Skin

by Patricia Rosemoor

  To give them more time.

  Her attention was only marginally on the enthusiastic customers around the stage as, all the while, she scanned the room for a killer. As if she could somehow identify him from his rapt interest in her.

  Having a drink with a customer at his table in front of the deejay’s booth, Caresse sat stiff, her expression disapproving. Behind her, Rudy Barnes shook his head as he watched, arms crossed over his chest. On the other side of the room, Paul Ensdorf looked both seduced and aggrieved as he did when his sister Melinda danced. As usual, Michael sat at a table near the wall. She couldn’t begin to read him. Or Gabe, who’d stepped away from the bar to watch.

  Still dressed in the corset and g-string, Lilith picked up the skirt from the stage floor with numb fingers and tossed it over her shoulder just as the music ended. A discontented rumbling set through the room.

  “More!”

  “Take it off!”

  The killer had only told her to dance for him, not to strip for him.

  “Hey, where’s the flesh?”

  Ignoring the demands and questions, Lilith took her time strolling off the stage as Melinda came on.

  “Not bad for a first dance,” Melinda whispered, then went into her act.

  Lilith prayed that it had been enough to save her sister and Carmen until she could find them.

  oOo

  AN HOUR LATER, Lilith wondered what she was doing back at Michael’s place. After she’d put herself out like that, nothing. To her disappointment, she wasn’t any closer to knowing the identity of the killer than she had been when the evening started.

  She’d changed back into her waitress costume and had gone back on the floor. And nothing. Paul wasn’t even speaking to her. Rudy had gone back in his booth. Gabe had suggested she was going to get herself killed. And when she asked Michael how he’d liked it, he’d said, “What I would like is to hear what this Lilith has to say.”

  And so, deflated, she’d left the club halfway through the night, and here she was, sitting in front of Michael’s camera once more.

  The red light glowed, telling her he was recording.

  “Let’s go back to your stepfather. The cruelty you suffered at his hands – how has that affected the way you see the world?”

  Surprised that he hadn’t jumped right into the fact that she’d gotten on stage tonight, Lilith said, “You mean the way I see men? I don’t hate men, if that’s what you’re getting at. Not all men, anyway. Only the ones who have to prove their strength by beating up on the weak. Women. Kids.”

  “What would you like to do about it?”

  Lilith looked away from the camera. Elena had basically asked her the same thing. She still didn’t know how to answer that. Part of her hungered for vigilante action, but most of her just wanted to see justice done.

  When she didn’t answer, Michael surprised her by stopping the recording. The red light went off, and he stepped out of the shadows.

  “Wouldn’t you like to get even with the bullies of the world?” Michael asked.

  Not wanting to answer, to put into words some of the things she’d been imagining, Lilith realized this was a mistake. She should have stayed at the club, played out her hand. Maybe late at night, when she exited the stage door, he would be waiting to challenge her. The killer.

  “Coming here tonight was a mistake. I’m going back to the club.”

  As she moved toward the door, Michael stopped her from behind, his hands firm but not cruel on her shoulders. “You always avoid the tough ones, Lilith. Tell me what you really want from this charade.”

  Lilith didn’t want to think about it.

  It was all she thought about.

  “All right. Whoever has my sister and Carmen – I want to be the one to punish him!”

  “Carmen? I don’t remember that name.”

  “She’s just a kid. A high school girl I was mentoring. He took her to control me. He took her when I was here... with you.”

  “My God, I’m sorry.” He wrapped his arms around her middle, pulled her to him, her back to his front, nestled his head against hers and murmured in her ear. “It’s not your fault.”

  Suddenly she realized he hadn’t questioned her about her sister. Of course he must have assumed she was related to Hannah.

  The killer had.

  “Are you sure you don’t want to punish all men?” he asked. “Me?”

  “No!”

  “I might be willing to let you.”

