Five Will Die, page 2
But she had zero experience as an editor at a publisher this size. Hell, she didn’t even have assistant experience and had been nervous about starting even that job. But at least she was passionate about it. And that was really why she was here. Passion. She wanted to feel alive again in any way she could.
But romance? You had to be fucking kidding her. She’d stopped picking up the rippling abs, pink cover books back in college, and she didn’t want to start reading them again now. She slumped into her hands on her desk, fighting the urge to cry, vomit, and run all at the same time. She also had a severe craving for whiskey and wondered if Chuck kept a decanter in his office. That seemed like something he would do. Or, perhaps truer to character, there was a hidden flask.
Maybe she should just leave, start again at this whole new life thing.
“Don’t worry,” a male voice said behind her, and she spun too quickly in her chair. It spun almost a full circle, and she awkwardly stopped herself on her desk and tried to look smooth as she swung back around to dark-haired suit man hovering above her.
“No one knows what the fuck is happening around here. Ever,” he continued, a smirk on his face. He reached out a hand, and she stood up, remembering that you never shook hands seated if you wanted to be taken seriously.
“Becky Rusett,” she said. “Editor of Romance, apparently.” She barely fought the urge to roll her eyes.
“Lucius Barr. And don’t sound so enthusiastic about it. I take it you’re not a happily-ever-after subscriber.”
“Not at all. Pink makes me want to literally die.”
“You’ll be fine, really. Just drink your coffee and pretend you know what you’re doing. That’s what we all do around here. Especially Chuck.” He added the last sentiment in a whisper that brought him in closer to her, and she caught a whiff of his cologne. It smelled like honey and tar, but it intrigued her nevertheless.
“Then how the hell are we still in business? And in this office?” she asked, the question plaguing her all morning. That was the last thing she needed was to get settled in a company that went belly up.
“Gretchen mostly. She’s our accountant. She keeps the budget tight. But other than that? Who the fuck knows? I just do my job and hope for the best at this point.”
“And that is what? Your job, I mean.”
“Head of marketing.”
“You must’ve been here a long time then,” Becky asked.
Lucius just laughed. “Six months. Of course, in this place, that’s basically a lifetime. Most people move on from here. Probably again because of Chuck.”
She shrugged. “I kind of like him. I’m not one for stuffy New York Suits.” After the words were out, she knew she wanted to retract them, eyeing the suit he wore.
He laughed, though. “Dress for the job you want, right?”
She looked down at her black yoga pants that she hoped were disguised enough to pass as dress pants. Her combat boots, her plain gray T-shirt, and her black leather jacket didn’t exactly scream successful corporate woman. She shrugged.
“If you say so.”
“Well, maybe we can get coffee sometime. And not the office shit. First piece of crucial advice–never drink that stuff in the break room unless you’re desperate. It’s disgusting.”
“Noted,” she said, smiling. He was a handsome man, charming, but despite his suit, she sensed he was hiding something beneath the suave exterior. She felt like if she got to know Lucius Barr, she’d find him dangerously rough around the edges, just like she liked them.
Used to like them, she reminded herself. Been there, done that.
She was just getting ready to excuse herself to head to the restroom when it happened.
A scream that certainly was heard on the top executive floor of the skyscraper reverberated throughout the entire office. The shrill, sickening trill gutted her, and she instantly dropped to the ground. Lucius reached out, a hand on her shoulder, as his eyes scanned the place.
“Come quick, hurry! I need help,” a nasally, high-pitched female voice shouted from somewhere in the corporate maze.
“Stay here,” Lucius ordered, but Becky ran right after him, curious what was going on. Visions of his face came to her, but there was no way. It couldn’t be. He wouldn’t ...
When they got to the office where the scream came from, Becky stared at the sight amidst the mayhem. Lucius and a few other men rushed about her, covering their mouths, some gasping. Scarlet was retching in the corner, and Gretchen was yelling for Chuck.
The woman who had screamed looked like a trying-too-hard Elle Woods, the pink suit coupled with a pink beret that was simply too much. She had on bubblegum pink lipstick, and the motivational quote posters behind her framed her innocuously. The juxtaposition of the bubbly pink woman with the contents of the open box on her desk would be humorous if they weren’t so fucking terrifying.
Because as Becky stared at the severed hand resting on an unsuspecting and probably expensive silk scarf, all she could wonder was if she hadn’t put enough miles between her and that harrowing past as she should have.
Chapter Three
Lucius
After the screams and the panic had calmed and they all stood around the desk staring at each other, Lucius let his gaze dance over the severed limb on the blue scarf. The bluish, purple hue should’ve been off-putting. Still, even the most shaken co-worker, Chelsea, couldn’t seem to take her eyes away from it. He blamed the artistic quality of the hand laid out on the perfect, royal blue scarf. His eyes took in the blackened, jagged edge of where it had been removed. He couldn’t help but wonder what story it would tell. And, of course, of who it belonged to.
