Killer Crush (Pre-order)

Cade Carpenter doesn’t believe in fate—he believes in timing, precision, and clean exits. Killing people is easy. Keeping feelings out of it is even easier. When a dating app ping interrupts his latest job, he doesn’t think twice before answering. One bad date is the perfect cover for a hit.

Tris is a walking diagnosis wrapped in a pretty face and borrowed confidence. He talks too much, laughs too loud, and blurts out every intrusive thought that crosses his mind. He’s used to being “too much” for people—too awkward, too intense, too everything. So, when a gorgeous stranger actually says yes to his ridiculous question about the world’s worst date, Tris can’t help but hope, for once, that he won’t be the punchline.

But what’s supposed to be an ironic night out turns into something out of a true crime documentary when Tris stumbles upon Cade mid-kill. Now, there’s a body, a locked ship in open water, and two men with dangerously bad timing.

It was supposed to be easy. Get in, get out. But now, they’re trapped on a Titanic replica with a dead body and no place to run. Can Cade convince Tris that just because he’s a killer doesn’t mean he’s not the one?

Cade Carpenter would have called it fate, if he were the kind of idiot who believed in that sort of thing. He wasn’t. Which meant the notification on his phone was just a very well-timed coincidence.

He was no stranger to apps. His entire job depended on one. But it wasn’t the Heartstopper app pinging his phone this time. It was a dating app he’d installed months ago to target a mark.

So much time had passed, he’d forgotten it existed…until the message popped up. And honestly, it couldn’t have come at a better time. He’d been looking for a distraction, and the universe had a twisted sense of humor.

He clicked the notification, pulling up a single message that read: What’s the worst date you can think of and would you do it with me?

Cade grinned. The premise of the app was to ask odd, attention-grabbing questions to spark conversation. His mystery sender had nailed it. When it came to bad dates, Cade had plenty of material.

Maybe it was fate, after all. Maybe the universe did truly love him. Or maybe it just liked to hand him toys when he was bored.

He clicked on the profile, zooming in to get a closer look at the man behind the message.

Name: Tris.

Age: twenty-three.

Location: six blocks away, on the other side of the tracks.

Tris was gorgeous—dangerously so. Deep brown hair curled over his forehead in a style that probably took effort, and he had huge gray-blue eyes that looked like they’d caught a storm and plush lips Cade could already imagine putting to good use. He dressed like he had a stylist on retainer and, strangely, he was eating in every photo: candy, cookies, a donut. It was practically food porn.

Yeah. Tris was exactly what Cade needed.

He typed out a reply: Sure. Meet me Friday night at the port. 10 p.m.

He watched the typing dots blink on and off. Start, stop, start again. Had he scared him off? When the reply finally appeared, Cade couldn’t help grinning.

Tris: You want me to meet a stranger at the docks in the middle of the night. That’s not sus at all.

He had a point. Still…

Cade: You wanted the worst date I could think of.

Again, the dots danced—far too long this time.

Tris: I asked for a bad date, not the beginning of a true-crime documentary.

Cade laughed out loud.

Cade: I promise you’ll live.

Tris: 😒😒😒 Said the random stranger…

Cade was impressed. Tris had good instincts. If Cade ever did end up in a true-crime documentary, he’d definitely be the killer, no question. After all, he was a killer. He just had no intention of killing Tris.

No, Tris would be far more useful alive. He’d make a perfect alibi…if he would just agree to go out with him.

Tris: Besides, you didn’t say I’d have all my limbs or full brain capacity. I could be a vegetable when you’re done with me and still meet your definition of alive.

Cade stared at the message, a smirk tugging at his mouth. This kid was funny. And beautiful. And apparently had no filter, which was its own kind of dangerous.

While Cade was chewing over his response, another text came through.

Tris: Why do you think they started calling brain-dead people vegetables? I hate vegetables. The real kind, not the people kind. That would be, like, super rude. Well, I guess calling them that in the first place is also rude. But that aside, who was the first asshole to look at some poor person on a ventilator and decide to call them a vegetable with their whole chest? I bet karma came for them hard. They probably came back as a turnip or something.

Cade snorted, mentally amending his earlier assessment. Funny. Beautiful. And fucking weird. Perfect.

