The Silencer Read online

  The Silencer

  RC Boldt

  Contents

  DEAR READER,

  About the Book

  THE SILENCER

  PROLOGUE

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  BREAKING NEWS

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  LOCAL NEWS

  BREAKING NEWS

  Chapter 29

  LOCAL NEWS

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Chapter 40

  Chapter 41

  Chapter 42

  Chapter 43

  Chapter 44

  Chapter 45

  BREAKING NEWS

  Chapter 46

  Chapter 47

  8chan message boards

  Chapter 48

  Chapter 49

  Chapter 50

  Chapter 51

  Chapter 52

  Chapter 53

  Chapter 54

  Chapter 55

  Chapter 56

  Chapter 57

  Chapter 58

  Chapter 59

  Chapter 60

  Chapter 61

  Chapter 62

  Chapter 63

  Chapter 64

  Chapter 65

  Chapter 66

  Chapter 67

  Chapter 68

  Chapter 69

  Chapter 70

  Chapter 71

  Chapter 72

  Chapter 73

  Chapter 74

  Chapter 75

  Chapter 76

  Chapter 77

  Chapter 78

  Chapter 79

  Chapter 80

  Chapter 81

  Chapter 82

  Chapter 83

  Chapter 84

  Chapter 85

  Chapter 86

  Chapter 87

  Excerpt from Hell Hath No Fury

  About the Author

  Acknowledgments

  Copyright © 2021 by RC Boldt

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without the prior written permission of the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a review.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication and use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by trademark owners. Any trademarks, service marks, product names, or named features in any media form are assumed to be the property of their respective owners, and are used only for reference. There is no implied endorsement if one of these terms are used in this work of fiction.

  Cover design by By Hang Le

  Visit my website at www.rcboldtbooks.com.

  Sign up for my mailing list: http://eepurl.com/cgftw5

  To Matty,

  I’m so damn grateful to have you by my side as we navigate this epic adventure. Thank you for being my person. Also, thank you for growing a goatee simply because I said you’re even hotter with one and in spite of the fact that we live where it doesn’t get below 80°F.

  P.S. I still love you more. ;)

  To A,

  You’re my favorite girl in the whole wide world and universe and a total badass in your own right. I love you. Always.

  DEAR READER,

  The Silencer is a dark and gritty romantic suspense that deals with sensitive topics which may not be suitable for all readers.

  About the Book

  No one wants to admit that sometimes only evil can extinguish other evil.

  Each time I drain the life from their bodies, I inch closer to purging my past.

  Then a by-the-book FBI agent—one as astute as he is handsome—threatens my plans...and what’s left of my heart.

  He doesn’t believe there are exceptions to breaking the law. That’s where we differ.

  They once silenced me and countless others, but now I’ve reversed our roles.

  Because, this time, it’s my turn to be the silencer.

  “You either die a hero or live long enough to see yourself become the villain.”

  —Harvey Dent

  PROLOGUE

  “Would you tell me the story again?”

  His beseeching eyes match his tone, and although I feel myself begin to cave to his request, I still hesitate.

  “But it’s the same one you’ve already heard.” I scrub a hand down my face, and my short beard rasps against my palm. “Plus, I don’t want you to have nightmares.”

  His brow furrows indignantly. “I won’t have nightmares.” Eyes turning bright with anticipation, he scoots over in his bed to settle on the side, tucking his long legs beneath the covers. “My favorite part is when she gets revenge on everyone.”

  A small laugh escapes me as I lower myself on the bed and lean back against the headboard.

  “All right,” I begin. “Long ago, there was a young girl…” My mind quickly loses itself in the past, returning to memories of years past and the moment I first met her.

  His eyes never leave mine, lips parted as he hangs on to every word with bated breath while I recount the story.

  It’s one of betrayal, loss, heartache, and vengeance…but it’s also a tale of redemption.

  A young girl finally escaped her own living nightmare, leaving behind those who silenced her.

  That same girl, years later, transformed herself into the beautiful and intelligent woman who returned to slay the demons from her past.

