He wants you but never forget, you belong to me…

  The words lingered in the air. She swallowed and scanned her living room. Nothing had changed, yet he remained watching her. “What do you want? What the hell do you want from me?”

  The air seemed to dip several degrees.

  “Michael certainly can’t hurt you,” she snorted.

  A whoosh of wind clanged against the glass.

  Shivering, she jumped to her feet and moved to the center of the room, turning in a full circle. “What do you freaking want from me, you asshole?”

  Click… Click…

  The sound of the clock on the wall drew her attention. There shouldn’t be any noise coming from the second hand, but there was. She walked closer and glared at the simple black and white piece. The clocked had stopped one minute before. “What? Tell me?”

  I want your very soul…

  She closed her eyes and moaned.

  Clink!

  Had a rock been thrown at her window on purpose or was there simply a launched piece of rubble from a passing car? Don’t be a fool. There’s nothing out there. Yet she moved toward the window. She knew someone wanted her attention. She stood two feet away from the glass and peered out, scanning the street. The cars passed by, obscuring her line of sight. Until…

  Destiny moved closer, squinting from the early morning sun. After a few seconds she was able to focus. “Michael.”

  He stood with his hands in his pockets, staring at her building. There was no mistaking the young man, even given the distance. She exhaled and moved to another window. He remained in the same position, unmoving, as if willing her to come outside.

  She leaned against the wall and rubbed her arms. Fear remained deep inside as if he was stalking her. When she stole another glance, she could tell he hadn’t moved. Ducking down, she rushed toward the hallway, jerking on her slippers. She threw open the door and looked in the direction of her patient. He was gone.

  Panting, she stepped onto her porch and noticed a piece of paper floating toward the deck boards. She managed to grab the slip before the wind blew it away. The business card was in black and white, a touch of red highlighting the name.

  Club Noir

  The card said little else but giving an address. She fingered the raised lettering before turning it over. The words on the back were the most terrifying of all.

  Come find me. I’ll be waiting for you.

  CHAPTER 8

  “Jesus fucking Christ.” The words slipped from Grant’s mouth as he gawked at the sight in front of him.

  Montana covered his nose before advancing. The body of the woman had been carved from her neck to her groin. The cuts were jagged as if done by a serrated knife. The muck along the base of the crudely made cross indicated that the killer had traipsed through the river. The girl’s feet were dirty, but not covered in mud.

  “Who does this kind of thing?”

  He didn’t answer. There were no words to describe the horror. Swishing away the flies, he took careful steps until he was six inches away. Her long, damp hair fell in strings across her plump face. Her mouth was open, offering a silent scream of terror. “Where’s the person who found her?”

  “Still upchucking in the parking lot from what I heard.” Grant sniffed. “Whew.”

  Donning a pair of latex gloves, he used a single finger to slide the hair out of her face. Her mouth was twisted and there was a deep slice starting from the tip of her right ear to the base of her neck. He reached out and moved her head a few centimeters.

  Bam!

  “No! Let me go. I won’t tell anyone!” She was kicked hard in the stomach, the force launching her backward a solid ten feet.

  The man laughed as he took three strides, straddling her shivering body. “You’re such a fucking whore. Do you think you mean anything to me? Anything? You’re not what I need, nor could you ever be.”

  Startled, Montana jerked back away from the victim, his hand shaking.

  “Whoa, partner. You look like you’ve not only seen a ghost but had him at your breakfast table. What gives?”

  He darted a look at Grant then back to the girl. He’d never had this kind of experience before…before his meeting with Destiny Blade. “I’m fine. Just fine.”

  “Yep, I can see that, which is why you’re ashen. Do you know her?” Grant asked casually.

  “No. I just…” He wasn’t prepared to tell his partner anything. “She was killed somewhere else and brought here.” He could still see a muted vision of what had to be a dimly lit parking lot. There were few cars, nothing to interrupt him. Him. Yes, Montana had no doubt the killer was male.