It was shocking yet somehow not shocking at all that this package had ended up here. No one working at Evermore Publishing for more than a few hours thought the place was an upstanding example of publishing at his finest. Hell, from his first interview, Lucius knew Chuck Morris was sketchy at best, dangerous at worst. That flip-phone he carried around making mysterious calls on, even in the middle of Lucius’s interview for the marketing position. Those shifty eyes and antsy behavior. And then, of course, they all knew the real money in the place wasn’t pouring in from their book sales. Still, it didn’t matter to any of them. All of the employees hired by Chuck were willing to play into the facade. They closed their eyes to the infamous man in power and pretended they were doing honest work. For the most part, most of them were–if the appearance of the office was to be believed.
Lucius was just at Evermore to get experience before moving on. That was what most of them were here for. Evermore wasn’t a forevermore kind of job. It was a steppingstone. And Lucius Barr needed a steppingstone for what he had planned for his life.
Suddenly, it was as if the slow-motion warp they’d all been entangled by lifted. Everyone jumped into action. Scarlet stuck her head out the door of the office and yelled for Chuck, who had not dashed over with the rest of the office floor to see what was going on despite Gretchen’s best efforts. Onlookers who didn’t fit inside the office stood around, all craning their necks like giraffes trying to ogle the horrifying sight.
Finally, after a pregnant pause, Chuck in all his red-haired glory paraded into the office, parting the sea of employees like a western Moses.
“What the fuck? What the fuck, man?” he shouted upon gawking at the severed limb. Chelsea, in all her pink glory, still hadn’t moved, frozen in place by fear, morbid curiosity, and perhaps the need to feel competent. Her gray face seemed permanently scrunched.
“I-I don’t know. It was just addressed to HR. There was no note, nothing. Should we call the cops?” she asked, her always overly chipper voice still too chipper for the moment.
“No,” Chuck replied instantly. “No. No need. Probably just a prank,” Chuck vehemently responded. “All right, folks, show’s over. Halloween isn’t here yet. Get going,” he said, shooing the crowd gathered at the door. Everyone stood for a long moment as if they didn’t really think any of it was serious, but as Chuck moved toward the herd of people swearing vehemently, they scattered. Murmurs were rampant, and Lucius knew this would be the newest water cooler chatter for some time.
“Chuck, we can’t just ignore this,” Gretchen spoke up, sidling up to him as Chelsea began spewing about PR nightmares and all sorts of crazy documents she should be filing. Lucius had been watching the interactions between Chuck and Gretchen for months. There was something going on there, whether Chuck would admit it or not. The boss man shrugged the doe-eyed blonde off, though, closing the lid on the box and carrying it out while gagging. He shut down Chelsea’s questions about releasing a statement, ordering her not to say a word if she valued her job. The obedient little cheerleader pretended to zip up her lips as her still pale complexion revealed she was anything but fine.
“This is a fucking hand, Chuck. Not some pointless prank like last time. They’re serious this time,” Gretchen murmured in hushed whispers as Chuck moved past Lucius.
“I’ll take care of it,” Chuck responded adamantly, but Lucius knew that meant throwing the hand in the dumpster or burying it or whatever one did with a fucking hand and moving on. That was Chuck’s mantra. Out of sight, out of mind. Libel suits, bad press, a hand in a box with a blue silk scarf. Sweep it away and worry about it tomorrow.
He could understand that sentiment, in truth. Still, Lucius was never the type to forgive and forget. He found the urge to figure out who was doing this, who was taunting them. Last month, it had been a decapitated bird in a box. Now, things were escalating. He should be afraid, he supposed, but in truth, he wasn’t.
Just morbidly curious. Deliriously invested. And, truthfully, relentlessly vindictive. Because whoever this bastard was, he was going to fuck up everything Lucius had worked so hard for. He’d built his reputation here at Evermore and in the publishing world as a fierce marketing force. He’d taken three books to the top of Amazon and had kept their sales high enough to float them. He wasn’t going to let some rage-filled psycho mess it all up.
Slowly, the crew dispersed, shaken and rattled, but assuring themselves the boss man would take care of it. Lucius knew he wouldn’t.
As Lucius finally left the office, wondering if he could risk getting involved, he spotted the new girl. She had come into the office with him, but he hadn’t taken notice of her in the chaos. He found her now in the hallway, leaning against the wall, seemingly muttering to herself in a chant-like fashion–although he couldn’t determine her words.
“You okay?” he asked, wondering if she’d gone into shock. That was all they needed was the new girl running off to spread the news about the real Evermore. She startled, as if she’d really been in another world.
“Um, yeah. Fine. It was just ...”
“Rattling?” he asked as he yanked her to her feet. She was visibly trembling, and although she smiled at him through her tears, he knew there was something more to the story. There always was.
“Come here,” he said, yanking her hand as he pulled her into the corner office that had sat empty since Marcia Watt had left last year. The office was decorated in so many photographs of her grandkids, no one had the energy to take it over. It was still a shrine to the woman who had been there as Chuck’s assistant since day one of Evermore.
“Are you really okay?” he asked now that the door was shut and they were alone. She wiped at her face, her black hair sticking to her cheek in spots. Her mascara was running. She looked like a mess–but a beautiful one somehow. Endearing.
“Sorry. I just–it freaked me out. I’m worried it might be my fault,” she murmured.
“What?” he asked, fully intrigued now.
