Femme Fatale (Black Rose Book 2)

by Steele, Suzanne

  “Well, well, well, that didn’t take long did it? It looks like our guy has had charges brought against him for sexually harassing an employee. The charges were dropped when a settlement was agreed upon.”

  “Should we question the woman who accused him?”

  “It wouldn’t do any good. Most of the time, in cases of settlements like this, there is a gag order issued.”

  “So he paid her off and got the public record expunged.”

  “That’s exactly what he did. Men in the public eye will do anything to keep their lily white reputations intact.”

  “Why didn’t he just kill the woman rather than paying her off?”

  “I’m assuming because she had already gone to the police. He would have been the first one they looked at as a suspect.”

  “You don’t think she’ll talk to us?”

  “I don’t think she’ll want to lose that two million dollar settlement. I also don’t think she realizes her life is in danger. She’s the target we need to be following. Powerful men don’t forgive and forget; they get even. They may bide their time, but they always get even.”

  Chapter Six

  Charles

  I clamp my hand tightly around her throat, pinning her to the wall.

  “Do you think I don’t know you? You’re sexually excited by the thought of killing with me.”

  “I want that part of you none of those other groupies have had. Have you ever...”

  “Absolutely not! I love you. I would never sleep with another woman. I think we both know what would happen if you gave another man your attentions.”

  I can feel my cock hardening at not only the thought of her killing with me, but also in response to her jealousy after all these years of marriage.

  “You still excite me after all this time, probably even more so now than in the beginning.”

  My voice is a low threatening growl as the fingers on my free hand slide her panties over to reveal what I already know to be true; she is wet.

  “I love the way your body responds to me.”

  I pull her from the wall and lead her to the fainting couch adorning the sitting area in my office.

  Brushing her hair back from her ear, I lean in and whisper, “Turn around, bend over, and put your hands on the end of the couch. I don’t care what I do to you, those hands better not fucking move out of position.”

  Her only answer is a slight nod of her head to signify she heard my mandate before she moves to obey. I enjoy control, and in matters of the bedroom, I most definitely operate in command mode. She feeds off the dominance and darkness I provide, and I feed off her need for me.

  I loosen my belt, allowing my suit pants to fall around my ankles. I want her. I want to take her, to once again make her mine and brand her as my own. I want to leave my scent, my seed, and my mark of ownership on her.

  I run my hands over her ass, spreading her open and pulling the cheeks apart so I can view the glistening wetness of her opening. Her body never fails to respond to me.

  I groan as I push into her, feeling the initial tightness of her warm pussy around my hardness. It’s always the same—a soothing feeling of coming home, a sense of belonging like I am exactly where I need to be. If it were possible to crawl up inside her and possess her, I would.

  “Oh, you are mine. You will always be mine. Letting you go will never be an option.”

  “I don’t want to go. I love you.”

  “And I love you, my little vixen. Push back on my cock. Fuck me, baby girl.”

  Her hips rock, pushing back on me and taking me in from tip to root. She feels so good. Every time I reclaim her is better than the last. I will never tire of this woman, who holds not only my heart, but all my deepest and darkest secrets as well.

  “Touch yourself, babe.”

  As soon as her finger rolls over her hardened clit, her body immediately explodes, clenching tightly around me and pulsing in spasms that pull my essence from me. I can feel every single tremor in the walls of her tight little pussy—my tight little pussy—demanding every drop of my seed to fill and possess her. She is mine from the top of her head to the tips of her toes, and we both know it to be true. I lean down over her back so I can whisper one more mandate.

  "Get a good night’s sleep because tomorrow we start working together. It might be a good idea for you to take some time off. Working with me… well, let’s just say it’s going to be a full-time job.”

  Chapter Seven

  Melanie

  I’m standing at the counter making our lunches. The cooler full of drinks and the food I’ve made will provide us with snacks so my husband and I can do surveillance without interruption.

  “Are you ready?” I ask him, anxious and excited to get started.

  “That depends… did you do as I asked and make arrangements to take some time off work?”

  “Yes, I called early this morning.”

  “I would never ask you to quit work, but you know you don’t need the money.”

  “That’s not why I work; I took this job to give back.”

  “Ah yes, you’re a good Samaritan at heart. It’s one of the things I love about you.”

  “Yes, I have so many endearing qualities,” I tease as I take a moment to eye the man standing before me. He is just as handsome now as he was the day I married him. His copper colored hair, falling in tousled disarray around his face, and the tan he keeps year round combine to make him the perfect recipe for a playboy; thankfully, he is anything but.

  Today, he’s wearing jeans and a t-shirt with hiking boots. I’m dressed similarly in a comfortable ensemble. Neither of us cares to sit in a car all day long in dress clothes.

  “Grab the cooler and let’s go. My first stakeout! I have to say I am so excited!”

  “Well, this isn’t the most thrilling part of the job, but it’s a necessary evil.”

  “I’m sure I’ll do fine. I have you to talk to.”

  “Take your kindle because you may find yourself wanting to read. Stakeouts can be boring.”

