The Killing Kind Read online

  lord_ruthven: I just saw it. I don’t know what to say. You’re one sick bitch.

  Mixedupgirl: LOL. Yeah.

  lord_ruthven: You make me so sad sometimes.

  Mixedupgirl: Get over it. I’ll probably never fuck you again.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  March 24

  Sean Hewitt picked up the heavy duffel bag and set it on the edge of the bed. He glanced out the big window above the bed and saw a maze of beach houses and narrow roads with sandy shoulders. The room he and Annalisa had taken overlooked the driveway and swimming pool out front. It would have been nice to have a room with a view of the beach and the ocean, but he wasn’t about to complain. It’d been damn generous of Chuck’s dad to foot the bill for everybody. The main thing was just being here. There had been some unpleasant delays. That whole weird thing with Chuck and whatever had happened to him. The even weirder tension between Zoe and her supposed best friend, Emily. But they were here now, with nearly a full week of sun and fun ahead of them.

  He unzipped the bag and began to sort through its contents in search of the new swim trunks he’d purchased for the trip. Everyone else was down at the beach already and he was anxious to join them.

  “There you are.”

  Sean turned around. “Uh…hi.”

  Emily Sinclair stood just inside the door to the room. She was wearing black pumps and a tiny white bikini. She looked sensational. The white fabric against her already pale flesh created an interesting effect. From a distance she would look naked. Hell, this close it almost looked that way. Her red lips curved into a smile beneath the dark sunglasses covering her eyes.

  “Hey, Sean. I’m glad you’re here.”

  He cleared his throat. “Uh…yeah. I thought you were down at the beach.”

  She was still smiling. “I was. But remembered something I needed to do.”

  “Huh.”

  Her smile gave way to a pensive look. “Yeah. I sort of need help with something in my room. Do you mind? It’ll just take a minute.”

  Before he could answer, she turned and strutted out of the room, giving her hips an exaggerated sway. Sean stared after her. That ass was really something. He frowned. He wanted to get down to the beach with Annalisa. Oh, well. Whatever Emily needed help with couldn’t possibly be that complicated or time-consuming. He’d just go help her out, then come back and change.

  Emily was already waiting for him in her room. She stood near the foot of the king-size bed that dominated the room and waited for him to come inside. He hesitated a moment. Something was a little off here. He shook his head. That was silly. What could possibly be wrong? He smiled and came into the room.

  Emily licked her lips. “Care to guess what I need help with, Sean?”

  She hooked her thumbs inside the bottom piece of her bikini and wriggled her hips as she slid the tiny piece of fabric down over her thighs. Sean’s mouth went dry as he got a look at her neatly trimmed patch of pubic hair. It looked like a porn star’s snatch. Barely any hair at all, really. She sat on the edge of the bed and kicked the bikini bottom across the room. She braced her hands on the mattress and arched her back a little to emphasize the swell of her breasts.

  His dumbstruck expression made her giggle. “I was getting all horny down at the beach. I can’t help it. Sunshine and sand gets me all worked up. I was hoping you could go down on me for a few minutes. You know, just to take the edge off. What do you say, Sean? Can you help a girl out?”

  He coughed. “Um…isn’t this a job for Joe?”

  “Joe could do it, sure.” She smiled. “But you’re cuter.”

  Sean watched in disbelief as she spread her legs and started fingering herself. What was wrong with this girl? “Look…you’re hot and all, like seriously fucking hot, but I’ve got a girlfriend. And, shit…I love her. I’m sorry, I just…I can’t do this. And what the hell is your problem? Isn’t Annalisa your friend? This is some fucked-up shit. Do me a favor and stay away from me, okay?”

  He turned away from her and started toward the door. Emily came off the bed with a snarl, grabbed him by a shoulder and spun him around. His feet tangled and he started to stagger backward. Emily slammed the heel of a hand against his chest and he stumbled backward into the wall.

  “Jesus, Emily. What the fuck?”

  Her hands curled into fists at her sides. He saw the muscles in her shoulders and arms tense. She looked ready to tear him apart. “Don’t you fucking dare tell anyone about this.”

