Psycho by Onley James
“Are you really not going to see Dad before you go?” Adam asked.
The question wasn’t directed at August but at their other brother, Aiden, who sat across from him. It was a breezy day, so they were gathered at a table at the far end of the patio, one far from the prying ears of neighboring tables. Lunch with the Mulvaney boys was always a lively affair, even when only four of them were present, like today, and the topic of conversation was rarely palatable for public consumption.
Aiden was rarely in town. In fact, this was his younger brother’s first trip home in years. He stayed in touch with them via text or email, but nothing more, not even a phone call. Nobody knew why. Well, one other person knew why, but he wasn’t talking either. So, they’d staged an intervention before his flight.
Aiden gave Adam, the youngest, an irritated look. “He’s your dad, not mine.”
August just didn’t understand the venom directed at their father. He wanted to know more, to poke at Aiden with something sharp and pointy until he spilled his secrets. Instead, he took a sip of his fizzy water. “Funny how you don’t say that about us, your brothers. Only Dad.”
Atticus, the eldest, threaded a hand through his ginger hair before pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose. “Yes, excellent point. Why have you disowned Dad, but not us?”
Aiden rolled his eyes. “This is why I don’t come back here. You guys are so dramatic. I didn’t disown anybody. He was never my father. I was almost seventeen when he ‘adopted’ me,” he said, using air quotes around the word adopted as if that was somehow untrue. “I just never viewed him as a father, and he never saw me as his son.”
“Bullshit,” Adam said, reaching for his sugar laden soda, downing half of it in one go.
August couldn’t help but note the girls who gazed at his brother, a former model. He was gay and taken, but that never stopped them. If anything, when he was out with Noah, it only made things worse. Somehow, it never bothered Adam. Maybe it was because he was the baby and used to all the attention.
August took in the black nail polish on Adam’s short, blunt nails. It was chipped in several places, but it seemed as if even that was a deliberate fashion choice. His black hair parted in the middle, flopping into his husky blue eyes. He wore ripped jeans and a faded designer t-shirt that probably cost a thousand dollars, even though it looked as if he’d pulled it straight from the garbage. Adam made laziness chic.
August turned his attention back to Aiden. “No, there’s something more to it. We’ll figure it out eventually, so why not just tell us?”
Aiden pushed his plate away, glowering at the two of them. “Because there’s nothing to tell. You’re literally making something out of nothing. How did six psychopaths become such gossips? There’s no tea here.”
Aiden didn’t look well. His reddish brown hair now fell to his shoulders with his face half-covered by an unkempt beard. As always, there was a hardness to him, like the world never stopped letting him down, even though their father, Thomas, never denied him anything. Even if Aiden refused to acknowledge it.
“Your words say one thing, but your body language screams that you’re lying,” Adam said, looking Aiden up and down. “You can’t lie to us.”
The muscle in Aiden’s jaw began to tic. “Is this why you asked me to lunch? To grill me about why I don’t get along with your dad?”
Atticus snapped his fingers. “See, that. That right there. Our dad. What the fuck, man? Even after all these years, you still have a chip on your shoulder about something. Can’t the two of you just work it out?”
Aiden took a sip of his scotch. “We have worked it out. I live on the other side of the country, he gives me assignments and pays me for my time. You’re the only ones who seem so pressed about it.”
“Because Dad hasn’t been the same since you left. It’s like he’s just…sad. You could have at least gone to see him while you were here. Said hello or something,” Atticus chided, his tone chock full of eldest child superiority.
Aiden forced his chair back with a loud scrape of iron over concrete, drawing the attention of the other patrons. “This has been fun, guys. Let’s not do it again.”
“Sit. Down,” Atticus said, tapping a finger onto the table with each word.
Aiden flicked him off. “You’re not the boss of me.”
Atticus opened and closed his mouth like a fish out of water, while Adam snickered. It was clear Aiden had no intention of staying.
August did the only thing he could to keep them all there. “I think somebody knows about me.”
His bickering brothers all turned to look at him at once.
“Knows?” Adam echoed. “Like, knows knows?”
“Somebody other than Adam’s pet?” Atticus asked, looking flummoxed.
This time, it was Adam who gave him the finger. “Noah is not my pet.”
“Focus,” Aiden muttered. “Who knows about you?”
August sighed. “A new professor.”
“How would that even be possible? Is he related to another victim? Did he hear something? See something?” Atticus asked, not bothering to let August answer.
