Grace Street (A Chapter 8 Novel, #1) (28 page)

“Is it true that you conferred with known
serial killer Anthony Bruce regarding this case?” someone from
behind the camera blared out.

Victor’s eyes darkened and his mouth thinned.
Elsa cringed. She knew the look well. He was angry and she felt a
twinge of sympathy for whoever had asked the question. Would Mr.
Black lash out or would Victor’s cool professionalism prevail? She
watched in stunned silence as he stared wordless at the reporter.
As the room quieted down and waited for his answer, it was as if he
was looking directly at her and he knew what she was thinking and
already planning. She only half listened to his response as she
struggled with her conscience because all she wanted to do was get
to his house and find Chapter One.

As she drove in silence, she caught herself
glancing uneasily into her rear-view mirror and over her shoulder.
She had a much stronger guard up since meeting and being subjected
to Mr. Black’s brand of education. As she neared his house, she
wondered who Anthony Bruce was and why Victor was so irritated with
the question. It wasn’t uncommon for the FBI or other law
enforcement agencies to utilize the help of convicted killers. They
had an inside track to how a murderer’s mind worked, after all.
Then again, so did Victor since it was his area of expertise.

The noon sun was bright and high in the sky
making it even more imperative that she park in the same secluded
spot she had parked before. When she exited her vehicle, a warning
voice whispered in her head to turn around but she moved without
hesitation. It was getting easier to ignore her voice of reason as
each day passed and she began to fear that soon all commonsense
would be lost and she would simply act without thinking. She hoped
it wouldn’t come to that.

Slowly, she walked the distance to his house,
trying to appear inconspicuous to any passersby. When his house
came into view, she was finally able to really appreciate its
beauty. It looked so different in the bright light of day. With all
the lush green trees surrounding the property, the cool, sweetly
scented floral breeze and the wooden fence around the perimeter, it
was peaceful.

She dug into her pocket and put the key into
the lock and waited for the alarm to turn off. When it did, she
made double time to his office. This trip would be a quick one – in
and out, she repeated to herself.

She made a bee-line straight to the
designated drawer to find the stack of blank pages still exactly as
she had left them. She replaced the cover sheet and retied the
twine neatly, but as she laid it back inside the drawer, she
hesitated. She didn’t really want to say goodbye to it. She had
tried her best to etch the words into her memory, but there were
just so many of them and she had read the huge manuscript in such a
short amount of time, she worried it would all be forgotten. She
considered making a copy when she saw his printer. She untied the
string quickly and plucked out the sections that she thought were
most helpful and of course, the chapter containing Jordan and
quickly made photocopies.

With the case study back in its rightful
place, she closed the drawer and searched the remainder of his file
cabinets for Chapter One but she was unsuccessful in locating it.
Giving up, she turned to leave when she saw an unsealed manila
envelope on his desk addressed to Virginia State Penitentiary,
Anthony Bruce, #6429, which she assumed was his Department of
Corrections number. The same warning voice she heard before was now
screaming for her to just leave, but she couldn’t resist taking a
peek.

She emptied the contents of the envelope onto
the desk and her chest felt as if it would burst when photocopied
images of his journal notes on her spilled out in front of her. She
sank into his chair, stunned and appalled. Her breath seemed to
have solidified in her throat as she sat trying to comprehend and
make sense of what she was seeing. She clenched her hands until her
nails cut into her palms as the realization of what he was planning
on doing hit her. She really was just another test subject to study
and pass around for everyone to try and dissect, exploit and break
down. But a fucking serial killer? Victor had gone too far.

Elsa stood and stuffed everything into her
backpack, but left the envelope. She was a volcano on the verge of
erupting and she had to get the hell out of his office before she
tore it and his entire perfect house apart.

