“Uh, your father,” she answered like Claire should know.
“I think I will tell him Striker is my boyfriend.”
“Finally, someone is making some sense,” Striker growled, “and give me my cat.”
Claire dropped Little Bit in his lap with no argument. It was evident the poor guy had been through enough and she didn’t want him in a bad mood when he had lunch with her father. She would make certain the rest of the visit was uneventful.
Chapter Twenty Two
Agent Turner
This was the third strip club they had visited and true to the saying, the third time’s the charm and they hit pay dirt. The agents stood in the doorway, allowing their eyes to adjust to the darkness after being in the bright sunlight outside.
They headed to the bar, knowing that the bartender would know all of the dancers.
“Have you seen this girl?”
“Yeah, I’ve seen her but she sure as hell didn’t look like that when I saw her last. Somebody did a job on that girl’s face with a straight razor, didn’t they? Her name is Lisa. She was a college student going to the University of Louisville for nursing. She said she needed money for tuition so she started dancing here.”
“Did she have any regulars?”
“Not really, the girl was painfully shy.”
“Did you have any weirdos hanging around? Stalker types?” Agent Turner studied her like he was a human lie detector, waiting for her to show any sign of deception.
“No more than usual,” she smiled at him, wiping the counter as she admired the view.
Rene stepped up beside him and made no attempt to hide the glare she was directing towards the young blonde with ample cleavage.
Agent Turner smacked the counter in frustration, but not before he tossed Rene’s card down on the bar. He had learned to keep a few of them on him for times like this. “Call us if you think anything,” he called out as he walked away.
The bartender smiled as she picked up the card but her expression changed notably when she saw it was Rene’s name and not Agent Turner’s.
“One more thing,” Agent Turner turned around to face her again, “did she have any customers who were farmers, perhaps tobacco farmers?”
“Not that I know of. We get a lot of suits in here, not many farmers.”
“Okay, call that number if you remember anything else.”
She rolled her eyes. “Yeah, I’ll be sure and do that.”
Rene waited until they were in the car to address her partner, “The only thing saving your ass is that you had the foresight to put some of my cards in your pocket to ward off your little fan girls. I don’t know what the fuck it is about these women and cops.”
He resisted the urge to say maybe it’s the handcuffs they carry. Instead he just squirmed in his seat, vividly remembering the last ass whipping Rene had given him. Though he wasn’t ready for another one, he was flattered that his Mistress was jealous.
Striker
Striker wasn’t the type to get nervous but walking into that private dining club and meeting Claire’s father wasn’t something he wanted to do. Claire eyed him as they made their way up the elevator. She had chosen a navy blue Armani suit, paired with a powder blue designer shirt and a multi-colored tie. Cufflinks and designer shoes completed the look.
She leaned up to whisper in his ear, “You look hot and I promise I’ll make this up to you.”
“Yes, you will, princess. I’m going to subject you to orgasm denial for making me do this. I do believe the correct term for that in the kink world is edging,” he told her, his words dripping with contempt and hot promise.
“It was your idea to meet my father,” she said in her defense.
“No, it was your idea. I only agreed to it so I could win him over after you inform him that you’re being stalked by a madman.”
“Well, aren’t you the deceitful one?”
“You have no idea,” he stated with an air of truth that caused him to feel a mixture of guilt and satisfaction. Granted, his plan was working out, but at what cost?
“Now you’ve given me two reasons to be concerned: my father’s reaction to you, and whatever it is you’re planning to subject me to later this evening.”
He spoke under his breath as the maître d’ escorted them to the table where her father was already seated. “Yes, I’m looking forward to burying my cock deep inside you while I listen to you beg me to let you come.” He smiled when she was unable to hide the crimson flush that stole over her cheeks.
“Dear, it’s so good to see you.” Her father made his way over to them, kissing Claire’s cheek and then sticking his hand out to shake Striker’s. “I’m Claire’s father, Frank Cooperman.”
“Nice to meet you, sir. I’m Striker.”
“Sit, sit, and let me get to know you.”
The waitress made her way over. “Would anyone like wine or a drink of some sort?”
Striker noted that Claire’s father smiled when he waited for her to order first and that he approved when Striker just asked for water. He knew her father well enough from her descriptions of him to know he would look down on a man who drank too early in the day. It was also a given that a man should have impeccable manners so he was doing his best to fit in. He knew manners were a very important detail in the world she had been brought up in.
“Claire says you’re a fighter?”
“Retired, sir. Now I’m just working for her.”
“Very good, and how is that working out for the two of you?”
“It’s working well, Father, but there are some issues that we need to discuss with you.”
“What issues, dear?”
Striker immediately noticed the change in his demeanor at the first sign of trouble concerning his daughter.
They paused for a moment as the waitress brought their lunches and set them down.
“Will that be all?” she smiled at Striker, all but gawking. He purposely ignored her and noted that Claire held back a chuckle when her father spoke, “Yes, dear, that will be all.” The sarcasm that dripped in his voice clearly let the poor girl know he had seen her checking Striker out.
