Read Darkness Falls (Darkness Series Book 3) Online
Authors: J.L. Drake
Darkness Falls (Darkness Series Book 3)
Darkness Falls
Darkness Series Book 3
J.L. Drake
Darkness Falls
Copyright © 2015 by J.L. Drake.
All rights reserved.
First Print Edition: October 2015
Limitless Publishing, LLC
Kailua, HI 96734
Formatting: Limitless Publishing
ISBN-13: 978-1-68058-312-0
ISBN-10: 1-68058-312-3
No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to locales, events, business establishments, or actual persons—living or dead—is entirely coincidental.
Dedication
To all my readers who waited patiently for the conclusion of Seth and Emily’s story, I thank you.
Table of Contents
October
Seth
Boom! Boom!
Rice flew in all directions as I ducked to get a better view of the shooter. My shirt was drenched in wine from when the fucker tried to remove my head. My ears still rang from how close the bullet came. My vest was sticky against my skin, but it was the least of my worries.
The sales clerk’s wife had a death wish if she didn’t shut the hell up.
“Hard left, Connors,” Garrett hissed over the radio.
Shit! I scrambled to my feet and made the turn before he saw me. I spotted Garrett off to my left, and he pointed to our backup, who had just arrived.
“Hey,” the woman screamed from behind the counter, “you have a gun! Do something!” I put my finger to my mouth, but she was too far gone to care.
“Oh, officers,” the shooter yelled. I saw his reflection in the fridge door, which only meant…
Boom! Boom!
His shotgun blasted inches from my head.
“Fuck!” I dove one row down and tumbled into a display of Gatorade. Two more shots were fired. That was it; he should be out. I heard his shotgun fall to the floor, then the cock of a handgun.
Shit!
We got a call there was a robbery at a convenience store. Little did we know the shooter was hyped up on Flakka. He was fifty, with the strength of a twenty-year-old. Two shots to his shoulder, and he was moving like the fucking Hulk. I’d encountered his brother before, although his choice was a machete. I would prefer that right now.
“Stay down, Connors,” Campbell rang through the radio. “I have a clear shot.”
“Ten-four,” I mumbled. I didn’t want to draw attention to my location.
A bullet broke through the glass door, just missing the shooter.
“You,”
bang,
“want,”
bang,
“a piece,”
bang,
“of me?” The shooter stopped right by my side.
Now or never
. I jumped up, wrapped my arms around his waist, and hauled him through the market with a driving force. We slammed into the wall and fell to the ground, our fists fighting for flesh to hit. Garrett head-locked the shooter and pulled him off me. He gave me just enough time to get to my feet and reach for my gun.
“Oh, look at the piggy now,” he spat at me. I waited until he stepped a little closer, then twisted my body and swiped my leg along the floor and under his feet so he fell backward. It gave me a moment to grab my gun, but I was too late. The sound echoed around inside my skull right before the pain registered. It wasn’t a deep ache, just a wicked burn. Three pops, and the shooter went down.
Garrett appeared above me. He ripped open my shirt and checked me out.
“Knee,” I groaned as the pain sank in, “fucking knee.”
Just as quickly as it started, it ended. That was when my brain could separate the fact I was moments away from being blown to shit, to going back to the station and having a hot shower, then heading home to my girlfriend. It was how I operated. It was how I survived.
***
Emily
“Why kill someone? Is it to get your fifteen minutes of fame? Revenge? Love? Or maybe it’s a mental illness? An obsession with the opposite sex? There are so many possibilities why someone would take someone else’s life, it’s terrifying. For the average person, the thought can cross our minds daily, but actually following through with the act is something else. Most have a conscience—the inner sense of wrong and right. But imagine for a moment not having one, not having any form of empathy. You murder someone over a bowl of Frosted Flakes and show up dressed for Mom’s Sunday dinner. Well, Tony Lace did.” Professor Dean turned to the screen, clicked a button, and showed a mug shot of the man. “Tony was hunted by the police for eleven years, until at the ripe old age of forty-five, he got sloppy and killed his boss in the middle of the office in the middle of the day. Just snapped and lost it.” Small gasps escaped from a few people.
