The Butcher of the Bay: Part II Read online

  The Butcher of the Bay

  Part II

  J Bree

  Contents

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Epilogue

  Acknowledgments

  Author Bio

  Also by J Bree

  CONTINUE READING FOR AN EXCEPT FROM

  Also by J Bree

  Prologue

  To Greg—

  My Monster

  Prologue

  The forest at the edge of Mounts Bay is cold this time of year.

  I arrived here days ago, the trail I’m following not yet cold, and if the pattern holds true then there’ll be a new present left here for me.

  I don’t believe in spirits but you don’t have to believe to feel them in the air here.

  I pull my jacket around my shoulders and set off. I walk with silent feet, a skill I’ve honed, so despite wearing my biker boots there isn’t any sound coming from me. I don’t bother with a torch either, my eyes are better in the dark.

  There’s a clearing, out past the sawmill, and it’s there I find the blood trail.

  Perfect.

  I follow it, the trees becoming denser and the wildlife more active here. There’s clearly not a whole lot of human activity out here on the regular which fits the pattern perfectly.

  The presents are never left out in the open, never somewhere where someone on the straight and narrow would find it. No, he wants me to find this one first. His letters have made that perfectly clear.

  This game we’re playing, this puzzle I’m having to unravel, it keeps my mind busy and out of trouble. The kind of trouble that has me leaving my own trails of blood deep in haunted forests.

  I can hear the rabbits out to play, some foxes too. I know where I’ll find my gift by how busy the animals are, scurrying around her and speeding up the decaying process by taking a nibble.

  This one is a red head.

  Hm.

  That’s a first. Usually they’re all dark-haired, their ethnicity always differs but there’s never a blonde.

  Her chest has been cracked open, like they always are, and her eyes are open and staring sightlessly up at the stars. Her arms are splayed out and her legs are spread. She’s also naked, except for the shoes.

  I snap on a pair of gloves. The FBI is following these murders, the girls have already turned up in ten different states, and I don’t need to be leaving behind any extra evidence.

  I pry her jaw open, difficult with the rigor mortis already setting in, and I find the note. Always in their mouths. I read it and then place it back down on the chest of the body, leaving it for whoever finds the corpse. I’ll let them guess at the clues that have been left for me, left to taunt me until I can figure this puzzle out.

  The reason the Son of God appeared was to destroy the works of the devil. - 1 John 3:8

  Chapter One

  Illi

  I met little Matteo D'Ardo at the group home.

  We slept in different rooms, the little psycho was years younger than me and I didn't notice him when he first arrived. Everyone knew his story though, everyone knew that he'd slit his mother's throat while she slept, escaped juvie because of the state that the emergency services found him in.

  I didn't ask questions.

  I regret that now.

  Maybe if I knew just how badly fucked up his life was before we became ride or die I'd know why the hell he'd become such a fucking traitorous cunt. I mean it had to come from somewhere.

  The Bay skews things a little in all its inhabitants' brains. We don't see things in the conventional sense of black and white, it's about survival and loyalties here. Do whatever it takes to die another day, keep your belly full, sleep with some sort of peace. There's a lot that we'd do without flinching, no hesitation as we pull the trigger.

  Betraying our friends isn't supposed to be one of those things and I never would have expected it from him... nah, he was fucking solid from day one.

  The group home was a little more strict back in our day. They counted us on the hour every damn hour when we were back from school. We had jobs to do there, slave labor with no pay and barely enough food to survive, but I'd been sent out on one of those jobs.

  Community service type shit, cleaning up roadsides and gardening in the local parks. I didn't care for it but I also had nothing better to do. I was busy trying to figure my fucking life out at that point, was I going to kill the Adder for what he did or just try to live a normal life? I was decent at school... I could figure that shit out maybe.

  Problem was, I was big for my age. I always liked working out, taking care of myself, and I would go running when I could so I was fucking quick on my feet. I liked watching the MMA games when we were allowed the TV on at the group home and I knew that someday I'd want to get in those cages.

  Even then I knew I wasn't going to be someone who let my opponents live.

  Win or die.

  It's in my blood.

  So I'm busy raking fucking leaves in the park near the city hall and I'm deep in the trees, so deep I can just barely see the giant plaques with quotes of justice on them, when two of the other kids jump me. A shovel to the back of the head took me down and dazed me enough that they get me on the ground, whaling on me and stomping on my ribs.

  I didn't know it but the Adder had sent them to take care of me, the last piece of that puzzle taken care of.

  Then one of them drops to the ground.

  I manage to pick my brains up enough to grab the leg of the other one and snap it with my bare hands, malnutrition helping me out because it's like a fucking twig. The kid grunts but doesn't start screaming until he's on the ground with his friend and finally sees what dropped him.

