Deadly Secrets *Completed*

Prologue

He stood obscured in the shadows of the alley, watching intently, stalking. The chilled wind nipped at his exposed neck while his veins pumped with anticipation. Any moment now and Karen Pearson would walk right past the alley he stood in, as she did every night, and each night she had no idea that he was there scrutinizing of her every move.

It was the same routine each night. Karen was looking for her Mr. Right, only she was looking for them in shady bars instead of some matchmaking website or speed dating event. He knew the only man she would find that night would be him, Ryder Matthews. His lips formed into a sinister smile anticipating what would come next. He knew it well; it was ritualistic in a sense. He watched for his victim to walk by him unaware of the vicious predator that was lurking and lying in wait for her.

Then, like the King Cobra, he struck with a purpose, grabbing the chloroform handkerchief and forcefully covering it over her mouth and nose. Within seconds she would be out like a light, they always were. He would then carry their limp and vulnerable bodies to his truck that was parked nearby in a shadowed alleyway.

Emotions revealed too much and aroused suspicion, which is why he had none, this being the reason most murderers were caught. Well, that and they could never cover their tracks as well as he could. He had been at this for over twelve years now and had never been in the crosshairs of the police, and never would be. He was too smart to get caught and he knew it, they knew it. His story had been repeated on the news channels on an annoying loop.

"This girl, my daughter, has been missing for three days. Please, if you know who the Ghost is, I beg of you to turn him in!"

He had his story perfected for any prying, skeptical glances thrown in their direction. His 'lady friend' had drunk too much and passed out and he — being the gentleman that he was — was only taking them to their home right up the street. They seemed satisfied with that answer, giving a nod of approval and left him alone. Luckily for him, he could be a charmer and could easily persuade the pedestrians who stopped to check on them. After all, he was sexy as fuck. Who would suspect a charming, sexy, man of murder? He thanked his good looks for that.

Karen stumbled around the corner of the alley, the smell of whiskey potent in the air. She had drank way more than she had planned too, but she was out to have fun and hopefully meet 'the one'. It never happened, but she did have fun flirting with the bartender when all else failed. The chilly night air pulled the breath from her lungs, causing her to drop the keys that were loosely held in her hand.

She bent down to pick them up and was engulfed by the sounds of heavy breathing right next to her ear. Her pulse jolted in fear and sped up frantically at the sound of the gruff, manly voice.

"Say goodnight, Doll," he whispered with a hot breath on her neck.

He forced the handkerchief over Karen's mouth and nose, seconds later her eyes slammed shut.

"You're mine now." His mouth curved into a devious smile beneath his black mask.

***

Layla

Are there any decent men out there that Layla doesn't know about?

Did a decent man even exist?

How was it possible to date that many players and not see the signs that are flashing above their head that read, "I'll-sleep-with-anything-that-is-blonde-and-has-two-legs, while-still having-the-benefits-of-you-on-the-side." Just another loser in the barrel, Layla pondered.

Layla had worked the night shift last night at her dead-end job as a waitress. She wasn't complaining, at least it paid her bills. When she got off at six o'clock in the morning, she was only thinking of climbing into bed. She unlocked her apartment door and found her boyfriend Rick sprawled out on the couch, naked, along with a skinny blonde next to him, both asleep.

Layla fought off the tears and stormed out, turning to the thing she always did when a guy played her. Who cares if it was six o'clock in the morning? She was beyond irate, seething with anger, and was ready to go back to the drawing board. Bring on the next loser! She thought bitterly.