Chapter 1

This is not a test.

This is your emergency broadcast system announcing the commencement of the Annual Purge sanctioned by the U.S. Government. Weapons of class 4 and lower have been authorized for use during the Purge. All other weapons are restricted. Government officials of ranking 10 have been granted immunity from the Purge and shall not be harmed. Commencing at the siren, any and all crime, including murder, will be legal for 12 continuous hours. Police, fire, and emergency medical services will be unavailable until tomorrow morning at 7 a.m., when The Purge concludes. Blessed be our New Founding Fathers and America, a nation reborn. May God be with you all.

It was a year after the previous Purge, and sure enough, I took a personal day to prepare for it. I figured that my boss, Sarah Weiszacker, would be up to her usual activity and wouldn’t question me on mine, but she dropped some surprising hints that she wanted me to join her. What was that about ... wanting to Purge with me? What if she wanted to kill me in the process? In any case, I didn’t intend to Purge. I had plenty of folks to think of, after all. I didn’t have the luxury of Purging ... not with several pregnant ladies in my household.

In any case, unexpectedly, Sarah called again, just as I closed and boarded up the house (I moved back in with my family). I was somewhat annoyed, but curious, as to what the “silver spoon supervisor,” as I called her, had in mind. Why call me now? To me give a final chance to Purge with her? In case she missed the many hints, I didn’t WANT to Purge with her, plain and simple. I didn’t want to Purge at all. I hated this night, hated it with a passion, in fact! It was pure barbarism in my book.

“Hey, Sarah. What gives?” I answered the phone quite reluctantly.

“So ... whatcha doin’ for Purge Night, babe?” Sarah, as always, used an endearment.

For whatever reason, my boss decided some time back that she should address me as “honey,” “babe,” “sweetie,” etc. Not just once or twice, either. Not even now and then or daily. She constantly used such endearments in place of my name. This was well ahead of me inheriting a considerable fortune from my father, Barry Parker, along with Liam Halloran, my stepfather... (how the hell did THAT happen?), so it wasn’t about my money, was it? As far as Sarah knew, I was just a regular Joe, a private eye since being kicked off the Force. I never clued her in on my home life at all. I was just a schmuck who worked for the agency that her father left to her and her grandfather to him, right?

“Not much. Just boardin’ up and protectin’ the old family home. Gonna be a lot of dangerous folks out tonight, so you be careful, too, princess,” I used that title to get under her skin a little.

It didn’t seem to work, though, come to think of it, that approach never worked. Not once. So why did I keep it up? If anything, Sarah’s voice grew a little husky as she all but moaned into the phone. What was she doing ... jilling off to the prospect of killing someone? It sure sounded that way to me, thus now reinforcing my impression that Daddy’s girl wasn’t playing with a full deck. Then she snickered and I heard a popping sound for some reason.

“Hear that? It was my butt-plug popping out of my ass ... a vibrating one that I named ‘Dale.’ Care to guess why? I just came to the image of you and me Purging together ... and then celebrating by having you fuck my pussy, mouth, and ass raw ... and bareback. Imagine you putting a bun in my oven, too. Oh, fuck, that’s sizzling hot! Just imagine it, hon! Someday, you and I really need to Purge together ... and then fuck each other’s brains out. You could keep my panties as a souvenir, too. Purge and purify, dear ... Purge and purify!” Sarah made it plain that she had ulterior motives besides an effective Purging partner.