“Bullshit, you came over to worm your way in on my kill and get your dick wet.” I looked at the dead woman and thought for a moment. “I guess she won’t be wet now, but I have lube in the drawer if you like.”

Abel smirked. “You’re just as much of a sick fuck as I am, Cain, but it’s why I love your crazy ass.”

“Mmhmm, I’m sure. Look on the bright side. Now you can sing your stupid pussy song the entire time without me punching you in the face.”

“Yee-fucking-ha, gladly.” Abel wiggled his hips, his cock bouncing around and making me shake my head.

I hated the annoying song and yet always found myself joining in—stupid addictive thing, just like that damn purple dinosaur my parents forced us to watch as children.

I made my way out of my special workspace into the underbelly of my home and locked the door in place as the singing and grunting started.

It was the end of summer break, which meant more than normal college kids were traveling in cars on roads they had no business driving down. Parents did a crap job teaching their kids to be safe, but I wasn’t one to complain. Their crap parenting meant more prey for me.

I started my large truck and gave her dash a caressing pat. “Let’s go, Petunia. We have some piglets to catch.”

Chapter 3

KIRBY

Pulling my long braid over my shoulder, I avoided glancing out the car windows and played with the end of my hair. I didn’t want to think about where I was heading. It was supposed to be a coveted experience to be a student of Quantico, but it was nothing more than a fancy jail to me.

The stuffy dorm was too small and smelled like old cheese and dirty socks, no matter how much air freshener I stuck on the walls. It was enough to make even the most trained stomach want to turn inside out. I had no idea what the hell people did in those rooms to make them smell that bad, and I honestly didn’t want to know.

My room was fine in that concrete-block-boring kind of way, and my roommate, although quirky, was not much better. The first twelve weeks of basic training were enough to make me want to poke my eye out with a pencil.

Well, I guess there were a few interesting parts. The criminal psychology class was fun. Serial killers fascinated me, particularly how and why they killed. Forensic science class wasn’t bad, either. They let us play with bones and insects at different stages of flesh decay, which was interesting.

I was also getting into the physical training courses the school required. Hand-to-hand combat and running were great stress relievers, but I wasn’t a gun person and preferred my paintbrushes over gun violence.