Hot Property (Kingston Bros.) (7 page)

Not a stalker, my ass, Mark thought to himself as he repeated the Mercedes license numbers to himself, memorizing the plate so he could pass the information onto his cop friend. Yup. That Karl guy was one creepy bastard. Who hangs out in front of an Open House for 20 minutes after closing? Serena's new client was up to something. Mark only hoped she had enough sense to avoid the prick. Prospective buyer or not, she needed to keep her distance and avoid encouraging him.

Unfortunately, he was pretty
sure she wouldn't listen to him
or Jack when it came to taking some precautions with her safety. No matter, he would stay close enough to ensure no harm came to her. Close proximity with Serena promised to be a kind of erotic torture, but he would withstand it to keep her safe.  He only hoped that death by blue balls truly was an urban myth.

Chapter Five

Twenty-four years ago...

It was bitterly cold and damp in the cellar, so he pulled his thin, naked legs up to his chest and wrapped his arms around them, holding himself tightly in a little ball. This
made the shallow gashes in his pale back sting
but he was used to the pain. Water dripped somewhere and he could smell the dankness mixed with the unpleasant odor of rat droppings. His grandfather was obsessed with ensuring that the rest of the old house was clinically clean, but this place was purposely kept as dingy and unpleasant as any prison cell. The boy was fairly certain the cleaning lady didn't even know this place existed. If she had seen it, she wouldn't be working for the old man anymore. But she was paid well not to ask questions and that's exactly what she did. Her kind was good at keeping their mouth shut. At least th
at's what his grandfather said.

It was darker here than anywhere else he'd even been. Not that he'd been many places. The blackness seemed to have actual weight and texture, pressing him down into the icy cement floor, making him feel helpless and weak and very, very alone. He didn't need a candle to know what this awful place looked like. His grandfather had brought him here many times, sometimes to instruct but mostly to punish him. A crude black swastika was painted on one wall, while the opposite side of the room was dominated by a life-sized poster of Adolf Hitler, arm raised and looking wild-eyed at a rivet
ed audience of his compatriots.

He knew his grandfather considered the figure in the picture to be a great man, but he couldn't look directly at it without a little shudder of terror and revulsion sliding down his spine. There was something about the dark-haired little man's little eyes, something hot, frenzied and downright scary. In truth, that look reminded him of his grandfather when he was on one of his tirades. Like he'd been that afternoon three days ago. After Miss Ellis, his teacher, had come to talk to the old man. About him and his behavior. The way he treated the other kids and the things he did when the teacher wasn't a
round.

His grandfather
had greeted her at the door with his usual blank stare, his unrelenting disapproval apparent without saying a word. Oddly, Miss Ellis was not intimidated thou
gh the old man still possessed
a tall and imposing figure. Most people found his
baleful gaze unnerving, but she just glared back at him as she always did when they encountered each other.

The old man had resented the teacher’s interference for months now. In his opinion, Miss Ellis was a busybody and most likely a dirty whore. If he had his way, someone would show her what happened to women who didn’t know when to keep their mouths and eyes shut. He would not have his grandson in school with her except
his
worsening eyesight had forced him to allow
the boy
to enter the public education system.

After being home-schooled by his grandfather for the first few years of his education the boy had been happy and excited to escape his rigid presence for several hours a day. The freedom had been a heady experience after having every moment of hi
s life so strictly regimented.

At first, he had been eager to escape the old house but school wasn't what he expected. He was an outsider there. The other kids thought he was weird and the teachers had strange ideas about treating everyone the same. It was a confusing place where he didn't know the rules. As much as he wanted to fit in he was always a bit out of sync with what was considered normal. As a result, the other children and even most of the teachers avoided talking to him. It didn't help that his education was so advanc
ed compared to his classmates.

At the age of nine, he could quote Nietzsche with ease and had already memorized the Periodic Table of Elements and all its components. Complicated quadratic equations were well within his grasp and as a result he was understandably bored when presented with gold stars for completing his multiplication tables. He was moved up two grades, but this just alienat
ed him further from his peers.

It didn't help that his grandfather insisted that he stay away from anyone who was not their kind. He was fanatical about his grandson not becoming tainted by any unsavory elements, which to him meant anyone of non-
Slavic
descent. The trouble was that the boy couldn't always tell who was superior and who wasn't. Skin and hair color, he'd learned, weren't always reliable indicators. One little boy in his class had golden hair and green eyes,
just like him,
but his last name was Lopez, so he couldn't be a member of the Master Race. Another olive-skinned girl had the unfortunate name of Olga Schmidt, a
German
-sounding name, but according to his grandfather this child was an impersonator and a fake.

There were so many rules regarding how to tell if someone was suitable or not. He didn't really understand how his grandfather was able to tell the difference so easily. The old man insisted that as the boy grew older he would come to recognize their kind. As he matured, so would his ability to distinguish the pur
e-breeds from the mixed breeds.