The drive home took half the amount of time
it should have, but she didn’t give a shit if she got a ticket or
not. The silence in the car seemed to grow tight with tension as
her mind clouded with hurt, betrayal and anger. But still, she
wanted to fucking help him. She choked back a cry, infuriated with
herself for being such an ignorant bitch.

She slammed on her brakes and pulled onto the
shoulder. Reaching into her backpack, she shredded his journal
notes without thinking. As soon as she did, she regretted it. Only
hours before she was bemoaning the fact that she would never get to
read his thoughts on her and here it was, like a gift. Or a
curse.

The tears she had been fighting came in a
flash flood and she cursed the air. Fuck Mr. Black and his game.
She would win and this antic was not going to deter her and neither
were his cruel words and cancellation of their time together. She
was stronger than Mr. Black and she was smarter than Victor. She
would be the champion in this game.

Victor was still incensed about the
reporter’s question about Anthony when he woke on Sunday. His
visits to the Virginia Pen were to be strictly confidential. He had
no doubt who had leaked the information. Fucking Anthony. He loved
the spot light and if he had a hand in helping catch a killer, he
sure as hell was going to make it known to the world.

His work in Cambridge was done for now until
all the proper paperwork and particulars could be sorted out
regarding their main suspect. Victor had pointed the detectives in
the right direction once he went with his initial gut instinct and
things were panning out. It was a huge relief, but that negative
inner voice was still nagging him because he knew better than to
assume things would work out. Especially when it came to anything
related to law enforcement. It wasn’t like the movies or the books
where everything fell into place in a few days and wham, bam, you
got yourself a killer. It took time – more time than people on the
outside really knew. It would probably be another month or longer
until they could even make an arrest. If they were lucky. But at
least for now they could keep an eye on the person in question.

The weekend wasn’t completely over yet and he
hoped to get the chance to see Elsa later when he arrived back in
Richmond. He had cancelled their weekend, but needed release after
the frustrating last few days he had.

Back in Virginia, he drove straight to the
brownstone and cleaned himself up before texting Elsa.

Mr.Black: Meet me at the Grace Street
brownstone.

He looked at his watch and clocked the time –
2:25 p.m. She had forty-five minutes to get there.

Seating himself on the duchess chair, he
peered out the window. The day was gorgeous. Thinking about his
last interaction with Elsa, he shook his head, still unable to
believe the balls she had to try and tell him he was ‘free to
leave.’ He should punish her for that statement.

The more he thought about it, the more
appealing the idea sounded, but what and how? He hadn’t planned it
out ahead of time and all forms of punishment were to be carefully
premeditated and not haphazardly doled out. Elsa and her fucking
light. What a joke.

Still tired from the flight, he leaned his
head back and closed his eyes.

He woke with a jolt when he heard her car
pull into the driveway. He glanced at his watch. 3:35. She was damn
near thirty minutes late. Standing, he moved to the window and
flung the curtains aside to see her looking as beautiful as ever,
but moving leisurely toward the front entrance.

Irritated, he seated himself back in the
chair and crossed his arms over his chest. He heard her stumble in
the front door and drop her bag. By the sounds of it, the contents
spilled out and she cursed under her breath.

He listened as she scooped up the items, each
second passing by slowly as thoughts of punishment returned. She
was supposed to be ready and available to him within forty-five
minutes. Was that so much to ask? Was she intentionally trying to
elicit a negative response from him?

When Elsa came around the corner, Victor
swore if she had anything less than an apologetic look on her face
he would seriously lose it. She had left the door open and he felt
the heat and muggy air float in, causing the air-conditioner to
kick on. She lingered in the entry way, only infuriating him more.
What the hell was she doing anyway?

Finally pushed beyond his limit of patience,
his voice boomed, “Elsa, get in here.”

He heard the door slam and she peeked around
the corner. The light from the bay window lit up her face and her
stunning yet fearful eyes. Wobbly on her feet, she steadied herself
as she walked into the living room.

He stood and took in every detail of her
obviously freshly showered body. “Why the hell are you late?”