  “How could I ever be bored when I’m with you?”

  We make our way out the door and to the SUV we’ll be taking. My husband has various cars for various facets of his work; he even has a van for abductions. I can’t help but be curious about what secrets we will uncover about the life of our unsuspecting target.

  Melanie

  I eye my partner in crime as we pull up in front of the suburban home of the woman who has basically gotten rich by accusing Richard Roundtree of sexual harassment. I’m a bit confused on why we’re here instead of out somewhere staking out the leader of the pack.

  “What are we doing here?”

  “This is the house of the woman who received the settlement.”

  “I thought we were going to spy on Richard Roundtree? He’s our target,” I interject, as if giving my statement validity.

  “Finding out whether or not her accusations were even true will help us ensure we aren’t killing an innocent man.”

  We watch as a woman in a bright yellow dress all but prances out the door and over to her black Mercedes. By all appearances, it looks as if our subject is living quite well due to her recent windfall. Now, the only question is if the man she accused is actually guilty. Everything in me screams gold digger when I look at her, and I don’t understand why I feel so let down. Why am I feeling disappointed at the thought of Richard Roundtree being innocent? I know the reason is because I want the bond that will develop by working together with my husband. Maybe he’s right about the shadows lurking in my soul. He’s the only person who has ever been able to make me see myself for who I really am. If he knew this about me, though, it makes me wonder why he waited all these years to reveal this vigilante, who’s been hiding in obscurity within me. Perhaps, somewhere in the back of his mind, he knew the day would come when I’d be working with him to clean up the streets. I push the thoughts out of my head, just for the mere fact that my husband isn’t a man who can be figured
out, not even by me. One thing is for sure; the agent who’s become intrigued with Black Rose certainly has his hands full. My husband is anything but an easy read.

  The woman we’re watching chats on her phone like she doesn’t have a care in the world as she pulls out of her driveway, unaware she is being followed by a killer. She appears oblivious to everything around her, busy enjoying the benefits only the privileged are accustomed to. Once again, I find myself hoping she hasn’t wrongfully accused Richard Roundtree. If she has, all of this will be for naught. Is she a gold digger? Is she merely a woman who saw an opportunity for advancement and used Richard’s high profile life against him? She strikes me as the kind of woman who wouldn’t hesitate to go for the jugular of a man who could give her the prestige only money can achieve. I’m not quite sure what it is about her that’s giving me that opinion, but I learned a long time ago to not question my instincts. Working in a hospital has taught me a hell of a lot about people in general. No matter what her motives were, by the time my husband and I get done stalking her and studying her habits, I’ll know more about the woman than she knows about herself. Even my husband acknowledges women pick up on things that men don’t see.

  Chapter Eight

  The Killer

  Standing over her body, with nothing but the pale moonlight falling over her visage as she sleeps in the hospital bed, is an aphrodisiac like none other. Knowing I have been able to sneak into her room without anyone’s knowledge feeds the darkness in me. I reach down, taking the pillow that’s been thrown to the side. Her head is resting on just the mattress alone, and she has failed to lay the adjustable hospital bed down flat. I wonder why. Perhaps the narcotics running through the IV in her arm have put her to sleep before she could lower it. I reach over with my gloved hand and press the button to release the allotted amount of drug into her system. I don’t want her waking up as I smother her. I want it to appear as if she peacefully died in her sleep, not killed at the hands of a murderer. Though she is well aware of my kidnapping escapades, she has no idea she’s pissed off a very prolific serial killer.

  My fingers clench tightly around the pillow, and I begin the process of taking away her breath, killing off the only witness to my crimes.

  “Hey, what are you doing in here?!”

  The voice behind me startles me, but I make no movement. I lay the pillow down, grateful for my large frame that hid my intentions from the nurse who entered the room unaware.

  “I’m sorry.”

  I turn and smile at the nurse with short brown hair, who’s eyeing me with suspicion. I continue speaking in an effort to win her over with the same charm I use on my unsuspecting TV viewers.

  “My flight arrived late, and I just couldn’t wait to see how the patient is doing.”

  “Are you family? How do you know her?”

  “I host a local TV program, and I had her on as a guest. She volunteers for a local soup kitchen.”

  “Well… like I was saying, it’s way past visiting hours, so you need to go.”

  Though I may have thwarted her initial skepticism, I can tell by her stance that she means business. Her hand is on her hip, and she’s shooting me an authoritative gaze that screams how seriously she takes her nursing responsibilities. There will be no overriding or bending of the hospital rules on her watch.

  “I’ll come back at a better time, and thank you for your patience and understanding. Oh, and could you please keep my visit a secret just between us? I’d really like to surprise her when I visit the next time.”

  I slide past her as she moves to check her patient’s vitals, and I notice she’s also inspecting the various IVs and tubes in her body. I have to fight the smile pulling at the corners of my mouth. There is no need to check any of that. If I want to kill her—and I do—I’ll choke the bitch, slice her throat, or smother her ass with a pillow like I was doing before I was so rudely interrupted. In fact, if this nosey bitch hadn’t wandering in when she did, the only person who could testify against me would be dead by now. There will be another opportunity, and when it comes, I will take full advantage of it, making sure I’m successful in finishing the bitch off. My efforts tonight won’t go completely unrewarded, though. I think, perhaps, I’ve found my next victim in the nosey nurse. I’m very angry she interrupted me, and making me angry is a very unwise thing to do.

