Birthday Presents

By Dianne Hartsock

Crimson loves to dance. He adores watching the pretty boys grind to the frantic beat of the music and picking out his lover for the evening. But more than that, he lives for his birthday, that one day a year he gives into his darker impulses: choosing a young man to lure into the alleyway with promises of sex, then slitting his throat in the midst of their passion and reveling in the hot blood on his hands.

 

For Tracey Winston, life has become a nightmare. Kidnapped from a nightclub in Boulder, Colorado, brutalized and raped by Crimson, he's held captive in a cabin in the Rocky Mountains along with sweet Kyle, a young man Crimson keeps chained to his bed and is slowly torturing to death. Though Tracey manages to escape with Kyle's help, he has to leave Kyle behind in Crimson's cruel hands.

 

Detective Gene Mallory has never stopped looking for his brother Kyle, kidnapped from a nightclub seven months previously. The case breaks open when Tracey Winston comes forth at the urging of his new boyfriend, claiming to have knowledge of where Crimson is hiding out. A manhunt begins with Crimson continuously slipping through their net. Lives are on the line, with both Gene and Tracey being targeted by the killer. A traitor in their midst tips Crimson off to their plans.

 

Crimson's birthday has come and gone, and he will kill again.

• Language: English
• Publisher: NineStar Press, LLC
• Release date: Feb 8, 2021
• ISBN: 9781648902062

Dianne Hartsock

Dianne is the author of paranormal, suspense, m/m romance, fantasy, thriller. Also a floral designer.

Book preview

A NineStar Press Publication

www.ninestarpress.com

Birthday Presents

ISBN: 978-1-64890-206-2

© 2021 Dianne Hartsock

Cover Art © 2021 Natasha Snow

Published in February, 2021 by NineStar Press, New Mexico, USA.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced in any material form, whether by printing, photocopying, scanning or otherwise without the written permission of the publisher. To request permission and all other inquiries, contact NineStar Press at [e-mail].

Also available in Print, ISBN: 978-1-64890-213-0

WARNING:

This book contains depictions of kidnapping, torture, rape (off page), animal death, descriptions of past child abuse, murder, gore, suicide, sexual assault (off page and recounted), graphic violence/gore, and nonconsensual drug use.

Birthday Presents

Dianne Hartsock

Table of Contents

Prologue

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two

Epilogue

Acknowledgements

About the Author

Prologue

Excitement plucked at Crimson’s nerves, and he licked his lips, his blood surging to the merciless drumbeat. He rolled his hips to the music, an old White Zombie album, the static only adding to the nostalgia. Raising his arms, he pictured the hot body he’d grind against at the club that night, young, slim, rounded ass snug against him. Maybe he’d get his hands under his shirt, a finger in the guy’s pants stroking the wet tip of his cock.

He imagined the breathy moans in the dark alley afterward. The scared whimpers, screams muffled by Crimson’s hand clamped over the gorgeous lips he’d ravaged of their sweetness moments before. He felt the hard knife in his hand and shuddered, envisioning the hot blood pumping over his skin when he slit the vulnerable throat. Fuck, he loved his birthday!

Tossing the comb he’d run over his long hair onto the cluttered vanity, he then trailed fine-boned fingers over his chest and flat stomach. Pert nipples ached to be teased. A secret smile slid over his black-painted lips as he cupped the bulge in his tight jeans. What boy could resist this?

After adding a black tee shirt, he searched the dark eyes in the mirror, pursed his lips. Gloss? Definitely. He knew a certain bouncer at the club who was susceptible to Cherry Kiss. Well, that and Crimson’s mouth on his dick.

He narrowed his lids at the crescent moon scar under his left eye, temper flaring through him. Though healed, the skin was still an angry red. That bitch Tracey…

Crimson willed his hands to unclench. Nothing that a little concealer couldn’t make disappear. A thump sounded on the wall, and a frown marred the perfect features in the mirror. Kyle knew better than to disturb him while he was dressing. His face softened. Kyle. His little gem. How long had they been together? Six months? Seven?

The eyes in his reflection widened. That would make Kyle twenty. He’d forgotten they shared a birthday.

Crimson’s coming, angel, he murmured and grinned viciously at the name, blood and pain and death. He’d used other aliases in the past, but this was by far his favorite.

