by J. D. Sloane
Alicia turned around, trying to arrange her face into a more professional expression as she reached for her bag and jumped as Ronan leaned forward in his chair and forced his hand between her legs, his dark eyes twirling with violent good humor as he ripped her underwear off with a quick jerk of his wrist.
“Ah, ah,” he said, shoving her ripped underwear up one sleeve as the door hammered open behind them. “Price of admission.”
Alicia felt her heart leap into her throat as Jason and a guard she didn’t recognize breezed into the room and stepped forward as the second guard glanced around swiftly, her brow furrowing as she saw that Ronan was seated back in his original position. She turned her eyes towards his cuffs without meaning to and pressed her lips together as Ronan made a restless gesture with one hand, his chains letting off a reassuring metallic rustle.
“Hello gentlemen,” Ronan said, his low voice almost languid with politeness. “Has it been a whole hour already?”
Chapter Three
Alicia followed the host to the long, curved booth at the end of the rooftop patio and glanced out at the harbor as she walked, the lights from the bustling business district below turning the entire street into one long parade of music and light. She flicked her nails through the ends of her hair as Matt looked up from his phone and gave him a little smile as a table of people turned to watch her pass, pausing politely at the end of the promenade.
“You’re late,” Matt said as Alicia slid into the leather seat across from him. She felt her spine bristle with annoyance as the host handed her a wine list and shrugged off her ivory leather trench coat as he disappeared from view.
“Yeah, I know,” she said, setting down her bag beside her. “It couldn’t be helped.”
Matt’s brow furrowed with surprise and then smoothed out into a more typical expression of frustrated patience, his dark blue eyes almost black in the dim light of the patio.
“I thought you finished up that housing story last week. That’s what Lance told me.”
That’s right, Alicia thought, letting out a low sigh as the heat from the lit open fire pit in the middle of the roof wafted back to them in waves. Make sure everyone around knows that this is just a working dinner and nothing more. What would the boys upstairs have to say if someone saw us conoodling over a romantic, moonlit dinner?
“I did,” Alicia said, reaching for her bag before she caught herself and picked up the wine menu instead. “And it’s not that.”
“Oh? Something new?”
“I don’t really know yet. Maybe nothing. Where’s the waiter at? He was just here.”
Alicia tucked her hair behind her ear as she felt the wind from the harbor flutter it against her collarbone and then looked up as the waiter appeared as if out of nowhere, giving them a practiced nod.
“Hi,” Alicia said, handing him back the wine menu before he could introduce himself. “Thank you. I’ll take a glass of your house red and the portabella steak, medium rare. And just a salad with ranch please. No sides.”
“Of course,” the waiter said, throwing Matt a quick glance. “And for you, sir?”
“The same, well done, hold the mushrooms. With that yam soufflé you have. Same dressing.”
Matt handed the waiter back his menu and rolled his eyes over Alicia’s dress, the smooth fabric accentuating the gentle, girlish curves of her body as she reached for her bag with one hand.
“And bring the bottle,” he said, tilting his head at her slightly.
“Now there’s an idea,” Alicia said, sliding a manila folder out of her bag and setting it down next to her plate as she flipped it open.
“You know, you should be nicer to these people. They know you now. They’re going to remember how you treat them.”
“And why exactly should I care about that?” She asked without looking up.
“Because you’re not just some part-time weather girl anymore. You’re going to need these people. You want them to call you first when something happens, right? Then they have to trust you.”
“I don’t think our waiter has the kind of inside scoop I’m looking for.”
“For Christ’s sake Alicia, can you just listen to what I’m telling you for once…”
“Shh,” Alicia said, tapping her lips with her fingertip. “Relax a little. I’m just joking.”
She leaned her back against the chair, watching his eyes fly to the deep v-front of her gray wrap dress and then took a drink of her water, glancing out towards the harbor as she felt his eyes follow her.
“Aren’t you going to tell me how nice I look?” She asked cutting her eyes back towards him while her lips turned up into a sudden, generous smile.
“I’m sure you’ve been hearing that all day,” Matt said, his eyes narrowing slightly as Alicia cracked her back and pulled her leg up beneath her.
“Oh, you’d be surprised.”
Matt cleared his throat as the waiter set down two glasses and a bottle of wine, his eyes never quite leaving her face.
“You know, Dula called me, Alicia. About the interview.”
Alicia looked up at him quickly and felt a pang of embarrassed surprise as Matt cleared his throat, brushing his thumb across his lips as he tried to smother a patronizing grin. She waited for the waiter to uncork the bottle, her jaw tightening in spite of herself and glanced out over the harbor as he filled their glasses, setting the bottle down when Matt raised his fingers.
“Of course he did. All you big ten frat boys just love to stick together, don’t you?”
Matt grin broadened into a smile and he waved his hand at her, picking up his glass.
“Now don’t blame Dula. He was just concerned about you, that’s all.”
“I’ll bet.”
“I don’t know why you’re upset,” he said shrugging. “I would’ve found out eventually. Frankly, I think it’s a good idea. And it could be a great story.”
