“Very good, sir.” The waiter lowered his head and moved away.

  “Now, where were we?” Chris fingered the rim of his glass.

  Destiny watched the slight movement, mesmerized by the length of his fingers and his exotic scent. She managed to take a sip of her wine before the beads of perspiration oozed down her cheeks. “You were telling me all about myself.”

  “Mmmm… Perhaps I will in time. Today was a chance for you to learn that I’m not a monster.”

  “And why is that important to you?”

  “Because, sweet Destiny, one day you’re going to belong to me.”

  The words were said with confidence instead of arrogance. He was certain of his statement, as if he’d ordered her from a fashionable store. “You’re so certain.”

  “I’m never wrong.”

  She should be incensed, enraged by his words, let alone his bravado, but she was intrigued. She was also more than curious about the man hiding behind his own mask, one made of steel. “I guess we will see.” She held up her glass.

  “Absolutely.” His eyes never left hers as he sipped his drink.

  A chill swept through her, one of anticipation. Excitement.

  He reached out his hand, the action slow and methodical.

  Destiny slid her hand across the table until their fingers touched. She sucked in her breath as a sharp pain rushed into her temple.

  “Is something wrong?” Chris rubbed his thumb across hers.

  “Nothing. I’m glad I came.” She sat still as the light seemed to dim in the room. Her own voice seemed to echo in the space and the sound of her heart beating rapidly thumped in her eardrums.

  Very good. You are learning. You are becoming…

  Had Chris said the words? She held her breath and slowly moved her hand back.

  “I’m glad. I want you to feel extremely comfortable with me. Trust is vital.” He wrinkled his brow but pulled back his arm. When his cell phone rang, he offered a slow hiss and his expression said the call was important. “Please excuse the interruption.”

  “Of course.” As he got up from the table she allowed a shiver she’d been holding to take over and rubbed her arms. Trust. Why had he used the word? Was he trying to seduce her? Yes. Of course he was. The man was enigmatic. Power oozed from every pore. She was surprised at her body’s reactions. Then again, it was as if he’d been inside of her, reading her subconscious mind. She took a sip of wine just as her cell phone rang. She eyed the display and was jerked back to reality. “Gina. Is there something wrong?”

  “Are you still at lunch?”

  “I just got here.” She glanced at her watch. At least thirty minutes had passed. What was going on with her?

  “I thought you’d like to know something about your mystery date,” Gina said in a jovial tone.

  “And this couldn’t wait until I returned to the office?”

  “I’m off this afternoon. Remember?”

  Destiny exhaled. “I’m sorry. I forgot. What did you find out?” She searched for Chris through the late lunch crowd. He was nowhere to be seen.

  “He’s on the up and up. Christopher Worth. I knew I’d recognized him.”

  “From?” The name rang a bell.

  “Jesus. You do need to get out more. He’s in the last Richmond Magazine. You know as one of the top ten bachelors? He’s also considered one of the top five wealthiest men up and down the East Coast. You ever hear of that huge development called River City Aisles?”

  She caught a short glimpse of him. He had a hand over his ear. “Sounds familiar.” He was definitely angry. “Wait. I thought that was stalled both in the city as well as some contractor issues.

  “Not any longer. The project is back on and anticipated to bring over two thousand jobs to the city and my guess is several hundred million to Mr. Worth.” Gina laughed. “You know how to pick them.”

  A real estate developer. Ruthless no doubt. “I guess.”

  “Wow. Don’t sound so enthused. I just thought you’d like to know. Nice catch.”

  “Thanks, Gina.” The information registered. Why was a wealthy and eligible bachelor having to look for the perfect woman?” She knew the answer. He wanted someone who would be his intellectual match without any strings attached.

  “O-kay. Well. Enjoy the rest of your lunch. You have one more appointment at three, then you’re finished for the day.”

  “I remember. Enjoy your afternoon.” She frowned as Chris walked into the dining room. His face was pensive. He seemed to be contemplating making another call. Then he shoved his phone into his pocket and came back toward the table.

  “I apologize.”

  “Anything wrong?”