He watched, amused, as the dots kept dancing. Tris was apparently deep in a one-sided conversation with himself.

Tris: Do you think we can reincarnate into non-people things? Like, I’m sure you can come back as a dog or a bunny or a fly, but can you come back as a tree? Or a flower? Or a banana?

Cade pictured him saying that last part with earnest curiosity, maybe a little too eager, like the idea of being reincarnated as fruit actually appealed to him.

He shook his head, smiling.

Cade: Are you high right now?

The dots bounced. Stopped. Bounced again. Then stopped once more. By the time a reply appeared, Cade realized he’d been holding his breath.

Tris: Nope. Don’t change the subject.

He wasn’t entirely sure what the subject even was anymore. Still, he found himself pacing his loft, phone in hand, hoping to drag this bizarre conversation out longer than was smart.

Cade: I’m sure the first person to call someone a vegetable was just an asshole. And yeah, I like to think karma came for him. I’m big on an eye for an eye—so maybe he came back as someone trapped inside a useless body with a perfectly functioning brain.

Tris: I just got the shivers. I can’t imagine never being able to move. I never stop moving. If I did, I’d go crazy and probably die.

Cade: We wouldn’t want that.

Tris: No?

The way Tris kept talking—half convinced Cade wanted to murder him, half daring him to try—was both hilarious and baffling.

Cade: If you died, who would go on this date with me tomorrow?

Tris: Are you sure you’re not a serial killer?

Cade: Positive. They have rituals. I’m flexible.

A picture of Tris appeared—clearly a selfie snapped in the moment. He was lying in bed, hoodie up, messy hair spilling from the front, his expression somewhere between dubious and amused. Cade’s thumb hovered before he saved the photo, his cock stirring as he stared at that plush, wicked mouth.

Tris: Wow. He’s got jokes. I feel so much better. If I was a girl, I’d have blocked you and dropped this in the group chat so everyone could talk about the bullet I dodged.

Cade laughed out loud.

Cade: Good thing I’m not into girls.

Tris: What are you into?

Cade: Right now? Guys with soft cheeks and pretty gray eyes.

Tris: Is that me? It kinda sounds like you mean me? 🙏🏻

Cade: Did you just high-five me for complimenting you?

Tris: No, that’s the praying-hands emoji. I’m praying you meant me.

Cade: I don’t know how to tell you this, but that’s actually the high-five emoji.

The typing dots blinked on and off again before another photo appeared. Tris, palm to his forehead, mouth open in mock horror. Cade bit his lip, zooming in like a creep. Was that…a tongue piercing?

He groaned quietly. His brain supplied images before he could stop it: Tris on his knees, that little steel ball dragging against the crown of his cock.

Another text buzzed in, snapping him back.

Tris: You’ve now shattered my whole worldview. Are you sure that’s a high-five emoji? 😒

Cade: Look it up if you don’t believe me.

Tris: I refuse. Next thing I know, I’ll find out the eggplant emoji doesn’t mean someone likes eggplant.

Cade snorted, shaking his head.

Tris: Oh hey, full circle. Vegetables again.

Cade couldn’t wipe the grin off his face. Tris’s brain clearly took random detours and never bothered to signal.

Cade: You’re a fascinating creature.

Tris: Really? Then it’d be a shame to kill such a creature, right?

Cade: I’m not going to kill you. I promise.

Tris: Oh, well, if you promise…

Another selfie dropped in, same blank stare, this time with an orange popsicle held provocatively in frame. Cade’s stomach clenched. The little tease knew exactly what he was doing.

Cade: Come on. Take a chance on me. Bring a weapon if it’ll make you feel better.

Tris: This is the weirdest come-on I’ve ever had.

Cade flopped onto his bed, phone hovering above him. He snapped a selfie—half smirk, half wink—and hit send before he could think too hard about it.

Cade: Hey, you approached me.

Tris: Yeah. Cuz I was horny, not suicidal.

Cade’s cock twitched.

Cade: Do tell. 😉

Tris: Yeah, you’d like that, wouldn’t you?

Cade’s gaze flicked down to his half-hard cock.

Cade: More than you know.

Tris: Yeah?

Cade: I’m gonna be dreaming about those lips for at least a week.