The one time he had brought home a playmate from school his grandfather had barred the door with his cane and screamed at him to not let that 'little
Jew
' in his house because he'd 'stink up the place and steal the silverware.' According to his grandfather, all
Jews
thought about was making money and scheming to cheat people out of what was rightfully theirs. Henry, his one and only friend, didn't even have a big nose and his family was dirt poor, so obviously he didn't fit the profile. Yet his grandfather was certain he was
Jewish
. It didn't make any sense to the boy. Henry had only wanted to check out the boy's comic collection, not steal anything. But the severe beating and subsequent two days in the cellar that followed Henry's visit had convinced the boy that it was better to err on the side of caution. So he began avoiding everyone, keeping to himself and inwardly seething at his inability to distingui
sh his tribe from these others.

He quickly became accustomed to being an outsider. He'd felt hurt and lonely for awhile, but eventually it became obvious to him that his grandfather was right. He was a superior specimen and the other children were just jealous of his superhuman qualities. That was why they avoided him, not because he was strange. They couldn't relate to him because he was practically a different species from them. He was more evolved than they could comprehend. He was meant for greatness while they were just a bunch of brainless little mutts. It was so hard, treating them like equals when he knew they were hopelessly b
eneath him.

Every once in awhile he slipped and let his contempt for his classmates show. Usually these slips resulted in some form of cruel and violent behavior on his part. This latest incident had involved Tommy Mulligan calling him a queer because he was always so neatly groomed. His grandfather had explained exactly what the term meant when he told the boy the story of how he had come to live with the old man five years earlier. His mother had abandoned them when she discovered her husband preferred sleeping with his secretary. His male secretary. Both men had disappeared soon after, leaving the boy in the
loving care of his grandfather.

The idea that this mediocre child would have the temerity to infer that he was flawed in this unforgivable manner could not be tolerated. As enraged as the boy was, he didn't respond to the other boy's taunts. Instead he held off for a few days, until Tommy was walking home alone through the forest trail toward the trailer park where he lived.
The boy had sat behind a tree for hours, whittling a branch down to a sharpened point and waiting patiently. When his victim passed by he grabbed the smaller child and threw him to the ground.

Easily, he straddled Tommy's thighs and began pummeling him viciously in the face. When the other boy was bloody and unconscious he began carving into his stomach. Just as he was about to start on the second half of his project he heard someone coming, and had to flee to escape detection. His artwork had ended up looking like a random scratch. That was a piece of luck. A swastika carved into the other child's belly would have been very difficult to e
xplain given the circumstances.

He'd left Tommy lying in the path, alive but badly injured. His small, broken body was soon discovered by the approaching jogger and Tommy was taken to the hospital where he was treated for a broken nose, shattered cheek bone and two black eyes. When he awoke he identified his attacker, and that was why Miss Ellis had come to visit. The old man had provided an alibi, vehemently denying the possibility that his grandson could be involved because they'd been together sinc
e shortly after school let out.

Miss Ellis was the only one who seriously suspected the boy and even she was forced to let it go when faced with the boy's innocent denials and grandfather's support. The boy was, after all, very careful about hiding his nature from authority figures. It certainly helped that Tommy was a well-known liar and his father was the town drunk, prone to using his fists on his both his wife and children. It was assumed that Tommy had accused the boy in order to protect his wino father. The matter was soon dropped and no one at school ever made the mistake of call
ing the boy a name ever again.

His grandfather, however, had punished him severely for his indiscretion. They'd spent  the last three days and two nights in the cellar together. The boy kneeling on the cold floor, naked, as the old man alternated between lashing him with an improvised riding crop and screaming at him that he must be more careful. Must appear normal. Must stay pure and unsullied. Must fulfill his destiny and rebuild the Master Race. These were the words that echoed through the boy's head as he slipped into unconsciousness from the pain. Only to be revived a few minutes later so the process could be repeated over and over until he would do or say a
nything at all to make it stop.

Now, he could rest. The old man had finally tired and left him here to think about the disaster he'd almost created with his impulsive and vengeful act. His back was a bloody, stinging mess and he was weak from hunger and dehydration, but he'd learned his lesson. No one could suspect what he was. The boy must appear average and non-threatening. And he must wait. Someday he would find the perfect female specimen, worthy of his DNA. When he found her two things would happen: he would rebuild what his grandfather and his compatriots had started so long ago. And more importantly to him at least, he wouldn't be alone ever again.

*****

Karl gripped the gear shift of the Mercedes tightly with one hand and waited for Serena to exit the townhouse. He'd driven around the block when the long-haired man with the limp had paused on the porch to stare at him, but now Karl was parked further down and on the opposite side of the street, where he could casually watch for her by keeping
an eye on his rear view mirror.

He was holding his cell phone up to his ear with the other hand, in case anyone noticed him sitting there, but otherwise he was unnaturally still. He was in his hunting mode again. He needed to find out if the pretty real estate agent actually had an appointment or if she was just playing some kind of stupid female game with him. He suspected she had lied to him, but it hardly mattered. In time she would learn that deceiving him was not an option. Once they were together, she would understand the importance of their role and become the ideal companion he'd always wanted. The one he'd been waiting for since his destiny had been revealed to him by his gran
dfather when he was just a boy.

He'd been mistaken before and those situations had ended badly
but
the women hadn't been exactly right. He'd had to dispose of them, but they were just collateral damage in the war he was fighting against the inferiors. Some casualties were to be expected
.