by Tina Donahue
She lingered only a moment before moving to the man on his left, asking about his drink, her question no less pleasant despite the rejection.
Waiting until she reached the crowd behind the chairs, he checked the time on his phone, noting that the next and final show of the night—SiNN’s—would begin shortly.
In painstaking detail, he recalled her last performance more than an hour ago. How she’d licked her forefinger, swirling the moisture on the tips of her nipples, making them even harder. The way she’d stroked the chains that scarcely hid her naked cunt, taunting the audience with the hope that she might just take them off, along with her mask.
She had not, hiding her identity here even though she had no idea he was after her. He’d learned that from her father before executing him. She’d confirmed it during her last show when their eyes had touched. There had been no recognition in her gaze. No fear in her expression.
There would be before the end of the night.
The server finished delivering her orders just as the first strains of soft Latin music…a flute, piano and an acoustic guitar…filled the room, the tones sultry, expressive, romantic.
Abruptly, the lights went down casting the room in complete darkness. He blinked rapidly, wanting to see, demanding to regard SiNN again, her surprise and then her pain as he sought retribution.
Bit by bit, the stage’s overhead lights came on casting the platform in a muted glow, revealing the young man with the longish, blond-streaked hair. His back was to the patrons, his large body hiding SiNN’s.
The incessant male murmurs died down, replaced by the sounds of shifting bodies as the men tried to get a glimpse of her.
From his vantage point, he saw one of her thick tresses curled around the male dancer’s biceps, a dainty gold chain draped on her right hip, her long expanse of leg. The man to his left lifted his head, glancing at the flat-screen TV.
The camera’s position showed even less of SiNN, zooming in instead on the male dancer’s profile.
As the audience began to grumble, wanting more, the music’s tempo quickened, becoming soulful and dramatic. With the grace of a much smaller man, the male dancer turned and slid behind SiNN, holding out her arms, exposing her to the audience.
Delighted applause thundered through the room at her naked breasts, the intimate body jewelry, feathered mask, the beginning of her submission.
It was all a lie. A fucking lie.
He stared at the woman, then the TV screen. A wave of fury bubbled up in him. This woman’s irises were blue. Maria Morales’ were hazel. Even though she now went by the name Lea Baptista, her eyes were still fucking hazel.
His thoughts raced. Why wasn’t she here? Had she sensed something about him when she’d been on stage?
No. Impossible. He’d smiled as all the other men had. He’d behaved no differently than any of them. She’d given him a few seconds of her attention prior to glancing at those in the back.
Gripping the arm of his chair, he wanted to leave, to tear through this place until he found her.
No, his mind warned instantly, even as his fingers dug into the leather. If she wasn’t here, he had to know why. Going to her apartment could put him at risk. She might have left early to be with a man. In that scenario, he’d have to kill them both quietly, quickly. There would be no time for him to play with her.
Jaw clenched, he forced himself to wait, to think this out and keep a calm outward demeanor. He couldn’t risk alarming the patrons here or the management. He couldn’t chance detection. Law enforcement had no idea who he really was and could not.
Steeling himself against the delay in his plan, he forced himself to watch the show, this dancer performing the same routine as SiNN.
Twice, her blue eyes touched his. Both times, he forced himself to seem interested and non-threatening. When the other men left their chairs to offer tips, he remained seated, his thoughts brimming with images of SiNN, her wrists fettered, legs spread wide, ankles bound.
With her trapped and helpless, he wouldn’t yet let her know his identity or his plans for her. Their first moments together would be the time for enjoyment. Removing her body jewelry first, he’d slip the chain from around her throat, leaving the flesh naked and defenseless. She’d moan at his fingers trailing across her breasts, his thumbs grazing her nipples. To silence her, he’d offer a deep, lingering kiss. Breathless, eyes closed, she’d lift her hips as he took off the other chains, at last revealing her smooth cunt, the moist pink petals parted for his cock.