Tris: Only a week? I’m hurt.

Cade grinned. Sarcastic. Cocky. Too damn charming for his own good. He was intrigued, and that was dangerous.

Cade: You should be flattered. I forget most people’s lips in seconds.

Tris: I said what I said. BUT I’ll give you a pass because you’ve never gotten to see what these lips can do.

Cade: You have my undivided attention. Go on, then.

Tris: I prefer show to tell. You’ll just have to wait.

Cade: You could always put your camera and that popsicle to good use.

Cade stared at the screen, waiting for a stream of angry emojis or middle fingers, but it stayed still. No dots. Nothing. The silence stretched, long enough to feel like rejection. Had he pushed too far? Probably. He sighed, about to toss the phone aside when the soft chime hit.

A video.

Cade’s thumb twitched. He couldn’t hit play fast enough.

The clip opened with Tris staring straight into the camera, into him. Those storm-colored eyes were steady, teasing, a dare wrapped in a smile. Then he took the popsicle down his throat until it disappeared entirely.

Christ.

The wet sound of suction filled the small space of Cade’s loft. He bit back a groan, his pulse thudding in his ears, eyes locked on Tris’s lips as he drew the frozen treat back out. Tris licked the rounded tip, tongue swirling lazily, the glint of his piercing catching the light.

Cade’s hand slid down automatically, squeezing his now fully hard cock just as Tris bit off the tip of the popsicle.

“This is the end of your free trial. Please subscribe to see more,” Tris purred into the camera, voice syrup-smooth, then flashed a cheesy wink. The screen went dark.

Cade exhaled, low and rough, then lifted his phone and snapped a selfie, pouting like he’d just been robbed.

Cade: No fair. It was just getting good.

He didn’t look away from the screen until the next reply appeared.

Tris: Fuck. You’re so hot. I really, really hope I don’t end up chopped into little pieces and thrown off the dock.

Cade could have reassured him—could have soothed the nerves he’d clearly just fed—but instead, something darker and curious flickered to life. He wanted to test the boy’s bravado. Just a little.

Cade: Guess you’ll just have to show up tomorrow to find out.

Why? Why did he want to see how strong this kid really was? He didn’t know. Cade didn’t do relationships. They didn’t mix with his profession. But some buried part of him—something he’d thought was long dead—wanted to see if Tris might be different. Maybe the kid could survive him. Maybe even outlast him.

Tris: Somehow, I know you just said that in a flirty way, which is both hot and disturbing.

Cade: That’s me. Hot and disturbing.

Tris: Ugh. I really don’t want to die just to get laid. I have no doubt your dick game is probably fire, but being murdered post-nut sounds like such a mood killer.

Cade laughed under his breath, shaking his head. Who the hell was this guy?

Cade: Aw, my dick’s flattered. I’d definitely make it an experience to remember, but I’m not sure you’d find it worth your life.

Tris: I’ve thought about offing myself for less.

Cade froze. The humor drained, replaced by a faint, unfamiliar twist low in his chest. For a man who’d seen death in every shade, that line hit wrong, too real, too close. Tris didn’t even miss a beat. Which was almost even more disturbing. Was he dramatic, or just so deep into his self-loathing he didn’t even realize how disturbing the remark might be to anyone? Even him. 

Tris: If you are gonna kill me, please let me get off first. As much of a bummer as dying in an orgasmic haze would be, dying pre-nut would be way worse. What if I was a ghost and had to walk around with a boner haunting people for all eternity? That would be so embarrassing.

Cade stopped short. This boy’s brain-to-mouth filter was completely broken. And somehow, it was the hottest thing Cade had ever witnessed. There was no guessing where he stood with Tris. He’d never met anyone who made his chest tighten and his cock ache at the same time. 

Cade: I promise I won’t kill you if you think the sex was shitty.

Tris: Would good sex ruin our bad date?

Cade: Good sex ruins nothing. But you’re kind of sending me mixed signals. Do you want sex worth dying for or mediocre sex to stay on theme?

Tris: I want it on the record that I haven’t actually agreed to have sex with you. This is purely a hypothetical where I let you take me out and then dick me down.

Cade: Noted. But you haven’t said no either.

