Mad Man (Necessary Evils Book 5) Read online

  Elite Protection Services

  Intoxicating

  Captivating

  Exasperating

  Infuriating

  Satisfying

  Time Served

  Endangered Species

  Dangerous Breed

  Domesticated Beast

  Necessary Evils

  Unhinged

  Psycho

  Moonstruck

  Headcase

  Mad Man

  Wages of Sin

  Bad Habits

  Play Dirty

  Head Games

  Standalones

  Disciplinary Action

  CONTENTS

  Prologue

  1. Avi

  2. Felix

  3. Avi

  4. Felix

  5. Avi

  6. Felix

  7. Avi

  8. Felix

  9. Avi

  10. Felix

  11. Avi

  12. Felix

  13. Avi

  14. Felix

  15. Avi

  16. Felix

  17. Avi

  18. Felix

  19. Avi

  20. Felix

  21. Avi

  22. Felix

  Epilogue

  Lunatic Preview

  Afterword

  About the Author

  MAD MAN

  necessary evils book five

  Copyright © 2022 Onley James

  www.onleyjames.com

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise), without the prior written permission of the publisher.

  This book is a work of fiction and does not represent any individual living or dead. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

  Cover and Interior Formatting by We Got You Covered Book Design

  Trigger warning: This book contains disturbing off-page depictions of sexual assault of a non-main character as well as consensual knife and blood play.

  SUBJECT: AVI

  The two boys lay on the floor of the playroom, one pointing their feet north and the other south, their heads slotted beside one another, close enough for their dark brown hair to blend together, giving them the appearance they were somehow one unit. They were. Twins. Identical. Mirror.

  Little psychopaths in the making.

  “Can I meet them?” Thomas asked.

  “You still want them?” Dr. Rice asked. “I just told you they hurt each other for fun.”

  Did they, though? Clearly, one was the aggressor and the other the victim. Did both truly enjoy pain, or did one enjoy giving and the other receiving? True mirrors. This would give a whole new depth to his research. And beneath everything else, this was research. He was on a mission.

  Thomas frowned at the woman. “Yes. I definitely want them.”

  “They don’t just communicate telepathically. They speak a language none of the staff recognize. Like they’re speaking in tongues. Or something…We think they’ve made up their own language.”

  “That’s quite common in twins, Dr. Rice.” He looked her in the eye so she would understand he wasn’t saying this lightly. “I want them.”

  She couldn’t see the bigger picture. She looked at the twins and saw a problem. Thomas saw an opportunity. A divine creation. He was raising a legion of psychopaths. The information the woman shared made them ideal, another facet of his research. Something else to manipulate and study.

  “Can I meet them now, please?” he asked, this time with more urgency.

  She gave him a hard look—like maybe he was the monster—then nodded. When she opened the door to the room, the boys sat up, taking an almost bookend-like position, their posture perfect, so identical it was impossible to tell them apart. It was uncanny, really.

  Thomas approached them slowly, while both of them looked him up and down, assessing him as efficiently as any scanner might. Dr. Rice was right. They worked as a team. Like velociraptors. The thought popped into his head unbidden, and he shook it away. But it was a valid comparison. They were intelligent, deadly, hunted in packs. They were always testing for weakness. True predators.

  He was looking at two true predators. He was willing to bet one of them was the more dominant one. A thrill ran through him at the idea of studying these truly unique creatures.

  He decided to meet them on their territory. He sat on the floor opposite them, mirroring their posture. They looked at each other, clearly communicating, before both of them turned their blank stares on him.

  “I’m Thomas,” he said. “What did you just say to each other about me?” he asked, keeping his tone conversational.

  “What do you mean?” the one with the splint asked.

  Excellent liars. Perfect. “It’s alright. You don’t have to lie. I know some twins can communicate without words. Some even have secret languages. I hear you can do both.”

  The boy without the splint frowned, giving Thomas a look like he was stupid. “We don’t have a secret language.”

  “The staff said you speak a language they don’t recognize.”

  The boy with the splint rolled his eyes. “They’re stupid. It’s Aramaic.”

  Thomas’s eyes widened. “Aramaic? Where did you learn Aramaic.”

  “Our nanny.”

  “Your nanny spoke Aramaic?”

  The one without the splint spoke. “She was Syrian.”

  The other nodded. “From Maaloula. In the mountains. She was pretty.”

  They clearly had a fondness for the woman. That was interesting.

  “You were close?” Thomas asked.

  “She snuck us food,” the one without the splint said.

  “And sang us to sleep,” his counterpart added.

  “And hid us from our mom when she forgot to take her pills.”

  Thomas nodded. “It was good you had someone like her. Would you please tell me what you said to him when I entered?”

  Once more, the boys looked at each other. Finally, the splinted one answered. “I said you’re another doctor.”