He’d lick her slick cleft, tasting the slight saltiness of her juices. He’d be patient in arousing her, his tongue swirling around her clit, demanding her shameless response.
When she cried out in delight, tumbling over the edge, he’d fill her. With each thrust, he’d burrow deeper, trapping and toying with her until it was too late for her to get away. Recognition of her coming death would flare in her eyes. First, there would be terror, then resignation. Before he was through with her, she would beg for the end as his other victims had.
He thought about each of them, some old, many young, several brought down by gunfire, others by a stiletto or his fists. For a few, he’d devised remarkably effective tortures that the church would have coveted during their inglorious Inquisition.
Gathering strength from his victims’ remembered horror, he promised himself Lea Baptista’s would be even greater.
To each side of him, men suddenly stirred. Why?
Glancing at the stage, he saw the act had ended. The last one tonight in this room and possibly for the dancer who’d just performed in Lea’s place. As the music faded, the area went black. In the darkness, he waited like everyone else. Unlike them, he remained standing by his seat as the lights came back up. The slap of shoes, the rustle of clothing marked the audience’s departure.
With everyone gone, he went to the door SiNN and her partner had used earlier. It was then that he should have intercepted her.
Cursing himself for having lost his prey even momentarily, he entered the dimly lit hall. A series of doors marched up each side, some closed, others not. His fingers tightened into fists, his rage barely controlled. Behind which would he find the female dancer? Would any of the bouncers stop him before reaching her? What then?
Inhaling deeply to calm himself, he heard faint music pouring from the room at the end. A maudlin Country-Western tune. A favorite of the male dancer?
Striding down the hall, he reached the first room where the door was slightly ajar. Inside, he saw the young man who’d just danced, his attention on the tips in his hands.
If the boy looked up for even a moment, he’d have to die.
Thankfully, his focus remained on the money.
He continued down the hall, glancing into darkened rooms that seemed abandoned for the night. Brightly colored masks and costumes, all seductive and brief, hung over the backs of chairs. The lingering fragrance of too many flowery perfumes did little to relieve the area’s mustiness.
At last, he reached the room at the end, stopping in its doorway.
The woman inside glanced up, her blue eyes meeting his in the mirror. In the room’s much harsher light, he saw that her brown hair was a shade lighter than Lea’s.
Bitch. Lea would pay for this deception, but first he had to find her. He forced a smile to put this woman at ease so he could learn all that she knew. “SiNN,” he said pleasantly.
She regarded the scar on his chin, then his exquisitely tailored Italian suit. He sensed her calculating its price.
“I wanted to give you this out there,” he said, holding up three crisp one hundred dollar bills. “Unfortunately, too many men were in the way.”
She ignored the money in favor of evaluating him. “Liar.”
His smile broadened at her teasing tone. He spoke at a pitch only she could hear. “You’re right. I didn’t want you to have to share this with your partner. You’re the reason for the success of the act, not him.”
She arched one br
ow as though trying to determine whether to believe his lie or not. A moment ticked by, then another.
He behaved as she did, playing her game easily, knowing he was better at it than she would ever be.
At length, a smile tugged at the corner of her lips. “You have that right.”
“Then please take it,” he said, moving closer, offering her the cash. “It will be our secret. You deserve it. You’ve improved my mood greatly with your performance.”
To his surprise, she still didn’t take the bills. “Bad day, huh?”
“Only if you consider losing a case to be bad.”
Turning in her chair, she crossed her legs, the tip of her high-heeled sandal nearly brushing his pants. “You’re an attorney?”
“Civil,” he lied, knowing the story well. He’d used it on many of his other prey. “Corporate matters. Very boring.” He spoke with conviction, sensing any hesitation on his part would alarm her. “As I said, you’ve been the highlight of my day. We don’t see women like you in court.”
She regarded him thoughtfully. “I bet.”
“Beautiful women,” he added, studying her features, deliberately ignoring her naked breasts.
