Wheeler Ker Dukey ~ Page 1

Read Online Books/Novels:WheelerAuthor/Writer of Book/Novel:Ker DukeyLanguage:EnglishBook Information:

I am dark. Calculating. A single father.
I have secrets that would horrify most people.
Stalking is a habit I refuse to break"and what happens after is a sweet reward.
My life is exactly the way I have designed it.
But an undeserving, sick monster is dating my only daughter.
Until I deal with my problem, I can"t truly enjoy everything I"ve created.
My name is Jax Wheeler.
I"m a twisted, evil, insane man.
People may be afraid of me, but it doesn"t stop them from wanting me.

***
Four Fathers Series by bestselling authors
J.D. Hollyfield, Dani Ren", K Webster, and Ker Dukey
Four genres.
Four bestselling authors.
Four different stories.
Four weeks in April.
One intense, sexy, thrilling ride from beginning to end!Books by Author:Ker Dukey Books

Prologue

Jax

Psychopath red flag

#1

They create a fa"ade

Six years ago"

The boisterous laughter and constant catcalls anytime a woman walks past the Pearson boys irritates me on a level I"m not used to.

These people are mundane and my intellect is dropping points every second I"m forced to be around them.

Overcooked, chargrilled chicken is dumped on my paper plate by Rowan, my twelve-year-old firecracker. She beams up at me, and I can"t help but relax my tense posture and offer her a smile in return.

"Thank you," I tell her, picking up the flesh and taking a chunk into my mouth. I chew and swallow to appease her, but it"s rubbery and lodges in my trachea, more than likely because Eric insists on barbecuing his own meat at these get-togethers rather than hiring a cook or caterers. For someone who"s rich and likes to flaunt it, the paper plates he has us all juggling are cheap. Just like half the women here. Not hiring a chef to barbeque is an alpha male trait, and he"s too busy drooling over the half-dressed housewives flaunting their bought tits and veneer smiles to concentrate on doing a good job of it.

"I"m going to get my suit and swim with the boys," Rowan tells me, pulling my attention back to her. She"s been a friend of the Pearson boys since we moved here six months ago.

They attend the same school, kids" parties, after school activities. I can"t escape the little bastards.

I don"t like her being around four boys, especially Eric Pearson"s boys. Those kids are trouble. Hayden is the oldest, but he isn"t right in the head. I don"t like the way his eyes track my daughter"as though he might do something to her. Over my fucking dead body. Brock, the second to oldest, and around the same age as Rowan, is destined to turn out just like his dad, even has the same goddamn smirk. Nixon is a few years younger than Rowan, but seems lost inside his head and is always muttering under his breath"something I can certainly relate to. And the youngest, Camden, is still a titty-baby momma"s boy despite being in third or fourth grade. Eventually, Eric Pearson will influence that kid too. His idea of role modeling is cheating on his wife and throwing money at any problems that arise. The Pearson boys don"t stand a chance of being anything other than scum. It"s in their gene pool.

But Rowan sees the best in everyone, which works for me, so I don"t try to dull that glitter from her personality. Her soft brown hair that matches mine fans over her delicate shoulders, and her eyelids flutter as she waits for my permission.

I scan the boys who are all taking turns dive bombing into the swimming pool, and visions of the water turning red as I wade through with a carving knife and cut each pecker from their pubescent bodies invade my mind, bringing a real smile to my lips.

Apparently, it"s healthy to socialize with your neighbors, and good for Rowan to have play dates. Those play dates didn"t used to include boys and swimsuits, though.

This is going to be a real test of restraint.

"Go ahead, sweetheart." I nod my head in the direction of our house.

Her auburn hair falls down her back and sways as she bounces across the lawn and out of the gate.

I pull on the collar of the shirt I took ten minutes choosing just to come to this shit-show. I hate wearing polo shirts, but it"s what I see most men wear when they"re going for a casual look. I paired it with some beige slacks, but I"m thinking I should have gone for shorts like everyone else here. It"s hard for me sometimes to fit in"to adjust to the norm and blend in with other parents.

Bodies mingle and talk animatedly to each other, and all I want to do is flee back to the comfort of my own house"my own company. I have things to do, people to check up on. One of Eric"s wife"s friends keeps looking over at me offering a coy smile, but she"s older than the girls I like and too fake. I hate the rich women who think paying to have toxins pumped into their skin makes them look young and attractive.

They"re wrong.

It makes them look swollen and desperate. Grow old gracefully or die young, but freezing your youth in time forever is simply pathetic.

Eric catches my eye and summons me over with a motion of his hand, the muscles in his abdomen flexing, showing he works out.

In only a pair of shorts, his over-tanned skin is cooking under the summer sun, and I think about the damage that would show under a black light.

Vanity is such an ugly trait in humans, and Eric has it in abundance. I debate not going over. Who the hell is he to beckon me" But for Rowan, I will make the effort, play the part, wear the fa"ade.

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