  There's a garden trowel sticking out of his fucking eye socket buried far enough that the jelly-like eyeball has oozed out and his brain matter is starting to show.

  I stare over at him and then I see D'Ardo.

  Skinny little fucking thing, all arms and cheekbones, but his eyes are fucking clear and sure. He knew what he was doing and this is an olive branch, a gesture of friendship.

  I take it.

  I take it because even my own worthless father didn't throw down like that for me, no one had done that shit for me since my mom was hacked to pieces.

  "What's your name, kid?"

  His eyes are like little black holes in his face as he swings them my way. "Matteo, but you already know who I am."

  I shrug, lurching to my feet and wincing at the state of my head. I stare down at the guy who's still breathing, his chest heaving as he pukes his guts up. I don't know if it's the pain or his friend's leaking head that's got him losing his shit but it doesn't fucking matter. I glance around but there's no one close by.

  "I know your story, doesn't mean I know you. You ever buried someone alive before?"

  I swear I see these voids of his light up. "I can kill him for you too. There's nothing better than blood on your hands."

  The guy on the ground starts fucking sobbing.

  Pathetic.

  "Dead men don't talk. If you re
ally want to hang out with me then we do this my way." I grab the shovel they had used on the back of my head and hold it out to the kid.

  He stares at it.

  I huff under my breath. "You've escaped juvie once, you think you'll be lucky a second time? Dig a hole. I'll take care of this guy."

  The guy on the ground is now trying to crawl away, his broken leg dragging at a weird angle that must be fucking painful but his survival instinct has kicked in and he's figured out this is the end of the line for him now... too bad it's a little too fucking late.

  I'm not my fucking dad.

  I take care of my own shit.

  Matteo smirks at the look on my face, something there telling him I'm not pussying out of the job, and he starts digging. I slip the knife out of my jeans, something I've carried long before I came to the group home and I step forward to stand on the ankle of his broken leg.

  He grunts. But holds back a scream

  Doesn't fucking matter, those plaques of justice mean fucking nothing in this city. The only justice around here is the type you get in the streets, an eye for an eye.

  "Were you sent by someone or was this some sort of pissing contest, trying to look big by taking me out?"

  The guy's lip wobbles but he doesn't breathe a word.

  Fine.

  We'll do it the hard way.

  He ends up a strong guy, even after I've slit his belly open and pulled his guts out he stays conscious. Doesn't tell me a goddamn thing but when the kid helps me roll his body into the hole we spot it.

  "That's the Adder’s sign. Have you done something to piss the Adder off?"

  I seal my lips shut, no point airing my fucking pain, but I nod sharply. Knowing it's a hit only changes things a little. It solidifies the plan to deal with the cunt.

  And it means I'm never getting the fuck out of the Bay.

  I start shoveling the dirt back into the hole, thinking through every little step I'll have to go through to take the Adder the fuck out. It's not going to be easy. Chances are it's not going to be something I could even fucking do, but I'm fucking smart and better than that, I'm stubborn.

  I'll bathe in the cunt’s blood for what he did.

  The kid watches me, his eyes too big for his gaunt little face. I'm sure I look fucking homicidal, the shovel light in my hands as I stomp on the grave of my attackers, patting the dirt down and swishing the leaves around until it looks undisturbed. The pigs here don't give a fuck but I'd rather be careful.

  It would greatly impede my revenge if I'm sitting in juvie for a few months before I turn eighteen.

  "You can't kill a member of the Twelve, Johnny. The others will come after you."

  I flinch before I can stop myself, and I hope the kid doesn't notice. I can't stand people using my name, not without hearing my mom in my head every time someone says it. Everyone at the group home is addressed by their surname. So it's been a while since I had to deal with it. Fuck.

  So I lie.

  "My friends call me Illi."

  Too bad he was never my fucking friend.

  The Jackal sends his regards.

  The Jackal sends his regards.

  The Jackal sends his mother fucking regards, I will choke that fucking cunt out while I bathe in his goddamn blood.

  I stare down at the dead body in my kitchen. Three bullet holes, all of them in his chest. I move towards the guy in my living room. Headshot, half his face is missing so it was a close range.

  Great job, baby girl.

  Her easel is knocked over, there’s blood on the couch, and vomit on the floor. The vomit nearly fucking kills me because my girl has only done that when she’s fucking terrified. I am going to gut that motherfucker slowly, pull his insides the fuck out and make him fucking swallow them.

  I grab my phone and hit dial on his number, my hands fucking shaking with the need to find him and fucking destroy him.

  Ringing.

  Ringing.

  Click.

  Nothing.

  "I know you're there, motherfucker. I can hear you breathing."

  He laughs down the phone at me and it takes everything I have in me not to throw the fucking thing at the wall.