  The woman who forever changed my life.

  The woman who forever impacted my son’s life.

  The woman who turned the tables on those monsters to become the final silencer.

  Chapter 1

  Kennedy

  I always knew it would come to this. That I’d be staring down the barrel of his gun.

  We’re similar yet so vastly different. We both battle on the right side of the law. The difference is, when the justice system fails, I go rogue.

  “Put down the syringe, Kennedy.” His voice holds a lethal edge, like the sharpest blade cutting through flesh.

  My heart fissures as I lock eyes with the man whose gun is aimed at me. If circumstances were different—if I were different—I could imagine a life with someone like him. A man with far too much goodness running through his veins, whose moral compass points due north at all times.

  A man who still fervently believes in the justice system. One who believes that good always overpowers evil.

  A thick knot of emotion, the kind I’ve locked
up tight for years, lodges in my throat and causes my voice to crack.

  “You don’t understand what he’s done!” Anguish and fury intertwine because the piss-poor excuse for a human between us has walked as a free man for far too long. “He doesn’t deserve to live!”

  His hold on his weapon never wavers, nor do his eyes that are locked on me. A slight tic in his jaw is the only indication of his inner conflict.

  “Just walk away,” I plead brokenly. “Pretend you were never here.”

  Neither of us pays attention to the muffled sounds coming from the gagged and bound man in the chair.

  It’s a battle of wills. Good against evil…or so he believes. And I hate that he doesn’t quite realize there’s more to it than just that.

  I wish he understood that I’m not entirely the evil one here. I’m merely extinguishing it. I’m preventing a slimy bastard from snuffing out the innocence and goodness from others.

  It’s my mission.

  It’s my promise.

  It’s my fate.

  He doesn’t realize that a monster sits between us—one so vile that I’m willing to risk my life.

  Because whatever happens, before he pulls that trigger and the bullet leaves the chamber of his gun, I’ll make damn sure the evil bastard between us dies first.

  Chapter 2

  Kennedy

  Eight Months Earlier

  Toomsboro, Georgia

  “Please. Don’t do this!” he cries, his body wracking with tremors.

  I place a gloved finger over his lips. “Shhhhh.” His eyes widen in terror at my grim smile. My voice morphs into a deceptively soft tone, barely above a whisper. “Hush. Isn’t that what you told them? The children you raped?”

  He whimpers, tears tracking down his cheeks as he sits in the chair, his pants undone and splayed open to reveal his worn, gray underwear. His legs quake even though his ankles are cuffed to the front legs of the chair.

  He likes to cuff his victims so they can’t resist, although he doesn’t much care for being restrained.

  Or being held captive by a woman wielding a syringe.

  I bring my lips close to his ear and whisper menacingly, “A dozen children and hundreds of videos. You must be proud.”

  Terror and defeat bleed into his expression as he whimpers, the sound like nails on a chalkboard to my ears.

  My voice possesses an eerie singsong quality, the tune similar to the age-old lullaby. “Hush, little monster, don’t you cry. I’m gonna make sure you will die.”

  Trepidation colors his features as his lips struggle to form the whispered word, "Please."

  “How ironic.” My voice is monotone, lifeless—much like he will soon be. “That’s similar to what those children cried out to you. ‘Please stop.’” Pure menace emanates from each word. “They begged you to stop, but you never did.”

  Peeling back the placket of his underwear to reveal where his testicles meet the base of his sorry-ass dick—something he’s used as a weapon for far too long—I guide the tip of the needle there, letting it sink into his flesh slowly, and he howls in pain.

  I’m once again thankful he lives alone. This sparsely populated neighborhood is mainly in the new construction phase, and his house is at the very end of a cul-de-sac.

  “That’s for Amelia.” I press the needle in deeper, and his body goes impossibly rigid in agony. “For lying and for having your lawyers twist her words.”

  I expel the syringe’s contents and carefully withdraw the needle. Straightening, I watch the life eke from his body, ensuring no trace of a pulse remains.

