Thriller : The Killer - Destroyed: (Mystery, Suspense, Thriller, Suspense Crime Thriller, Murder) (ADDITIONAL BOOK INCLUDED ) (Suspense Thriller Mystery, Serial Killer, crime) (2 page)

I frowned at the question, giving it as much thought as I was capable of. Something glimmered in my memory and I raised my head to beam into Callum's face. "Misunderstood," I said proudly before falling backwards and drifting out of consciousness.

Alcohol is not my friend. Alcohol is not my friend. If I kept repeating the mantra perhaps it would finally stick in some recess of my brain and prevent me from feeling this shit again. Alcohol is not my friend. Alcohol is not my friend. And whoever just opened the curtains, flooding the room with light and sending me writhing in a new level of agony definitely isn't my friend either.

I growled some sort of complaint and shifted position in the bed, but my tormentor wasn't even near finished with me. Whistling (and I mean 
whistling!
 When there's a poor guy with a hangover trying to convince the world he's dead … that's a level of sadism you rarely see) the evil arsehole then began to bounce on the corner of my mattress. The resulting movement of the entire bed convinced me that perhaps curled in a small huddled heap in the corner of the wardrobe would be a better option. I somehow managed to open my eyes in order to plan the quickest route to peaceful, dark oblivion and did the best job of tensing my muscles I could when my limbs seemed to consist of porridge.

A grip of steel clamped around my ankle and I yelped in shock. "Don't even think about running into the wardrobe again, Blake. This is completely your own fault so take it like a man."

Moaning piteously, I shuffled around until I could face my captor and current bane of my existence. "Matt, why are you being so mean to me?" I whined. "Show a little compassion."

"After you and Carly didn't let any of the rest of us get so much as a sniff of the alcohol last night? You deserve everything you get."

I groaned. "Well who came up with the monumentally stupid idea of involving alcohol in a situation where Carly and I were likely to start disagreeing? You know how competitive she gets and once she starts drinking she takes everything so personally."

Matt raised an eyebrow. "She? Aren't you forgetting someone?"

I pulled myself into a seated position and waited for the room to stop spinning. "Urgh. Look, mate, can we save the lecture for when I'm not feeling like I'm about to be sick?"

Matt shrugged. "Kate's having exactly the same talk with Carly … well she was until Carly started hugging the toilet bowl and impersonating a mating walrus …"

I allowed myself a vindictive snigger and instantly regretted it, clutching a hand to my head and groaning again. "Couldn't you have at least got me some painkillers?" I asked.

Matt held out the hand not currently keeping my ankle in place to reveal two white pills. "There's a glass of water on the side there." He watched me swallow the medicine and when it didn't look as though I was going to bring them straight back up, he sighed and continued. "Look, about last night … how serious were you?"

I massaged my forehead and squinted at Matt. "About what?"

Chapter 3

Matt hesitated again. "About your theories on Callum. Do you really have doubts that he's the killer or were you just refusing to back down in front of Carly?"

Oh great question when I feel like shit. That's real compassion. Do your best to trigger off another rant in me when I really should be trying to stay calm. I paused to glare at Matt. "Of course I was bloody serious. And considering I'm the only one of us who has spent any time with Callum, I don't see why you all think my opinion doesn't count!"

Matt quickly raised his hands. "Okay, okay. Relax. I just wanted to know."

I subsided, but only slightly. "I don't see why I'm criticised for putting some effort into working this mess out," I muttered. "I still say that relying on clichés and the presumption this is some trashy novel isn't going to get us anyway. As far as we're concerned, it's real and happening. That means it's not a trashy novel and we can't take the plot for granted."

Matt studied me carefully before nodding slightly. "While you do have a valid point, Callum is the only person who seems even remotely likely to be a suspect at this point. So the rest of us are going to keep working on that assumption." He held up a hand to cut off my unvoiced protest. "However, if you can find some reason for another person wanting to kill him, then we can expand our list. But we're going to need real evidence of a motive."

I raised an eyebrow. "Whatever happened to innocent until proven guilty?"