  He laughed—a nervous laugh. “Okay.”

  “I mean it.”

  Sean stared at her in silence for a few tense moments, and his own anger began to build. “You know what, Emily? I think I will tell Annalisa about this. She should know what kind of—”

  “You won’t say a word.”

  “I will. And you can’t stop me.”

  Emily smiled again, but now there was something almost ugly in the expression. “Oh, but I can. Does Annalisa know about Melinda?”

  Sean’s heart almost stopped at the mention of the name. “Um…what?”

  Emily’s laughter was almost as ugly as that smug smile. “You heard me. Talked to the girl a couple weeks ago. She told me some very interesting things. Including a thing or two about you. Things you wouldn’t want your girlfriend to know.”

  Sean’s eyes filled with tears.

  He watched her strut back to the bed. She sat on its edge and spread her legs again, beckoned him with a bent forefinger. He pushed away from the wall and started toward her.

  Then stopped.

  “No.”

  “What?”

  He shrugged. “No. Seriously. Fuck this. Tell Annalisa about Melinda. I’ll deal with it one way or another. I made a mistake. I’ve felt like shit about it ever since. It won’t be happening again. And I sure as hell won’t be pushed around by you.”

  He left the room without another word, pulling the door shut behind him. Something thumped against the door. She’d probably thrown one of her shoes. That sound and her accompanying cry of frustration were very gratifying things to hear.

  Sean went back to his room and changed.

  Then he went down to the beach and found comfort in the arms of his true love.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  March 24

  The low-slung canvas beach chair was a comfortable and peaceful place to be. The softly rippling ocean was so beautiful. It looked endless and eternal, so big it seemed nothing else could possibly exist somewhere beyond all that water. She imagined a world covered in water and populated by benevolent sea people. In her mind she pictured them as a weird cross between sea monkeys and mermaids and mermen. It was a silly, whimsical notion, but Zoe found it deeply appealing.

  Most of her friends were wading in the ocean, either just standing there or splashing in the gently rolling tide. Chuck was farther out, floating on a rubber raft. Zoe was content to stay where she was for now. It was nice to just kick back from a slight distance, to just relax and observe. Zoe slipped her still mildly chilled Corona from the drink holder built into one of the chair arms and took a slow, refreshing pull from the bottle.

  She heard footsteps approaching from behind—the distinctive slap of flip-flop soles on sand—and remembered there was one other of their number who had yet to dip her toes in the water.

  She tensed.

  Please don’t let this be weird…

  Emily flopped into the chair next to her. She seemed a little agitated. Not a good sign.

  “I hate Sean Hewitt.”

  Zoe blinked. “What?”

  “I hate Sean Hewitt.”

  “I heard you. I just don’t understand what you’re saying. Did he…do something?”

  Emily grunted. “You could say that.”

  “Want to tell me about it?”

  Even as she said it, Zoe regretted the words. She liked Sean well enough. He treated Annalisa well, from what she could tell, and he seemed a decent sort. Sure, he liked to joke around with the guys and
make occasional rude comments. No big deal. It was what guys did when they drank beer and hung around together.

  Emily huffed. “He grabbed my boob in the kitchen.”

  “What? Seriously?”

  Emily took her dark sunglasses off and looked right at her. She looked pissed off, but there was another quality evident just below the surface of the anger. She looked…hurt. Zoe frowned. Maybe she was wrong about Sean.

  “Seriously. Said maybe we should play around some while everybody else was down here.”

  “You’re shitting me.”

  Emily sneered. “Nope. Had to pry his hand off my tit. The bastard.”

  “That son of a bitch.”

  “Yeah. You can’t tell Annalisa, okay? Things are weird enough between us without throwing that in the mix.”

  Zoe was inclined to agree. There had been enough drama on this trip already. Enough for ten fucking vacations. She’d let it go for now and maybe bring it up at a later date.

  She shrugged. “Okay.”

  Emily was staring at her. “Like the bikini. Baby blue suits you.”

  “Thanks.”

  “You look hot.”

