“I’m sorry, doctor, but this couldn’t wait. There’s a detective on the line asking about one of your patients.” Gina’s face was pensive.

  “A detective?”

  Gina nodded.

  “Which patient?”

  “The detective refused to tell me anything.”

  She closed the door and leaned against the wall, holding her arms. “Is he on hold?”

  “No. I finally told him to bug off,” Gina chuckled. “He’s a tenacious motherfucker.” She slapped her hand over her mouth. “I’m sorry. He called three times and I quite frankly was sick of his attitude. However, he seemed adamant about the need to speak with you. He gave me his number and said its urgent you call him immediately.”

  Destiny inhaled. Every man seemed to have some urgent demand. “It’s okay. I understand.” She glanced at her watch. “I’m almost finished with my session anyway. Does this detective have a name?”

  “Montana Givens. I wrote down his number for you.” Gina handed her a folded note.

  “Interesting.” She grabbed the piece of paper. For some reason she remained nervous. Why would a detective need to talk with her so badly? Her gut told her his request had something to do with Michael. “All right. I’ll finish with Michael and lock up. Go home. We’ve had a long week.”

  “Thanks. I actually have a date tonight.” Gina winked. “Let’s just hope he’s not another dud.”

  “You go, girl. Details. I want details.”

  “Of course.”

  She waited until Gina walked away before taking a quick glance at the number. Mr. Detective would have to wait. When she opened the door, she closed her eyes. “Michael. Let’s finish this up and I think we really need to schedule another meeting early next week. What do you think?” Opening her eyes, she scanned the perimeter of her office.

  Michael had disappeared. A cold breeze floated through the room. She looked at the open window and groaned. While her office was only on the second story, the fact he’d jumped out the window meant he was close to the edge. She was going to have to think seriously about having him committed, even for further evaluation.

  I’ve done things. Bad things…

  “Jesus.” She walked toward the banks of windows, peering outside. There was no sign of him. She gazed up at the full moon and for a few seconds could swear she saw her mystery lover watching her from the parking lot.

  “You need wine.” The sound of her voice wasn’t comforting.

  Only after closing and locking the window did she breathe a sigh of relief, but terror remained, gorging like a hunger feeding on her very soul.

  Soon you’re going to belong to me…

  CHAPTER 3

  Detective Montana Givens glared at his phone, willing the call to come through. The doctor had to have answers. Destiny Blade was the single connection to the ridiculous bullshit he was dealing with. This wasn’t a case. This was a massacre.

  He needed a break, a clue of any freaking kind. After a few seconds he tossed down his phone, exhaling as he sat back in his seat. He swirled in his chair before gazing down at the blood and gore. The pictures called to him and he was unable to take his eyes off the horrors presented in vicious fashion. “Fucker.” He’d seen plenty of shit in his day, murderers torturing their victims in indescribable methods. This… This was something entirely different.

  He pressed his finger over the vivid image flashing across the screen on his iPad, moving from one to the next. The photographs told no lies. In his mind, he knew the kills were purposeful and meant to entice the police department, if not the Press. There was no fucking way he was going to allow the blatant overtures toward a madman out into the public. Still, television crews would no doubt be clamoring for additional information, the gorier the better.

  The last few nights had been a whirlwind of chasing his tail. Various ‘sources’ had turned out to be duds and little else. Or they were lying. Or afraid. He had zero clues why someone had homed in on patrons of the night scene, but the concept was clear. Those involved in the BDSM community were being specifically targeted, ceremoniously hunted down and slaughtered. There was no other word for the carnage splashed in detail. He feared Richmond had a monster on their hands.

  “Were you able to get the doctor on the phone?”

  He glanced at his partner of ten years, an intense craving for his recently ceased bad habit furrowing into his gut. Damn, he needed a cigarette. Grant Miller’s voice was raspy, the tone husky from too many late-night cigarettes and booze, enough to drown out the voices that no doubt remained. His partner generally took their ridiculous cases in stride. This particular investigation had thrown them both into their own personal nightmares. “Unavailable.”

  “You need to make her available,” Grant stated as he sat on the edge of Montana’s desk.

  “Yeah, I know. I have her address. I plan on going by her place after the shift.” As if they worked a typical nine to five. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d had an actual day off. No wonder his first two marriages had ended in divorce after only three or so years. Few women could stand for his long hours, constant need to look over his shoulder and danger infused in every aspect of his life.

  “I talked to the medical examiner. Death by strangulation is the official statement.”

  Montana flipped to another picture, studying the cuts and bruises encapsulating every inch of the victim’s skin. “After hours or days of sheer torture.”

  “True. Crandell mentioned blood loss and disembowelment. What a horrific way to die.”

  “The poor fucker was alive during every moment.”

  “Yep. Monsters live amongst us.” Grant shook his head. “The world is going to Hell in a hand basket.”