  “How can you be certain?” Grant covered his eyes, avoiding the glaring sun.

  “The lack of blood.” The man stepped forward.

  “Crandell. We need to stop meeting like this,” Montana mused. He circled the perimeter of the cross. The killer was definitely male and by the deep tone of his voice, older, perhaps in his early fifties.

  “Then stop presenting bodies.” Crandell gave him a look of discord. “She was alive when she was brought here. That much I can tell you.”

  Montana surveyed the damage to the woman’s torso. “The killer was angry, enraged.”

  Don’t! Please! I’ll do anything you want.

  “I would say so,” Crandell exhaled. “The cuts are shallow. Notice the ligature marks on her forearms. She’d been tied in another manner before being chained to the cross. By the looks of her bruised hands and the mark on her face, I’d say she put up a good fight. Unfortunately, I don’t see any signs of tissue under her fingernails. They were too short. I’ll let you know.”

  Of course, you will, you fucking slut. He laughed then tipped his head back, howling into the night sky.

  Montana rubbed his mouth. “Of course. Can’t catch a break.”

  “Fuckin’ nutcases,” Grant said through clenched teeth.

  “Another indication she wasn’t murdered here.” Montana studied her attire. The leather skirt was intact, but the corset had been ripped away, portions shredded. Her heavy breasts dangled down over the lacey edge. “He tied and tortured her breasts and there are welt marks crisscrossing her legs. My guess is along her back and buttocks as well.” He snapped several pictures.

  “He?” Grant tipped his head. “You sound certain.”

  “I am,” Montana countered. The dark figure in the vision was tall, muscular with hair just reaching the collar of his shirt. There was an air about him, aristocratic. He blinked, attempting to garner more. The vision was gone. He hadn’t been able to make out any facial features.

  “This is our killer. I mean he or she killed the others,” Grant insisted as he glared at Montana.

  Crandell shook his head. “My professional opinion is that this is a different monster, more human in nature.”

  “More human? That’s a crock of shit,” Grant hissed as he shook his head.

  “They’re all monsters who feed on the innocent, detective. However, this particular victim’s murder was caused by a different method of killing. Today’s murderer was indeed angry and rushed for time. This was a vengeance style kill while the others were premeditated and planned. The person who murdered the other two victims knew his way around a dungeon.” No one knew Jade had given them a list. Perhaps the killer was trying to throw them off the real prize.

  “Said like a man who has more than a general idea of what the fuck is going on here.” This time Grant grinned. He coughed and looked away when Montana held up his index finger. “Jesus. Just joking.”

  Montana looked away, attempting to remember every detail of the images he’d seen. The scene wasn’t the same in his vision.

  “Cut her down. We need to perform an autopsy to determine time and method of exsanguination.”

  “So damn clinical.” Montana didn’t anticipate a response. “What about the man killed in the bar?”

  “Run of the mill. In truth, I think the death might have been a result of a bar fight and nothing more.” Crandell slipped gloves onto his hands and approached the body.

  Montana watched in fasciation as the man pulled back torn flesh. A shiver trickled down his spine. The girl’s tortured cry penetrated his brain. “Pointless.”

  “I disagree. She was killed for a reason. What that concept is you have to figure out.” The ME continued, studying her cuts in a methodical manner.

  He shook his head and took a step back. “What about this calling card?”

  Grant motioned for the two officers flanking the scene. “They found something lying on the ground next to her body.”

  “Dare I freaking ask?” Montana shifted and surveyed the area. The block of buildings had contained warehouse space for many years. Only recently had the entire area known as Shockoe Bottom received a facelift. The riverbank was now adorned with high dollar condominiums, affluent stores and restaurants that stayed open late. The entire area was booming. “Someone had to have noticed the girl or her killer.”

  “I doubt it, partner. Last night was some festival here in the ‘bottom’. I doubt anyone paid a damn bit of attention to two people frolicking on the river’s edge.” Grant moved closer to the shoreline. “We have footprints, but they’ve been compromised.”