He also noted that her father’s frustration seemed to stem from wanting to know what issues she had brought up for discussion. He made certain to file it away in his mind that Mr. Cooperman obviously wasn’t the most patient man in the world, especially when it came to matters concerning his daughter. He also put to memory that Frank Cooperman was an observant man. He had seen that waitress gawking, which meant he had also seen Striker snub her. That was good. The last thing he wanted was either of them mistaking him for a womanizer. It was bad enough he was subjecting the girl to the deception he was for something her father had done years ago.
The waitress scurried away, intimidated by the stern look on Mr. Cooperman’s face. Striker guessed the last thing she needed was a club member with Mr. Cooperman’s clout complaining about her. He was certain from just the little he had witnessed of the man, that he would be just the type to do so.
“Anyway, back to the conversation,” it was evident by Claire’s hesitation she wasn’t looking forward to informing her overprotective father that she was being stalked. When she looked at Striker, he had the insight to take her hand and continue for her.
“Sir, Claire has somehow drawn unwanted attention from a stalker. The first and foremost thing I would like to do is assure you of her safety.”
Striker watched her father’s face morph into granite as he listened.
“There have been some issues with her receiving things like dead flowers, sir. The problem we’re faced with is that we aren’t convinced Victor isn’t the responsible party.”
“I’ll kill him,” Frank growled.
“Well, sir, you won’t have to if I find out it’s him because I will take care of it myself. There is also the possibility that one of the convicts, who has been before you for sentencing, could be responsible for sending the items. Is there anyone who h
as threatened you in your courtroom?”
“Son, I can’t even begin to count how many times I’ve been threatened. It would take forever to go through the files of my enemies to try and figure out who is responsible.”
“Well, sir, it could be something as simple as someone seeing her with you at an event in the society pages. It wouldn’t be hard for one of your enemies to find out who she was and try to use her to get even with you.”
Claire’s father reached over the table and took her hand as he spoke, “I just hate to think that I’m responsible for you being in danger.” His expression changed into a look of relief as he spoke his next words, “Well, I have to admit this incident of you being stalked does put you having a houseguest in a whole new light.” It was clear the man was coming to a different conclusion about his daughter’s new roommate.
Striker looked in Claire’s direction giving her an ‘I told you so’ look. Though he didn’t show her, he was also exceedingly pleased that his plan to make Victor look guilty for the things he had been doing had worked. Not only that, but now Frank was happy about him being at Claire’s because he could protect her from the supposed stalker. Oh yes, this little lunch date was accomplishing all he had hoped for and more…
Chapter Twenty Three
Agent Turner
Agent Turner and Rene made their back to the office to do some research on the man who had been sentenced to death twenty years ago. Agent Turner, of all people, was well aware of how long people could carry grudges. Though he didn’t agree with the idea of a victim taking the law into his own hands, he did understand the desire. David was convinced that a family member of the deceased convicted killer could be responsible if this was a copycat. He knew it was either one of two things: a copycat killer, or the real killer hadn’t been convicted years ago. He was leaning more towards a copycat killer for the simple reason that most serial killers don’t have twenty year cooling off period. However, just because he was leaning in that direction, didn’t mean it was set in stone in his mind. He had learned years ago that anything was possible in his line of work. To put it simply, everyone was a suspect until proven innocent.
Agent Turner wheeled his way over to his desk with the expertise of a man who was accustomed to rolling around on an office chair. It easily moved him from computer to computer on the plastic he had laid down over the carpet for just that reason. If he was anything, he was a tad bit on the OCD side and it worked out quite well for him in his line of work.
Rene scooted up beside him in the office chair he had provided for her that was an exact replica of his but in a different color. Anything he purchased for himself, he was sure to also purchase for her, especially when it came to making them more efficient at doing their jobs.
Agent Turner wasn’t a man who had to work. He came from a long line of old money but he worked because he wanted to. Now that he had Rene as a partner, it only solidified his love of the job. Though many in the agency suspected the two agents were romantically involved, it wasn’t something they flaunted. He was always a stickler about professionalism when they were at work. Rene might run things in the bedroom, but at work, he was the one in control.
Agent Turner typed a couple of keywords into a search engine and, in no time at all, the newspaper article on the convicted man’s death popped up.
The man, who has terrorized the citizens of Louisville for the last three years, was finally put to death today.
Steven Haze insisted, right up until the day his death sentence was carried out, that he was innocent of the brutal murders of numerous women whose lives were taken by a man dubbed the ‘Louisville Lacerate Killer’. It is unknown why the women were cut up before their bodies were disposed of.
Haze was subjected to lethal injection due to the fact that as of March 31, 1988, all prisoners sentenced to the death penalty have escaped the brutality of the electric chair and have been killed by lethal injection instead. Though many had wondered if Governor Anthony Johnson would grant Haze clemency, that wasn’t the case. The Governor is quoted as saying he could not, in good conscience, allow a man who had brutally killed so many women, to remain alive.
