Joker (Executioners Book 2) by J.M. Dabney

Author:J.M. Dabney [Dabney, J.M.]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Publisher: Hostile Whispers Press, LLC
Published: 2017-08-28T18:30:00+00:00

Eleven

Jackson was Losing His Mind

Killer perched on his bent knee and watched every move Dem made. She was quickly becoming accustomed to the man being there. She even let Dem pet her. Dem moved around the kitchen area while Jackson drank his beer.

The memories of the night before tortured him all day. The solid warmth of Dem’s body against his and the soft moans every time he shifted against Dem or pulled him closer. He didn't understand how it felt right to have Dem there in his space...his bed. His friends, even Harper wasn't allowed in his place.

He lifted Killer off his knee and placed her on the floor. “Your bed.”

She snarled at him and went to her little cubby he'd built under the bed. On the nights his nightmares were bad, he'd make her sleep there. He refused to allow himself to hurt her.

“Door.”

She pulled the tiny door closed.

“Nice trick,” Dem spoke over his shoulder then went back to putting the leftovers away.

“Turn around,” he ordered as he straightened.

Dem turned with a confused expression that twisted his gorgeous features. Dem was perfect. Beyond handsome and he didn't understand why Dem wanted him. What he hid under his clothes wasn’t something a man should want or find attractive. He wasn’t sexy or charming—he wasn’t like his friends who had men falling all over them. The married ones were so in love with their partners it was painful to be around them.

He reached back over his head and removed his t-shirt. It was the moment of truth. He dropped the fabric to the floor and leaned back into the cushions.

“Do you like what you see?”

He studied Dem while the man stared at him. He waited for revulsion. The slightest hint Dem didn't want him. It didn't happen. Dem's lids grew heavy, and Dem leaned back against the counter.

“I love what I see. I got a good look before I went to work this morning.”

Dem didn’t look away, his gaze moved over him slowly as if the man didn’t want to miss an inch of exposed skin.

He didn’t look down. He knew every scar by memory. Remembered the pain, the pleas for mercy that fell on deaf ears, and the sadistic pleasure he’d learned Garnet craved. The man had gotten off on it. He had become his mother’s surrogate after she’d disappeared. Every lash, brand, cut, was meant for her. He forced away the screams in his ears, hers and his, falling into a perfect duet. Voices raised in the strains of music and pain, harmonized and overlapping. After the torture, Garnet always went out and brought home woman after woman, their screams joined his and his mother’s. He’d taken the lashes, knew the scent of blood and infection, and the women took the other horrors Garnet unleashed.

Strange women who still lived in this town. Saw him and saw Garnet. Their hells repeated in their minds just by his presence.

He needed something to replace it. Exchange pain for pleasure. He craved anything to wash away the evil.

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