  She knew he was teasing now. Some of the intensity drained out of her, and she leaned back into him. “You don’t know what you’d be in for.”

  “Maybe I don’t care. Maybe making up for the men who’ve hurt you and disappointed you would be worth the risk. Hasn’t any man ever been willing to do that for you before?”

  While she dated occasionally, it was for the sex, nothing long-term.

  “I don’t do relationships.” Her tension escalated again, making it difficult to breathe normally.

  Michael switched ears, sensually brushing his face against her hair in the process. “Because you’ve never let yourself trust any man before. You can trust me, Lilith.”

  “I thought last time you told me not to trust you.”

  “That was before you knew me.”

  “I don’t know you now.”

  “You could if you wanted to. Do you want to? Isn’t that why you’re here?”

  He straightened, urged her shoulders back against him. Massaged her neck. She closed her eyes. Allowed his hands to seduce the tension from her.

  His hands explored more of her.

  Her breathing grew heavier. She didn’t object when he unzipped the back of her dress. Slipped it down over her shoulders. Kissed the side of her neck. Turned her face toward him so he could take her mouth.

  His hands moved lower, slid her dress up over her thighs. Disappeared under her skirt. Jerked and pulled.

  Tossed what was left of her satin panties.

  Unable to resist, she turned in his arms and sought his belt and zipper.

  His trousers fell. He wasn’t wearing boxers or briefs. Holding his naked hips, she pressed him back and down onto a stool, following. Lifted her skirts. Straddled him.

  The kiss broke with a double moan as they made the connection.

  He pulled her tight.

  She wrapped her legs around his back.

  They rocked together.

  Hot and fast sex. Exactly what she needed.

  Mindless. Exquisite. Torture.

  She draped herself back, over his arm, giving him access to her breasts. He suckled her nipples through the material of her dress, made her cry out with need. Then they cried out together, and, mind vaulting into the void, she dangled backward, back arched, completely open and vulnerable.

  Even as she came up out of the abyss, she whispered, “How long can you keep this up?” Every nerve in her body alive with pleasure.

  “All night if I have to. First I could use a shower.” He backed off, holding her hand. “C’mon. Shower with me. I can think of places to soap up that you’d like.”

  But the sex haze was winding down, and reality stood between them. She might be a little in lust with him, but he was simply a distraction. A stress reliever.

  “I’m shy. Go ahead. Maybe after you.”

  “I’ll just be a few minutes. You’re not going to leave, are you?” Michael grinned at her as he backed away and headed for the bathroom. “Because I’m going to be really bummed if you leave now.”

  No promises. “Take your shower.”

  He disappeared into the bathroom. She stared at his equipment. Surely she could figure out how to use it.

  Though she could hear the water turn on, she yelled, “Hey, where’s the recording from last time?”

  No answer. Obviously, Michael couldn’t hear her over the running water. She took a better look at the equipment. He was using some kind of portable recorder/monitor that used memory cards. She popped out the one in the
recorder and found the box holding others. They were in alphabetical order but she didn’t see one marked ‘Lilith.’

  She started from the back, flipping them one at a time, reading off the names which included Rusty... Melinda... Mariko... Irene... no Lilith. She flipped the next memory card and froze.

  Hannah.

  Shocked, she picked up the card and held it as carefully as she might a live snake before putting it in the recorder and hitting Play.

  Lilith choked up when Hannah appeared on the monitor.

  “I dance because I don’t know anything else,” came her faint voice.

  Lilith realized the sound was coming out of a pair of headsets.

  “Have you ever tried?”

  Michael’s voice. Heart pounding, Lilith grabbed the headsets and held them where she could hear better.

  “Last time I got a job as a store clerk. I wanted to eat, so I couldn’t pay my rent. I ended up back on the street.”

  Lilith felt as if her heart might break all over again.

  “I met someone who was nice to me. Introduced me to Sal. There’s nothing wrong with what I do. It’s not like I’m a hooker!”

