The Killer’s New Obsession by B.B. Hamel
Cam
The night was heavy with humidity. Cam looked like a panther sitting in the front seat of the sedan parked across the street from a small park, barely more than some swings and some grass.
“What are we doing here?” I asked.
“Getting revenge,” he said and didn’t take his eyes off the night. I tried to follow his gaze, but I couldn’t tell which building he was watching.
I knew his whole crew was out there. We met at a bar after talking with Kira and went over the names she gave us. They started making calls, talking to the girls, but Cam kept me away from it. I sat alone in a booth and drank a beer and tried to think about what I was going to do with all of this.
I hated that Luiza was dead. I understood Cam’s position in the crew and knew he likely couldn’t have stopped it even if he wanted to, but the way he talked about the girl’s death made my spine tingle. I had a sick lump in my throat and in my gut, and I wished I could do something, anything, to make that whole day not happen.
If I could bring back Omar, I would. And he probably wasn’t a great guy. But I knew how much his death hurt Cam, and maybe then Luiza wouldn’t have been killed, either.
So much death already, and everything had barely begun.
“There it is,” Cam said, nodding up ahead.
I saw a car park at the far end of the block and flash its light twice.
“What is that?”
“The signal,” he said. “Watch.”
Figures converged on the car. Five of them, all dressed in black. It was late, ten past two in the morning, and the streetlights were all out. The block was pitch black, and we were deep in the heart of West Philly. This was Healy territory, and whatever was about to happen would be very, very bad.
The figures approached a bar tucked into the corner of the block. It had big glass windows out front and a bright green door. Above it, apartments peered out like insects.
One of the figures took out a gun and started shooting.
The glass shattered. I leaned forward, breathing hard, staring as flames suddenly lit up.
“What is that?” I hissed.
“Molotov cocktails,” Cam said simply. “Crude, but effective.”
The men threw the flaming bottles of gasoline in through the shattered windows. More fire spouted as they exploded inside the building. The men lit another round and threw more fire inside before they turned and scattered again.
The flames caught and thick black smoke plumed from the front of the bar.
Cam started the car and put it in gear. Around them, figures scattered into the night. I thought I caught one of their faces: Linc’s scars, grinning wide.
“It’s not enough,” Cam said, pulling out into the street. He slowly rolled past the burning building. People were pouring out of the apartments all around it wearing their nightclothes and pajamas. “Not nearly enough.”
“Are those people Healy?” I asked.
“Some might be,” he said, shrugging. “Doesn’t matter. They’ll live.”
The flames roared inside the bar, eating the furniture, the alcohol, whatever else was back in there, hidden away.
“Who owned that place?” I asked.
“Ronan,” Cam said. “That was just a warning though. A little message for him.”
He pulled around the block as the sirens started up in the distance. We didn’t speak as he parked a few blocks away. We could see the smoke twisting up into the dark night sky, blocking out the moon and the stars, and Cam watched with a strange, satisfied smile.
“What now?” I asked. “You burned one of his bars. So what? Do you start killing them?”
“I’ve been killing them,” he said, not looking at me. “Now I start destroying them.”
I leaned back into my seat. I was so frustrated and angry, and all I wanted to do was scream at him or run away, but I was trying to be better, trying to ignore my worse impulses. I spent two years hiding out and avoiding my problems, and now I wanted to try to do better—even if that meant staying in this car with Cam when really what I wanted was to bite off his ear or scream down his throat.
He turned his heard toward me, smirking slightly, and reached across the space between us. I didn’t shy away from his touch. His fingers were rough on my cheek as they slipped past and into my hair. I sucked in a breath as he pulled me closer to him.
“You can’t hurt any more of them,” I whispered, staring into his eyes. I tilted my head toward his palm. “Do you hear me? You can’t kill any more girls.”
“I won’t,” he said. “I never wanted that to begin with.” His grip tightened and I hissed between my teeth. “You think I like killing girls?”
“I think you do what you have to do,” I said. “Or at least what you think you have to do.”
He leaned forward, lips brushing against mine in a soft kiss. “I’m what the family made me,” he whispered. “You know that better than anyone else. You want me to promise to spare more lives? I can promise I’ll try, but that’s the best I’ll do.”
“Fine,” I said, and buried my mouth against his.
I wanted to forget. I kept seeing Omar, bleeding on the ground, and Cam holding his hand. Those final moments, so tender in the middle of all that horror and violence.
I wanted to forget the people I lost on the streets. I wanted to forget the pieces of me I left behind, and all the scabbed-over parts that have hardened into some impenetrable armor that I was afraid would never soften again.
I wanted Cam to make me feel something for once, something that wasn’t fear and rage.
Smoke billowed into the sky and the sirens screamed so close as he pushed his seat back and dragged me over into his lap.
I moved my hips against him and his hands roamed my body, cupped my ass hard, pulled my hair, tugged my top up and off. He kissed my neck, unhooked my bra, licked my nipples. I didn’t care that we were parked on a public street in the middle of the night with a fire burning a couple blocks away. I didn’t care someone might walk past and see what Cam was doing to me.
I wanted it, and I couldn’t stop myself, not as all the emotions I’d been holding back began to pour out.
He shimmied out of his pants, his cock hard against my hands as I stroked him. He bit my lip hard and pulled my hair, then pushed a hand down my jeans and teased my soaking wet slit. He rolled a finger along my clit and I moaned into my mouth, stroking him faster, my back pushing up against the steering wheel until he managed to get my jeans off, my panties shoved to the side, and his thick tip against my dripping desire.
Slowly, I sank down along his shaft and threw back my head with a low gasp.
He filled me like heaven. All the pleasure I’d wanted for so long rushed through me in waves as I rode him. He cupped my ass and fucked me and growled softly as he took my skin, every inch of my tight body. I bore down on his cock and moved faster, faster, biting his tongue, his shoulder, moaning into his ear as he whispered all the filthy truths I wanted to hear.
“You delicious girl,” he growled. “You’ve been thinking about fucking me like this since you came back into my life. I know you can’t help yourself, sliding up and down my cock with that wet little pussy. God damn, you feel good, you filthy girl.”
I moaned in response, riding him, the car shaking, the windows fogging with humidity. He slapped my ass harder and I gasped, trembling, and I wanted to come for him, wanted to come on his thick cock and feel the pleasure I’d been denied for so long, that pleasure I knew only he could give me, despite all the death and the blood and the violence, despite how broken I was.
For once, I could just let myself be with someone.
With him, with Cam, who understood me better than anyone, who accepted me no matter what.
I stared into his eyes and he stared back, and I knew he never lied to me, that he meant it when he said he didn’t want any of this, that he didn’t want anyone to die.
I believed him, god, I believed him, and it felt so good.
I came in a shivering crash of pleasure, my back arched, my head thrown back. He groaned along with me, hands on my hips, and I felt him come in response to my pleasure, heightening my desire, sending me into a dizzying spin of incredible ecstasy as I whispered his name over and over, oh, god, Cam, over and over.
Slowly I came back to myself. I blinked rapidly and collapsed forward onto his chest. He was still inside of me, deep between my legs, and the throbbing warmth of him was strange comfort I’d never experienced before.
We stayed like that for a while. I turned my head and could see the smoke still. I heard the fire department spraying water into that bar, and I hoped nobody got hurt.
Or at least nobody innocent.
After a while, he kissed me gently, and helped me get dressed again. Then we drove back to his place, and I slept deeper than I had in years.