  The trove of evidence is loaded on the computer in his home office for the authorities to find, along with proof of his cocaine habit. Lines of the fine white powder adorn his desk while a dusting of white still lingers at his nostrils. I just hate that I’m too late.

  I didn’t make it in time before he made a mockery of her. He subjected her to ridicule no eleven-year-old should ever be forced to endure in exchange for her bravery in finally speaking up.

  But this fucker maintained the power because no one believed her. No one could fathom that their beloved Coach Yates would do such horrible things to his young gymnasts.

  And no other victim stood beside her to validate her claims.

  Leaving the scene behind, I feel no sense of victory. Because, a day earlier, Amelia Bufort took her own life.

  But this is my journey. My mission.

  My fucking cross to bear.

  Some might say I’m the monster—that I’m the evil one. But it’s all in perspective.

  I do bad things for very good reasons. Because some people need saving and some need killing.

  I do both.

  As I run through the thickly wooded area behind his home, my mind flashes back like it always does after I exterminate another monster.

  I recall what I once was and what I’ve become.

  These memories serve as a distinct reminder of the sacrifices I made in order for Kennedy Alexandre to be born.

  Chapter 3

  Sixteen Years Old

  My utopian-like world—the one all children should have—crumbled into a pile of rubble when my grandma Mabelle died.

  You could say it was a turning point in my life.

  Not only did I lose the one person who loved me unconditionally, the person who regarded me like I was a precious artifact, but I lost my safeguard, too. I didn’t know it then, but my life was about to change. And not for the better.

  My life would transform into a living horror story.

  I’ll never know if she knew what was in store for me. I’d hate for her to have worried about that when she lay there, taking her final breath.

  I wonder if she knew she’d been the only thing standing guard, protecting hell’s gnarled claws from sinking into me.

  If she had an inkling of what they’d do once she was gone and no longer held any power over them. If she knew that they were only behaving in order to remain in her will and receive the large inheritance.

  Sometimes, I wonder if Grandma Mabelle was just too good, like a story I once heard of how God wants the best people with him up in heaven.

  At first, when the layers of my world got peeled back, similarly to when the curtain was peeled back in The Wizard of Oz, I’d been angry with her for leaving me. Now, though, I wonder if she was put in my life as a way to show me what I’d never again have and how I didn’t cherish her as much as I should have.

  Grandma Mabelle was everything a grandmother should be. Loving to the point of smothering me with hugs and kisses, she took the time to show me how to do things like play the piano and knit and make her famous sweet potato bourbon soup, shared the secret to her grilled cheese sandwiches, and never once complained about playing Barbies with me for hours on end.

  I soon discovered I was in for a rude awakening because I didn’t make it a full year after her death before my life turned to hell.

  I remember it like it was just yesterday. I’d cried until my voice grew ragged and my throat felt as if someone had speared it with knives.

  “Why won’t you believe me?!”

  My mother just shook her head, disappointment etched on her face. “Just because you want more attention doesn’t mean you should make up stories that can be hurtful.”

  “But he does things to me he shouldn’t do!” My twelve-year-old voice pitched higher with desperation. “It’s not right! He comes into my room at night when you’re asleep. Please, believe me!”

  She snapped her brows together fiercely and jabbed her index finger in my face. “You know better than to say things like this!” Her words were angry, voice a lethal hiss. “Go to your room right now, young lady!”

  Later that night, I discovered the consequences of speaking out. I’d been beaten everywhere clothing could hide. Along with the physical beatings, my will had suffered greatly.

  The last tiny piece of me—the part of me that thought someone would believe me and want to help—shriveled
and died before turning to dust.

  His lip had curled up in a hateful snarl, dark eyes filled with wrath. “No one will ever believe you.” He emphasized this with a lash of the leather belt against my skin. “You better keep your damn mouth shut.”

  I cried out in pain as the leather seared the skin of my stomach and my upper thighs with each subsequent lashing. Of course, the brutal beatings only aided him because by the time it ended, I’d been too battered to fight back against anything else he did.