Black trousers that were more fitted than should be decent hugged muscular legs, leading up to a broad partially exposed, bare chest, wide shoulders, large biceps, and strong jaw.

I paused at the jaw, almost afraid to finish what my eyes had started, fearful that he really was going to be as good looking in person as he seemed.

His jaw was sharp, defined, shadowed like he’d forgotten to shave or maybe just possessed a crap load of testosterone meaning he had to shave every day.

I took a steadying breath as I finally lifted my gaze to his startling amber eyes. Brown hair curled around the nape of his neck, like a caress. He was dangerous perfection.

He smiled.

And my stomach clenched like I was going to be sick.

I hadn’t planned on him being this gorgeous in real life. Because in real life men had gaps in their teeth and weird body odor, at least in my experience, there were always a few flaws, which made them human.

So my only conclusion after taking in his perfect muscled six-foot frame was that Mr. Blazik was an alien… sent to torture the women of earth with his perfection.

I mean, what else would explain eyes so hypnotic that I wasn’t just physically drawn to him, but emotionally? Or skin so smooth it looked like it had just been waxed? Even the line of his damn jaw was perfect.

He was busy buttoning up his perfectly fitted red shirt, my eyes trained on his fingers. I hated to admit that I wondered what else he did with those hands. With a gulp, I suppressed a shiver and tried to regain my focus.

“You’re different than he described you.” Mr. Blazik tilted his head to the side. “More… mousy.” He made a disgusted face that made me want to kick him in the shin.

Ding ding ding! We have a winner! The great flaw has been discovered! He suffered from jackass syndrome. Pity, with that face… I sighed and clicked my pen again.

“I think it’s on.” He chuckled.

I contemplated stabbing him in the thigh, but offered a smile instead. “Do you always make a habit of dressing in front of grad students or is today my lucky day?”

He made a show of slowly licking his lips and sat, his knees touching mine. I quickly pulled away. “That depends. Do you often make a habit of disrespecting your elders before asking them for an interview?”

“You’re thirty-two, hardly my elder.” I said in a sweet voice. Great, now I was arguing with him. So far, the interview? Not going so hot.

“Unfair.” He folded his hands together and leaned in. “You know my birthday and I don’t know yours.”

“Yeah well, I’m not all over the Internet.” In fact, thanks to my father, my virtual thumbprint was nonexistent. I cleared my throat. “So, I just have a few questions about your research regarding the prostitution rings here in Bellevue and your findings.”

His face betrayed nothing, but his eyes? His eyes seemed to darken even more. He clenched his teeth and leaned back, creating much needed space between our bodies. “Do you know why you’re here?”

“To interview you.” I nodded slowly. “For my master’s thesis. Is that your way of making sure I know my place? Or are you really just curious?”

“You are your father’s daughter.” His lips curved into a delicious smile, “You resemble each other, not in looks, but definitely in attitude.” His gaze was unapologetic as he tilted his head and started raking his eyes from my feet up my legs until finally settling on my face. I clenched my legs together tightly and forced a smile.

“If you don’t mind, Mr. Blazik, I’d really like to get on with the interview, I know your time is precious.”

As was mine, I wanted to stress, but didn’t, just barely restraining myself and clenching my teeth to keep from giving him a much-needed verbal lashing.

“I blocked out my entire day.”

Did he want applause? “Right, well, I assure you I can be fast.”

His dark laugh had me shivering and wanting to lean forward all at once. Men that good looking shouldn’t be blessed with chuckles like that—a freaking sirens call that’s what it was.

“Amazing… You truly don’t know why you’re here, do you?”

How many times did I need to repeat myself and why was I getting the sudden impression that the guy was on some seriously hard drugs? I looked closer; didn’t pinpoint pupils mean he was high or something?

“I assure you I’m not drunk, nor high, if that’s what you’re thinking.” He chuckled again and rubbed his hands together. “Though the idea does have merit, all things considering.” A muscle clenched in his jaw.

Oh good, so he was a doctor who liked drugs and had more money than God. That should go over well for addiction problems.

I scooted back against the leather and clicked my pen for, oh, I don’t know, the tenth time. “If you aren’t going to answer my questions, I should probably go.”

“You won’t be going anywhere,” he said in a quiet voice. “And for that I’m truly sorry.” His eyes met mine, and they seemed… apologetic.

“Pardon?” Was he threatening me? Warning bells went off in my head as adrenaline shot through my system.

“Your father…” He tilted his head. “He owes me a debt… of gratitude… I asked for something irreplaceable, something that’s been owed to me for a very long time.”

My stomach sank as my heart started hammering against my chest.

“What exactly did my father give you?” I choked out, hating that I probably knew the answer, because my father was ruthless, he was a business man after all, and he never backed out of a deal. It was business over family and our business was darkness itself, horrible, something I blocked out because it made me feel better when I woke up in the morning and fell asleep at night.

“Well…” Mr. Blazik stood. “I thought that would be obvious.”  He turned his back to me and walked over to his desk then pressed a button causing blinds to creep down all the windows. When he turned, the room was already starting to blanket in darkness, making it so that his teeth practically glowed. “He gave me you.”

The night previous

Downtown Seattle

Drip, drip, drip. The sound was a rhythmic cadence to the madness that threatened to destroy my existence. Drip, drip, drip. The blood was fuel, it was life. It was also death.

The woman’s face was void of emotion, yet I knew she felt every single slice of the knife as I worked.

Finally, I removed the diseased organ and shook my head. “You’ve been very, very bad, haven’t you?”

A lone tear ran down her cheek.

I tossed the organ away, disgusted with the type of woman she was, with the type of human being she represented.

Sick.

Diseased.

A complete waste of humanity.

“Now.” I reached for my scalpel. “I’ll tell you exactly why you’re going to die.”

More tears.

“For your sins.” I brought the blade to her throat. “For selling your very soul to the devil. I’m sending you to the pit of hell.”

I sliced.

A gurgle.

And she breathed no more.

I rocked back on my heels and exhaled as the world righted itself again. One less disease walking the streets.

One less.

Because of me.

The local police force is asking for anyone with information about the Pier Killings to please come forward. The reward has been raised to fifty thousand dollars. –The Seattle Tribune

SHE WAS A PUZZLE, ONE I would enjoy unraveling, playing with, touching. Damn, getting my hands on her would be a sweet sin—something I couldn’t do, something I had to deny myself no matter how much I wanted to touch, to feel, anything human, anything warm. Maybe that’s when you know you’ve actually lost all of your humanity—when you crave a stranger’s touch more than you crave your next meal or drink of water.