dick ever since.”

  Nora cringed.

  “Wasn’t like I expected a promise ring, but he didn’t have to be a jerk.”

  “I’m sorry. He’s Spencer’s best friend, but I really don’t know him that well. He’s always come across a little . . .”

  “Heartless? Emotionally crippled?” I supplied.

  “I was going to say taciturn.”

  “I like mine better.”

  “Okay, but asshole or not, he’s not going anywhere. So, maybe you could try to play nice. Or at least you two could stop provoking each other.”

  I rolled my eyes to the ceiling and sighed heavily. “Fine. I will if he will. It’s not like I even care anymore. I’m over it.”

  “I can tell,” Nora muttered under her breath. I made a face at her back as she busied herself cleaning up from the last rush. Business had better than good. It seemed any publicity truly was good publicity. Even if that publicity centered around a serial killer whose story was about to be made into a major motion picture. I couldn’t believe how many people a day asked Nora if she was the girl from the story, the one the Northwest Strangler was obsessed with. I could tell it bothered her, but she handled it better than I did the ones who confronted me. Nora got sympathy and curiosity. I got scathing looks when they asked if I was the one who’d been dating him.

  Nobody likes a girl who fucked a serial killer. Even if said girl had no clue he was a psychopath. It wasn’t like he introduced himself as the Northwest Strangler. He didn’t even use his real name. I was as fooled as everyone else. He was the liar, the deceiver, and a damned good actor. Yet, according to just about every speculator out there, which was most people, I should have known. I should have seen some sign, as if there’d been a neon one flashing above his head.

  Let me assure you, there wasn’t. There were no signs, neon or otherwise.

  Almost two years had gone by and still no one could forget. Or let me forget. In fact, since the movie option had been announced, the story had seen a revival. Filming started last week. Right here in the good ol’ Pacific Northwest, where it all went down. I couldn’t wait to see how I was portrayed on-screen. Not. The media had painted me as a brainless and reckless party-girl when the story broke. Why would the movie be any different? I planned to be out of town when it hit theaters. It would be a good time to head to Florida to visit my parents. The release was sure to bring out more of the crazies, crime junkies, serial killer fanatics, and people just too nosy for their own good.

  Lost in my depressing thoughts, it took me a moment to realize there was a customer staring at me expectantly. His slightly amused expression became a full-on grin as I straightened up.

  “Hi, what can I get for you?” He was easy on the eyes in an athletic, well built, hipster way. It was like all the hipsters started taking protein, hitting the gym, and growing beards. I didn’t know what category to put them in anymore.

  “Can I get a twenty-ounce quad shot with almond milk and a pump of caramel?” He was still grinning, a little twinkle in his baby blues.

  “Sure thing.” I rang his drink up, returning his grin with a polite smile as I took his money
and then reached for the cup to make his drink.

  “This place is great,” he commented while I worked. I forced another smile and nodded. “I just moved to town from Everett,” he continued. “I’m still getting to know the area, but so far I like what I see.” His flirty tone told me exactly what he liked. I ignored it and thankfully the noise of the espresso machine cut off any further conversation.

  The guy was persistent, though. As soon as the shots finished brewing and the noise subsided, he started in again. “Are you from here, or are you a transplant as well?” This was not a guy suffering from low self-esteem. He knew he was good looking.

  “Born and raised.” I snapped a lid on the cup and slid it into a sleeve. “Here you go.” I handed him his drink.

  “Don’t suppose you wrote your number on it?” He flashed those extra-pearly whites.

  I gave him an impassive look. I was immune to his type these days.

  “Alrighty,” he mumbled, taking his coffee and retreating.

  I didn’t feel badly. His ego could take the hit. He’d get over it.

  I was sure I’d done myself a favor. Spared myself the trouble he no doubt was. A guy seems all cute and charming at first, and then you find out he has a secret identity, only he’s not a super hero—unless his last name is Shaw. Instead, he’s an insane person who likes to rape and strangle girls in the basement of a creepy cabin in the middle of nowhere. Or maybe he’s just a regular asshole. Either way, I’d both been there and done that.

  “He was cute,” Nora interjected into my musings.

  I shrugged.

  “Really cute, and it looked like really interested,” she added, nudging me.

  “He probably has a foot fetish or something else weird,” I responded.

  She sighed, “Cass, not every guy you meet is a creep.”

  “I know that. Some are just jerks.” Case in point, my eyes flicked involuntarily toward Cam and Nikolai’s table.

  Nora followed my gaze. “Thought you were over that?”

  “Maybe it’s the other stuff I’m not over, Nora,” I snapped a little harsher than intended.