Wicked Games: Book Two of The Psychopath Series

Chapter 1

"Where is it?" Alex shouted irately standing in the living room of the generous sized beachfront house.

His face burned as chilly ocean breezes flew through the open French doors blowing up the red floor-length curtains. His hazel eyes bore down on Faith. He longed to know why she did the things she did; broke the rules whenever she wanted.

Faith cocked her head back on the white fabric sofa as she inhaled the rich nicotine from the thin, dwindling cigarette hanging between her fingers.

Her azure eyes gazed calmly at his frantic state towering above her. The knotted wrinkles in his forehead, stern frown to his mouth and tightly folded arms showed the tension he was not trying to hide.

"You parked your Bentley in my driveway. You stand in my living room. In my house." She rose to her feet; the red pillow that was wedged between her side and the arm of the couch fell to the floor. "RESPECT ME!"

Alex blew air from his flared nostrils, "Respect you! FUCK YOU! FEAR ME!"

"I fear no man." She snapped.

Alex broke out in laughter. One would be at ease from the sound; so jovial. However, she knew better. Having fear of no man was right. It wasn't a man that caused mammoth-sized butterflies to flutter in the pit of her stomach.

Alex pulled his phone from his back pocket. "I'll just tell Isabeth." He scrolled through his smartphone. "Call her, wake her up and tell her you fell...off...the...wagon."

"Wait!" Faith jumped. She nervously slid her hand through her free-flowing, voluminous sun-kissed blonde tresses.

Alex's finger hovered over Isabeth's number. "Then where is it?" he asked again.

Faith looked up to the high vaulted ceilings as shame stormed through her spirit. She was remorseful that she did it, that she let herself go that far without pulling the brakes.

"The kitchen." Faith muttered.

Alex fled from her sight. He followed the coral rug rolled out down the dark narrow hallway. Black and white photos of happier times adorned the crisp white walls. His stomach raised up pushing his throat into his mouth. He swallowed trying to push his inners back to their rightful places. This was something he would never get used to. No one could get use to this. The kitchen light shined on his ghostly pale face, seeing the past playing vividly in front of his eyes, unwinding like a movie on Turner Classic.

Alex's feet stepped onto the faint grey tiles. It was a beautifully designed kitchen, white like all the furniture in the house. Sleek silver appliances, black granite countertops kept clear of the clutter most people stored on them. There were no dishes stacked miles high in the sink, no stains on the white cabinets or its sliver handles. A sign of a kitchen never used or one belonging to an anal, OCD owner; the latter was right.

His eyes rolled down in their sockets, focusing on the floor. His muscles tensed and his heart shook. There it was, what he bailed out early on work for. He should've felt bad, shed a tear for all the hard work that was erased like a blackboard, but he didn't. Instead, he felt relieved, this would be easy. Easier than the time before she went clean. Naked and limp the man's body laid on the cold hard floor. No blood. Thank God, there was no blood.

Faith stood in front of the gold arched mirror. Her deep-set eyes examined her flawless face. She had the face of innocence meandered with an essence of deception. The mascara on her long eyelashes didn't run; there was no trail of dried tears running down her flushed high-cheek bones. She glanced at him standing behind her with his hands resting at his side, his face void of emotion.

"You put nightshade in the wine." Alex disclosed. "Classic."

"It had to be done." She turned around. "Look at my face." She pointed to the dry blood on her busted bottom lip.

"This shit was supposed to stop. No more death, no more graves!"

"I did stop. You know that. For a year, I have been good. No blood spilled. He put his hands on me! He didn't respect me!" She pointed her finger to the kitchen although he couldn't be seen through the wall, blaming the man for his own demise.

Alex peered down at his feet. His heartbeats vibrated in his chest.

"It's Fulton's fault I'm this way." She walked back to the coffee table picking up the almost empty cigarette box. She slid out a new cigarette flipping it between her fingers. "It's the same with Isabeth."

Alex remained speechless looking down at his new brown oxfords. He just brought them two days ago when he went shopping with his brother and girlfriend. Two days ago his wish for normalcy was finally granted by the powers that be. This was the first time he wore them and this happened. He would have to buy new shoes. They can't be kept after he's finished doing what he was about to do.

"Okay, Alex. I'm sorry. He sent me to a dark place, a place where I turn into a monster. I know. I'll do better next time or kill trying." She devilishly smiled.

Alex lightly nodded to the thoughts racing in his own mind looking at her blankly. She was right; the dead man shouldn't have hit her. That was wrong. Was it punishable by death? Her lip was busted. She would have to sport that blemish around their small, gossiping, aristocratic town. For him, the answer was "No". But using Faith's logic, it was a "Hell Yes!"

Alex began rolling up the sleeves of his pinstriped green shirt. "Let's bury the dead before the sun comes up."

He walked to the front door, slowly turning the brass knob. He stared at his car judging how much this could cost him. This was the life he worked so hard to get back. He already knew the pain of losing his family. But, there was one thing he couldn't stand to lose. And if this got out, if she knew he helped Faith cleanup once she slipped, it would cost him. It would cost him something priceless. It would cost him her love.

"This is between us." Alex pointing his finger at her than to himself.

"I'll tell her nothing." Faith assured trying to emit a flicker of flame from the gold lighter.

Alex slammed the front door behind him. He ran down the wood steps of her house than to his car. He sped out the driveway down the sand-covered street. There was work to be done, secrets to be hidden and only four hours of night left. Murder, lies, and deceit; oh what one will do for their friends?

It seems Faith and Alex are scheming behind Isabeth's back. Will this affect the Trifecta?