  "I guess I just wanted to see what it was the infamous and bloody Butcher had to say to me so urgently."

  I speak through my clenched teeth. "Where the fuck is she, you spineless piece of shit?"

  He's silent for a second and I stop breathing to listen to anything that might give me a fucking clue about where the hell he is, where the hell he's taken my girl, but there's fucking nothing.

  "I told you to get a side project, not lose your fucking balls to some used up pussy. I'll get her out of the way, take a day or two to get your head together, and then we can meet up for drinks at the Dive. You just needed a little reminder of who you are, Johnny-boy."

  If this fucking poser slum lord calls me that again... the death I'm going to give him...

  Rage.

  Pain.

  Blood.

  There's nothing else I can think about or process except the death I'm going to give him. Fuck, I'm going to make the Devil look like a fucking amateur. They will tell fucking fables about what I do to this fucking cunt.

  "Listen to me, D'Ardo, and listen good. We're done. There's not going to be drinks or meet ups. No more going out hunting together, no calling me when shit goes south. You've burned this bridge and I'm not a viable option for you anymore but what's worse... if Odie has been harmed in any way, she get's a fucking splinter or a fucking broken nail between when you took her and when I get her back... you remember what I did to the Barracuda right? Fuck me, you'll be praying for that death by the time I'm through with you."

  He scoffs down the phone. "Fuck man, you've gone soft. There's no way you can find me in time now, no way you can get the little blond snatch back."

  He hangs up and I move to throw my phone at the wall, stopping only at the last second when my brain kicks in.

  I need some fucking help and I need it right the fuck now.

  Getting Odie back alive and untouched is the first fucking priority, nothing else matters right the fuck now.

  I call Harbin again but it goes straight to voicemail. Roxas’s does the same, fuck everything.

  The kid doesn't pick up either.

  Deep fucking breath, I remind myself that don’t need to be breaking my phone.

  I think I know what causes people to snap and carve innocent people up because, fuck me, I need something to take the edge off right now.

  It almost kills me, but I call the Coyote. Odie is worth whatever it takes to get her back. She’s worth everything.

  "What's up, man? You got some green you wanna hand over or something?"

  I blow out a breath and try to calm the rage enough to speak to the cockhead. I can’t have him hanging up because it’ll only waste time having to track him the fuck down. “Fair warning; tonight isn't looking good for your attitude man, so lose it before you lose your head. I need you to trace a couple of phone numbers for me."

  He snorts at me. "Oh yeah? Maybe I'll just hang up then and go back to jerking off. That's a little more interesting than your shitty attitude."

  Fuck this, I’ll gut him once I’m done with D’Ardo. I clench my jaw so hard it makes a crunching noise. "I'll transfer you double the last payment if you answer your phone to me all night and give me the information I need without the lip. Fuck, I'll triple it if you find what I need."

  Silence.

  Fucking silence.

  "Gimme the numbers. What the fuck has happened to you?" He says, the jokes and sarcastic tone gone. Good. If ever there was a day for the little shit to get serious, this is fucking it.

  I want to tell him I'm about to kill the Jackal, the Vulture, every suit that ever showed up to the auctions, and any guy I've ever seen buying skin. Fuck, I kinda wanna kill anyone with a dick in the Bay.

  I don't tell him that.

  Instead, I read out Harbin and Roxas's numbers and
then, hesitating for the slightest of seconds, but I think fuck it and read out D'Ardo's too.

  "Fuck man, you want me spying on another member of the Twelve? You guys still got beef or something?"

  "Something like that. Is he at the vaults or not?"

  The Coyote grunts down the phone, the tapping of his keyboard as loud as fuck but at least I know he's doing the job. I stare down at the pile of vomit and blow out a frustrated breath. I can’t find her if I lose my goddamn head.

  “The first two numbers are both down at the docks. I mean at the fishing side, nowhere near your digs. The Jackal is showing up at his vaults but he's definitely not there. I've tracked his bodyguard’s phone and that's showing up crossing state lines. It’s moving, they’re in a car. There's no way Luca is going anywhere without the Jackal. He doesn't take a shit without Luca watching and wiping his ass.”

  Luca.

  The blond idiot.

  "How the fuck do you know this?"

  He laughs. "Fuck, man, do you know how many times the Jackal has tried to kill me? I keep an eye on what the little deranged psycho is up to on the regular."

  I move to the bedroom to start strapping on extra weapons, enough that I could take out the entire Bay without running out of bullets. "Why the fuck are you telling me this? I could be lying to you for all you know. I could tell D'Ardo about this little conversation and get you in the shit with your little fuck buddy friend, the Crow."

  My phone buzzes and I move it away from my ear to find the coordinates for the phone locations there. Fuck. D’Ardo has a three hour lead on me. I take a fucking deep breath.