  Chapter Nine

  Melanie

  I grab my phone, answering it on the second ring. We’ve spent all day following around Kimberly Regis, doing surveillance while she shops at all the upper echelon boutiques in town. Now we are sitting in the SUV, parked outside a popular bar in the downtown Louisville area, while she dances the night away inside. As far as information gleaned from watching her, we’ve gotten all of nothing, except perhaps, that it is looking more and more likely that she is an opportunistic gold digger like we initially believed. It still doesn’t change my mind about Richard Roundtree being a possible rapist. He might not have done any harm to Kimberly Regis, but that doesn’t mean he hasn’t hurt others. In a matter of this extreme importance, making sure the guy is innocent is just as important as making sure he’s guilty. If he is living some secret, debauched lifestyle, we need to know so that he doesn’t harm any more innocent women.

  I listen as a panicked Evelyn fills me in on what’s going on. Quickly, I press the button for the speaker so my husband can hear as well, placing a finger over my lips to let him know to be quiet. I want Evelyn to think we’re in cahoots together, with no one else involved.

  “He was here!”

  “Who? Who was there?”

  “Richard Roundtree! The dirtbag was standing over her bed, staring at her while she slept. Is that creepy or what? Can you imagine how freaked out she would have been if she’d woken up and seen her attacker looking down on her? Geez, even if I didn’t save her life, I damn sure saved the poor girl’s sanity.”

  Immediate mental red flags go up when she says saved her life. “Do you feel like you saved her life?” I don’t give her time to answer; I’m too full of questions to be patient. “What did he say when you came in?”

  “I confronted him and told him that it wasn’t visiting hours.”

  “Why do you think he was there?”

  “I couldn’t clearly see because the lighting was so dim and his body was blocking my view, but it looked like he was holding a pillow over her face.”

  “He may very well have been. You probably saved that woman’s life tonight.”

  “Like I said, I at least saved her mental stability. Do you think someone should be stationed outside her room?”

  “I can’t give that order without involving the police, and she doesn’t want that. You’ll just need to be sure to watch her closely because if he was there to kill her, he won’t let the notion go until he’s successful. Not only that, but it tells me he must be guilty of something. It damn sure isn’t a coincidence that he showed up to visit her. They’re not even supposed to know each other outside of her being his realtor. I mean, really, what are the chances of him truly knowing the woman accusing him of rape when they have no history? Just keep a close eye on the girl. She’s been through enough, and she’s no good as a witness if she’s dead.”

  “Point taken, and I believe that’s why he wants her dead. He had the audacity to tell me he’d had her on his TV program. He mentioned something about her working in a soup kitchen.”

  “And that’s why you have to keep an eye on her, Evelyn. You may be that girl’s only chance of survival. When she wakes up, though, ask her about that. Try to do it without telling her he was there.”

  “Ask her what? If he had her on his show?”

  “That, and ask her if she’s ever done any volunteer work in a soup kitchen. If she has, and he knows about it, then it means he’s been stalking her for a while. I want to know why. I want to know if he has a type.”

  “Okay, I’ll try to ask her in a way that doesn’t upset her or enlighten her to the fact that she had a close ca
ll with her rapist.”

  “Speaking of that, didn’t you say he didn’t actually rape her?”

  I’m asking her because it will give me insight into what this guy’s motivation is. If he isn’t the one actually raping the women but, instead, having the other men do it, then he’s even sicker than I initially believed. It’s very likely there is a sociopath walking around under the guise of a philanthropist named Richard Roundtree.

  “No, the sick son of a bitch issued the orders to his group of men. Why are you asking that?”

  “Because it will tell me something about his psyche.”

  I hang up and look at my husband as he speaks.

  “I’m impressed with your ability to get into a sociopath’s head”

  “Why? I’ve been living with one for years.”

  “Touché, my love… touché.”

  Charles

  By the look on my wife’s face, it’s clear the phone call was unexpected. For the first time since she made the decision to solicit my services, she’s truly afraid, and this time, it isn’t me my wife fears. Some sick part of me is jealous of the fact that this stranger can engender the emotion I believe should be reserved for me. I’m her protector, so I am the only one permitted to strike terror in her heart. I resolve to make him pay for intruding on ground I consider to be sacred.

  “He was there to kill her.”

  “I know, Charles.”

  “And you fear him?”

  “I’m afraid for Lisa Monroe.”

  I viciously grab a fistful of her hair and pull her toward me.

  “Don’t ever fucking lie to me!”

  “Yes, I’m afraid of him.”

  “It’s me you should fear. I’m the only killer who can get close to you.”

  “You’re jealous?”

  “Yes!” I hiss, pulling her mouth to mine and forcefully plunging my tongue inside.