  “Of course, they have.” Montana groaned.

  One of the officers held out an evidence bag. The kid was green, not just from limited time on the force, but also from the sight in front of him.

  “Let’s see what we have.” Grant eyeballed the card. “Club Noir. Interesting. I think the killer is trying to tell us something.”

  “Awfully convenient.” Montana had his doubts. Sniffing the air, the coppery scent of her blood was mixed with sweat and nothing more. “She wasn’t violated.”

  “You mean sex?” Grant handed the bag back to the attending officer.

  “I’d bet my badge this isn’t the same guy.” The rays of sun filtered over the water, creating a shimmering effect. “She was kicked several times in the stomach and groin hard enough I suspect there’s internal bleeding.”

  Walter Crandell stopped what he was doing and turned toward the detective. “An interesting observation, Givens. I’ll be curious to see if you’re right and more importantly, how you know this.”

  “Any ID?” Montana asked, ignoring the comment.

  “Nothing. She had no personal effects. She has a tattoo, but that’s not going to tell us much.” Grant walked in front of him. “A copycat?”

  Montana shrugged. “Something like that.” As he started to walk away, Grant wrapped his hand around his partner’s arm.

  “We really need to work on our communication skills. You know something. You need to tell me.”

  “We need to go about this differently. This isn’t a simple cut and dry case.”

  “They usually aren’t, Givens. Still, if your hunch is wrong, other women are going to die. You know something you refuse to divulge. I don’t need my cop instinct to tell me that. What are you hiding?”

  His hands clammy, Montana locked eyes with his partner. “Nothing. I have a fear there are bodies lying in wait.” He walked up the hill and away from the scene. The idea swirling in his head could mean the end of his career, but he was willing to bet money on his instinct. Now he just had to figure out how to initiate the plan.

  As he neared the car, he fought to keep the bile in the pit of his stomach. Whatever had occurred between he and the good doctor had left him fractured. Who was she and what had she done to him?

  “You are mad. No, you are out of your mind.” Destiny pointed her finger at her reflection. The woman staring back at her, wide-eyed and terrified, looking nothing like the consummate professional she’d portrayed all her life. This woman, the one dressed in scarlet, was nothing more than a hussy. A whore.

  She sighed and leaned over the dresser. She’d applied the make up well. Her eyes seemed to glisten in the glow of her tableside lamps. Tilting her head, she studied the rhinestone necklace adorning her neck. The subtle piece had belonged to her mother. She’d never had a chance to wear what she would have considered too flashy. Tonight seemed like the perfect opportunity. To break out of your comfort zone? To get yourself killed?

  The thoughts were real enough. She’d considered the possibility she’d wind up dead more than once. She was well aware she should have called Detective Givens, giving him the information she’d learned about Michael and about his visit to her home. There was no good reason she was acting like an idiot except she had to solve the riddle. She had to learn what Michael was keeping from her.

  She jerked the brush from the case and grabbed the powder, blotting her face. Applying lipstick next, she groaned at the haphazard effort. She looked like a clown or a puppet. Grabbing a handful of tissues, she wiped her mouth and took a sip of her wine. The glass was almost empty. Maybe one more would help calm her nerves. No! She refused to dilute any more of her senses. She needed to be on point tonight. This was nothing more than a visit, a fact-finding mission.

  Now she laughed. Who was she kidding? She was way out of her league. “You’re going to go to the club and look around, nothing more.” She nodded her head in defiance and reapplied her lipstick. This time she was on the mark. Pouting her lips, she struck a pose and was finally satisfied. The red stilettos she’d purchased for the occasion would complete the outfit, even if the four-inch heels killed her feet.

  The small purse was filled with a compact, her driver’s license and a single credit card. No one was going to find out who or what she was trying to do. She added the tube of lipstick and closed the latch. She was as ready as she was going to be. She stepped away from the dresser and noticed the card. Perhaps this would gain her entrance to the exclusive club without questions. Perhaps.