"That would mean William dying. We're going to have to forget that this once." Matt smiled and got to his feet. "We'll try and keep you and Carly apart for today … give you both time to get over your hangovers and calm down."

I watched him make his way across the room and he actually had his hand on the door before a thought came to me. "Oi, Matt," I called, waiting for him to turn back to face me with a questioning expression. "Why was Carly getting so arsey about me and Callum hanging out anyway?"

Matt gave me another of his trademark measuring stares. "You mean you haven't noticed?" he asked with a fair amount of disbelief. "Whenever the pair of you gets together the air fills with pheromones and you could cut the sexual tension with a knife. She probably thought it was affecting your judgement."

"Eh?" I blinked. "What are you getting at?"

Matt rolled his eyes. "You always were totally oblivious to that sort of thing, weren't you?" Shaking his head, Matt exited the room.

Even once he'd gone I continued to stare at the closed door as though it held the secret to life itself. Or at least the answer to this bloody murder-mystery … I wasn't asking for much. And try as I might to think of someone else to put in the role of prime suspect, the only thing I could concentrate on was what Matt had said about Callum and I. Why was everybody jumping to conclusions concerning the pair of us? Sure Callum sometimes had this little seductive act going on, but it was just to keep me off-balance and confused. Maybe the others hadn't worked that out and while on the subject of Callum…

Oh my god. Fucking crap. Bloody hell. I passed out in front of him last night after slurring like an idiot. Shit. My cheeks flamed and I groaned again, this time burying my face in my hands for good measure. What a fucking arse I made of myself. He wasn't going to lose that little smirky expression of his for the whole day. I sighed. Once again: alcohol is not my friend. Alcohol is not my friend. Alcohol is not my friend.

I somehow managed to get showered and dressed though the final result still didn't look that much different to an animated corpse. If Carly was bouncing around the house by now, I was going to kill her. However before I saw Carly, I ran into Callum again.

He was just walking in through the front doors carrying a bucket filled with now dirty soapy water and a sponge. Water had splashed on his black skin-hugging top making the lines of his torso that much more visible. He paused when he saw me and set the bucket down to brush his hair back with both hands and regard me with that look of faint amusement I was getting so used to. "Hey, how are you feeling this morning?"

For some bizarre reason, I found my cheeks turning a flaming red and ducked my head in an effort to hide the evidence until the colour died done. I coughed to clear my throat and tried to act as though I wasn't completely embarrassed and wanting to hide somewhere. "Ahem. Quite well thank you." I chanced a look up. "And, er, and yourself?" I suddenly stopped and felt my face drain in colour as I realised I was acting like Hugh fucking Grant. Noooooooooooooo. Oh god, someone just shoot me now. Please.

Either unaware or choosing to ignore my mental kick-myself-and-get-my-bloody-act-together aura, Callum reached back down to pick up the bucket again. "I'm afraid you missed the family breakfast, but if you want to follow me I can knock you up something in the kitchen?"

I successfully fought the wave of nausea the mere thought of food provoked. "Er, no food thanks. I think I'm just going to grab a coffee."

Callum shrugged. "Good enough. I'm on my way to get one now. Come on, I'll show you the way to the kitchen so you won't have to worry about starving while in this house."

I managed a weak smile as I moved down the stairs to join him, but starvation really seemed like a tempting idea right about now. To get my mind off food I found myself studying Callum's appearance. "So … what have you been doing?" Somehow that comment sounded ridiculously suggestive coming out of my mouth and I felt my cheeks flare back into full glowing life.

Callum glanced at me out of the corner of his eyes; that almost smile definitely hovering around his mouth. "I own a motorbike. I was just cleaning it up."

"And I bet you clean up so well," I purred, before realising what I'd said and making a strangled choking sound. Fuck, hangovers seemed to completely prevent my brain from censoring the crap coming out of my mouth. By some miracle it seemed like Callum either hadn't heard or was just choosing to ignore my idiocy. We walked the rest of the way to the kitchen in silence and I was grateful for it.