  He shook his head. “Nothing I can’t handle. Business. I have some contracts I’m dealing with and some of the terms, as well as the people involved are tenacious. Ah, lunch. I do hope you like my selections.”

  “What do you do?” she risked asking.

  “Many things, sweet Destiny but let’s just say I always get what I want.”

  She shivered and could tell he was dead serious.

  The food was succulent, the conversation lively and the second glass of wine soothing. She found him easy to talk to and he seemed to enjoy learning about her. He said little, remaining quiet, but responded to the majority of her questions. Still, by the time they finished their food, she realized she knew little more than they had started. At least Gina had found out his name and occupation. She’d do some surfing of her own at home later in the day.

  “I realize you need to get back to your patients. They need your help.” Chris pulled out his wallet.

  She was caught off guard by the remark, as if he knew something she didn’t. “Not all patients are psychotics or paranoid. Some merely need someone to talk to. I’ll get that.” As she reached for the check, she caught a glimpse of the man inside, one who refused to tolerate any decision being questioned.

  Chris placed his hand on top of hers as he leaned in. “Never challenge me. Do you understand? Never question a decision or my wishes. You can ask me anything and I’ll be as honest as I can, but never believe you’re in a position of power. Are we clear?”

  Taken aback, goosebumps popped along every inch of naked skin. “Crystal.”

  “Good.” He dropped three twenties and held out his hand. “Let’s go.”

  He said nothing as he drove her back to her office and never looked in her direction. She was uncomfortable, but not because of his words. Her panties were wet from desire.

  Chris pulled into a space and pushed the gear into park. His breathing was heavy, his lips pinched.

  “Thank you for lunch,” she said and clutched her purse. She waited for another minute before sighing and placing her hand on the door handle.

  “Destiny.” Twisting, he cupped her face, tugging in his direction, and crushed his mouth over hers.

  The kiss wasn’t sweet but depicting a desperate need, a burning hunger bursting from deep within.

  She was frozen, unable to breathe as the intimate moment continued. Conflicted, she longed to relax and enjoy the powerful taste, but visions tumbled into the forefront of her mind. Shadowed forms rushed forward, their arms outstretched. Fear gripped her hard and she fought the bile rushing up from the pit of her stomach.

  He gripped the back of her head, intertwining his fingers in her hair and pulling backward. Breaking the kiss, he licked across the seam of her mouth and down to her chin, nipping her flesh before moving to her neck.

  Destiny gripped his arm when he bit down, a slice of pain coursing through her system. Gasping, her body began to shake and she closed her eyes, ridding the ugly images. She was suddenly free of him.

  “Until we meet again,” he said in a commanding tone.

  She gulped air and rushed to get out of his car. When he’d pulled away, she held her purse to her chest. Indeed, they would meet again and she knew she’d succumb to his every desire.

  "Gorgeous heap of shit,” Grant said as he laughed.

  Montana shrugged and climbed out of the car. Michael Cavanaugh lived in an area of town called Jackson Ward. He wasn’t necessarily surprised the man lived frugally, given his divorce, but the choice of neighborhoods was disconcerting. The rundown neighborhood was well known for drug dealers and crack heads. Two murders had occurred recently and likely from a drug deal gone bad. “Could be worse.”

  “Yeah, the guy could be homeless.”

  “Let’s see if our boy is home.”

  “Records indicate he drives a fairly new Mazda. Doesn’t look like any of these skagmobiles here.”

  “You have such a gift with words.”

  Grant grinned. “I try.”

  Montana looked up and down the street. There was little activity at two-thirty in the afternoon. Only at night did the area liven up. Sirens and loud music were the norm. He unfastened his gun holster and felt for the warrant. They’d been damn lucky to get one considering there was no evidence Michael had anything to do with the murders. “Remember what I said, we’re just talking to him.”

  “He’s not here.”

  “Maybe not. Come on.” They trudged up the rickety set of stairs leading to the building’s entrance. The once late nineteen twenties brownstone was now a painted over wreck, complete with graffiti in various neon colors. He opened the outer door and was hit by the sickening stench of too many people living in cramped quarters, along with a hint of marijuana. He heard a baby crying from one of the upper floors and at least two loud television sets. “What floor?”

