Chapter 15
15
I nara
I come awake with a gasp, surrounded by the scent of jasmine. I’m lying face down in a large, soft bed. The room is dark, and large curtains are drawn over the window.
He carried me here. Tucked me in. In my mind’s eye, I see him watching over me, the shadow of a smile on his mouth.
I will always watch over you.
He brought me to a hotel room, much nicer than any hotel room I’ve been in before, judging by the brocade on the fine coverlet. The sky-blue fabric matches the textured wallpaper.
On the bedside table, there’s a vaseful of vines with dark, glossy leaves and yellow blossoms not yet unfurled. That’s where the smell of jasmine is coming from.
I grope for the phone and mash the button that says Concierge.
“Good morning, Ms. Ramos.”
Is it morning? I squint through the vines at the alarm clock. It is, just barely.
“What can I do for you?” the concierge prompts politely.
“Where am I?”
“Hotel Magnifique.” He names a premier hotel I’ve never even stepped foot in because I can’t afford to breathe the lobby air.
“Um. . .” I reach for the clock as if it will give me answers and almost knock over the flowers. I need to get it together. The concierge sounds so formal. I feel the need to reciprocate. “What time is checkout?”
“Any time you prefer. Do you wish to leave today? The room is reserved for you indefinitely.”
“What?” I abandon all hope of getting it together.
“Your stay is complimentary. Courtesy of the owner.”
“Owner?”
“Roy Enterprises.”
That shouldn’t mean anything to me until I remember. . . Roy, as in Rex Roy. Of course.
Smug bastard, giving me the perfect scene and then checking me into the fanciest hotel in the city. A fancy hotel he owns. He can’t resist flaunting his wealth.
I run my hand over the soft coverlet. This is the most comfortable bed I’ve ever slept in.
I’m going to take care of you. . .
“Shall I send up some breakfast?” the concierge asks.
“Let me guess, it’s also included in the room.”
“Of course, madam.”
“Yeah, sure, whatever. I mean, thank you.” I hang up so I don’t make more of a fool of myself.
I try to sit up, and my body screams at me. Delicious pain shoots from my raw skin, warming me through. He worked me over so well. My pussy purrs with satisfaction, remembering.
Every moment was perfect.
My feelings are amorphous, floating through me. Confusion. And the start of some warm fuzzies. I squash them.
I need to focus.
I grab my phone. It’s almost noon here, so it’s earlier in California. Mina probably won’t be awake. Then again, I’m not sure she lives in California. We’ve only communicated by phone or online. She’s like me, transient, floating outside the confines of society.
I text her anyway.
Call me.
My phone buzzes right away, and I answer. “Mina?”
“I’m here.” Her voice is raspier than usual against a backdrop of thrumming trance music.
“Are you up early, or did you never go to bed?
“What do you think?”
“Never mind, I don’t need to know. I need info on someone. And I want to know everything. I need you to dig.”
“Got it.” Her fingers clatter on the keyboard. “Who’s the subject?”
“Rex Roy.” Just his name makes me set my teeth. Smug, sadistic asshole.
The clatter stops. “The billionaire? Tech genius?” There’s an admiring note in her voice, and not many people impress Mina.
“Roy Enterprises. He owns the company.”
“He owns a lot more than that. Well, his parents did, and when they died, he inherited it. He took their fortune and expanded it ten times over. He’s closer to trillionaire than billionaire now.”
I sort through the information. “His parents died?”
“Dude, yes. It was the story of the decade for a while. He’s famously an orphan.”
I wince. The image of a boy comes to mind—dark hair, mouth set like it will never again know a smile. It’s a fleeting vision, gone before I can grasp it.
I know what it’s like to be a famous orphan.
“Why do you need to know about him? Is he a suspect?”
“Not officially. I just. . .” What can I say? I’ve scened with him—three times now. And he’s the dom of my dreams and my nightmares. He’s toying with me. Stalking me.
He’s killed for me. If I’m right, he’s killed before that and will kill again.
“I met him. And I got a feeling.”
Mina knows about my feelings. I never explained, but after a few cases where my feelings led to clues that closed cases, she caught on.
“Done. I’ll have a prelim dossier to you in five hours.”