Alicia licked her lips, taking a drink of her wine to hide her petty rush of outrage and shivered as a sudden vivid image of Ronan flashed through her mind, his wide eyes dark and violent as he whispered against her cheek.
“So how’d it go? Dula said you spoke with him.”
“I did,” Alicia said, setting down her glass. “Just a preliminary interview. Nothing concrete.”
“And what about White?” He asked, his voice low and careless. “He told me you met with him alone.”
Alicia looked up and blushed, burying her guilty expression as she folded her arm across her chest.
“He was different than I expected,” Alicia said, reaching for the wine.
“Different how?” Matt asked in the same careful tone.
“I don’t know,” she said, shrugging. “Just…different. I think he’s kind of a textbook sociopath. Dula thinks his pathology is a little more complex than that but I just think that he likes messing with women. Well, all people really. But women in particular.”
“What makes you say that?”
Alicia pressed her lips together and then turned to the top two pages of Ronan’s folder, handing Matt a long list of names.
“Here, look at this. They isolated him for the first six weeks after he arrived. But since then ten different women have been in to visit him.”
She tapped at the date stamp on the side as she covered it with another sheet of paper.
“I’ve been looking into them kind of unofficially and some of them are absolute head cases. But a lot of them, most of them even, are very normal girls. College girls, women with families, single professionals. This guy is very smart. And very arrogant. Which is good because he probably wouldn’t have screwed up if he wasn’t.”
Alicia reached out and tapped her finger on the list as Matt pulled out his glasses and raised his brows over the long list of hand-written names.
“These were just normal women, living normal lives. And somehow this charming criminal reached out and put his hooks into them, one by one.”
Matt looked over Alicia slowly, giving her one of those long, searching glances that used to send a quick thrill of chills racing up her spine, and then pulled off his glasses as he reached for his glass.
“So he’s charming,” he said, glancing around for the waiter as Alicia bit her bottom lip and pulled back her list.
“Well, yeah,” she said tucking the sheet back into his folder before snapping it shut. “All sociopaths are a little charming. I mean, the successful ones.”
Matt folded his glasses back up and then tucked them into his pocket as he gave her a knowing grin.
“So. You spent what? An hour alone with him? You think he did it? Do you think he killed Connor and then that lawyer girlfriend of his?”
“Oh, he killed Connor all right,” Alicia said, meeting his eyes across the table as she tapped her fingernail against her wine glass and then took a quick drink. “No doubt about that. The trick will be to get him to say it. The girlfriend though. The girlfriend I don’t know about. It’s tricky. He says a lot of things to mislead the conversation.”
Matt cleared his throat as a food runner set down their salads in front of them and then made a beeline for the back of the house.
“And then there are all these strange things going on in that place, Matt. I mean some really spooky Island of Dr. Moreau type shit. I can’t believe no one’s looked into it before now, I really can’t. I think Ronan might be the key to that too.”
“I thought you said he was a textbook sociopath.”
“I did. But that doesn’t mean he’s lying about everything.”
Matt shook his head slightly and rolled his eyes, refilling his wine glass with a curt kind of annoyance.
“Isn’t that exactly what it means, Alicia? I mean here you are, a young, inexperienced reporter looking for your first big story and White offers it up to you on a silver platter. Not his story. Not the one you’re there for. But something even bigger and more mysterious than that.”
“So what are you saying?”
“I think you know what I’m saying, Alicia. Let’s not belabor the point.”
“I was there, Matt. You weren’t. You didn’t see this place. I swear it gave me the absolute creeps.”
“Just don’t let yourself get played. That’s all I’m saying.”
“Fine. You don’t want me to investigate your college buddy’s line of work, I won’t. I’m sure that’s the important thing here, right? That all the bad guys stay behind bars and all the good guys get their citizen of the year awards.”
“That’s not what I’m saying, and you know it. And I didn’t bring you here to fight.”
Alicia looked up and searched his face, consciously burying the haughty pouting look that she knew he hated and which had a habit of sending their mild disagreements careening off the rails without much provocation.
“So why did you bring me here then?” she asked as he glanced around the room quickly before bringing his gaze to rest on her face.
“I just haven’t seen you in a while, that’s all.”
Alicia bit back a smile and picked up her wine glass.
“You see me every day,” she said, tipping it towards him as she took a drink.
“You know what I mean.”
Alicia smiled and then cut her eyes away from him as he tilted her head, his expression frank and hungry. She leaned forward as their waiter passed just outside her peripheral vision and then paused as Ronan’s face suddenly flashed through her mind again, his dark eyes dancing over the front of her dress as his lips hovered inches from her cheek.
Ever been with someone you didn’t have to pretend for, Alicia? he had asked, sliding her underwear down her thighs. Or do you like it better when they only see the lie? She shivered as she tried to knock the image out of her mind and brushed her fingers across her lips, remembering the careful, rage-laced look in his eyes a little too vividly for comfort. Like a man being hunted by something, she thought. Something that’s gaining ground on him and which he’s no longer completely sure he wants to outrun.
“I think I can clear up my evening,” Alicia said, lifting her glass. “If you don’t mind me working afterwards that is.”