  Thomas smiled. “I am. But not like them. I’m not looking for more patients.”

  It wasn’t exactly a lie. He was looking for a family. One whose goals aligned with his. Children who would follow orders and right the world’s wrongs without guilt or remorse. Then he wanted to take that model and expand it. The world needed a cleansing, and Thomas would stop at nothing until he found a way to accomplish that goal.

  “Then what are you looking for?” the boy without the splint asked.

  Thomas met his penetrating gaze. “Children. To raise. Children like you.”

  The boy with the splint tilted his head. “That’s what our last parents said, too.”

  The other nodded. “Then they tried to separate us.”

  The first boy’s jaw set and he no longer looked uninterested, he looked—what had Dr. Rice said? Void. “Then they gave us away.”

  That type of constant shifting of rules and regulations could lead to a fracturing that would be impossible to repair. These boys needed stability. Quickly. “Did you want to stay with your last family?”

  The two looked at each other, sharing a sly, secretive smile that most definitely would have given Dr. Rice nightmares for eternity.

  The one without the splint finally shrugged. “No. They were boring. Almira took care of us.”

  “Almira was your nanny?” Thomas confirmed.

  They looked at each other again for a long moment, as if deciding whether Thomas had earned or deserved their truth. Onc
e a decision was made, the dominant one, the one without the splint said, “Yes.”

  “She told us stories about Syria,” the other confirmed.

  The first nodded. “About her village.”

  The second boy began to fidget with his splint, deliberately hurting himself, then taking a deep breath and letting it out. “She called us Arsu and Azizos.”

  Thomas’s pulse tripped. Names beginning with A. It had to be a sign. “Why did she call you that? Do you know?”

  “She said Arsu meant god of the evening star and Azizos god of the morning star.”

  Morningstar. Like Lucifer, the light-bringer. “Who was who?”

  The dominant one said, “I’m Arsu.”

  “Azizos,” said the other.

  Thomas looked back and forth between the two. “Is that what you call each other?”

  They gave him identical looks of disdain. “No.”

  “What do you call each other, then?” Thomas asked patiently.

  “I call him Asa. He calls me Avi,” the one with the splint said.

  “Why?”

  Once more, the two blinked at him as if he were stupid. “Because those are our names.”

  Thomas looked back at the window where Dr. Rice stood, arms crossed over her chest, a look of concern on her face. “That’s not what your intake form says.”

  Asa shrugged. “Those are just the names our other parents gave us. They’re not our real names.”

  Thomas frowned. “Who told you your ‘real’ names?”

  Asa scoffed. “Nobody. They’re just our names.”

  Thomas examined their faces. They were serious. It was possible the two had been hearing the woman’s Syrian names for them so long they’d comminuted them down to their simplest parts and just had no memory of doing so. But they said it with such surety that Thomas himself had no choice but to say, “Then that is what I’ll call you.”

  They looked at each other, then gave a single definitive head nod. “Okay.”

  Thomas took a deep breath. This was always the hardest part. “Would you like to go home with me? Be my children?”

  “Will you ever separate us?” Asa asked.

  Thomas shook his head. “Not permanently, no. Never. You might have to be apart for hours or maybe even a day.”

  “Are you going to hit us?” Avi asked.

  “Never.”

  “Will you starve us if we misbehave?” Asa pressed.

  “Will you put locks on the fridge and cabinets?” Avi continued before Thomas could answer.

  Jesus. No matter how many horror stories Thomas heard, it never got easier. People were cruel. Much of humanity was a dark place. Scholars had long debated whether this level of depravity was something a person was born with or whether it was what they inevitably became. Thomas wanted answers, too, though not for the betterment of science, but of the world.

  “No. You will always have access to food. And medicine. And clothing. And anything else you need. There will be rules. Strict rules. But as long as you abide by them, I think you’ll find you like life in my home.”

  They exchanged another look, carrying on a conversation in complete silence. He wanted them. They could be happy with their siblings. They could reach their full potential with Thomas in whatever way that showed itself. They just had to see his vision.

  His research could make the world a better place. Psychopathic children raised to right the wrongs of a justice system that just kept letting monsters fall through the cracks. It was perfect. Not because psychopaths were predisposed to killing, but because they lacked remorse or empathy. Thomas knew that first-hand. These two would fit in beautifully.

  “You promise you won’t separate us?” Asa asked again.

  Thomas nodded. “You show me respect, and I’ll do the same.”

  “But what if we don’t?” Avi asked.

  “Don’t respect me?” Thomas asked with a chuckle.

  They nodded. “Well, I guess you’ll have to do without some of the things that interest you. But never without necessities. I’ll never withhold food or shelter or safety from you.”

  Not as children, anyway. As adults, concessions would be made as needed. But that was a lesson to learn many years from now. Right now, he needed to meet them where they were. The rest would come.