“I, well, I didn’t leave California on the best terms. There was someone who wasn’t happy with me. Maybe he’s behind the whole ...” she pointed to her hand, as if saying the word would bring back the disturbing box.
“Becky, I don’t think this has anything to do with you. We had a similar incident last month with a bird. We’re pretty sure it’s just a disgruntled author, nothing more.” He reassured her, reaching out to touch her shoulder. Still, he fought the urge to ask her to explain more. Here she was, certainly a unique looking woman. But a dark past–dark enough to make severed limbs a daily possibility? What the fuck kind of past did she have? Chuck liked to hire the gritty, the raw, the restless. But maybe he was getting carried away now. How long until the bus of felons came rolling in for work?
“Thanks. I’m sorry. I just–”
“Hey, no need to apologize. Especially for a past you left behind. I get it,” he murmured. And she looked at him, lips slightly parted, as if she were considering asking him to explain more. She didn’t, and they both sat in silence for a moment, breathing in the quietude and exhaling the afternoon’s events.
Lucius knew what it was like to have a past that kept haunting you. But he was working on it. Maybe, he could help Becky work on it, too.
Chapter Four
Chuck
He leaned back in his office chair as far as it would go, half hoping it would slide backward and drop him on his head. A concussion, a mild coma, seemed like viable, relaxing options. Shit was really going south and fast.
He’d prided himself on getting good at this whole world. He’d found success, and strangely, found success in the publishing industry, too. Mild success, of course. Nothing to catapult Evermore Publishing into a global or even national force. Nothing to warrant their placement in the New York skyscraper except his wads of cash. Still, a few books had done well enough to help cover for what was really doing well.
He’d chucked the box with the hand into the dumpster out back, knowing the terrible smell out there would cover the rotting limb. He shuddered thinking about it, wondering where the assholes had gotten ahold of it. An image from Hamlet of the gravedigger came to mind for some reason.
Not to be. The answer was not to be, at least this morning. He rubbed his hands together and looked out the window of his office, into the vast city he called home. He exhaled, knowing he’d dug them in real deep now. He’d tried to branch out, gotten greedy. Now look where they were.
He’d just have to work a little harder, a little more. They’d do a bit more hustling and get the money made up. Easy, peasy, as his grandmother would say. He really should give her a call at the nursing home. Somehow, he felt like even through the phone, she’d hear that something was wrong and give him the third degree. He’d let her down enough. No need for her to know what he was involved in now.
At least he’d managed to rope in a new girl at the office, another potential helper. He had to give it some time, scope her out and make sure she wasn’t a train-and-leave situation. He didn’t think so, though. No, he had always been good at reading people, even before those psychology classes he took at Emory. He’d been a pro at watching, at reading between the lines.
It helped him now running his business. He was looking for a certain type of person to work at Evermore–and not the usual, Ivy league literary nerds the publishers upstairs snagged up. Let them grab the Thomas Hardy readers and Dickens fan club. He needed people who were a little bit down and out, a little bit suspicious. People who had secrets to hide wouldn’t mind helping to cover up yours.
It was why Alex had been his first hire. No matter what he needed, Chuck knew he could count on him. That was for sure.
This new girl, Becky, also seemed like a good choice. He could see it in her eyes and hear it in her answers in the interview. She was running from someone or something. And people who wanted to be hidden would do anything to feel safe.
Even things that were inherently unsafe.
He had to be careful now, though. They were escalating things with the morning stunt, and he didn’t need an office on red alert. Calm and steady. That’s what he needed. He stood up, the trusted sheriff in town, determined to put on a brave face, even if it was a farce. He looked out the window for another moment, though, staring down at the street so far below.
Such a far fall it was.
The Killer
Jealousy.
I felt intense, unbridled jealousy at that severed, lifeless hand.
I wanted it to be someone else’s. I wanted to own that relic of revenge.
Once you own the blood of someone else, there’s an unquenchable thirst for more. Like a vampire walking about in broad daylight, I know I can’t quell this desire for much longer.
Which is dangerous. Because desperation breeds mistakes, and I can’t afford to get caught. When I make my move, I need to be sure I can relish in the afterparty, long gone from this place. And when it’s completely said and done and the five are dead, the Chameleon will lavish in a new life filled with the power of justice.
But that fucking hand, damnit. It almost threw me off my game completely.
Chapter Five
Scarlet
After sending her assistant Alex for a coffee for her, Scarlet plopped into the chair in her office. Exhaling the tension from the last hour, she rubbed her temple and then put a hand on her breast, not carrying if the cubicle rats saw her. She gave it a squeeze as if to remind herself that she was voluptuous, beautiful, and strong.
Nothing surprised her on a Monday, especially at Evermore. Still, the severed hand had been an elevation of the drama that had been going on. And, of course, Chuck had done nothing to fix it. She scoffed at herself. As if you could expect men to fix anything other than your sexual urges—and even that was a big question mark usually.
Looking at the pile of manuscripts on her desk, she knew she needed to get focused. The coffee was a bad idea, would only frazzle her more. Maybe she would just hold the cup and let the warmth seep into her hands in a way nothing else could.