“I was actually thinking about staying out,” Matt said, refilling her glass as she lowered it. “If you felt like grabbing a drink at the club.”
Alicia looked up at him and watched his eyes run down the front of her dress as she sat up a little straighter, flicking her bag open with her fingertips as she shoved Ronan’s folder inside.
“Hmm. I don’t know. Like I said, I have a lot of work left to do.”
Matt gave her that tight, quiet look he got when she knew he was about to become a handful and then shrugged, glancing around the room with a pointed sort of indifference.
“You’ve been using that excuse a lot lately. Not getting bored of me already, are you?”
“Don’t be ridiculous. I’ve been busy, that’s all.”
“You just started working on this.”
“Yeah, and I had to wrap up the housing story before that. Christ, Matt. It’s only been two weeks. Don’t be such a guy.”
“Three actually,” he said his voice lowering as his blue eyes flashed with sudden anger. “It’s been three.”
Alicia bit back her annoyance and let out a quick sigh, giving him a look of amused acquiescence as she flipped her hair behind one ear and tried not to reach for a cigarette.
“Look. This weekend, all right? I promise I’ll have less on my plate by then and it can just be all us. I just have a few more leads to run down before I can shut down, you know?”
“Hmm. Mind if I go alone?”
Alicia gave him a sudden startled look and then covered it quickly, her brow furrowing as she looked around for the waiter.
“I’m not sure that was the deal,” she said, clearing her throat. Matt looked at her mildly, his dark eyes leaping with sudden unpleasant speculation.
“So? You don’t seem that interested in honoring your side of the deal. Why should I honor mine?”
Alicia flinched and then leaned forward, her fingers curling around her glass as her delicate, fine-boned face lit up with sudden resentment.
“For fuck’s sake, Matt,” she said her voice low and annoyed. “Why are you acting like this story is nothing? It’s important. It could be huge for the station. Not to mention my career.”
“Watch your language,” Matt said stiffly, his eyes cutting to a table behind them as someone glanced over their shoulder. “People are looking.”
Alicia’s eyes narrowed with disbelief and then she stood up, reaching for her jacket without looking at him.
“You know what?” She said, tucking her bag over her shoulder so quickly it smacked against the back of the booth with an angry slap. “Let them look. I’m done with this conversation.”
“You’re making a scene,” Matt said his face flushing with anger and for one moment Alicia felt herself cross over into hating him completely. She leaned over the table, her eyes narrowing with contempt and watched his face contort with fury as he tried not to respond.
“And we both know how much you hate scenes, don’t we?”
Matt opened his mouth to say something and then sat back in the booth, fixing her with a stare of quiet warning as their waiter approached the table.
“Are you leaving us, Miss Gale?” He asked politely, standing with two salads out in front of him. Alicia tipped her eyes in his direction, still taken aback by the way perfect strangers addressed her by name all over the city.
“Afraid so. Called away on a big story. You know how it is.”
The young man raised his brows at her, catching some of the tone of their conversation and set Matt’s plate down in front of him as he nodded to the steps.
“That’s too bad. But I guess the news doesn’t stop for anyone, right? Would you like me to wrap up your dinner so you can take it with you?”
Alicia�
�s eyes narrowed as they slid back towards Matt and she took one long moment to enjoy his discomfort before giving him a cool smile.
“No. Feel free to leave it with Mr. Douglas. He seems to have quite an appetite tonight.”
Alicia turned around and headed for the lobby before he had a chance to answer and pressed on the plate glass door without waiting for the valet. When she stepped out on the sidewalk she hailed one of the taxis idling across the street and popped open the door when it approached.
“Corner of 5th and Gratiot,” she said, sliding into the ripped vinyl seat as the driver did a quick double take and then glanced at her over the divider.
“Hey,” he said, his scratching his beard as his face lit up with a smile of amused surprise. “You’re not…”
“That’s right,” Alicia said, meeting his eyes squarely as she yanked the door shut. “I’m not.”
The driver’s face fell, and he held up his hand as he then turned back around in his seat, weaving the taxi in and out of the long circular drive. Alicia watched him in the rearview mirror and then glanced out the window, the bustle of downtown traffic blurring out into one bright, senseless haze.
Alicia looked up as the prisoner walked into the visitor’s hall, pausing behind the clear window of the booth briefly before sitting down across from her. He brushed his hand through his short clipped blond hair, his light brow furrowing with something like amused curiosity and then picked up the plastic black receiver as he shrugged and looked her over.
“I don’t think we know each other,” Alek Danshov said, his voice curling with just a trace of a Russian accent. He met Alicia’s eyes through the glass and then glanced over her shoulder as if trying to guess who had brought her. “Although something tells me I would like to.”
Alicia shook her head, surprised by how handsome he was, how easy and relaxed he seemed not two weeks away from trial. She cleared her throat as he tilted his head at her, something about the gesture bringing a quick image of Ronan’s face to the forefront of her mind, burning through everything else in one brilliant fallout blast.
“Mr. Danshov, it’s nice to meet you. My name is Alicia. Alicia Gale.”