The Butterfly Killer

Chapter 16

16

Agent Burns flicked through the microfilm machine, skimming the newspaper articles for anything that could link the Butterfly Killings to the cartel. What he had found was a pattern of drug busts and then a Butterfly Killer death. There were however more drug busts and alleged cartel killings than there were Butterfly Killings. Trying to differentiate the two was like looking for a needle in a haystack.

He rubbed his burning eyes. He yawned as he flicked through a couple more slides before his vision became blurry. He called it quits when his eyes jumped over two paragraphs.

He wasn’t going to get anywhere if he accidentally looked over something.

He turned off the machine and stood from the rickety chair that made his ass go numb. He stretched and then grabbed his jacket from the back of the chair. He’d just thrown it on when he heard footsteps from outside the door. He paused with his hands holding the collar.

A black silhouette emerged from behind the frosted glass window of the door. No one but the night security guard posted at the front was here so late at night.

Burns lowered his hands, his right edging to his gun holstered at his side. The sleep that had been overtaking him had receded to the back of his mind. He zoned in on the person on the other side of the door.

They knocked.

“Agent Burns. It’s me.”

Burns dropped his hand away from his gun and grabbed the handle of the door. He opened it to find Detective Blevins standing on the other side.

Burns’s brows furrowed. “Did something happen?”

He reached for his phone. He looked down briefly to see if he got any messages. Mercer would have been the first person to let him know if another body had been found.

Blevins pushed the door the rest of the way open and walked inside. Burns stepped back as the man came inside like he owned the space. Burns glanced back down at his phone as if Mercer was going to message him angrily that he’d forgotten something.

“No. I thought you might want some help,” Blevins said as he moved toward the long table in the middle of the room. He crossed his arms over his chest as he leaned against the table’s edge.

He looked around, pausing on the microfilm machine. He nodded toward it. “Find anything interesting?”

Burns slowly put his phone away. “Not really. Who told you I was here?”

Blevins still scanned the room before his eyes rested back on Burns. “Agent Mercer did. Said he was worried you were working so late.”

Burns went rigid. Mercer would absolutely say no fucking such thing. He was the type of partner who couldn’t stop himself from working and would order Burns around—sometimes just to get a sick sense of dominance out of it.

“He did, huh?” Burns didn’t buy the lie for a second, but he didn’t call Blevins out.

He walked over to where his things were on the table and started to pick them up. “I was just leaving though.”

He started for the print outs of the newspaper clippings he’d gathered. Before he could grab them, Blevins slid his hand over the clippings and pulled them toward him. The papers slid easily over the surface of the wooden table.

Blevins lifted them, creasing some of the corners as he flipped through. “So you did find something interesting.”

His voice dipped to a lower octave. His brows furrowed in what Burns could only describe as displeasure and irritation.

Burns narrowed his eyes. “I would have shared them in class.”

Blevins gave him a look. It seemed the man didn’t like Burns’s snarky remark. He threw the printouts onto the table with disregard. A few of the sheets fell to the ground.

Blevins pushed away from the table and stalked toward the door.

Burns ground his teeth as he stared at the papers on the ground. He let out a rough sigh as he crouched and began to pick them up. All the while Blevins turned around at the door and stared back at him.

“Let your partner know you two are chasing the wrong trail. I wouldn’t waste anymore of your time.”

Burns turned to look at Blevins. He only got a glimpse of the man’s face before he left, slamming the door behind him as he went.

Burns pulled out his phone. He dialed Mercer’s number.

“Why are you calling me? I was having the most peaceful sleep.”

Burns rolled his eyes. “You wake me up all the time, prick.”

Mercer grumbled as it sounded like he was moving out of bed. “Just tell me so I can go back to sleep.”

“Blevins just paid me a visit. He seemed to not like that we’re investigating the cartel.”

“Oh?”

Burns stood up with the newspaper scans. He sat them on the table and spread them out. “Yeah. Are you thinking what I’m thinking?”

Mercer hummed. “It seems so. What have you found?”

“Other than the cartel has infested this city like cockroaches? Not much. I have a few interesting details such as…”

His voice trailed off as a headline that didn’t make the main page of a newspaper one year ago caught his eye. He grabbed it and placed it next to another—one that announced Marcus’s mother’s death.

“Burns? What is it?”

Burns scanned the two articles. There was a dawning realization that rejuvenated him. “What are the chances that the Butterfly Killer could be in two places at the same time?”

“…unless he’s superhuman, there aren’t any.”

Burns frowned. “How fast can you get down to the library?”

“Tell me the address. I’m on my way.”

Roman kicked off his boots as he came inside. He took off his coat and hung it up on the back of the door. He readjusted the sheet tucked in the crack of the door and floor to keep as much cold air out as possible.

