*

Fifty minutes later hepulled into the large parking complex and made his way into thehigh-walled, brick jail. The sun was still bright in the sky andthe warm wind was whipping all around him, leaving him damp fromthe muggy air and making his cotton shirt cling to his skin. Whilehe walked toward the entrance, he took in his cold, sterilesurroundings. He had been here far too many times to count over theyears with his profession and had come to know the facility welland all the blood thirsty killers by first name. Except for theever changing inmates coming in and out of the place, it feltstrangely as if he were home.

Anthony Bruce was alreadyin the interview room waiting when he arrived at his finaldestination. Seated in front of him, Victor couldn’t deny hiseagerness to see the man’s familiar craggy face and to get into hisdegenerate headspace. As Anthony’s body count and notorietycontinued to rise, so did the difficulty in getting in to see himas he was being inundated with requests for interviews. Victor hadformed an unusual bond with the man over the last four years ndAnthony was his go-to-con when he couldn’t wrap his head around acase. Or Chapter.

The bond wasn’t onlyatypical, but necessary and Victor had come to accept thesociopath’s role in his life, even if the old man didn’t know thereasons himself. It was better that way. It was better that no oneknew the reasons. It was essential.

“You’re a difficult man toget in touch with,” Victor eased himself into the hard metalchair.

Anthony’s weathered andscarred face split into a sarcastic grin and his voice cracked,“What can I say? I’m the man of the hour.”

“Enjoy it while it lasts,Ant. Once we find out all your secrets, you’ll be oldnews.”

The sinewy, white-hairedman belted out a depraved laugh and pounded his fist on the table.“You’ll never know allof my secrets, no matter how hard you try,Son.”

Victor winced and his mouthtightened into a deep frown at Ant’s term. It reminded him of hismother who used the same euphemism when speaking to him. God resther bitchy, demanding, old soul.

Ant tipped his head back,his green-flecked eyes scanning Victor’s briefcase. “So what ya’got for me? Chapter Seven?”

“A new case I’m working on.I need your thoughts,” he answered as he pulled out a thick casefile.

“You know how thisarrangement works. I help you in exchange for the enjoyment ofreading about your fucked up relationships. Oh, my apologies. Imean Chapters.”

His stomach knotted andtwisted. He hated Anthony with the kind of putrid loathing thatseeped from his pores. More to the point, he was repulsed by thefact that he needed him. Narrowing his eyes, Victor sat silent,giving Anthony a pointed, contemptuous stare and prolonging theinevitable – having to share his secrets with the only man he knewwouldn’t judge him. They sat like that for several long moments,neither of them giving an inch.

“I’ve got all the time inthe world, Agent Laurenzo. How about you? Don’t you have somepretty, young thing to get back to? Chapter Eight, perhaps?” Heflashed his yellowed, cracked and crooked teeth.

Victor swallowed hard,trying not to reveal his resentment and nonchalantly waved his handas if he could care less. “Seven was a waste of time and not worthmentioning. As for Eight, I’ve only just begun that endeavor andthere’s nothing yet to discuss.”

“I’ll decide for myself ifChapter Seven was a waste of time,” Anthony seethed with visiblemounting rage. “If you want my fucking help…”

“Don’t get yourself in atizzy, old man. I’ll give you what you want,” he smirkedderisively. He loved seeing the cold-blooded killer’s eyes brightenwith fury. He often wondered if the rage that flared on the rarestof occasions in Anthony’s eyes was the same as that of when he wascutting the limbs from the bodies of his victims.

Reaching into his leathersatchel, he pulled out a stack of photocopied documents. Ant’s faceimmediately brightened.

“You’re always prepared,aren’t you? So? Was she a good fuck?” he licked his lips like ahungry mutt and outstretched his arm. “Or was it a ‘he’ again?” hewaggled his eyebrows perversely.

Victor’s jaw tensed and hepulled the notes just out of reach, tormenting Ant.“She wasno better and no worse than the rest.”

“Said Agent Laurenzo,Master of mind fuckery and bisexuality,” Ant mocked satirically ashe leaned forward and puckered his mouth in jealousy. “Now give methe motherfucking chapter or else get the hell out of here,” hehissed.

Victor smiled and raisedhis eyebrows, untouched by Ant’s accusation. He didn’t considerhimself bisexual. He simply didn’t discriminate when it came tostudying the weak or where his pleasure could be gottenfrom.

Casually, he laid thechapter on the table. Without delay, Ant slid it toward him andbegan fingering the pages lovingly as if he had been given a drug.In a peculiar gesture, his brows pinched together and he began tosniff the air around him. Picking up the pages and bringing them tohis nose, he inhaled deeply and then placed his hands on the tableand leaned forward, inching his way toward Victor. Ant was much tooclose for his comfort and his nerves prickled with caution, a redflag popping up as he fisted his hands, ready to defend his life.Again, Ant drew in a deep breath, his eyes dilating and a deepprimal growl floating up from his throat.

“God damn I love the smellof cunt…” he whispered, his ruthless eyes fixating on Victor’smouth. “Chapter Eight?”

Pushing his chair back,Victor snarled in response, regretting that he hadn’t showeredbefore the visitation, “Keep your distance and don’t forget yourplace. I gave you what you wanted, now it’s your turn to return thefavor. Let’s not forget who the bitch is here.”

***

Elsa quickly finishedpacking a day’s worth of clean clothing and womanly essentials. Shehad waited for nearly two hours before giving in and leaving 2500East Grace Street to get ready for the weekend that lay ahead ofher. It was absurd that Mr. Black hadn’t given her any informationas to his whereabouts or what time he would be back. Christ, hehadn’t even given her a phone number with which to reach him yet.An unsettling thought had crept up on her during her drive back toher apartment that perhaps he really was married. It was nauseatingto think about. She didn’t want any part of a man who was in acommitted relationship and she had no desire to be ‘the otherwoman.’ There was just too much about Victor, aka Mr. Black, thatneeded to be known and she would know. She promised herselfthat much. After the weekend she vowed to do her ownresearch.

Speeding back to his house,she was relieved when she didn’t see his car parked in thedriveway. Letting herself in, the soft sounds ofFigure 8 by EllieGoulding filled her ears and the odor of cigarette and citruslingered in the air and she knew what that meant. Rounding thecorner to the living room, Mr. Black was leaning back in theduchess chair, his legs stretched out and his head cocked to theside as his eyes moved over her body. His mouth twitched with someundefined emotion, but the look on his face was undeniable - he wasdispleased. She dropped her bag to the floor and stood wordlesslywatching him. There was no point in trying to makeexcuses.

“It was a simple request,Ms. Cassidy,” he spoke with light bitterness, his narrowed eyesstabbing into her.

Elsa lifted her chin,meeting his icy gaze straight on and pretended not to understandhis look as she seated herself on the lounger across fromhim.

“I waited nearly two hoursbefore I left,” she whispered in defense as her confidence waned inthe face of his unnerving stare.

“The point is: you left.And now I’m to decide on how to deal with yourinsubordination.”

Her lashes flew up in shockwhen his eyes suddenly filled with fierce sparkling. He appeared asif he was thrilled with her ‘insubordination.’ When he stood andmoved near her, she was still too startled by his statement to dowhat she knew she should, which was bolt in the opposite direction.Instead, she eyed him warily, his cat-like movements mesmerizingand spine tingling.