“When they interviewed him later, he felt nothing for his crimes. He killed twenty-three women over eleven years, without even so much as a glossy eye. So,” he sat up on his desk in his normal casual manner while we all clung to his next words, “the point of all of this is don’t piss people off. You never know if the person sitting next to you might actually be plotting your murder.” He winked as he clicked the screen off. The class erupted in some nervous laughter, everyone discretely eyeing one another.
“Drink?” Scott asked as he snapped his laptop shut. “Or maybe a light sedative, ’cause, wow.” He laughed as he packed up his bag. We both decided to take this class again. There was something about Professor Dean that made you think outside the box, then want to run the hell back in. His class was fascinating, and every year he had new material to teach. He was excited to see we returned for a second year. We sat in the middle where the rest of the repeaters generally gravitated.
“Yes, to the first,” I answered, pulling out my phone and giving Seth a quick call. It went directly to voicemail, which was unusual, considering he never turned it off. I gave a mental shrug and followed Scott to The Goose.
Erin and Alex were sitting at our table, and Ronnie the bartender was already nodding as I came through the door, knowing I’d want my normal four o’clock drink and snack.
I come here too much
, I laughed to myself.
I stole a fry from Erin before she started in on her usual banter. “How was the sexy professor’s class this afternoon? Who done it today? Mr. Green in the library?”
“Nope.” Scott quickly thanked Ronnie for his beer. “Today we learned what makes people kill.”
“Oh.” Erin’s face scrunched up, looking disinterested.
Alex piped up. “So, Scott, what would make you snap? And who would you kill?”
“Mr. Wittgenstein from last semester. That man nearly killed me from boredom.” He made everyone at the table laugh. He was so quick to lighten the mood.
“Are the guys joining us?” Erin asked. She saw me checking my phone. Sadly, it was still a habit, thinking I should check in a few times a day. Seth wanted me to, but since there was really no reason, I’d been trying to pull back. I needed to remember that everything was fine.
My phone rang, and it was him. I held up a finger to Erin while I answered it.
“Hey.” I smiled like a fool in love. “How are you?”
“Hey, babe.” He sounded tired. “It’s been a long day. Are you at The Goose?”
“I am.”
“Umm, okay, I’ll meet you at home.”
“Oh.” I felt a pang of disappointment as I headed toward the door for some privacy. “Is everything all right?”
There was a pause.
“Yeah, just going to be here for a little longer. I’ll get Johnnie to come to the house and—”
“No, you won’t, Seth Connors,” I scolded. “I do not need those men babysitting me anymore. I lived on my own in that house for many years without any of you. You know I’ll be fine. Jimmy Lasko is dead, and Hank Wallace is behind bars. I’m not in danger anymore.” I used his work therapist’s words at him, knowing they were true.
He sighed heavily, but didn’t push it. We went through this same discussion at least twice a week now. He was so damn controlling and protective that he couldn’t let the past go.
“Fine, I won’t be long, then I’ll work from home.”
I groaned a little, just wanting him to relax. “Seth, you can’t be with me at all times. Life has thrown us some shit, and we fought through it. Now it’s time to move on and be normal.” I lowered my voice, lacing it with a husky undertone. “I’ll meet you at home later, and if you think you’re going to get any work done, think again.”
He did his frustrated, sexy growl. “Fine,” he relented. “Just text me when you get there.”
“Only if you say please,” I joked.
“No.” The phone went dead. A moment later, a text came through.
Seth: TEXT ME!
I laughed. Seth would always be Seth. It was simply in his DNA.
