Chapter 22
LEGION
I ’ve steered clear of Puppet for the most part.
If he’s truly gained any tactical wisdom over the years while in observance of my cunning, he’d be surveilling her in anticipation of my eventual return.
He’s witnessed her self-inflicted tethering to me firsthand, and if they are in contact, there might very well be evidence in her phone. Perhaps even a burner.
The Raunch Ranch is short-staffed tonight, all hands on deck—or dick— conveniently leaving the girls’ dressing room vacant. Though the back door had been locked, it posed no obstacle. I stealthily slipped inside the cluttered space.
Now inside, I glance around. The closet is overstuffed with skimpy costumes, lingerie, and platformed heels. I cautiously step over a few articles of clothing, maneuvering closer to the several vanity mirrors lined up along the walls.
I have no fucking idea which disorderly station belongs to Puppet, but time is of the essence.
I scan each vanity quickly and spot a business card tucked into the frame of one of the mirrors.
The familiar logo of a fox brings a smile to my face, and I hurriedly rummage through drawers full of makeup, half-empty perfume bottles, and feminine hygiene products.
Her purse is in the bottom drawer, and I riffle through the contents as well, producing her cellphone and wallet.
While committing the new address on her license to memory, I wait for the cellphone to power on, only to discover it is password-protected or requires a fingerprint scan to access the contents.
Puppet isn’t stupid, and I won’t risk a wrong guess resulting in the device storing my photo after a failed attempt.
Another plan quickly forms in my mind as I place everything back the way I found it.
I had every intention of investigating her home as well, anyway…
And I’ve got a few hours to make use of before her shift ends.
S he doesn’t spot me lingering in the shadows beyond the floodlights in her parking lot.
I’ve cautiously inspected the area for any sign of outside surveillance.
It’s not a high-end apartment complex by any means.
The only cameras are set up in the community gym and laundry room attached to the rental office at the front of the complex.
I didn’t spot anything hidden within the trees bordering her building, which is nestled on the far end of the property.
Perhaps he isn’t watching her as closely as I would be.
Ah, well, it’s always better to overestimate an enemy.
I watch her ascend the stairs to her corner apartment on the third story. She enters and shuts the door behind her. Lights turn on and glow through the curtains of her two front windows, but they aren’t sheer enough to distinguish what she’s doing through them, especially not from this angle.
I remain seated on the picnic table between two buildings across the lot and light up another cigarette. Time will tell if she’s expecting a late-night visitor.
It isn’t long before the lights turn off in the front room.
I glance at the time on my phone. It’s three in the morning.
Perhaps she isn’t expecting anyone. I grab the bouquet I picked up at an all-night grocery on the way here and move to the back of her building.
The lights emanating through the balcony doors cut off as well.
My que. I make my way up the two flights of stairs to her door.
Tucking the flowers behind my back, I press her doorbell and wait.
The only way I’m gaining access tonight is if she believes I’m here to make some sort of amends. She left after our woodland tryst beyond pissed.
The lights in her front room flick on, and the door opens. She’s wearing a robe and a scowl. I find myself not having to force a smile at her disgruntled expression.
“What the fuck do you want?” she snaps.
“When last we parted, I was under the distinct impression you did not enjoy our little riverside romp .”
She folds her arms but says nothing. Silence stretches on between us. It appears I will have to be the one to break it.
“Did you know The Four Seasons concerti are based on four poems written by Antonio Vivaldi?”
She only continues to scowl at me, eyes further narrowing with deep suspicion.
The unfriendly expression slips, however, when I present her with the bouquet of bright flowers.
In all honesty, they’re quite tacky. However, I discarded the plastic cardette pick that declared Happy birthday!
As well as the couple of ridiculous picks topped with glittery fake balloons.
It is not her birthday, and this gesture is simply a means to an end.
I force another smile. “You once reminded me of spring.”
She accepts them with lingering apprehension. “That might be the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.” She drops her gaze to admire them. At least the colorful arrangement appears to be getting the job done.
I shrug off her comment. “Unfortunately, I cannot recall La Primavera in its entirety. There is a line, though… One that stands out to me. I believe it had something to do with spring meadow flowers…and sleeping beside a faithful dog.”