“Victor, I…” she started in but he didn’t
care why. There was no reason that would suffice.

“Save it.”

He marched toward her and wrapped his arms
around her body, her warm, damp skin clinging to him through the
sheer fabric of her white dress. He hiked her dress up and dug his
fingers harshly into her ass, making her gasp. In one motion, his
skilled hands pulled the dress up over her head and he flung it to
the side. Her bandages were still in place and though he wanted to
cause her pain for having made him wait and for having told him to
get out of her office, this wasn’t the way to go about it. He
claimed her mouth and as he thrust his tongue in, he pushed her
back toward the chaise and down onto it. Laid out before him, Elsa
gazed up at him with fear vividly sparkling in her eyes.

Without speaking, he quickly rid himself of
his clothing and stood over Elsa, allowing her to drink up his
dominance. He was taking her and he didn’t need her fucking
permission. She belonged to him. As he approached her, she turned
her face to avoid eye contact, but he wouldn’t be denied. He placed
his finger under her chin, forcing her to look at him.

“Rule number nine: eyes on me at all times,”
he stated, spacing the words evenly.

His mouth found her breasts and he nipped at
her pebbled nipples and pulled them to a point with his teeth.
Elsa’s back arched, pushing more of her breast into his mouth. She
carefully wrapped her legs around his torso and locked her ankles
together as he slid into her unhurriedly.

As he plunged into her tight, wet depths, the
pressures of work were forgotten. She was wet…
so wet…
and
each slow thrust eased his tension and the smell of their mixed sex
cleared his mind. When their tongues danced and twisted inside each
other’s mouths, even her punishment was momentarily brushed aside.
Elsa’s wordless moans breathed against his mouth pushed him over
the edge. He had hoped he would last longer, back pressure was too
great. His thrusts came quicker, deeper and harder until he hit her
cervix and stilled. When he released into her, he opened his eyes
to see her smiling up at him.

But the smile… it wasn’t real. He had seen
her phony joy before - the first night he met her at The Brewery.
She offered that same bullshit fake smile to the asshole that had
his hands all over her.

Suddenly, his anger was back. Did she think
he couldn’t read her?

Pushing himself off of her, he pointed toward
the stairs. “Get cleaned up. You have ten minutes. Do you think you
can comply with that request?” he asked acidly.

Elsa sat up and gritted her teeth, but held
her words and moved quickly.

What the hell did she have to be pissed off
about? He was the one who had been slighted by her lack of
compliance.

As a wicked plan formed in his mind, he
wondered just how
invested
she really was in this game. He
would find out.

***

Elsa moved at double speed to wash her
private parts. She was still shaky from the rear-end collision she
had just been in. She wasn’t at fault, even so, there were laws and
she prayed she wouldn’t get in trouble for leaving the scene of an
accident. She left her insurance card and hoped that was enough.
Her adrenaline was still surging through her veins. Not only
because she had left before the police arrived, but because she
knew there was going to be hell to pay. There was no way Mr. Black
would let her being late slide. She leaned over the sink and
splashed her face with water, ready to face her punisher.

As she descended the stairs, she tightened
the strings of her silk robe and tried to slow her breathing and
heart, but it was an impossible task with everything that had
happened.

When she entered the living room, Victor was
dressed and waiting by the bay window. He motioned for her and she
approached cautiously. When he saw her nervousness, he smiled. He
loved this. Elsa pushed her chin out and squared her shoulders. She
would be the champion, she repeated.

When he saw her new found courage, he let out
a disgusting, breathy chuckle. “We’ll see how brave you are when
you find out what your punishment is, Ms. Cassidy,” he commented
with a facile tongue. “We’ll also see just how
invested
in
this game you really are.”

Her eyes nervously darted back and forth
between his irises, trying to read his expression, but she could
only see Mr. Black’s dark eyes flashing a firm warning in her
direction.