Marcus watched it all from under the bed. He’d fallen asleep under there after making an ass out of himself. His memory burned from what happened yesterday. He couldn’t get rid of the repeating imagery. The thing that haunted him the most was the ghosting of Roman’s body against his. It was like his skin was imprinted with the touch. He couldn’t shake the warm feeling he felt each time he thought about how Roman had felt against him.

He woke with his cock hard. He pretended it was morning wood, but he knew it was all because of Roman.

The one thing he swore he wouldn’t let happen was happening. A case of Stockholm syndrome seemed so far fetched to Marcus that he ignored all the signs up until yesterday.

It was obvious now that Roman was trying to get Marcus to let his guard down and make him feel like Roman was actually on his side. Being kind, caring for him, but ultimately punishing him whenever he acted out were all the tactics to make Marcus break.

Marcus didn’t feel sorry for Roman though. He didn’t think he’d care if Roman got hurt or died. Imagining it now gave him glee and relief.

However, being locked up in a cabin with nothing to occupy his mind was taking a toll on him. He yearned for human interaction so much that it had morphed into arousal and lust. It was like his body had decided that if he didn’t want to emotionally connect with Roman, it would force him to connect on a physical level.

He almost forgot Roman was at the front door until Marcus heard his boots thudding on the ground.

He went still though Roman hadn’t made any indication he was going to force Marcus out from under the bed. It would be easy for the man to flip the bed over and grab him. Really, Roman could do anything to him if he wanted.

Marcus’s face flushed at the statement. His mind was really fucked if he thought that was sexy.

He heart sped up as Roman walked toward the bed. His hands balled into fists, his heart now pounded in his chest as he watched Roman’s shoes get closer and closer?—

Roman walked right on by as if Marcus wasn’t there at all.

Something that simmered like anger rose within him. His face scrunched. Before he could think twice, he crawled from under the bed. It was a struggle to wedge himself from under the frame, but when he did, he immediately regretted it.

Roman turned on his heels.

Marcus could have stepped back. He could have scrambled to hide under the bed again, but he was done running like a scared dog with its tail between its legs.

His feet didn’t stop even though he thought he might piss himself when Roman stared down at him like he was one of the many bugs he pinned on the daily.

He held his head high as he met Roman’s eyes.

“I’m a person.”

The words were a mouthful. It was a struggle to even form them.

Roman cocked a brow. “What else would you be?”

Marcus didn’t find the sass funny at all. He bristled, fists clenching harder as he might break his fingers with how much pressure he was putting on them.

“I want to be respected like a human being.”

The words were tumbling out before he could even think about them. It wasn’t rational. It wasn’t like he was going to get anywhere with Roman. He wasn’t going to negotiate his way out of captivity. Especially when his captor was a fucking serial killer.

But Roman didn’t immediately laugh in his face. He accessed Marcus, his eyes searching his face. All the while, Marcus was burning from the inside out. As Roman picked him apart, Marcus could only imagine what was going through Roman’s mind. That was a place he didn’t want to go, but he convinced himself it wasn’t anymore different than when he was at the station, tucked in the corner from the rest of the world.

While searching for a killer on paper was safer and much less self-involved, trying to access their personality and predict what they might do was the same either way.

“Alright,” Roman said as he took a step toward Marcus.

Marcus’s feet were trying to move on their own. He locked his knees so he wouldn’t run away.

“I’ll treat you like I would if you were on the outside.” Roman’s voice was hushed. He lowered his head so his mouth hovered next to Marcus’s ear.

A shiver went down his spine. His resolve waned. He felt like he’d be knocked down by the slightest of touches.

“But what do I get out of this?”

Marcus took a shaky breath. He resisted the urge to shove Roman away from him.

He side-eyed Roman, seething. “You don’t get anything . It’s called human decency.”

Roman did laugh at that. “Darling, I’m a killer. I never had any human decency.”

Marcus slammed his palm into Roman’s chin. Roman’s head went to the side.

Marcus yanked his hand back. His chest heaved as he watched Roman touch his jaw. A bead of blood trailed from his bottom lip.

His eyes darkened as he wiped the blood away.

“Is that how you’d treat me?”

Marcus shook his head. “I wouldn’t even look twice at you.”

There was something violent that appeared in Roman’s eyes.

“And you talk about human decency.”

Marcus realized that he was messing up again. He was letting his anger cloud his judgment.

He ignored all the facts about Roman he knew. He ignored that the man was a serial killer. There had to be something the man strived for. No one went to these lengths to not get something out of it.

He straightened. He relaxed his clenched fists and put on the most friendly smile he could muster while looking at Roman.

Roman gave him a quizzical look. Marcus ignored it and stuck out his hand.

“Hi, I’m Marcus. It’s nice to meet you.”