  “Why did you run?”

  “My stepfather hurt me. He said it was because of my sister – hurting me would hurt her. That’s when I understood why she left. I ran so she’d never have to come back for me. She’d be so ashamed.”

  Lilith blinked and tears rolled down her cheeks.

  “Maybe she would have understood.”

  “How could she? Lilith wants to help girls who can’t take care of themselves.”

  Lilith stared and quickly hit Pause. She blinked away the tears.

  Replayed.

  “How could she? Lilith wants to help girls who can’t take care of themselves.”

  Replayed.

  “Lilith wants to help girls who can’t take care of themselves.”

  Froze it.

  Stared at the door to Michael’s bedroom.

  Lilith’s mind whirled. She had to face the truth. Michael had known all along. She’d been certain he’d guessed the connection, but he’d known. And hadn’t said a thing.

  Emotions warred in her.

  Anger.

  Guilt.

  Horror.

  She was disappointed and angry with herself.

  He’d played her. To what end?

  What if Gabe had been right?

  What if Michael was the killer?

  Unable to face him with her speculations, she raced out of his place, banging the door against the wall.

  oOo

  HE HAD HER. Lilith had danced for him. Elated as he entered the abandoned building, he replayed the event in his mind. She might not have stripped, but she had danced.

  He knew she’d been looking for him. He’d been right there in plain sight, and she’d never guessed.

  Should he make her dance again, tell her this time she had to do it for real?

  Then other men would see what he wanted for himself.

  He hated that idea.

  He’d wanted control, and now he knew he had it – that was the point of the demand on her.

  Unlocking the door to the room where he was keeping the sister and the girl, he decided he would rather wait until he could see Lilith in the woods, where the moon would glaze her flesh with a silver-blue light. He was so hot to do her, he wanted that right now.

  Patience, he told himself as he looked over his hostages. The sister was sprawled on the cot, her expression haunted. The girl curled against the radiator, her head bowed. Neither looked his way.

  He loved inspiring such fear.

  “Food,” he said, throwing a bag of burgers and fries on the cot.

  Unsure of how long he was going to play this game, he had to keep them alive.

  “Toilet first,” the sister said. “Before my bladder bursts.”

  He freed her and walked her to the door, watched her take her seat on the toilet.

  “Me, too, please.”

  The girl’s voice quivered.

  “When she gets back.”

  “Now, please. Hurry, or I’ll pee on myself.”

  Feeling generous since he was in such a good mood, he undid the lock to her handcuffs when he heard the flush. The girl used the radiator to steady herself until she got to her feet. She stood there shaking.

  “What are you waiting for?” he asked.

  The girl ran into the toilet, knocking into Lilith’s sister as she was coming out.

  “Hey, you little brat, watch where you’re going.”

  He grabbed the sister’s arm and pulled her back to the cot. “You really are a controlling bitch, aren’t you?”

  He had her wrist in one hand, the cuff in the other, when what felt like a hot poker hit him in the right kidney. He let go and whipped around to see the girl in a fighter’s stance.

  Her expression reminded him of Lilith.

  “And what do you think you’re going to do to me?” he demanded.

  “This!”

  She kicked and he moved, deflecting the strike to his knee. Then a live weight was on his back, arms wrapped around his neck. For a moment, they had him, one trying to strangle him, the other hitting him over and over in the stomach and head, kicking at his knees and his balls.

  And then he got pissed, jerked forward in a crouch, so the one on his back went flying over his head into the other. They both cried out as they landed in a heap.

  “Nice try,” he said.

  Now it was his turn. He showed them how to do it, how to tear into a weaker opponent, taught them a lesson with his fists and feet that they would never forget.

  Not for the short time they had left to live...

  oOo

  Chapter 20

  LILITH FELT LIKE she was on Speed. Her pulse was racing. Her mind was whirling. She couldn’t drive back to the club fast enough to find Gabe and tell him about Michael’s recording of Hannah.