“Nothing like that,” August assured him.
Aiden fell back into his chair. “Why do you think this co-worker knows about you?”
August sighed. “Because he said, ‘I know what you are.’”
“Maybe he just meant you’re an ass,” Adam said.
“Or off putting,” Atticus offered.
Aiden nodded. “Or just weird.”
August rolled his eyes. “He said he knew I killed people. Used the word killer. I don’t think it was a metaphor for something.”
“How would he know that?” Atticus asked, his pale face pinking like a hairless cat.
August took another sip of his water, liking the feel of the bubbles on his tongue. “He’s clairvoyant.”
His brothers volleyed looks back and forth between them before glancing at him as if waiting for August to deliver the punchline, but none came.
Finally, Aiden said, “You’re joking.”
August shook his head. “I’m not.”
“You can’t possibly believe this. You’re a scientist, for God’s sake,” Atticus said.
“I mean, the dude said he was a killer. I don’t think he was talking about his personality,” Adam said. “Regardless of how he knows, we still need to take it seriously. What are you going to do?”
“I don’t know,” August said.
“You don’t know?” Adam echoed. “You have a look on your face that says you do know.”
August shook his head, struggling to find the right words. Words that could somehow convey the feeling that had struck him when Lucas had looked at him. “I kind of want to…play with him?”
Was that even the right way to phrase it? August wanted to open him up, see what made him a person. He wanted to poke him and prod at him, like a dog with a toy. August wanted to see if he could make Lucas squeak.
“P-Play with him?” Atticus sputtered.
“Like paper dolls or like a cat wants to play with a mouse before he maims it?” Aiden asked, not sounding particularly bothered by whatever August’s answer might be.
“I don’t want to hurt him… Not much, anyway. Just a little. I want to see what I can do…what he’ll let me get away with before he pushes back.”
Atticus’s eyes bulged. “What are you talking about? You need to tell Dad. We need to neutralize the threat.”
“Neutralize the threat,” Aiden said, cracking a smile for the first time since they’d sat down. “You’re such a tool, man.”
“Excuse me for trying to keep us all out of prison,” Atticus said, pouting.
Adam waved Atticus off, giving August his full attention. “What do you mean?”
August thought about it. “I don’t know. Nobody will believe him. He has no proof other than his intuition. He’s lost all credibility. I don’t even consider him a threat, really.”
“So, why bring him up?” Aiden asked, frowning.
August sighed, holding his glass to his lips, feeling the carbonation spring up and burst on his skin but not taking a drink. “He’s really…pretty.”
A grin spread across Adam’s face. “Oh, shit. I think August is crushing on his co-worker.”
Was he? He hadn’t really ever thought of men as anything but a means to an end. He rarely had sex, and when he did it was all rather perfunctory. He was unable to form attachments, and it had never seemed fair to any unsuspecting person to attempt a relationship when he spent many of his nights neck deep in entrails. “I just…like the way he smells. I look at him and I find myself wondering what his skin tastes like.”
“Oof. Easy, Dahmer,” Adam said. “Maybe don’t start with that.”
“Don’t start with anything. He thinks you kill people,” Atticus said, practically apoplectic at that point.
“He does kill people?” Adam reminded. “Noah doesn’t care that I kill people. Military spouses don’t care that their soldiers may kill people in combat. Maybe his little psychic connection won’t mind either.”
Aiden shook his head, a half smirk on his face. “Who is he?”
August flicked his gaze upward. “He’s the new criminal psychology professor.”
“Why not just date a cop?” Atticus snapped, hands flying upward, clearly beside himself.
“Um, a psychologist and a cop aren’t the same thing,” Adam said. “Stop trying to shut him down.”
August shrugged. “He used to be an FBI agent.”
Atticus gestured wildly. “See?” To August, he said, “You’re supposed to be the smart one.”
August flattened his mouth, giving Atticus a withering look before he said, “I am the smart one. I have papers to prove it and everything.”
“Then maybe start acting like it and stop thinking with your dick?” Atticus shot back.
August bristled. “My dick has no bearing on my thought process. There’s just something about him…”
Adam leaned in, bracing his forearms on the table, eyes shining. “Like what?”
August thought of Lucas, with his dirty blond hair and green eyes. “He’s…soft. Vulnerable. Fragile even. I want to…test his limitations.”
“Right, a fragile FBI agent,” Atticus huffed.