Rather than assuring her, a hint of caution flashed in her eyes.
Why? With no time to consider the matter, he spoke quickly. “Accept this, please.” He placed the bills on the table near her makeup. “Use it to buy something to make you smile.” He stepped back. “The next time I’m here, if you don’t mind, I’d like to ask you to have a drink with me, dinner perhaps at that new club, The Voyager. As we eat, you can tell me about your day and I’ll tell you about mine.”
Her foot moved up and down in time to the music, a soulful song by a woman who’d just lost her man.
“Unless you have a boyfriend,” he said, then continued before she could speak, “Of course you do. How could you not? I acted without thinking. I should leave.” He stepped back.
Her foot stopped bouncing. She purred, “I don’t have a boyfriend.”
He made no effort to curb his delight. She’d taken Lea’s last show tonight, therefore she had to know why Lea had left early and would soon tell him everything she knew. His shoulders relaxed.
“I’m hungry now,” she added.
He returned her smile. “So am I, SiNN.”
“Danielle,” she corrected, offering him her hand. “And you are?”
Not who she imagined. Shaking her hand, he offered a fake name.
Chapter Three
Less than an hour from their location, Toby was beyond antsy, needing this case to be fucking over and done with, his reaction troubling him far more than he would have liked. Not wanting to dwell on it, he divided his attention from the road ahead and the side view mirrors to see if anyone was tailing the vehicle.
From behind, some pinpoints of light remained stable, the cars keeping a respectful distance. Others came up quickly on the left, barreling past, exceeding the limit at rates that might encourage a traffic cop to impound their vehicles.
Except for their reckless speed, none seemed threatening.
He inhaled deeply, needing to pull in a full breath. Didn’t happen. When he tried to swallow, he found it equally difficult. His thoughts continued to churn, going places they shouldn’t.
Adjusting himself in his seat, he concentrated on the task at hand, getting through it and moving on to the next assignment. He checked the traffic to the left, the right. No different from a few seconds before. He stared ahead, demanding that he keep his eyes on the road and nothing else.
His good intentions didn’t last. Giving in to temptation and a gnawing need he couldn’t seem to shake, he looked at the rearview mirror…Lea’s reflection.
Heat flooded his body. His cock got too fucking hard, just as it had during her performance at The Second Circle and when she’d come around the corner of the building into the employee’s parking lot. At his mounting arousal, he pushed too hard on the accelerator.
She didn’t notice the increased speed. Seated next to Jake in the back, she remained turned to him. Illumination from oncoming cars spilled across her face, revealing her vulnerability and shock. Her lips were parted, her expression dazed at what Jake had revealed to her.
Gripping the steering wheel, Toby regretted his own silence, but he honestly didn’t know what to say to make the unthinkable better. He wasn’t good at shit like this. He followed the rules and got the job done. It was what he’d been trained to do. Like Jake. They were supposed to protect Lea, not get involved emotionally or physically with her.
Already she was affecting Jake far too much.
Unsettled, Toby flicked his gaze back to the road, then glanced into the rearview mirror once more. Blocked by the headrest, his view of Jake was incomplete, allowing Toby to see no more than the upper part of his partner’s face.
Predictably, Jake was focused on Lea.
“You drive,” he’d told Toby back at the club, tossing him the keys as he might to a chauffeur or a younger brother. Giving Toby no chance to protest, Jake had gotten into the SUV’s backseat right behind Lea.
She hadn’t seemed to mind. Toby saw the way she looked at Jake…the soft heat in her eyes.
He pressed his thumbs into the steering wheel until they began to hurt. Releasing the pressure, he recalled Lea’s blush when she’d caught him watching her during Jake’s conversation with Sanchez. At the time, Toby had expected her to turn away, disturbed at how he’d been staring at her.