  “Third. 3-B.”

  He nodded as they took the stairs two at a time. Glancing up at the stairwell, he could sense eyes were on them. They were dead giveaways for cops. When they reached Michael’s apartment, he flanked one side, Grant the other. While he had no indication that the man was violent, his gut told him to be cautious. He issued three hard knocks. “Michael Johnson?”

  Wham!

  The loud thud came from an upper floor. An indication they’d indeed been made.

  Grant sighed. “Police. We just want to talk with you.”

  Montana knocked again then tried the door handle. “All right, let’s go. Doubt there’s a super living in the building.” Breaking the lock took little effort, the wooden casing splitting with a single shove. He held his gun in both hands and took a cautious step inside, scanning the perimeter.

  “Guy needs a decorator. Early Salvation Army in tweed isn’t today’s look,” Grant mused and took several steps inside.

  “Yeah, well we all have burdens.” He eased further into the middle of the room, turning in a full circle as he listened for any telltale signs of any presence. The room was sparse, a single couch, chair and television complete with a stand that had seen better days. A blanket and pillow was dumped on the end of the couch. A kitchen was nothing more than a gallery. Every surface was covered with dishes and take out cartons. Hearing nothing, he moved toward the two doors. The bathroom was small and no indication of a recent visit. “Sink’s dry.”

  “This has to be the bedroom.” Grant nodded toward the closed door. He tried the handle, opening slowly and kicking the door with his foot. “Holy shit. Winner, winner, chicken dinner.”

  Montana followed his partner, narrowing his eyes as he walked into the room. There was no bed and no dresser. Instead, the two six-foot tables were covered in computers, stacks of paper and photographs. Four bulletin boards were covered in newspaper articles as well as additional vivid photos. He didn’t need to read the headlines to know what had been highlighted. “The murders.”

  “Would you look at these? What is this guy?” He slipped his gun into his holster and closed the distance, studying the splash of information pinned to the cork boards.

  “Very organized. Methodical.” Every picture had a date and time. The articles seemed to be in chronological order. Every image depicted a crime scene, as if a killer had taken the pictures.

  “I think we have our murderer.”

  “Not so fast,” Montana whispered. He glanced down at the workspace, registering the materials. Michael had captured every detail of the recent murders. There were files with names, some he recognized easily. Others were new. Then he noticed an old newspaper article from the year before. “Shit. Look at this.”

  “The weatherman from last year. A bit telling. Don’t you think, partner?”

  Montana could only nod as his darted back and forth across the array of photographs and newspaper clippings.

  “Looks like a methodology of murder to me. Shit. Take a look at this. Is this a list of people he’s gonna kill?” His tone incredulous, Grant lifted the notepad. “Mark Ramos, Candace Williams, Maria Sanchez, Jenna Gammons, Donna Walker and…” His voice trailed off.

  “What?” He hit the space bar on a laptop. There were no files open. Clicking on the Internet, he immediately went to the browser. Strangulation Deaths. Breath Play. Knife Play. He shuddered and glanced back toward the bulletin boards.

  “I think this is a kill list. Guess who’s on the list.”

  Montana shot him a look, hearing the odd tone in his partner’s voice. “Who?”

  He looked up, swallowing hard. “Dr. Destiny Blade.”

  Exhaling, he looked around the room. “Call it in. I think we need to make certain we pick Michael up. If there are other names, find them. I have a bad feeling about this.” He glanced from one photo to the next. No one but the killer could know the details of the murders. Jerking out his phone he groaned.

  “Dr. Blade?”

  Montana nodded. “She was right all along.”

  “You’ve reached Dr. Destiny Blade. I’m away from my phone. If you’d like to leave a message…”

  “Damn it,” he hissed, ending the call. As he studied the various photographs, the majority shot from close range, a cold chill trickled down his spine. The end game was near and he had no doubt who the next victim would be.

  CHAPTER 19

  “You have an admirer,” Mistress Jade stated.