I sit for a moment, dreading the walk to the bathroom. I can feel the whip marks he gave me. So precise, so controlled.
A surge of desire takes my breath away. I close my eyes and slide my hand between my legs.
What do you want, Inara? Tell me, and I’ll do everything in my power to give it to you.
I saw you. I wanted you.
You’re beautiful.
Shame hits me. I’m masturbating to the thought of a suspect. And last night, I let him get me off and then some.
I’m here. I’m going to give you everything.
I’ve never come so hard.
How is it I’m so at ease in the arms of a killer?
My phone rumbles with a text. I reach for it, thinking it might be Mina asking for more information.
Sir: Did you sleep well?
I’m confused until I see the name of the person texting me. Sir . A tremor runs through me.
He put himself in my phone and had the gall to name himself Sir .
Will you let yourself go, let yourself be mine?
I let myself succumb to him, submit to the fantasy. And now, in the cold morning light, I know the truth.
This is all a game. He knows how to draw me in.
My lungs twist, and it’s hard to breathe. Everything I’ve yearned for, he served up on a silver platter. But I am the one on the menu. My fear, my longing—delicacies to a sadist like him.
The question is, why? Why is he doing this?
I enjoy hunting. And you are the perfect prey. Damn him.
The ceiling and corners of the room hold nothing but white crown molding. No cameras. Is he watching me, even now? Or did the concierge report to him?
He’s rich enough to afford both tech and spies and smart enough to remain ten steps ahead.
He hacked my phone. I should block him.
But no. His number is data, and I can use data to build a case.
I need to stay calm. Logical. I need all my faculties focused and firing if I’m going to beat him.
And I will beat him. I don’t care if he’s the richest and best-prepared adversary I’ve gone after. No one is above the law. Justice comes for us all.
I enjoy hunting. And you are the perfect prey.
He’s about to find that this prey has teeth.
A knock on the door signals room service. I leap out of bed, ignoring the pain singing through me, and grab a bathrobe.
Breakfast is a smorgasbord. Coffee, tea, juice. Delectable little muffins with tiny pots of marmalade. Fluffy scrambled eggs. Enough food for three people and another vase with a sprig of jasmine.
While I eat, I use my phone to do some digging of my own. I won’t get as deep as Mina, who trolls the hellish depths of the dark web like a demon, but I have to do something. I need to know details about him like he knew about me.
He knew my dress size. And that jasmine is my favorite flower. I find that more disturbing than him knowing my past. About. . . Elyria.
I scroll through his Wikipedia page. Born a few years before me. Scion of the rich Roy family. They’re the sort of old money who can afford to have a family crest. Red and gold with a roaring lion. Like the lions on his cufflinks and the lions that adorned the straps of my dress.
He can’t help marking me in any way possible.
I fight the urge to snarl and scroll further. The article links to James and Mona Roy, Rex Roy’s parents, now deceased.
And now I remember the story. Two wealthy, respected New Rome citizens gunned down in an alley in front of their young son. It was the headline of every newspaper at the time.
They died a few years before the Bondage Killer came for my family.
He’s an orphan, like me. His parents were murdered—like mine. We were around the same age, too. Children trapped in a nightmare.
There’s a picture of the dark-haired boy he’d been standing beside the double grave. It’s sick what these reporters will do for a story. How they’ll photograph a ten-year-old and plaster his grief all over newspaper stands throughout the nation.
The headlines are familiar— Murder outside a movie theater. Rich Roys gunned down. Nightmare. No one is safe —and remind me of the ones from my hometown. Horrors in Elyria. Serial killer slays family. Small town under siege.
A wave of heat rushes over me. I drop my phone and press my hands against my eyes.
His voice comes to me. Breathe, little bird. I feel his weight on my chest. Grounding me. Keeping me present. His massive frame shadowing mine. Standing between me and the rest of the world. Keeping me safe.
My phone rings. Sir calling. A smile touches my lips, defying the pain in my heart. I dash a hand at my eyes and answer.
“You didn’t reply to my text.” His voice is deep and gentle. A little chiding.
I grip my phone tighter. I don’t know why. I should be throwing it across the room. My heart beats painfully in my chest.