The kitchen itself was, of course, expansive and gorgeous in white marbled surfaces and chrome. I was part shown/part guided onto a stool at the breakfast bar while Callum wandered over to make a start on the coffee. Folding my arms on the cool surface I rested my chin on my arms as I watched the dark-haired teen rummage in a cupboard above his head. He stretched upwards for something, causing the tight shirt to virtually ripple across his back before pulling away from the waistband of his jeans entirely. I realised I was staring and shook my head just as he pulled two mugs from the cupboard and turned to face me. "Do you want instant or freshly ground coffee?" he asked. "I think we've got some coffee beans in the bottom of the fridge somewhere."

My mouth answered before I had even fully registered the option. "Ground please."

With a nod Callum turned back and pulled open the fridge doors before bending down to search for the coffee. I watched the way the material of his trousers stretched over his admittedly nicely shaped arse and wondered just what kind of underwear he could have on under such tight jeans. 
Maybe he isn't wearing any
 somehow made its way into my thoughts and promptly turned my face bright red for yet another time this morning.

Trying to give myself something to concentrate on other than parts of Callum's anatomy, I got to my feet and made my way over to join Callum. "Is there anything I can do to help?"

Withdrawing the bag of beans from the fridge Callum looked up at me and gestured towards the sink. "Sure, you want to get some water? It's all set up over there."

Glad to have something to focus on, I obediently made my way over and fumbled about with the coffee machine. Eventually I worked out what to do, just as Callum tipped the beans into the grinder and paused, glancing over at me. "If you've still got a hangover, you might want to cover your ears for this bit." I took his advice and a mercifully short while later, it was all over. Callum made his way over to join me and set up the coffee to brew. Leaning on the counter directly in front of me, he tilted his head back slightly as he regarded me with an expression that bordered on sympathetic. "Feeling any better yet?"

"Not yet," I admitted, just as the smell of coffee hit my nose. "But I think I will soon." I closed my eyes and inhaled deeply, relishing the aroma. "Mmm," I murmured dreamily. "Something smells good." On opening my eyes again, I realised that Callum was still standing very close and I blushed. "The coffee, I mean. Er, not that you don't smell good too, but it's the coffee I'm remarking on. Even if I did just mention you and oh god I'm rambling again, do you see this? This is what happens when I'm hung-over and haven't managed to drink any coffee yet."

"Amusing as it is to find out how deeply you can blush, I'm going to take that statement to mean you'd like some coffee now," Callum commented before turning back to the coffee machine. "It's pretty much done now anyway." He poured out two mugs of the steaming black liquid and passed one to me.

I accepted it with a smile and brought the mug to my lips, savouring the anticipation of that first sip. "This has to be one of the best ways to wake up in the morning," I sighed.

Callum quirked an eyebrow as that smirk hovered over his lips again. "What would make it better?"

My mind was finding it hard to concentrate, even with the first intake of caffeine. "Er," I had to suddenly push a whole selection of unsuitable comments and images from my mind. "Apart from the hangover, I meant," I mumbled pathetically and took another drink of coffee to try and help my brain get a fucking grip. Oh god, bad phrasing … I did not just think that.

Some of that train of thought must have shown on my expression, for Callum's lips twitched in what could have been a smile. He turned away from me again and set his mug down on the counter. "I'm going upstairs," he announced. "I want to get out of these wet clothes."

My mind seemed to agree with Callum's sentiments and started throwing up an eye-boggling array of images to accompany that particular statement. As Callum left the kitchen, my eyes decided to further torment my vulnerable consciousness and fixate themselves once more on the way his behind moved in his jeans. In my distress, I gulped too large a mouthful of coffee and burnt my tongue on the hot liquid. At least the pain gave me something else to focus on.

I turned to face the side and took the fact that I was now alone as a prime opportunity to wonder what the hell was wrong with me this morning, using that tried and tested method of bringing forehead into contact with hard surface  in this case the work-surface. I was getting quite a good rhythm going when a voice called out to me. "Blake? Are you in here? Oh dear!"