Bullseye: Danny Cox Mysteries, #1

By Sian B. Claven

A city held under siege by a killer with no rhyme or pattern is facing its hardest challenge.
Everything he leaves behind is on purpose.
Every victim chosen seemingly at random.
He leaves no clues and no evidence.
He is Bullseye.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Sian B. Claven
• Release date: Aug 15, 2019
• ISBN: 9781393703587

Sian B. Claven

Known as the International Bestselling, Award-winning Author of horrific old-school terror titles such as Buried and the Asylum Series, Sian B. Claven brings back a nostalgic telling of creepy tales. Aiming high, this misleadingly bubbly author terrifies her fans with tales of ghosts, murderers, and demonic possessions as though handing out candy to children, all while expanding her releases from her first young adult horror in 2017 to her more recent explicit demonic occult horror in 2021. With an on the edge of your seat series, Claven enthralled her readers with her Butcher series, surprising them with a fourth and now final book in the series in 2021 as part of the Notorious Mind’s Boxset, along with Shh, which were both part of the Soul’s Day Boxset which made her an International Bestselling Author. Claven also dabbles in the Science-Fiction Space Adventure genre, having republished her Spacehiker Adventure Series – Unlikely Hero with an updated cover and storyline after receiving criticism about the book’s length. Claven looks forward to expanding this universe. Further challenging herself, Claven also tackled writing a paranormal romance series, the first of which released as part of the Possessed by Passion boxset in March 2021. The series will continue, and Claven looks forward to exploring this new world. Born in Southern Africa, Claven resides in Johannesburg, where she grew up with a vivid imagination and has been writing for as long as she can remember. When she was not immersing herself in books, she created her own worlds, both by herself and with her friends. After her sister immigrated in 2017, Claven wrote and published her first book and has been on an amazing journey ever since. Claven is an avid Harry Potter and Star Wars fan, Funko Pop Collector, 3d Puzzle builder, Diamon Art painter, and studying addict. She also has a penchant for Lego. She resides with her two best friends, their six dogs, and two cats.

Book preview

CHAPTER 1

The night was dark and cold, and Angelo drew his coat tighter around his body. He couldn’t feel the chill, being completely inebriated, but he knew somewhere deep inside of him it was icy and that he’d be wise to keep his coat on lest he freezes to death.

He sighed contently, his nose running slightly as the wind picked up. He sniffed and belted the anthem of his people, the soccer hooligans. He belted out the song happily, stumbling around as he did so. He had had too much to drink, and his wife was going to be pissed off, but he didn’t care. They had won the game, and now he was going home to have an argument with his wife before he would ravage her in his drunken state.

The wind picked up as if singing the song with him, and he suddenly decided all he wanted to do was get home out of the cold and into the voluptuous breasts waiting for him. He turned left and went down a dark alleyway, not caring that it might be dangerous or that he could get jumped. These thoughts did not cross his mind.

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It had started as a brilliant day. It was Saturday, which meant that he didn’t have to get up at the crack of dawn to attend to the plumbing issues of the boring housewives with nothing better to do. He attended to all their plumbing issues, but today he wouldn’t have to stick his hand down someone’s toilet before he stuck his dick in the wife as part of the payment for fixing whatever was loose or blocked or leaking.

Even though it was still a little early, he got to sleep a little later than usual and then rolled over to his wife and gave it to her while she was still sleeping. Thank God she took a sleeping tablet, and no amount of grunting or fucking from his side would wake her up.

Then it was time for a hot shower and a dump; he considered shaving but, as always, on a Saturday, decided not to. He preferred looking rugged when he went out on the town with the boys.

He then went downstairs to grab a coffee and a beer. He was thinking about what to get done that day. Their house looked like a right pigsty, but he couldn’t be bothered to even try to clean it up.

Why would he? His two sons would just mess it up all over again. It wasn’t like it bothered his wife any either. It was just a waste of time trying to keep it straight.

He worked all the time, and she spent her days running around after their snot-nosed brats, and that was enough for her to do during the day; she wasn’t going to clean, too.

