Page 41 of Rags's Awakening
Rags dropped onto the edge of his bed, elbows on his knees, the bottle still clutched in his hand. The room smelled of leather and whiskey. His jacket hung over the back of a chair, the one-percenter patch catching the faint light from the window.
He took another swig straight from the bottle, the burn hitting hard. His head felt heavy, but his thoughts wouldn’t quit.
Casey.
Her lips, her scent, the way she’d looked at him before pulling away—it all came rushing back. Then Julie. Her voice. Her damn timing. It all tangled together until he couldn’t tell one ache from the other.
He rubbed a hand over his face, staring at the wall. “What the hell’s wrong with me?” he muttered.
The whiskey didn’t answer. Nothing did.
Outside, a bike fired up, the sound echoing through the compound before fading into the distance.
He leaned back on the bed, eyes closing against the spin of the room. For a man surrounded by brothers, he’d never felt more alone.
He took another pull from the bottle, whiskey spilling down his chin. The room tilted once, then steadied. He let the bottle slip from his hand and closed his eyes, the hum of the clubhouse fading until there was nothing left but the dark.
Chapter Ten
The morning light,shining bright, crept over the brick façade, slanted across the theatre’s front steps when Casey pulled into the lot. The unseasonably warm air kept gold and russet leaves clinging to the branches. She got out of the car, grabbed her briefcase, and made her way inside.
The building hummed with its usual sounds: muffled chatter, distant footsteps, hammers pounding, a rolling cart somewhere backstage. She unlocked her office and stepped in. Thin wisps of sunshine filtered through the closed blinds. She set her briefcase down, booted up the computer, then went to the window and opened the slats. A few cars passed by, squirrels jumped from trees, but her thoughts weren’t in the moment. They were still on the Harley she’d heard the afternoon before.
The sound of that bike—deep, rough, unmistakable—had pulled her straight to her office window. She could still see him in her mind: Rags making a sharp U-turn in the middle of the street, his muscles flexing under the tight T-shirt, before he rode away. As she’d watched him disappear, something inside her had tightened, then dropped. Before she could shake the memory off, Raven appeared in the doorway, clutching a cup of coffee.
“You’ve seen the news, right?” she asked, eyes wide.
Casey blinked. “What news?”
“Another woman was killed,” Raven said. “She was found this morning near Henderson.” She lowered her voice. “Dark hair, strangled. Same as the others.”
A chill rippled across Casey’s skin. “That’s five now… right?”
“Yep, except this time the victim wasn’t killed in her home,” another colleague, Lena, said as she came in behind Raven. “They’re saying it might be the same guy. Maybe someone drifting through. Or someone from around here who knows the back roads.”
Casey swallowed. “That’s… awful.”
“Awful?” Lena wrapped her arms around herself. “It’s terrifying. I’ve got pepper spray now. I don’t even walk to my car alone anymore.”
Raven nodded. “I heard they’re telling women to stick to main roads and lock up early. This town feels different lately. Like something’s hanging over it.” She held Casey’s gaze. “You have to be especially careful because you live alone and you have dark hair.”
Casey forced herself to nod, though her hands trembled slightly. The thought of someone out there hunting women who looked like her made her skin crawl.
“I’ll be okay. We’ll all be okay,” she said.
“Curtis worries about you since you live alone,” Raven added.
Casey’s pulse ticked up a notch. “When I was at the store last week, he said you were the one worried about me.”
A quizzical look flickered across Raven’s face before she pressed her lips together and nodded. “Yes, I am worried about you because you’re alone, not like Lena who has auburn hair”—she angled her head toward the younger woman—“and who has a husband to stick close to her.”
“Husband or not, red or blue hair,” Lena said, “I’m terrified. It was one thing when he was breaking into women’s houses, but this latest one was outside. That poor woman was just walking home after a late-night shift.”
“Maybe it’s not the same guy,” Casey said. “Serial killers tend to stick to the same pattern. It could be another nut. Maybe aboyfriend or something. We don’t know. The police always hold things back.”
“Maybe,” Lena said.
“Curtis told me he knows it’s the same guy. He felt the vibration of the murder.” Raven shrugged. “Whatever that means.”