  “But I think you’ll both like my home and my…unique outlook on the world. In fact, I know it. What do you say?”

  They gave each other yet another long look, then they both turned, slow smiles spreading across their faces in unison. “We say yes,” they said as one.

  Thomas would have to watch these two very carefully. “Then let’s go home.”

  Avi flipped off his desk light, running his hands over his face. Asa had texted him something about their dad wanting to see them—just them—tomorrow night. That was never good. He racked his brain, trying to think of what they could have done to piss off their old man. They’d made their kills and followed the rules like always. As far as he knew, nobody had floated up in the river or been unearthed in an empty lot. But, clearly, Thomas had something on his mind.

  Asa had asked him to meet out at the club, but he was definitely in a dry spell. Avi had never had a hard time getting laid. He was hot and rich and had a carbon copy of himself always willing to share. But over the last few months, his stock had mysteriously plummeted. Guys who were once super interested ghosted him, gave him dirty looks, and some had started some downright vicious and—hopefully—false rumors about his…prowess. Somebody was slandering his name but, so far, Avi hadn’t found the leak. When he did, he planned to plug it and redeem himself.

  He shook the thought away, gathering his sketches and putting them in the safe, before heading towards the exit. The place was deserted except for security and housekeeping. All the overhead lights were off, the whole building illuminated by only the generator lights. It was always deafeningly silent at this time of night. Or it should have been, anyway.

  Instead, there was the sound of soft swearing and somebody muttering under their breath in a language Avi didn’t speak. Mandarin, maybe, or Cantonese. Felix. Why was Felix in the building this late? Most interns were gone by eight or so, even the paid ones. But there he was, in the shop swearing a blue streak as he tugged thread through fabric.

  As always, Avi’s breath left him and a weird feeling settled in his stomach when he looked at him. Felix was…an enigma. Dainty, lithe, with inky black hair that fell into deep brown eyes unless he tied it away from the sharp angles of his face. Like now. He was sassy and angry and lethal, with or without a weapon.

  Company guidelines stated all employees were to wear at least one piece of Gemini gear, but, as usual, Felix had ignored the policy in its entirety, opting for something that looked like a leather kilt and a silk green top that made his golden bronze skin glow. But, unlike other days, he’d pulled an ugly threadbare cardigan over the outfit. He’d noticed it that morning, but Felix was in such a bad mood, he hadn’t enquired about it. Felix was…prickly.

  But something was bothering him. Usually, Felix walked around Gemini like he owned the company, talking to everybody—including Avi—as if they answered to him. Avi had fielded a hundred complaints about the intern who didn’t know his place. But Avi truly didn’t care what Felix did. He should. That was the adult thing to do. The responsible thing to do.

  He should take him aside and verbally reprimand him, but it wouldn’t work. He would simply give Avi that look—the one that made it appear as if he knew a secret that could destroy you—and then he’d walk away. Avi only reprimanded Felix when he knew it would rile him up. Because a furious Felix was Avi’s favorite Felix.

  Avi gave a soft knock on the glass. Felix’s head jerked upwards, leveling a withering glare as he looked down his nose at Avi. Imperious was Felix’s default setting. In his mind, he was royalty and the rest of the world were peasants. Avi fucking loved that about him.

  He entered, realizing that Felix was still sewing sequins onto
the jumpsuit for Monday’s throwback photoshoot. “You’re still working on those?”

  The look Felix gave him made Asa wonder if he was armed and whether he’d see the attack coming. “Have you ever had to hand sew a thousand sequins on the ass of a jumpsuit before?” Felix snarled.

  Avi thought about it. “No. I was a kid when jumpsuits with words written on the ass were trending.”

  “Well, it’s fucking hard. Look at my fingers.” He showed Avi his bruised and swollen hand.

  Avi licked his lower lip as he took in Felix’s long, nimble fingers and manicured nails sharpened into points. Fitting. “Want me to kiss them better?”

  Felix sneered at him. “Want me to stab you in the face with a pair of fabric shears?”

  Avi could already feel his dick hardening. “Stop, you’re turning me on.”

  Felix deflated, going back to sewing his sequins. “You are fucked up on a whole other level,” he muttered.

  Avi grinned. “Guilty as charged.”

  Once more, Felix dropped the fabric. “Did I do something to piss you off? More than usual, I mean?”

  Avi frowned. “Have you ever seen me pissed off? Ever? Especially at you?”

  Felix’s lower lip pooched out in a pouty way that shouldn’t have made Avi horny, then he shrugged one delicate shoulder. “No, but I don’t see any of the other interns here slaving away.”

  This was about the jumpsuit? “You looked like you could use a distraction.”

  Felix stared at him flatly. “And you took that to mean medieval torture would cheer me up?”