As he walked through the downstairs hallway, he stood on two roaches; the crunching sound that they made under his work boots thrilled and entertained him.

He kicked his way through his children’s shit lying everywhere and had to watch where he stepped because the dog had shat in the house again. He grumbled to himself and opened the door to the children’s small bedroom.

He wasn’t a soft father, all caring and with feelings. He had been raised properly, with a good spanking and learning the hard way, and he had turned out just fine.

He employed the same methods with his children now. He shook Michael awake, and before the boy could even wake up properly, Angelo was barking at him to get up and pick up the dog shit in the house, toss it outside in the trash before it stained something.

Michael didn’t wait around for any further instructions; he went to do his father’s bidding so that he didn’t risk a spanking for not listening. His father had broad hands.

Angelo walked into the kitchen and turned the coffee machine on, scooping some coffee into the top and filling it with water. It sputtered and moaned as it pissed out the black gold that Angelo sought.

While that was happening, he had gone to the fridge and taken out a beer. It would be the first of many for the day. He sipped the beer nonchalantly as Michael came scrabbling through the room with a bag of dog shit; he wasn’t dressed in anything but his underwear, but still, he braved the icy winter weather outside to throw away his parcel.

Angelo didn’t pay him any mind. He waited for the coffee machine’s final splutter before pouring some into a cup and taking that and his beer outside.

On his way to the two lawn chairs in the garden, their little poodle got excited and ran to Angelo to greet him.

Angelo kicked him out of the way, and the poodle yelped and ran toward Michael, who was struggling to open the dustbin.

Angelo smirked and sat in one garden chair; he lit a cigarette and relaxed back, taking alternating sips between his coffee and his beer. The mixture of the flavors pleased him greatly.

He was halfway through both when he heard the water running upstairs. His wife had gotten up at long last and would be down shortly to join him. They always started their Saturdays out in the garden, no matter how miserable the weather was. If it was raining, Angelo would put the enormous umbrella up.

By the time she came downstairs, Angelo was finished with both his coffee and beer, but she had come prepared with two beers, one in each hand, and came to sit in the chair next to her husband.

She handed one can of beer to him while she sipped the other, already open one. They didn’t greet each other. There was no kiss good morning or anything sentimental; they just weren’t those kinds of people.

They simply sat there, smoking and drinking, while Michael cleaned up the house as best he could at twelve years old. His little brother was still asleep, and he would remain so until he got up.

The morning passed with little to say about it; they sat outside drinking and smoking and ignoring each other. The only time anything happened was when one of them got up to go to the bathroom. Then the other would ask them to grab more beer on their way back.

Just after noon Angelo stood up, adjusted his pants, and grumbled to his wife, I’m going to the pub to watch the game. I’ll be home late and horny.

Martina rolled her eyes in exasperation. I don’t want to be awake that late. Why do you always have to go to the pub to watch the damn game? It’s on the telly at home as well.

Angelo eyed her out angrily, then decided she wasn’t worth the trouble of smacking today. Ignoring her, he walked through the garden to the house.

As he passed Michael, he clapped him on the back of his head ‘playfully,’ sending the boy shooting forward. Behave for your mom, boy. It was a warning more than anything. Michael didn’t need to be told twice.

Angelo slipped his winter jacket on and left through the front door without a backward glance. His heart already soared as he got excited about the soccer game tonight.

They had emigrated from England, and he was still inclined to call it football, but that just confused his American friends, so he had learned to call it soccer reluctantly.

Still, his team was playing today, and if they won, they would go to the finals and possibly become champions for the season. They had won the other championship, so this would just be extra glory.

As he strolled down the street with his charming smile, his demeanor completely different from when he was at home, Angelo waved and greeted his neighbors pleasantly, keeping up the appearance of the ever-happy and dutiful husband and plumber.

A few of the housewives he had plugged into before waved back to him a little more happily than they should have, and two of them even asked him if he’d like to come in for a beer.

He always politely declined with a quick, Sorry, on my way to watch the match, and then proceeded along the street.

It took him an hour to reach the pub by foot, but he didn’t mind; it was his favorite spot, and