  “Society and humanity have been high jacked by those craving their fifteen minutes of fame.” Entitlement. Montana loathed the concept. He remained quiet as he studied the photos. There was a single connection with the two deaths, Dr. Destiny Blade. “The records for the two patients won’t be unsealed that easily. If ever.” He hated the bullshit around doctor-patient confidentiality. Walter Crandell was methodical in his examinations, but the mental piece was needed to draw any realistic conclusions as to reason – if there were any. Maybe the victims were in the wrong place at the wrong time. His cop instinct told him otherwise. They wouldn’t be able to keep the story from the press much longer.

  “They’re dead. What reason will she have to keep them under doctor patient confidentiality?” Grant huffed.

  “I don’t know, but I doubt she’s going to want to divulge basic conversations. I’m not certain they’ll matter anyway. There is no other connection between the two victims. Mark Ramos, for all practical purposes, was a homebody, preferring gardening to going out into the party zone, especially BDSM.”

  “Hey, we all have our kinks!”

  Montana shot him a look. “Generally, men in their late fifties have passed the midlife crises point. Besides, he had a solid reputation in town given his position as a professor at the University of Richmond teaching criminology. He had no record, not even a parking ticket.”

  “And you and I know men grow bored. He’d been divorced for what, ten years?”

  “Twelve. So he was a loner. That doesn’t mean he’s going to automatically gravitate towards the dark and kinky side of sex.” His skin itched. His head was pounding. He’d spent the last twenty-four hours attempting to learn about the elusive world of secretive BDSM clubs. No one wanted to talk to a detective, even when one of their own had been brutally murdered. “His father was a Sergeant in the department. He was a police officer for three years before deciding to become a teacher.”

  “Yeah? So his dad was a cop. Shit, I don’t know. The lure of easy sex, a few whips and chains seems pretty damn attractive to me,” Grant scoffed. He finished his cup of coffee and groaned. “It’s time for a beer. Why don’t we go grab a couple? We can’t do anything more until the official statement is released. Besides, the crime scene investigators haven’t completed detailing the last kill.”

  Montana shook his head. “I’m hoping Dr. Blade will return my call sooner versus later. I’d like to interview her so I can finish my report.”

  “You may be dreaming, dude, but I hear you.”

  He peered down at the darkened picture of the disfigured body of the second victim. Her long blonde hair was matted with coagulated blood, her eyes open in vapid terror. Her torso was twisted, no doubt her spine snapped in two. Whatever horrors the girl had experienced before her death, was evident from her expression, one of sheer terror. “Is anyone from the clubs talking?”

  “Talking? Not a single person admitted to seeing either one of our victims at any of the kink clubs or even on the street.” Grant glanced down at the pictures. “The hand stamp on Ramos is definitely from a kink club, but nobody’s saying a word. The girl? No idea. No one has ID’d the body yet. Maybe she’s a club member of Noir.”

  “Club Noir? Exclusive club, one catering to various acts of kink.”

  “You know the place?” Grant asked as he winked.

  Montana shrugged. “I know of it. Remember the bust we made about a year ago, the kid who’d run away from home?”

  “Vaguely. That sounds like half the cases we work, brother.”

  “The girl was two days shy of her twenty-first birthday. She woke up next to a john, his bloody corpse had been decapitated.”

  “Oh yeah. How the hell could I forget? You think this is the same guy after all this time?” Grant asked. He took a step back and shook his head. “The young lady was never the same. That I do remember.”

  “No one could be,” Montana said quietly. The case had infiltrated his sleep, demons calling to him, guiding him toward a darkness he’d never wanted to see again. Sucking in his breath, he could trace the slaughtered girl’s haunted face in the picture. The killer was a monster.

  “If I remember correctly, the john was some newscaster from Channel Twelve.”

  “Weatherman with a wife and three kids.”

  Grant exhaled. “You think the cases connect?”

  “That I don’t know.”

  “Detective Givens?”

  He’d never be able to forget the past or the horrors he’d seen. Through his nearly twenty years in the department, Montana had seen his share of nasty crimes, but the heinous methods in which the last two victims were mutilated would forever give him nightmares.

  “Detective Givens?”

  Grant pushed his arm. “What’s up, Marla?”

  “There’s a call. A Jade Deveneaux?” Marla’s voice seemed nervous.

  Montana forced himself to look away from the wretched pictures. Very interesting. “And?”

  “She asked to speak with you. She said she has some information about the recent murder. She said you’d want to talk with her.”

  Looking up at Grant, Montana smiled. “I’ll take the call.” Finally a break. As he stood his body swayed, a myriad of visions sweeping into the back of his mind. He rubbed his eyes, pain settling into his temples.

  You’ll never catch the murderer. Never!

  This was nothing but a test, one he was no longer certain he could survive.

  “I’m certain you’ll approve. She’s exactly what you asked for, sir.”

  “I’ll be the judge. Bring her to me.” Christopher Worth fingered the glass, studying the prisms of cut crystal, imaging the next few hours. He’d paid good money to secure a submissive for the night. The club understood his needs. Club Noir knew his tastes. They hadn’t failed him yet. Unfortunately, his usual selection had disappeared. He’d suspected she’d realized he was a sadist with a penchant for the extreme. Few women could tolerant his merciless tendencies, fewer still time spent in his playroom. He merely glanced at Ryan, a minion in the club’s employ and nothing else. The young man’s face was far too eager, as if the pudgy young man had become infatuated with the game at hand. Then again, he was once such a creature. No longer. Now he was nothing more than a beast.