  Destiny slipped the card into her purse and smiled as she grabbed her keys. She selected a thin coat, wrapping the belt around her waist. No one was going to see the package underneath until she was ready. Tonight was the time to break out of her cage. As she turned out the lights she inhaled. Even the scent of her perfume was provocative.

  She stood on her porch, searching the surroundings before heading for her car. There were certainly people out, but there was nothing to draw her suspicions into the forefront of her rattled thoughts. Only a block away, as she settled into the car the hairs on the back of her neck stood on end. He was here. He was in the car with her. She adjusted her rear-view mirror until she was able to gaze upon the back seat.

  There was no depression in the seat. There was no face in the mirror, but she knew. Tonight she’d ignore him, as if he didn’t matter to her. As she started the car, the wafting scent of exotic cologne, men’s cologne, filtered across her nose. She swallowed and slipped the gear into drive, turning on the radio to her favorite station. Nothing was going to get in the way of finding the truth. No man. No monster.

  Tapping her fingers on the steering wheel, she punched in the GPS coordinates at the first red light. The location surprised her. River Road was old school, the location where influential people known as the First Families of Virginia lived. To have a kink club nestled among the rich told her many things about the lifestyle. Even the rich and famous held dark secrets.

  Traffic was light as she drove through Carytown and toward the West End. She was well aware her pulse was racing as she closed in on the club. She’d found out just enough about Club Noir to pique her curiosity, but the one-page website said little other than a statement about indulging your fantasies. Entrance was by invitation only.

  What are you searching for my sweet?

  Destiny ignored him by turning up the volume on her satellite radio. She opened her window a crack, hoping the fresh air would stymy his yearning.

  What do you think you’ll find?

  A quick glance in the mirror gave her a sickening moment. This time she noticed a depression in her leather seat as if a large man was sitting on the passenger side. “Leave me alone. I don’t need you.”

  That’s where you’re wrong, my princess. In a matter of time, you’ll learn everything you need to know.

  Huffing, she refused to look back again. Soon, she found herself in a neighborhood she’d never been to before. The million plus dollar homes were well lit and no doubt pristine. As she drove by, the majority had long driveways, many with gates. Opulence and security, the epitome of the affluent Richmond lifestyle.

  She pulled over to the curb, checking the address. She was close, maybe too close. When she found the street then the placard on the massive stone pillar, she stopped and allowed her engine to idle. “Go home. Just go home.”

  But you don’t want to. You are exactly where you need to be.

  This time, she knew he was right. She yanked her purse off the seat after turning off the engine. She sat for a few minutes, gathering her thoughts as well as perfecting her persona for the night. “Name,” she muttered under her breath. She wasn’t going to use her real name. In her mind she went through several names. Fiona. Camden. Iris. “Skyler.” Nodding, she inched out of the car, attempting to become a different woman. Skyler was a demure yet passionate woman who loathed her day job, managing a staff of over one hundred. She needed a significant change in her life, a man who knew her inner being.

  Destiny retied her belt and pulled her purse close to her chest. Her legs were shaking as she locked the door, slipping the key fob into her clutch. Swallowing, she gazed at the impressive, well-lit mansion, a massive brick building surrounded by trees and other foliage. The house was set far enough off the street that few could hear the noises inside.

  Shuddering, she envisioned orgies and punishment being doled out in every corner. A short laugh was followed by a deep exhale. Her imagination was vivid tonight. Throwing her head back, she walked with purpose toward the front door. No one was going to know she was terrified.

  The sconces adorning both sides of the double door were blinding. She hesitated and glanced over her shoulder, registering import cars. Whoever was inside not only had money, but no doubt good taste. This was no cheap establishment or business venture. She rapped on the door and stepped back. Lilting music could be heard, enigmatic sounds of Spanish guitar, her favorite.