Fallen Petal Read online

  Content

  Copyright

  Prologue - Malia

  Chapter 1 – J

  Chapter 2 - J

  Chapter 3 - Petal

  Chapter 4 - J

  Chapter 5 - Petal

  Chapter 6 - J

  Chapter 7 - J

  Chapter 8 - Petal

  Chapter 9 - J

  Chapter 10 - Petal

  Chapter 11 - J

  Chapter 12 - J

  Chapter 13 - Petal

  Chapter 14 - J

  Chapter 15 - Petal

  Chapter 16 - J

  Chapter 17 – Petal

  Chapter 18 - J

  Chapter 19 - J

  Chapter 20 - Petal

  Chapter 21 - Petal

  Chapter 22 - J

  Chapter 23 - Petal

  Chapter 24 - J

  Chapter 25 - Petal

  Chapter 26 - J

  Chapter 27 - Petal

  Chapter 28 - J

  Chapter 29 - Petal

  Chapter 30 - Petal

  Chapter 31 - J

  Chapter 32 - Malia

  Chapter 33 - Petal

  Chapter 34 - J

  Chapter 35 - Petal

  Epilogue 1 - J

  Epilogue 2 - Petal

  Also by Linnea May

  Sneak Peek: BLACK VELVET

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Also by Linnea May

  Connect with Linnea

  Copyright © 2018 by Linnea May

  No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without written permission of the publisher.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

  All rights reserved.

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  Linnea’s little Mayhem – Reader’s Group

  This is the second part of a duet. You need to read ‘Lost Petal’ first to enjoy this story.

  “The mind replays what the heart can’t delete.”

  ~ Yasmin Mogahed

  Prologue

  Malia

  I miss her.

  I see her every single day, but still, I miss my best friend like I’ve never missed her before.

  When she left town to attend a school so far away that she might as well have vanished from the planet, we swore to each other that we wouldn’t let happen to us what has happened to so many others before.

  We wouldn’t lose contact. We wouldn’t grow apart. We’d always stay friends, just as close as we’ve been most of our lives.

  And we did. We managed to stay true to our words. Who in the world can say that about their childhood friend?

  I envied her, though. I’ll admit that much. She achieved something that I never did, despite everything. She turned her back on something that was familiar and comfortable, but so overloaded with dark burdens that it would carve her to pieces if she stayed any longer. Others would not have had the courage she had.

  I certainly didn’t.

  But then again, I don’t share her pain. Not at all. We grew up together, so close, our lives so intertwined, yet so very, very different. I had a happy childhood, a loving home, a stability that was unknown to her. I wasn’t chased by the same demons she was, and I wasn’t as susceptible to the evil in this town.

  She always had this allure on people. On men. I was jealous of it before I understood what it meant to be her, to attract their leering gazes and groping hands without even knowing why. It’s more than just her physical beauty, more than her enchanting eyes, more than her delicate frame, more than her soft curves and the wavy ash-blonde hair that makes her look like a doll.

  It’s more than that.

  It’s the mystery that surrounds her, and the danger that comes with it. She carries a secret, a secret she no longer knows about.

  He took it from her, and in letting him do so, she made him the man he is today.

  Jayson Bowlan, the famous mesmerist.

  I was there when it happened. I was there for almost everything in her life. I know as much as there is to know about her, except for one thing: What exactly happened that night she lost the one person in her life who was supposed to protect her? No one knows—except for him.

  Shrouded in mystery, he kept appearing and disappearing in her life. He was like a shadow, following her, watching her, protecting her in his own twisted way, even though her father tried to push him away again and again.

  People are afraid of him, because of the things he’s capable of. But they also adore him. Boy, do they marvel at this man and his wondrous skill. They bend over backward to be seen by him, and they pay insane amounts to obtain his questionable services. He’s become so rich that it’s sickening.

  I neither care for him, nor do I fear him.

  But I love her. I will always love her.

  I had to be a part of this. I had to be here for her, to make sure that he wouldn’t break her, as I’m sure he has done to others. He will not take my friend from me, not again.

  My eyes are glued to her face as she watches the video on my phone, her eyes wide in shock while realization slowly hits her. I swore to myself I would only show it to her once, and not all of it. Just a few seconds, just enough for her to understand, to gain a pinch of knowledge that will make all of this a little easier on her.

  I don’t understand everything about this. I don’t understand why things have to be this way, why he’s doing things the way he does, and why she’s subjected to this humiliating torment.

  But I agreed to play my part in it. For her.

  Because she asked me to.

  She also asked me to do this, if I felt that it was necessary. So technically, I’m not breaking protocol. Not hers, at least.