  Chuckling, he took a sip of his whiskey, savoring the flavor. The club offered the finest in entertainment as well as the most superb liquor. He eased back in his seat, taking a puff of his cigar.

  “Yes, sir. Would you like to meet the chosen submissive here or in your stateroom?”

  The chosen submissive. As if the woman was nothing more than a commodity. He gazed at the diminutive man, studying his features. The club had managed to secure staff who simply faded into the woodwork, men and women who were born to serve, but certainly couldn’t withstand any aspect of BDSM. Still, finding those who knew their place was yet another draw. “Allow me to see how she interacts with the crowd. I’m in no hurry.”

  “As you wish, sir.”

  He enjoyed toying with the women who had no clue what he was capable of. For many, their flirting nature was intriguing. At least at first. For others, he grew bored instantly, shoving them aside. Tonight? He was very hungry. A warm body with masochistic desires would do. A full minute passed by. He studied the crowd, always curious as to why men of power and influence needed such a club. He laughed softly. They all wanted the same thing; the ability to take and use what conservative and upstanding vanilla wives refused to offer. Men were nothing more than primal animals.

  “Christopher Worth.” Her sultry voice oozed sex appeal.

  “Mistress Jade. You rarely make an appearance in your own club.” Christopher turned to look at the long-legged blond, admiring her beauty. While the woman had to be in her fifties, she was the epitome of a fine specimen. Jade Devereaux was also formidable in her own right. As the co-owner of the club, as well as caterer to special services, she controlled her environment with an iron fist. Girls who refused to comply to her strict rules simply disappeared. ‘Wanna-be-Doms’, as she called them, were banished without question.

  Laughing, she dragged the tips of her nails down his cheek before easing in front of him. “My business keeps me in various locations.”

  “Mmm… Always the mystery.”

  “As you are. We’ve missed you. Are you here for something special this evening?”

  He darted his eyes around the perimeter. “Business has kept me away. I’m here for entertainment. I’m in need of enlightened sensations, nothing more.”

  “Always the enigmatic poet.” Mistress Jade shook her head, a smile curling in the corner of her mouth. “Of course. Your particular requirements are brutal. I’m certain the staff has selected accordingly, although I’m not positive anyone can truly meet your desires adequately.”

  “You never mince words.”

  “I can’t afford to. However, I’m confident we can satisfy your every need,” she purred before glancing around the room.

  She seemed nervous, which surprised him. The woman was cold by nature, strict in every way, including with her emotions.

  “Would you care to have a drink with me?” He knew the answer.

  Jade gave him an awkward smile. “Thank you, but I’ll have to take a rain check. If you’ll forgive me, I have pressing business to attend to. Enjoy your evening and please let me know if your needs aren’t satisfied. I expect full cooperation from all my girls.”

  “Thank you and I have no doubt I’ll be pleased.”

  Jade hesitated. Folding her arms, she leaned in. “For our incredibly special clients I have a service you might enjoy. I only offer this to our avid supporters.”

  Avid supporters. This was a pseudonym for those who would keep their mouths shut at all times. “Do tell,” he stated without inflection. He didn’t need to be stroked.

  “A submissive for hire, no matter where or when. She will be able to provide you total control. You can indulge in your darkest fantasies.”

  While the service sounded much more like hiring a prostitute, he had to admit he was intrigued. Services had certainly improved. “I’ll consider.”

  “You have my private number. Don’t hesitate.”

  He looked into her eyes. She seemed tired, as if the business had taken a personal toll. “You know I won’t.”

  She nodded in appreciation before slipping into the crowd.

  The consummate professional, he’d admired Jade for the two decades they’d known each other, even pursuing a short-lived relationship. He remembered the passionate time fondly. Her offer was interesting. She knew him inside and out, his growing requirements.

  Out of the corner of his eye he noticed a stunning redhead, her body voluptuous. He was drawn to her as she moved through the crowd, her eyes settling on him, even in the darkness. His cock instantly swelled. He polished off his drink and turned away. She was nothing to him. Nothing. However, her body would mark well.

  Mere seconds later he was able to detect the scent of her perfume, musky in nature. His cock twitching, he shifted in his seat.

  “I belong to you, Sir.”

  Her sultry voice was even in tone. Christopher didn’t need to twist his head in order to know she’d already submitted. She was well paid after all. “Get down on your knees. Suck my cock.” In any other club or with any other woman, he’d have heard a gasp.

  She dropped to her knees, pushing his legs apart. Her hands worked to free his aching shaft, the tips of her fingers swirling over his cockhead. Saying nothing, she rubbed down the length of his throbbing cock, cupping his balls.

  “Would you like another drink, sir?” Ryan asked as he appeared at Christopher’s side.

  “Yes, I believe I would.” Christopher handed him the empty glass and breathed in.

  “Of course, sir.”

  He waited until the servant had walked away before gazing down at the lovely woman. “What’s your name?”

  “Ginger,” she purred and slathered her tongue down the underside of his cock, blowing hot air across his testicles.