With a last glance in the mirror, he left the room and crossed the hall, tapping on Kyle’s door before entering. Kyle lay in the middle of the bed, his pale skin decadent against the red silk sheets. His darling looked lonely. Of course he did, with Tracey’s side of the bed empty. How many times had he stood at the foot of the bed to watch them play together? Or join in, lost in the haze of sweat-slicked skin and hard cocks, lips and tongues and roving fingers, pain and ecstasy.

But yesterday Tracey had left them as if their time together meant nothing, betraying Crimson’s trust. He drew several deep breaths, letting the anger roll through him, then out in an exhale. Tracey was dead to him.

Did you need me, sweetheart? he asked as he lay down and gathered Kyle in his arms. His skin felt dry, soft, tight over a sparse skeleton. Crimson could break his bones if he held too tightly.

Kyle’s enormous light blue eyes swam with tears, bright with desperation. So lovely. You’re leaving again? he whispered, timid.

We’ve discussed this. I always go out on my birthday.

But if something happens to you…

I suppose you’ll die of starvation. No, thirst. Crimson laughed at the shiver that swept the emaciated body. Nothing will happen to me. Promise.

Crimson picked up Kyle’s shackled hand with its long chain bolted to the floor and kissed the palm. He stroked Kyle’s limp cock and watched with satisfaction as it thickened under his touch. Would you like me to fuck you tonight?

Kyle nodded, despair in his eyes. Crimson kissed his sweet lips, his heart moved. Kyle had been a wild thing during their first months together. Running his hands over the thin chest, he regretted the scars he’d had to put on the pale flesh before Kyle had broken. He twisted a pale nipple and grew hard at the gasp and shudder from his lover.

He leaned up on an elbow. There was no reason he couldn’t stay and play with Kyle before he left. His cock ached with the thought. No. Denied lust would add a delicious edge to the evening. But still…

Leaning across Kyle to the bedside table, he fingered the silver nipple clamps. His baby loved those. The plug? No, he wanted Kyle nice and tight when he got home. Cursing the time, he gave Kyle a last passionate kiss. I’ll be home soon.

Kyle rolled against him, wrapping him in skinny arms. Don’t go. Stay with me. I’m afraid when you go.

Hush, baby. You won’t even know I’m gone. He kissed Kyle’s damp eyes and licked his tears.

Crimson reluctantly left the bed. Kyle’s pleas tempted him, but he had something to take care of before he could wring pain and pleasure from his lover’s body. He whistled on the way downstairs, pulling on thin black gloves. Grabbing up his keys from the hook by the door, he then stepped into the afternoon sunshine and drew a deep breath of the warm, pine-scented air. It was a twenty-minute drive into town, which left plenty of time for shopping and a meal before the clubs opened. Perfect.

Chapter One

Gene stared at the golden-brown liquid swirling in the shot glass as the bartender filled it yet again. Maybe he’d had enough. God, he was tired. He rubbed his gritty eyes, the techno music blaring through the crowded room throbbing in his head.

He turned on the stool to the small dance floor and watched a young man gyrate to the pounding beat. Strobe lights caressed the man’s pale skin and dark clothing. The sleek body twirled with flowing, sensual movements. With a graceful twist, the guy’s black hair swept like silk across his white cheek. Achingly young and beautiful. Gene noted the men standing back, drinks in their hands, watching the dancers. His suspect could be any one of them. Or none.

He picked up the shot glass and held it up to the flashing lights. How many nightclubs exactly like this one had he been in these past six months? It felt like hundreds, with him no closer to finding Kyle’s abductor. If he’d even been kidnapped.

Gene put the glass to his lips and tossed back the whiskey, savored the burn in his throat. Most members of the police force believed Kyle had been bored with his life and simply walked away. He was nineteen, after all. Even Craig had backed off the search as more pressing cases took precedence.

But Kyle would never have done that. Gene knew his brother. Sweet and shy, Kyle would never have gone willingly with a stranger, without a word to his family, leaving his parents in this nightmare.

But he never told you he was clubbing either, Craig would remind him.

Gene set the glass on the sticky bar and, after a brief hesitation, motioned the bartender for another. It was Kyle’s birthday, and maybe the alcohol, if only for a few hours, might numb the helpless certainty and horror that Kyle was held captive in some sadist’s basement. The fear of every cop in a kidnapping situation. Besides, he wasn’t on duty. Had never officially been on the case in the first place.

Leaving the new shot untouched, he swiveled back to the dance floor, allowing his gaze to wander the sea of young bodies writhing to the thumping music. Kyle had been in a gay bar like this one when he’d been taken, the couple of witnesses that came forward claiming he’d left with an older, hot-as-hell, dark-haired man. But even that was sketchy. They’d all been drinking, after all.