  But once she got there, he was nowhere to be seen.

  As she made her way to the bar, she was the focus of attention. Men who recognized her made little sounds of appreciation when she passed them. Undoubtedly they’d started fantasizing about her while she danced.

  No fake smiles from her tonight. She was taut. Hostile. They quickly turned their eyes away.

  “Joe, have you seen Gabe?”

  “Yeah, he was here earlier. Left maybe a half hour ago.”

  “Thanks.”

  Now what? She didn’t have Gabe’s phone number, but she had Pucinski’s.

  Pulling out her cell, she left the back way. She was so angry and so wrapped up playing over the relationship with Michael in her head, that she almost missed the arm dangling out of the trash bin.

  Almost.

  She stopped dead in her tracks, and the breath froze in her throat.

  A woman’s arm.

  A black woman’s arm.

  Her first instinct was to run and get help, but she couldn’t make herself move. She stuffed the cell phone back in her pocket. Her hands shook as she lifted the trash bin’s lid, but even before she got it open, Lilith knew what she would find.

  Caresse lay on the heap of black bags, her limbs askew as if someone had tossed her inside as carelessly as the rest of the garbage. She was still dressed in her skimpy costume, and even under the yellow alley light, Lilith could see she was covered in her own blood.

  The costume left her stomach bare, exposing an open knife wound.

  Thinking Caresse was dead, Lilith choked back a sob. The dancer had been kind to her, had warned her to stay safe. So what wrong move had she made to incite such violence. Who did this to her? The hunter-murderer?

  Not that she fit his profile.

  But what if...

  The idea drifted off when Lilith realized that blood still oozed from the open wound.

  Could Caresse still be alive?

  Taking a closer look, she saw the woman’s lips part slightly – Caresse was still breathing, if barely.<
br />
  Lilith used a hand to apply pressure to the wound. Warm blood oozed between her fingers. She swallowed hard when she tasted bile.

  “Help is coming, Caresse. Don’t die,” she pleaded, and then, with her free hand, pulled her cell phone from her pocket and made that call to Pucinski.

  oOo

  MICHAEL TOOK a fast shower and left the bathroom wrapped in a towel. The place was quiet. Too quiet. Fearing that, despite her promise, Lilith had left again, he went straight through the bedroom to the living area.

  “Lilith?”

  Then he saw the monitor.

  The freeze-frame of Hannah.

  And the open door.

  “Fuck!”

  He called her cell, but the call went straight to voice mail.

  “Come on, Lilith. Where are you?”

  oOo

  LILITH PACED the corridor of the emergency room, waiting to hear about Caresse. She couldn’t get rid of the picture in her mind of Caresse covered in her own blood. It was a snapshot that would be burned in her brain forever.

  The ambulance had arrived two minutes after she’d made the call. Detective Pucinski was with Caresse now, wanting to get a statement when the medical team brought her around.

  If they brought her around.

  What if they didn’t?

  What if Caresse didn’t survive?

  Let her be all right. She didn’t know if anyone was listening, but she hoped so. No one deserved to die like that.

  She took a seat in the waiting area and sat frozen, her mind going in circles. She’d left Michael’s place after thinking he could be the killer. But she’d been with him when Caresse had been knifed, so he’d had nothing to do with that. And how likely was it that two killers stalked the same club? She didn’t believe in coincidence. At least she was relieved that she’d been correct about Michael in the first place. His only crime had been to keep what he knew about Hannah and her to himself.

  So who had knifed Caresse? And why?

  Had the dancer seen or overheard something that could shed light on The Hunter Case? Did the killer decide to keep Caresse from talking? If so, no doubt he believed he’d left her for dead.

  Which made her wonder whether Hannah and Carmen were still alive.

  Just when she thought she couldn’t stand waiting another minute without some kind of information, Pucinski came down the corridor looking for her. Lilith jumped out of her seat and met him halfway.