  The words were crisp, sharp and without any emotion. Perhaps the concept was unwanted. Destiny shut down her office computer and glared at her watch. Her last appointment had run long – too long. She was exhausted and cranky, her nerves on edge. “Meaning?”

  “Oh come now. Seems Master Sampson is extremely interested in you.”

  “Master Sampson?” She narrowed her eyes and grabbed her purse from her desk drawer. Of course, Christopher Worth’s club name.

  “You are well aware of who I’m talking about. He’s offered ten thousand dollars for a night with you.”

  Destiny heart the chuckle in the Mistress’ voice. Why would any Dom find her intriguing? “Ten thousand dollars?”

  “One night. Nothing held back. I tried to tell him that you weren’t ready, however he insisted.”

  “When?”

  “Tonight.”

  Her mouth dry, she leaned against her desk. After her lunch date with Chris, she wasn’t entirely certain she wanted to see him again. Perhaps ‘want’ wasn’t the correct word. She had the distinct feeling the man had a hidden agenda. “I’m sorry but I’m busy tonight.”

  “I was very clear in my direction when I hired you. Was I not?” Mistress Jade asked then exhaled. “He is one of our best clients. If you want to continue working for me, you will change your plans. Obedience is necessary. Do you understand what I’m saying to you, Skyler?”

  She walked to her office door and turned off the lights, closing and locking before bothering to answer. “Yes. I understand.” Obedience. The word was terrifying as well as chilling.

  “Excellent. I’ll text you the particulars. Do not disappoint me as you did before. There are no additional second chances.”

  The call was ended and Destiny shook her head. She leaned against the wall and debated her reasons for going at all. Detective Givens didn’t want her help. Michael was AWOL. She was in over her head and had no understanding of a true BDSM lifestyle. Yep. She was out of her freaking mind, but she could still taste his lips. His scent lingered on her clothes. The commanding manner in which he studied her was all consuming. She brushed her fingers across her lips, trembling as she thought about the kiss. He wanted her – her. She smiled and pushed second guessing out of her mind. “One night,” she whispered, as if convincing herself.

  Exhaling, she stood tall, tossed her hair behind her shoulders and walked toward the building’s entrance. The sun was setting but the orange and fuchsia infused hue was bright enough she winced as she walked outside, glancing at her surroundings. Given the nature of the other businesses in her building, there were few other cars in the parking lot at almost six. She’d planned on a hot bubble bath and wine, not an evening with a Master. Ten thousand dollars. The money was good, but the reason for his request gnawed at her stomach. Who was the game player? She laughed. That was the question indeed.

  I will own you…

  The words lingered, burying into the deep recesses in her mind. As she headed for her car, she heard the blip of a text coming through. She waited until she’d crossed the parking lot before looking at the details. She wasn’t familiar with the street address but time was certainly of the essence. She had two hours in which to be at his home, prepared for a night’s stay. Irritated, she shoved the phone in her purse and yanked out her car keys. What the hell was she going to wear? Why was she doing this? The questions heightened her level of anxiety.

  Blink! Tink!

  Instantly the hairs stood up on the back of her neck. She swallowed hard then chastised her concern. Who was going to here, waiting for her? Some boogeyman who knew exactly when she was leaving for the day? Right. Very slowly she turned around. There was no one in sight. There were dozens of cars going in both directions on the street. There was nothing to worry about.

  Destiny opened the car door and could swear she felt a hot breath settle on her cheek. Shifting, she glanced over her shoulder and craned her neck. She blinked in an effort to focus given the distance. There was a man standing on the opposite side of the street, his hands in his pockets, his gaze directed toward her. Unable to make out any details, she took several steps forward. “Michael?” The single word seemed to echo. She took several additional steps forward. Yes, he was there, watching her. Through the zooming cars and no matter how far away he was, she could see how dark and cold his eyes were, his expression bleak and full of rage. Was she imagining the visit? No, he was following her, goading her but why? The club? The Master? Or the murders? She had a terrible feeling the latter. Mesmerized, she continued forward.