  He, on the other hand, can never know that I did this. He can’t know that I’ve learned the code he was so careful to hide from me. It took several times of spying across his shoulder as he quickly typed it in, because it’s a long code and I never manage to see and remember all of it at once. It took time, patience, and focus—but I had to do it. I had to find a way to be alone with her, without him knowing about it.

  I didn’t know when the opportunity would present itself, if it ever would. But today, all the right pieces fell into place when Jayson had to leave the house.

  We’re alone. Just the two of us, without being observed by his watchful eye.

  But I don’t know for how long.

  I have to leave before he gets back, before he notices anything.

  She protests when I pull the phone away, trying to grab it as I move out of reach as quickly as possible.

  “No!” she shrieks at me. “Please, I need to see more, I need to—”

  “Hush!” I place my finger on my lips, begging her to quiet down. “Please. Don’t tell him!”

  Her face has lost all color as she stares at me with disbelieving terror, shaking her head while her eyes glimmer with tears.

  It gets to me. Her pain has always gotten to me, stabbing me right in the heart as if it was my own.

  But it has never been as bad as now, in this very moment.

  “I’m sorry,” I utter, my voice breaking as I’m overcome with my own urge for tears. “I can’t do more.”

  She calls after me again when I turn my back to her, doing the best thing I can do for her right now.

  Leave the room.

  Chapter 1

  J


  It’s been less than a week since she vanished off the face of the Earth. A lot has happened since then, with her, with me, with the two of us. She woke up in a state that was far more shocked than I anticipated, but backed with the kind of strength that has always kept her on her feet.

  I only did this to her because I knew she could handle it. I knew she would hate me for it. I knew she would fear me. I knew she would suffer, she would cry and try to fight me as well as she could.

  But I also knew that she would soon turn this experience into her very own reality. She made it her own long before I expected her to. I hate it when my plans get toyed with, when someone interferes and robs me of control that is solely mine.

  She did that when I tied her to the bed. I never planned to allow myself to explode like that, to mark her beautiful body with my cum before I forced her to lick it clean. But I couldn’t help myself. Seeing her spread out in front of me, her naked body at my disposal, with no one to stop us, no one to disrupt the tension between us—and her dark eyes looking up at me with that horny despair.

  I should have fucked her then. I was very close to doing it. But something held me back. Those damn voices at the back of my head, the judgmental faces. Will I ever be able to get rid of them? I’ll have to if this is to turn out the way we both want it to.

  But how do you cast away inhibitions that have been forced on you for most of your life? I was never allowed near her, not since that day when I helped her for the first time. She wasn’t even brushing at the transition between a child and a young woman back then, way too young to consider her this way.

  But that didn’t stop me from falling for her, ten fucking years ago. My agony has accompanied me for an entire decade. It shouldn’t surprise me that there was no power left for restraint.

  At least I didn’t give in to the urge of fucking her.

  Yet.

  I can’t do it until she’s ready, until she asks me to do it. That’s the deal. And I’m a man who’s true to his word, especially when it comes to her.

  Unfortunately, I’m also a man who’s made a name for himself and who’s sought after, no matter whether I’m up for it or not. I can’t disappear into the shadows, as much as I’d like to. But while I was prepared to face the outside world, no matter what was going on in my own home, this particular call is especially annoying.

  Because it’s him.

  Malia warned me that Christopher would reach out to me, but when his call came only a day later, I still felt overrun by it. And I certainly don’t appreciate the fact that he’s asking to see me in person. When I asked him why, he kept it vague, excusing himself by saying that the matter was too precarious to be discussed on the phone.

  That’s why I’m sitting here at the station house like a fucking idiot, waiting to be called in by him. It’s my first time out of the house ever since she woke up, and while I’m sure I shouldn’t have anything to worry about, I can’t help but. Malia is there, but not inside her room, because I wouldn’t allow it. Every time Malia stepped inside to bring her food, I was standing outside the door, out of sight, granting her access to the room and waiting right there until she stepped back out—while watching every single move and listening to every word spoken between them on my tablet.

  She may not be able to get inside Petal’s room without my help, but she’s inside the house, with access to one of the panels that display the images caught by the camera in Petal’s bedroom. If anything were to happen, if Petal did anything we wouldn’t want her to, Malia would alert me about it right away. Still, I fucking hope my phone won’t buzz in the middle of my conversation with Christopher.

  “Jayson!”

  He greets me as if we were old friends, marching toward me with wide and confident steps as he reaches out his hand for a shake. Christopher has aged since I last saw him. His hair is thinning as is his waistline, emphasizing the new furrows on his face. He’s a few years younger than me, still a young man, but looking at the two of us, most people would assume him to be the senior. The smile on his face is crooked and so fake that it makes my blood boil. I know he only wears it out here, for show. It’s not for my benefit but for the people in our vicinity, his colleagues mostly.

  I refrain from displaying my inner disgust at his friendly gesture and opt for a friendly smile instead, taking his hand in mine with a tight squeeze that makes his face twitch. “Christopher.”