Roman looked down at the offered hand but made no move to shake it. Marcus didn’t let himself rethink the decision. The doubt was pushed to the side as he truly started to pretend he and Roman hadn’t met before.

There was a strange emotion that crossed Roman’s face as he looked back up at Marcus. For a second, it seemed like he thought Marcus was going to hit him again. Marcus wouldn’t have been surprised if Roman thought he was playing a joke on him.

He was probably waiting for Marcus to say sike or something silly like that. No, Marcus had just lost his mind and was being friendly to a man who’d kidnapped him.

Roman, whether he thought this was ridiculous or not, took Marcus’s hand into his own. He gave it one shake before he jerked Marcus forward.

Marcus tripped into Roman’s chest. He quickly shoved away, but Roman wrapped his arms around him.

Marcus growled through clenched teeth. “This is you meeting me?”

Roman turned Marcus around. His back was pulled against Roman’s chest. His breath hitched as Roman’s body heat warmed him from the neck down.

Roman had both of Marcus’s wrists in his hands. He held them securely against Marcus’s lowered stomach.

“You never said where we were.”

Marcus frowned. “Does it really matter?”

Roman pressed harder against Marcus’s back. He slowly moved them in a swaying motion. Marcus was throughly confused until he felt Roman start to grind on him.

It was a slow melodic movement that made his stomach plummet and his pulse spike.

Roman rested his cheek on Marcus’s shoulder. “This is your game, but I’m in charge. We’re in a club. The lights are down low. The music is so loud we can’t hear each other speak.”

Marcus grumbled. “And it probably stinks.”

Roman’s laugh puffed a bit of air against Marcus’s already goose-bumped skin. “If that’s what you want.”

Marcus didn’t attempt to struggle out of the hold. He let Roman move him back and forth. Roman’s hold on his hands relaxed until they were just holding hands.

“What song?”

“Hm?” Roman had tucked his face into the crook of Marcus’s neck. The little hum he made tickled.

“What song is playing?”

“What’s your favorite song?”

“Not one that would be playing in a club.”

“Mine neither,” Roman mused. He seemed almost disappointed that his little fantasy wasn’t going the way he wanted it.

Marcus snorted. A silence fell between them and Marcus wasn’t jumping to fill it. Roman swayed him in the silence. They weren’t speaking, but it felt as though their thoughts were loud enough to fill the silence. He didn’t know what Roman could possibly be planning or what he was trying to do. He didn’t want Roman to push him away so he tried to think of a way to keep Roman happy though it was the last thing he wanted to do.

Marcus started to sing. The melody wasn’t easy to conjure up as he couldn’t quite think clearly. He couldn’t even remember what the name of the song was. It was a vague song from the seventies he remembered his mom playing all the time. While it didn’t at all quite fit the scenario Roman wanted, it would have to do.

Roman’s swaying stilled. Marcus stopped singing right after. He’d fucked up.

But Roman didn’t act out in anger.

“Keep singing.”

He nestled closer, draping his body over Marcus like he was a blanket. Marcus’s whole body was burning with heat from how close they were. He felt humiliation so strong his limbs became weak. Roman was there to hold him as his body went slack. He was only strong enough to keep himself upright as he leaned back against Roman’s chest as he started up the song again.

Roman’s hands wandered. They ran up Marcus’s sides from his hips, roaming over his stomach and over his chest. They stroked his throat before they went downward again. Roman ground himself against Marcus. Through Roman’s jeans and his own, he felt the evidence of Roman’s attraction.

His face burned hotter when he felt it. He felt more embarrassed than when Roman had caught him with an erection. Somehow knowing Roman was turned on by him made this whole act more filthy than he’d first thought.

His own self awareness grew much more. He seemed to snap out of the mind space he’d been in. Which had been about getting Roman to trust him and see him as more than just an object. Albeit, not much more than an object.

Now all he could think about is that Roman would want more after this. He’d effectively backed himself into a corner.

His body became more rigid. The lust still simmered under the surface, but he ignored it as he knew it was only because he was touch starved.

His voice cracked as he continued to sing. The end of the song had already passed twice before and he started it up again, a constant loop that made him feel even more like this nightmare was never going to end. He opened his eyes, only realizing then that they’d been closed, and he had been picturing a dark lit club with bodies dancing around them.

The sea of people disappeared, revealing the cabin he was forced to stay in. For just those long but short moments, Marcus had forgotten the goal of this whole game to get Roman on his side and in a vulnerable state.

However, Marcus felt more ripped open than the dead women Roman had left a trail of just like his predecessor.

He knew as he finished the song once more and Roman continued to dance on him, that he was going to have to take this further. He didn’t know if he could do it without breaking a piece of himself, but he knew that it was going to be the only way to wedge himself closer to Roman and cement himself in the killer’s conscious for at least awhile.