He sat up as the young man who’d been dancing earlier caught his attention. The guy stood on the edge of the dance floor, his gaze fixed on a man leaning against one of the pillars staring back at him. Gene caught a glimpse of the man’s face, cold and beautiful, before the dancer stepped between them, swaying seductively toward him, clearly bent on arousing the man’s interest.

On instinct, Gene collected his credit card and moved to a spot along the wall where he could watch them. The older man kept his eyes on the dancer as he reached down and stroked the bulge in his pants. Oh, he’s good, Gene thought. And he fit the description of Gene’s suspect. The young man’s eyes widened, startled, interested.

A new song erupted from the speakers, and Gene pushed off the wall. The older man’s gaze flickered to him, returned. Gene knew he looked good, the tight jeans and cropped shirt clearly showing his intent for a hookup that evening. The dancer scowled as he came up to them but flounced away to join the crowd as the older man’s eyes slid appreciatively over Gene. He smiled a secret smile and motioned him closer, placing his hand on the small of Gene’s back. He leaned close to his ear to be heard over the pounding music. I’m Crimson. Would you like a drink?

Gene blinked at his name but nodded, and Crimson guided him to an empty table against the wall. Drinks appeared from the attentive waiter, a whiskey for Gene and something clear, probably vodka, for Crimson. Crimson slid a bill across the table, and the waiter’s eyes widened at the amount.

Crimson scooted his chair closer to Gene, watched him indulgently while they sipped their drinks. What is—

No way would Gene give his name. Playing the game, he cut off his words with a kiss, tasting vodka and lime. Seeming caught off guard, Crimson moaned into his mouth, plunged his tongue in, the invasion tickling Gene’s gag reflex, but he managed to check it.

Crimson leaned back, biting gently on his bottom lip before releasing him. Your name?

Gene curled his lips into a lazy smile. Does it matter?

Crimson threaded his fingers through Gene’s dark hair and tugged it back, lowering his head to lick his neck, nuzzle an ear. Want to get out of here? he asked, nibbling along his jaw.

Gene met his gaze and suppressed a shudder when Crimson dropped his hand on Gene’s thigh. Taking a quick breath, he then gave a soft moan. Yes.

Finish your drink.

Gene swallowed the burning liquid, then thumped his glass down and rose to his feet, making a beeline for the door. Crimson rounded the table and took his elbow, guiding him toward the rear exit. Gene gave a thought to calling Craig. If this was his suspect, he needed to have backup. But no. He’d cried wolf too many times for Craig to believe him now. Better to have some proof, first.

He allowed his smile to turn sultry, and Crimson hurried their pace, ignoring the milling crowd around them. He flicked a glance at a large man in the shadows by the back door and the bouncer nodded and let them through, a knowing smirk on his face as they passed.

The alley was cool and dark. Crimson took a breath of surprise when Gene gripped his shirt and tugged him behind the dumpster. The aggressive move seemed to arouse him further, and Crimson clamped their lips together in a punishing kiss. Gene tried to step back, but the man proved stronger than he looked. A band of steel wrapped around Gene’s shoulders while Crimson snapped open his jeans and plunged in a hand, drawing out a hidden knife.

Gene’s years of training kicked in, and with a practiced move, he grabbed his wrist and twisted Crimson’s arm, pressing the wicked edge of the blade against his throat. I know you have Kyle, he said hoarsely. Goddamn you, where is he? The blade nicked Crimson’s thin skin.

Crimson shoved hard into Gene. The knife edge slid across his neck as Gene stumbled back, but not doing any real damage. He grabbed for him, but Gene twisted from his grasp, backing away.

Crimson took a step closer. Come here. I want to wring your neck like a rabbit’s, see if your head pops off.

Gene tightened his grip on the knife. They both startled when the club’s back door banged open, and with surprising swiftness, Crimson sprang forward and punched him in the face. Momentarily dazed, Gene lost precious seconds while he blinked the dark alley back into focus. The streetlight at the end of the alley seemed painfully bright. Voices reached him from the sidewalk, animated conversation.

Phone the police, he called urgently over his shoulder to whoever had come out of the club and sprinted after the dark figure already reaching the street. In seconds he burst out of the alley, taking a couple of steps into the roadway to scan up and down the sidewalk with his frantic gaze. Nothing. The few people outdoors looked at him curiously but claimed they hadn’t been paying attention to who came from the alley.

Picking a likely direction,