Haze is survived by his wife and a young son. The newspaper has chosen not to reveal their names for safety’s sake.
“Bingo,” Agent Turner chimed out.
“That still doesn’t tell us his son’s name,” Rene answered, sounding as if she was discouraged by the lack of information the Courier Journal had provided.
“What do I always tell you?” he answered before she could reply, “Good ole fashioned detective work boils down to hitting the streets and talking to citizens. The streets have eyes and somebody knows that family.”
“If they’re not all dead,” Rene didn’t even try to hide her disappointment.
Agent Turner ignored his partner’s attitude and went back to word searches but this time he typed in Mrs. Haze. Immediately, her obituary came up. A simple, small section for Mary Haze, a woman who held no importance in society’s eyes, told how she had died from an overdose of prescription medicines. Once again, the newspaper left the boy’s name out of the article but it did give an address of her last known residence. Though they hadn’t mentioned in her obituary that she had been the wife of a notorious killer, Turner guessed that had been the reasoning for not listing her son’s name as the sole survivor of the family name.
“Aww, come on. Cheer up! Everybody involved in this case can’t be dead,” he tried to console Rene.
“I’m beginning to wonder,” Rene rolled her eyes in response.
Striker
Striker wasted no time doing exactly what he had threatened Claire with during their lunch. As soon as her feet crossed the threshold of her home, he stripped her down and subdued her. She was now bound and gagged, spread eagle on the bed.
“I thought about blindfolding you as well, but you’ll need your eyes to beg with. When a woman is unable to use her voice, it’s amazing how expressive her eyes become and how effective she can be pleading with them. It’s really quite intoxicating, if I do say so myself. I enjoy seeing a woman in bondage, Claire. Her body dances, fighting against the ropes used to subdue her.” He bent down to whisper in her ear as she cut her eyes at him, “It makes my cock hard to see you squirm. It’s the precise reason I left enough give in the ropes. There is purpose to everything I do. You have the ability to writhe but you most certainly aren’t going anywhere until I release you. It boils down to one thing—control—and right now, I have complete and utter control over you, princess.”
He listened to her angry grunts, the only response she could give behind the gag, and met her venomous stare head on. “Told ya so. You are definitely communicating with those honey colored eyes of yours.”
He rose up, ignoring the woman at his mercy and went back to gathering the implements he would need to torture her with pleasure. Though he appeared to be paying her no mind, he was acutely aware of everything she was experiencing; this wasn’t his first rodeo.
He sat down on the bed to begin his torment of her, still donning the Armani suit he had worn to their lunch date with her father. He slowly rolled up his sleeves, revealing his muscled forearms. He stared at her, taking in every inch of her milky skin, and paying special attention to her breasts, now covered in goose bumps with nipples that were peaked and hardened. “I love those brown nipples and large areolas of yours.” His finger lightly trailed down her abdomen, making its way to her bellybutton. He gently ran it over her hipbone and made his way over and down towards her shaved pussy. He stopped right at her bikini line and cocked his head facetiously, eyeing her as he spoke, “I’ll make you a deal… If I swipe my finger over that pretty, little pussy of yours and you aren’t wet, I’ll set you free.”
His finger slowly trailed down to her slit, revealing what he already knew. “That hot, little body of yours just can’t seem to pull off the act of lying to me, can it?” He stroked up and down her wet opening, purposely avoiding her clit, unti
l she began trying to raise her hips to make the connection she already so desperately needed. Then, he stopped. In turn, the whimpers and groans from behind the gag started. “There is no sound as beautiful as hearing a woman plead from behind a gag.” Once again, he began toying with her opening, which was becoming wetter with each passing second, and once again, the bound body of his lover began trying to raise her hips to get the friction she needed. He was so close, but purposely not close enough. “You’re learning a very important lesson, Claire, and that is… in the bedroom, I’m in control. He removed his finger to emphasize his point and placed it in his mouth, sucking her juices from it. “Mmm, tastes like my woman.”
He slowly rose from his seated position on the bed and the pleas that had been coming from behind the gag became louder and more urgent.
He turned and looked at her as he stated, “I could really use a cup of coffee. I’d offer you one but you seem to be, well, tied up at the moment.” He chuckled as her pleas came out sounding like loud, angry grunts. He was certain she was cussing him out from behind the gag.
He came back into the room and sauntered over to the chest of drawers. He leaned up against it and sipped the coffee in his cup as if he didn’t have a care in the world. The ringing of her phone pulled him from his reverie and he swiped it, accepting the call when he saw it was her father.
He smirked at her as he spoke in a whisper, “It’s your daddy, checking on his little girl. Do you want to talk to him?” He gave her no time to answer, just relished the fear in her eyes as he spoke into the phone, never once breaking eye contact with her.
“Mr. Cooperman, it’s wonderful to hear from you. I had intentions of calling you to thank you for the wonderful lunch we had today. Do you want to speak with your daughter?”
He chuckled as he watched her frantically shake her head, on the verge of hysteria. “Claire, your father is on the phone.” He yelled out as if calling to her in another room.
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