***
The ocean was calm, and only a soft breeze could be heard through the long palm leaves. The moon was full and hung brightly over the water, casting its endless orange path to nothingness. I loved my home, though to be honest, I wasn’t comfortable on my own yet, but I wouldn’t let Seth know. It would only fuel his fire. So I tried to focus on repairing myself on my own. Therapy was not something I was interested in. It didn’t help when my father died, and it wouldn’t help now. I just tucked everything away neat and tidy inside my head.
I wove through the crosses and spider webs, past the coffins and Dracula, and hit my porch, thinking this would be the last year I gave Pete free rein of my house when I wasn’t home. That man was obsessed with decorating, no matter what holiday. He convinced me to let him do Halloween with no limits, since last year we didn’t even celebrate due to the fact we had just closed the case on Lasko. It was those damn eyes of his; they got me every time.
I stuck my key in the lock and smiled when I saw he’d set up two pumpkin men on my porch swing. Then I saw it. “Oh my God, Pete!” I gasped, removing one of their hands off the other’s private parts. I did a quick scan and saw all of the decorations were involved in some kind of rude act. “I’m going to kill him!” I hurried over to the orgy of witches, removed Dracula’s blow-up doll, and snatched the Grim Reaper from the moaning ghost. I quickly texted Pete, but rolled my eyes when I saw he’d once again changed his name in my phone.
Emily: You’re so dead!
Sensuous Pete: What? My theme was a haunted brothel.
Emily: Travis has nephews!
Sensuous Pete: Who do you think helped?
Poor Travis. I glanced at his house, seeing he was home. Maybe I should go speak to him.
Sensuous Pete: You have to admit, Michael Myers is funny!
I quickly scanned my property, trees, balcony, and roof, then I saw him over in the shadows being bent over and smacked on the ass with a paddle by a drawn-on blow-up doll. Wow, he left nothing to the imagination with his drawings. I jammed the doll into the trash can, not letting on that I could hear her deflating. I’d laugh at the irony of it, but I was too damn embarrassed.
Emily: I hate you.
Sensuous Pete: I love you too, love.
Travis’s kitchen light was on. Better address it now.
“Knock, knock,” I said through the open patio door a few minutes later. Travis was cooking something that made my stomach grumble.
He didn’t turn as he told me to come in. “Sorry, my hands are covered in batter. Help yourself to a drink.” He nodded to the open wine bottle on the counter. I poured myself a little, knowing if I didn’t, I’d have to hear about how when he was little, if your company didn’t take the drink, it was a sign of disrespect. “You just get home?”
“Yes.” I shook my head, almost blushing at what Pete did.
He smirked. He knew why I was there. “They love him, you know, my nephews.” He started to laugh. “They had a ball.”
I covered my face with my free hand. “I’m sorry, Pete is a breed all his own.”
“Emily, the boys are fifteen. Sex is always on their mind. They came up with half of those ideas themselves. Besides, Pete kept them busy while I got some work done.” He washed his hands after he coated the pork chops. “Now I have the weekend to relax.”
I laughed through a sigh, moving to look out his grand, open window. A cool, late October breeze washed over my face. “Well, thank you for not being upset.” I sipped my wine and watched the water lap at the shore.
“Seth working?” Travis asked as he came up next to me, leaning on the door frame and watching the specular view.
“Yes.” I nodded, wishing he weren’t.
“You hungry?”
I smiled and thought how lucky I was to have him as a neighbor. I could have gotten another couple like the Stones; I’d barely even seen their faces. I was sure I ran into them at the supermarket and never knew it was them. I patted my pocket and realized I’d left my phone in my purse on the porch.
“Thanks, but I should get back.”
“You know, it’s all right to spend more than fifteen minutes here at a time.” He flashed me a smile. Travis really was a good looking man. I wasn’t entirely sure why he was single. Lord knew every woman in town had tried to make a move, but he didn’t seem to bite. He reminded me of a taller, thicker Jude Law. “What are you thinking about?” He pulled me from my thoughts. I guessed I was staring.
“Sorry, I just realized who you remind me of.”
“Oh? Enlighten me, please.”