  “Um…”

  Emily laughed. “Don’t worry. I won’t go there again, I promise.”

  Zoe smiled. “Thanks.”

  “Are we cool then?”

  Zoe shrugged again. “Sure. You’re my best friend.” A sudden welling of tears surprised her. “Shit.”

  Emily leaned toward her and patted the back of a hand. “Hey, it’s okay.”

  Zoe clasped hands with her. “I’m sorry I was a bitch all yesterday.”

  Emily stroked Zoe’s wrist with the ball of her thumb. “Don’t worry about it. Seriously.”

  The words brought forth another gush of tears. She wiped them away and sniffled. “I guess I was suppressing this. God, I’m such an idiot. I’d hate to lose my best friend over one freaky night.”

  Emily smiled. “Honey, you’re not about to lose me.”

  “Well…good.”

  Emily, as always, looked amazing. Stunning. Everything toned but shapely. Legs so long and lean. Hair so perfect. The face of an angel crossed with a 1940s femme fatale. She looked like a movie star, like a woman born for a life of glitz and glamor. Hell, she was young yet. Zoe suspected those things lurked somewhere in her friend’s future.

  Emily let go of her hand and reached into the tote bag she’d carried to the beach with her. She pulled out her cell phone, flipped it open, and punched in a number.

  “Who are you calling?”

  Emily smirked. “Remember Clayton Wilson?”

  “That pitiful geek who had a crush on you last fall?”

  “Yep.”

  “Why are you calling him?”

  Emily’s smile was evil. “To play with him a little.”

  Zoe laughed. “You’re such a bad girl.”

  “You know it.” Emily’s face brightened, and when she spoke her tone was one of bubbly enthusiasm. “Hey, Clay!”

  A tinny voice came from the cell phone’s speaker.

  Emily winked at Zoe. “Yeah, baby, I’ve missed you, too. Sooo much.”

  Zoe covered a giggle with a hand.

  Emily touched her knee and mouthed the word Stop! She grinned and again spoke in that obnoxious bubbly tone. “I wish I could see you right now. I’ve been thinking about you every day for weeks.“

  That tinny voice emanated from the phone again.

  Emily shook her head. “No, no, no. I was gonna go to Myrtle Beach, but I had a huge fight with stupid Joe right before we left and stayed behind.” Her voice had turned pensive, and she nodded along as the voice from the other end spoke painfully earnest words of comfort and reassurance. “I know, I know. It’s not fair at all. But I know what would make me feel better, baby. Do you think you could meet me up at the Villager Tavern tonight? Say around seven?”

  Loud squeaking sounds emerged from the cell phone’s speaker.

  Sounds of joy.

  Zoe covered another giggle, and Emily slapped her knee and waved an admonishing finger.

  “Yeah, good. So glad to hear that, Clay. We’ll just hang out and have fun. Maybe stroll around campus hand in hand.” Now she sounded wistful, as if this would be the fulfillment of a fond wish. “Awesome. Excellent. Love you, too, sweetie. See ya at seven. We’re gonna have so much fun. Ciao, baby.”

  She flipped the phone shut and giggled.

  Zoe uncovered her mouth and laughed out loud. “That was fucking sick, Emily. That poor boy.”

  Emily smiled. “It was awesome. And you know it.”

  Zoe smiled back. “Yeah.”

  Emily laughed. “Can you just picture it? That little loser waiting and waiting, walking around, looking all over for me, staring at his cheap watch? Too bad all my friends are off campus this week, or I’d have somebody go over there and get some video footage, maybe put it up on YouTube.”

  Zoe thought of something and her smile withered. “Huh…don’t you feel sort of hypocritical now?”

  “Why would I?”

  Zoe frowned. “Well…you were so hard on Chuck about how he treated that little goth girl. I was mad at him, too. I feel sort of bad now.”

  Emily rolled her eyes. “Oh, whatever. You know I just like to fuck with Chuck. I don’t really give a damn about that stupid girl. Speaking of Chuck…are you two really back on? I thought the split was a done deal.”