“ A faithful dog ? Did you just insinuate what I think you…”
“It’s just a poem.”
“If you’re going to rely on poetry to keep me from slamming this door in your face, how about reciting one along the lines of an apology for the way you treated me the other night.”
I cock my chin at the flowers. “ Acta non verba ,” I reply, but she only blinks, unamused. “No dice? Well, let’s see what I can come up with right here on the spot.”
She quirks an inquisitive brow and waits patiently.
I pull in a deep breath and let it out on a slow sigh, buying myself a moment to conjure up a silly rhyme out of thin fucking air.
One would think dabbling in dark arts would lend to the practice of reciting poetic words on the spot, but my true talents lie elsewhere.
“Alright, here goes… Bear in mind that should you laugh at me, I shall rescind the gesture and promptly depart.”
Her lips press together in a tight line, stifling a smile, then she gestures for me to proceed. I note the hopeful anticipation in her hazel eyes.
“Do not be distant with me… Do not be angry with… Sincerest apologies offered…with this gift of verse and wit .” I bow sardonically, then straighten to find her having lost the battle against her grin.
“You’re an asshole,” she says.
“I’m aware. Satisfied?”
“ Not lately ,” Puppet taunts with an inviting smirk, then turns and walks back into her apartment, leaving the door ajar. I step inside and close it behind me.
“I’m going to put these flowers in some water. Fix us a drink. There’s a decanter set on the minibar,” she instructs. “Make yourself comfortable.”
Well, that was easier than I anticipated.
I make my way over to the crystal decanter and matching glassware and pour us both some whisky.
After glancing back to make sure she’s still preoccupied with her flowers, I remove one of the capsules of Rohypnol I stole from Jonathan Peirce’s safe.
Quickly cracking it over her drink, I shove the casing back in my pocket and stir her drink with my pinky until the powder completely dissolves.
“I’m not going to bother asking how you found me,” she says, sauntering back to me. “I am curious why you did, though.”
I hand her the glass, then take a sip from my own.
She follows suit.
“I’m curious myself as to the motive behind your continued residence in North Carolina.”
“I knew you’d be back.”
I lift the glass to my lips and swallow the remaining whisky. “Have you procured yourself a new Master?”
“No.”
“A sponsor?”
“I’ve already told you, no.” There is an odd sort of hope in her searching eyes.
I allow whatever this emotion ebbing within her to stew while I study her.
Even if she is in bed with Reaper, Puppet remains a desirable woman.
Voluptuous… Obedient… So eager to please despite all I’ve subjected her to.
Has she truly lingered all this time in wait for me?
The suspicion of an ulterior motive still rings true in my mind. It is, after all, in her nature.
“What?” Heightening anxiety laces her questions. “I can see your mind working. What is it? Why have you come to me? Are you alright?”
I refrain from scoffing at her concern, though she remains observant enough to sense the doubt I harbor about her sincerity.
“ Damien…”
“Finish your drink.”
Acquiescent, she downs the glass, and I reward her prompt compliance with a slight, contented smile. “ Come to me.”
I take her glass as she steps closer to me and place it beside mine on the bar.
I’ve got twenty or so minutes before the effects of the drug begin to overtake her.
The alcohol should enhance and hasten her impending loss of inhibition and, soon after, sedation.
She’ll barely remember a single moment between us tonight.
Still, there’s no sense in wasting time covertly questioning her.
It won’t matter what she says. Our torrid past renders it impossible for me to trust anything she says.
All the answers I seek must lie somewhere within her humble abode.
I gently wrap my fingers around her throat as she tilts her chin upward, granting me better access.
“I can’t seem to purge you from my mind…” I trail my touch lower and softly caress her clavicle.
Her heated gaze remains fixed on my expression while my hand slips beneath her robe at her shoulder.
Her smooth skin is as heated as her hungry stare.
She doesn’t require another verbal command.
Puppet unties the garment, then rolls her shoulders free of the Terry cloth, allowing it to slip from her body and fall at her feet on the carpet.