Much to his surprise, she had not. He’d been the first to break eye contact, unnerved by his response to her fresh scent, the thought of slipping his hands beneath her tee to cup her sweet breasts, delighting in their heat and weight. Unable to stop his unyielding desire, he’d simply ignored his hard-on then as he tried to do now.
There was no point in believing his idiotic longing could go anywhere. Even if she wanted him, her life as she’d known it was over and would be for the rest of her days. Once he and Jake received word from their superiors about the disposition of her case, neither of them would see her again. It was out of the question if they expected to keep her safe.
Toby’s throat constricted, making his collar and tie seem too tight. If he’d been Jake, he would have loosened both, not caring about appearances or propriety, just going with the flow.
He wasn’t Jake.
He was a man who didn’t let situations or people get to him, yet in a very short time, Lea had. Her fear and helplessness in the face of the unimaginable had stirred something he hadn’t buried deep enough. Her lush sensuality hadn’t helped.
A rueful smile touched Toby’s lips. He fought it as he did many of his emotions. This time without complete success.
He still wanted her too badly, as did Jake.
Toby cleared his throat, trying to relax the muscles. They tightened even more, but didn’t stop him from speaking.
“Everything all right back there?” he asked, knowing it wasn’t, cautious as to what might happen next.
What Jake might eventually do.
With more patience than he felt, Jake looked at Toby’s reflection in the rearview mirror.
His partner arched one dark brow, a contradiction to his pale hair, just as his unruffled manner failed to match the disquiet in his question.
Offering no answer, especially the one Toby wanted to hear, Jake turned back to Lea.
She was absorbed in her own thoughts, her distress all too obvious.
If Jake had been able to spare her from the truth, he would have. What man wanted to see any woman looking as Lea did now? A sense of powerlessness settled over him that Jake didn’t much like. Her demeanor reminded him of people he’d seen at morgues, waiting to identify the bodies of their loved ones. Because they hadn’t yet seen the worst, Jake knew the truth of what had happened wasn’t yet real. A part of them still resisted and hoped.
Was that what was going through Lea’s mind now?
She’d said nothing as he’d revealed the facts
of her life. Not once had she challenged or asked any questions. Nearly a half hour had passed since he’d last spoken and she still hadn’t broken the oppressive silence. In many ways, Jake couldn’t blame her. Discovering one had been living a lie manufactured by others was a lot to stomach.
He knew that firsthand.
At ten, he’d learned the man who’d been raising him wasn’t his biological father. The confusion and anger Jake had experienced at the time was mostly gone. At least his parentage explained why Victor had never shown him a measure of kindness, hadn’t even seemed to like him.
“You’re not mine,” the man had said one night, his confession fueled by drinking, his face ugly with disgust. “You’re a fucking bastard.”
He was the product of his mother’s time away from the reservation, her affair with a white man who’d been married.
“He didn’t want her,” Victor continued, opening another beer, “but her people did.”
She’d returned to her tribal lands and had married him, one of her own, before delivering her son.
If Jake’s home life had been bad before he knew the truth, it worsened after. To Victor’s way of thinking, there was no longer any reason to police his words or actions. Seemingly incapable of helping her son, Jake’s mother begged him to be a good boy. He tried, doing all that he could to protect her, taking the brunt of Victor’s rage until Jake feared the man would kill him. After one particularly harsh beating, Jake had sought out his biological father, believing, as all kids do, that his real dad would love and want him. There would be no more emotional or physical violence.
The day Jake arrived at his father’s home in an upscale Phoenix suburb, he was dizzy with relief. He could barely jab the doorbell, his hands trembled so badly. As politely as he could, he explained to his dad who he was and that he wanted to come home.
The man’s fleshy face froze in a look of dread. When he regained his composure, he made it clear that Jake couldn’t stay, nor would he be welcomed back.
“Don’t show up again,” his father had warned quietly so his wife and kids couldn’t overhear. “If you do, I’ll call the police. No matter what you tell them, they’ll believe me, not you.”