  Zoe picked up her Corona bottle again and took a sip. “It’s complicated. I guess we’re back on. For now.” Her mood shifted again, her eyes twinkling and her smile curving in a way that suggested naughty thoughts. “We’ve been having some wicked-hot sex.”

  Emily snorted. “Maybe he should get the shit beat out of him more often.”

  Zoe grinned. “Yeah. Maybe.”

  Emily stood up and stretched, purposely displaying the full glory of her gorgeous figure. “I think it’s time I got wet.”

  Zoe stared at her. “Yeah.”

  Emily started walking toward the ocean. She turned and walked backward a few steps as she said, “Come on, Zoe. Come get wet with me.”

  Then she turned away again and sprinted toward the ocean. She waded out until the water was up over her hips, then she sucked in a breath and dove beneath the surface. She surfaced again some twenty yards farther out, bobbing above the water like the top half of the hottest mermaid ever.

  She spotted Zoe and waved.

  Zoe waved back.

  She finished off her beer and stood up, began to walk toward the ocean. She smiled, her gaze alternating between the still-recumbent form of Chuck Kirby and the sleek, dazzling water acrobatics of the best friend she’d ever had.

  She shivered with delight at the first sensation of water sliding over her feet.

  Time to get wet.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  March 24

  The motel parking lot was jammed with the cars of spring breakers. The Tercel was wedged between a powder blue Mustang and a black BMW in a row of cars facing a long, two-story wing of the motel. Rob sat in the Tercel’s driver’s seat, drumming his thumbs along the upper curve of the steering wheel. Roxie sat scrunched down in the passenger seat, her feet propped on the dash. Rob kept glancing at her. Her new outfit was bugging him. She wore tan khaki shorts and a blue T-shirt with a picture of a surfboard on the front, both purchased from a nearby souvenir shop. The clothes looked good on her. That wasn’t the problem. The girl would look good in anything. They just didn’t look…right. If you ignored the several visible tattoos, she could pass for any preppie college kid out for a hot time in the sun and sand.

  She looked at him. “For fuck’s sake…what?“

  “Those clothes don’t look right on you.”

  She smiled. “I should be wearing something cool, right? Something tight and black, with a skull on it, maybe?”

  “Well…yeah.”

  “This is a costume. We need to blend in. You, too.”

  Rob wore black
jeans and a shiny button up black shirt with a bright red flame pattern across the front. The same duds he’d been wearing since she’d taken him.

  “No. I…can’t.”

  She smirked. “You’ll do it if I say so, bitch.”

  Rob pulled a pained expression. “Please…don’t. I couldn’t bear it. I’m begging you. I’m allergic to khaki.”

  Roxie laughed. “I do like to hear a man beg, so whatever.”

  Rob gripped the steering wheel and started the thumb-drumming thing again. “Look. We’ve got money. Why don’t we just check in?”

  Roxie shook her head. “No. I don’t want any motel clerk remembering us.”

  “You didn’t seem worried about that before.”

  “Things were different then.”

  “How?”

  “I wasn’t in love with you yet.”

  Rob shifted in his seat, fidgeting a little as he became uncomfortable.

  Okay, this is fucking crazy.

  It was the third time she’d invoked the L-word today. He couldn’t fathom it. He liked her. Liked her a lot when she wasn’t killing somebody or doing something else completely insane. This was their third day together. Even leaving out all the craziness, wasn’t it a little soon to be bandying that word around? He didn’t know how he felt about her profession of love, assuming it was how she really felt. She could just be fucking with him again. But some deep-down instinct told him she wasn’t playing with his head this time. She liked him. Loved him. Or at least thought she did. And if she truly believed it, for her there would be no difference between delusion and true love. Rob’s feelings for her were complicated by so many things. The repugnant acts he’d seen her commit. His lingering feelings for both Charlene and Lindsey. But what truly troubled him was the sense this thing with Roxie was likely to be painfully brief. Her lifestyle was going to catch up to her sooner or later. One day she’d slip up and be caught or killed by the cops. There was no “happily ever after” waiting somewhere down the road for them. Just a steep and rapid drop deep into the heart of darkness.