Tris: You’re so cocky.

Cade laughed out loud. 

Cade: You’re the one who just deep-throated a popsicle on camera to prove your skills. Which of us is really the cocky one here?

Tris: Did it work though?

Cade: You know it did.

Tris: I know no such thing. Prove it?

Cade blinked. Did this kid just ask him for a dick pic?

Cade: Are you trying to get me to show you my dick?

Tris: Who, me? I’m just asking you to put your money where your mouth is.

Cade: It’s your mouth we’re talking about here.

Tris: Fine. Put your money where you hope my mouth will be.

Tris: I’ve never had to work this hard to get a guy to show me his dick.

Cade shook his head, grinning despite himself. The banter shouldn’t have turned him on this much, but his jeans were already uncomfortably tight. If everything went to plan, Tris would be seeing it up close and personal tomorrow anyway.

He unbuttoned and unzipped his pants, freeing his semi-hard cock. A few strokes later, he was fully hard. He snapped the photo.

Tris: Wow. You’ve got a really pretty dick. Very photogenic.

Cade snorted out a laugh. 

Cade: My dick says thank you. It’s all about the angles and lighting. Will you be reciprocating?

Tris: Are you asking for a dick pic?

Cade: It’s the least you could do.

Tris: Do I seem like the type to send a dick pic to a stranger on the internet? What kind of weirdo does that?

Cade rolled his eyes.

Cade: You could just say no.

Tris: I would send one, but I want you to respect me in the morning.

Cade: I just watched you deep-throat a popsicle. I have the utmost respect for you.

Tris: Yeah?

Cade: Absolutely. If you were on your knees for me right now, I might actually propose.

Tris: Shouldn’t you be the one on your knees if you’re proposing?

Cade: Touché.

Tris: Oh my god, you’re insufferable.

Cade smiled at the screen, a low laugh escaping him before he could stop it. No one had ever made murder feel this close to flirting.

Tris: Fuck. You’re hot and cute and weirdly charming? Now I have to go out with you. At least when they find my phone, they’ll know I made a valiant effort to resist you. I’ll become a cautionary tale.

Cade’s chest did a funny thing—a pulse, quick and sharp, like his heart was mocking him for caring.

Cade: So that’s a yes? You’ll go out on this date with me tomorrow?

Tris: Yeah, yeah. Okay, fine. But just so you know, my smile doesn’t light up a room, my laugh isn’t infectious, I was never the life of the party, and I’ve met many, many strangers. No white woman will ever make a podcast about my murder. I’m not worthy of any press should you be looking for fame and fortune.

Cade’s lips twitched. The kid had a way of making morbidity sound like a punchline. Fame and fortune had never been the draw. Cade killed for two reasons: because he loved the thrill and because he was very, very good at murder. The money was just the noise that came after. The real excitement was in slipping through the cracks unnoticed.

Cade: Noted. So I’m not getting a dick pic?

Tris: Absolutely not. What kind of girl do you think I am?

Cade: Come on, baby. I promise I’ll still respect you in the morning.

Tris: Let’s see how the date goes.

Cade: Well, in that case, I’ll say goodnight. Don’t be late.

Tris: I already set an alarm.

An alarm? Interesting. Cade smiled faintly. Responsible, punctual, and still planning to meet a possible murderer. The contradiction made him want to see Tris even more.

Cade: Oh, and if you have a suit jacket, wear it.

Another selfie appeared. Cade laughed out loud at the look on the other man’s face—wide-eyed, betrayed, like a cat shoved into bathwater.

Tris: Ugh, seriously? I have to dress up for this potential homicide? Worst. Date. Ever.

Before Cade could reply, another message came through.

Tris: Oh hey, you’re good at this.

Cade snorted at the screen.

Cade: I’ll send you my WhatsApp.

Tris: WhatsApp? What are you, a drug dealer?

Cade chuckled, the sound low and unexpected even to his own ears.

Cade: See you then.

He tossed the phone onto the nightstand, but his gaze lingered on the screen until it dimmed. For the first time in a long while, Cade wasn’t thinking about the job waiting at the docks. He was thinking about a mouthy stranger with a tongue piercing and a death wish, and wondering which of them was really the dangerous one.