“He is. He’s a profiler. He sat at a desk. Something happened to him and it, like, fractured him.”
“You want to test his limitations?” Aiden prompted, brow raised.
August made a noise of frustration. “Have you ever just looked at someone or something and thought, I want to keep it? Like, I want to protect him from the outside world but, at the same time, his helplessness and fear are so…intoxicating? I want him to be soft just for me.”
“Oh, Jesus,” Atticus muttered.
August knew he wasn’t explaining himself right. But he didn’t know how to say he wanted to be the one who put Lucas together and took him apart. The one who could make him beg but also made him feel safe. The idea of playing with Lucas, teasing him, torturing him, maybe making him cry just a little…had August harder than he’d ever been, and he was grateful for the table blocking his lap.
“I get it,” Adam said. “It’s how I feel about Noah. Not the helplessness and fear, that’s a little fucked up—not that I’m judging—but the second I looked at him, I knew he was mine. Maybe it’s an evolutionary thing?”
Atticus rolled his eyes. “Leave the science to the people who know what they’re talking about. Obsession isn’t evolutionary.”
August cut his gaze to Atticus. “Well, I do know science, and I know exactly what I’m talking about. I want him. He already knows who I am. What I am. What’s the worst that can happen?”
“He uses you to gather evidence and then exposes us all? There’s a trial, a spectacle, Dad’s experiment goes up in flames and he dies disgraced,” Atticus said. “Just spitballing here.”
Aiden sighed. “He’s already made up his mind. Look at him.” He gestured to August. “Have you ever seen him look this cow-eyed and dopey when talking about anything but string theory or murder?”
August had no choice but to endure the three of them examining him like a slide under a microscope.
“Dad’s going to freak out,” Atticus muttered.
Adam shrugged. “Maybe not. He’ll likely just use it as another experiment, like me and Noah. You know how he likes to drop us in new environments and situations and see how we react.”
Aiden scoffed. “Daddy’s adorable little lab rats. How cute.”
“Bitter much?” Adam asked.
Aiden shrugged. “I just know what happens to rats once the experiment is over. While he won’t kill us, he will do whatever it takes to keep his project under wraps. Anybody you invite into this fucked up family runs the risk of being merced the moment they step out of line. They should know that going in.”
August contemplated the idea of Lucas as part of the Mulvaney family. Adam’s boyfriend, Noah, had melted into the fold without issue. But he’d endured a rough childhood and understood that, sometimes, people just needed killing. Could Lucas ever come to understand that? Did August even want him to? Did August want to take Lucas and bind their lives forever? They’d only just crossed paths that morning.
But the idea of keeping Lucas…having him all to himself, made August’s insides quake. The power of having somebody like Lucas trust somebody like him, it heated something inside him until he could focus on nothing else. Would he open up to August? Make himself vulnerable to a man like him? Would he trust August enough to give himself to him in every possible way?
“I have to get to the airport,” Aiden said, looking at his watch.
“I’ll drive you,” Adam offered.
Aiden shook his head. “I’ll grab an Uber.”
“It’s a ride to the airport, not a marriage proposal. Stop being fucking weird.”
Aiden sighed. “Yeah, fine.” To August, he said, “Let me know if the psychic thing blows up in your face and I have to go on the lam, yeah?”
August waved a hand dismissively. With that, Adam and Aiden left, heading straight from the patio to Adam’s black BMW 7 Series. Well, likely Thomas’s BMW. Adam used their father’s garage as his own personal car lot.
When the server came, he gave her one of his cards, ignoring Atticus as he continued to glare at him from across the table.
Finally, Atticus said, “You know you can’t do this. It puts us all at risk.”
August shook his head. “He’s already onto me. We’re already at risk. At least, from the inside, I have a chance at changing his mind.”
“You? You find torturing people amusing. You actively tune out ninety percent of the world. You spend hours in your own head trying to solve riddles most people could never hope to understand. He probably likes sports or video games or—I don’t know—stamp collecting. Even if you weren’t a stone cold killer, you’d have nothing in common.”
August grinned. “I don’t know, he likes to catch killers. I am one. That’s something, right?”
Atticus stood, giving him one last disgusted look. “Christ. You’re going to get us all killed.”
“Have a little faith, brother,” August said, his mind already wandering to all the things he wanted to do with his—What did Adam call Lucas? Right, August’s new little psychic connection. He needed to pay him another visit.
Tonight.