“Little bird? What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.” I wipe my eyes.
“Do you need me?” There are sounds of movement in the background. “I’ll come to you.”
“No,” I choke out. “Please. I need. . . space.”
“All right.” His voice is so soft. How am I having a moment with him? I should be fighting this, but right now, his voice is steadying, anchoring me.
“Do you like the room?” He’s distracting me.
It’s gorgeous. “It’s passable.” A chuckle. He knows I’m lying. “I prefer to be in my own place. Unfortunately, it’s still a crime scene because someone murdered a man and dumped the body there.” Instead of scolding him, it sounds like I’m sharing a secret. Something special for only the two of us.
“How inconsiderate. I hoped a stay at the Magnifique would make amends. The room should have everything you need—check the closet.”
Curiosity has me off the bed. I open the closet doors. . . and gasp.
The closet is filled with clothes. Designer jeans, cashmere sweaters, and glittering dresses on black velvet hangers.
“What is this?” I know without looking that everything is exactly my size.
“I told you I’m going to take care of you.”
My lungs seize. I lean against the wall, bending over to ease the pressure so I can breathe. “Why?”
“Because. . . I need to.”
“I don’t understand.”
“That makes two of us.” He sounds bemused. Like he’s still unraveling what we are to each other.
“I’m going to catch you.”
“I know, little bird. No one’s ever hunted me before. I’m looking forward to the chase.”
He ends the call, and the room tilts around me. If he happened to appear at this moment, I don’t know if I’d arrest him or run into his arms.
On a hunch, I head to the dresser and pull open a drawer. Lingerie—gorgeous and sexy. Luxurious satin and whisper-soft lace. The contents of a single drawer are worth more than my monthly rent.
The bathroom holds brand-new skincare, makeup palettes, and hair products in my favorite scent.
Behind the door, my bag is hanging up, and folded on a chair underneath is my change of clothes. And my boots, gleaming from a fresh polish.
He thought of everything.
My phone rings again. It’s Diego Silva.
“Silva?”
“Head’s up, Ramos. We just got an anonymous tip—a dead body was found in a warehouse. Another druggie skinhead stabbed to death. There’s evidence that he was held and tortured for several days. I wanted to warn you because they’re gonna want you to come in and identify him.”
“What? Why me?”
“He used to run with Joseph Daniels, the vic left on your doorstep. This new body might be the second perp who attacked you outside the bodega. He matches your description.”
“Got it.” Diego is doing me a favor, warning me about this. He’s promised to give me information, and so far, he’s more than come through. “Coming.” I hang up and take a faltering step as the room swirls around me.
Another dead body.
He touched you, little bird. No one touches what is mine.
The whole time Rex Roy has been stalking and scening with me, he’s also hunted my attackers. He sent me a dress and gave me a fairy tale night dancing in his arms. And all the while, he had my attacker in a warehouse. That makes three murders in the span of a few days. He is a psychopath. A serial killer.
“Oh my gods.” I cover my face with my hands to stop the world from spinning too fast.
You’re the only one who knows me.
I’m the only one who knows it’s him. The only one who can stop him.
If this were an ordinary case, I’d profile him. But with Rex, I’m eyeball to eyeball with the abyss, one step away from being sucked in.
I ignore the beautiful new clothes hanging in the closet and dress in my work clothes from yesterday. Freshly laundered, they feel brand new. Rex really did think of everything.
The fabric of my shirt holds a whiff of his cologne. He’s everywhere. Keeping me. Stalking me. Killing for me.
What have I gotten myself into?
On the way out, I realize my bag feels light. My wallet and things are still there, everything but my most treasured possession.
My sketchbook, with all the drawings I did of the crime scene, the killer, and the now-revealed mystery dom, is missing.
* * *
My wayward Swallow,
I watch you leave the hotel where you’ve recently made your nest. You look cold but determined.
You’ve done quite well for yourself at your job. I’ve discovered details about your past cases and spoken with a few of your colleagues. They speak of how you have superpowers. They are uneasy around you. They don’t deserve your genius.
Do they know how your powers awakened in the darkest night?
Or is that a secret only you and I share?
It pleases me that only you and I know the truth.
BK