  “Glad you could come,” he says as he beckons me to follow him.

  “Didn’t really have a choice, did I?”

  He casts me a curious look from the side, no longer smiling but with a hardened expression on his face. Whatever he may have to say in response remains his secret, because my remark is met with nothing but silence.

  We step inside an office at the far end of the hallway. Christopher hurries to close the door behind us, making it seem as if he couldn’t wait to be alone in a room with me.

  I can’t say that the feeling is mutual.

  “Sit,” he tells me, pointing to an uncomfortable-looking armchair opposite a small gray desk that must be his. “Want something to drink?”

  “No thanks,” I reply, following his brusque offer as I sit down. “Let’s just get to the point.”

  He takes his seat opposite to me, falling back into his leathery office chair with his arms crossed in front of his chest.

  “Alright,” he says, arching an eyebrow at me. “When was the last time you saw her?”

  I sigh. “You know we didn’t have much contact. Not after she left town back then—”

  “Yes, you didn’t while she was gone,” Christopher cuts me off. “But I know you talked to her after she came back. Several times actually. You showed up at their shop just a few days after she returned, and she’s been seen at your house in Barrington, too.”

  His face darkens during that last sentence. I know he’s trying to intimidate me, pinning me down in my seat with an ominous threat looming behind his intense gaze. It doesn’t work on me, shit like that never has.

  I’m not surprised to hear that her father knew about the visits to my place in Barrington. I never told him and neither did she, but it made sense to assume he knew, nonetheless.

  That fucker knew about every breath she took.

  Until I stepped in.

  “Yes, it’s true that she has visited me a couple of times,” I admit, remaining calm and unfazed by his words. “Never on my invitation, though.”

  “What did she want from you?”

  “That’s none of your business.”

  “Yes, it is!” he insists, letting his fist fly down onto the table for emphasis. Contrary to the pens on his desk, I’m not shaken by his sudden outburst of aggression.

  “She was seen at your house two weeks before she disappeared,” he adds. “You were one of the very few people who had any contact with her in the time leading up to her disappearance. She’s turned into a missing person case. Everything that transpired between her and another person is my fucking business now!”

  I raise my hand in defense, hoping to calm the fucker down.

  “No reason to lose your shit,” I say in a calm voice. “She came by a few times because she wanted to talk to an old friend—”

  “An old friend.” Christopher spits the words like an insult, huffing in disgust. “Yeah, right.”

  We exchange a look that’s heavy with distrust and a history that is nothing but a pile of disdain. He’s hated me for almost ten years now, and I can’t even blame him for it. Because it’s true that I took something away from him

  Or rather, someone.

  Her.

  I glare at him. “She wanted counsel.”

  “From a psychic?”

  I hate it when people call me that. It makes it sound as if I make my money performing show acts on a stage in Las Vegas. That couldn’t be further from the truth.

  “You know I can’t disclose anything that falls under doctor-patient confidentiality.”

  “You’re not a real f
ucking doctor, Jayson. And you know that things change when there’s a police investigation underway.”

  His grimace is laced with loathing as he shakes his head at me. “Why are you being such an asshole? You know you’re not making yourself look good here?”

  “I didn’t come here to brush up on our special friendship, Christopher,” I snarl at him. “But I can tell you this: you’re barking up the wrong tree here. I last saw her more than two weeks before her disappearance, and I wish there was anything I could tell you that would help us find her.”

  I grimace, overplaying the strain on my face. “I don’t even want to think about it. That she could...”

  “Could what?” Christopher probes, leaning in closer as his eyebrows furrow with impatient concern. “That she could what, Jayson?”

  I glance at him with a dark expression, trying my best to convey ominous premonition. “That she could be his next victim.”

  Christopher jerks back, his nostrils flaring as he takes a sharp inhale.

  “His next victim?” he asks, seemingly ignorant, even though I’m sure he knows exactly who I’m talking about.

  “The Bridgewater murderer.”

  He locks me down with an angry stare, looking as if he wants to say something, but he refrains from doing so. I can see his mind working, crunching thoughts and dissolving them into nothing before he voices them toward me. It would be easy to be intimidated by the way he looks at me, suspicion seemingly rising in his gaze as he contemplates.

  Or is it something else? He’s hiding something from me, no doubt about that. But it’s part of his job to keep information to himself. Still, I can’t help but wonder what’s going on inside his head right now.

  “Aren’t you working on that case as well?” I want to know. “You can’t tell me that the thought hasn’t crossed your mind? She would fit the pattern...”

  It’s always best to speak in such situations, to disrupt whatever train of thought the opponent is following, to ask questions. It’s human nature to feel inclined to respond to a question, no matter whether it’s about spilling the truthful answer or not.