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delight, tumbling over the edge, he’d
fill her. With each thrust, he’d burrow deeper, trapping and toying with her
until it was too late for her to get away. Recognition of her coming death
would flare in her eyes. First, there would be terror, then resignation. Before
he was through with her, she would beg for the end as his other victims had.
    He thought about each of them, some old, many young, several
brought down by gunfire, others by a stiletto or his fists. For a few, he’d
devised remarkably effective tortures that the church would have coveted during
their inglorious Inquisition.
    Gathering strength from his victims’ remembered horror, he
promised himself Lea Baptista’s would be even greater.
    To each side of him, men suddenly stirred. Why?
    Glancing at the stage, he saw the act had ended. The last
one tonight in this room and possibly for the dancer who’d just performed in Lea’s
place. As the music faded, the area went black. In the darkness, he waited like
everyone else. Unlike them, he remained standing by his seat as the lights came
back up. The slap of shoes, the rustle of clothing marked the audience’s
departure.
    With everyone gone, he went to the door SiNN and her partner
had used earlier. It was then that he should have intercepted her.
    Cursing himself for having lost his prey even momentarily,
he entered the dimly lit hall. A series of doors marched up each side, some closed,
others not. His fingers tightened into fists, his rage barely controlled.
Behind which would he find the female dancer? Would any of the bouncers stop
him before reaching her? What then?
    Inhaling deeply to calm himself, he heard faint music
pouring from the room at the end. A maudlin Country-Western tune. A favorite of
the male dancer?
    Striding down the hall, he reached the first room where the
door was slightly ajar. Inside, he saw the young man who’d just danced, his
attention on the tips in his hands.
    If the boy looked up for even a moment, he’d have to die.
    Thankfully, his focus remained on the money.
    He continued down the hall, glancing into darkened rooms
that seemed abandoned for the night. Brightly colored masks and costumes, all
seductive and brief, hung over the backs of chairs. The lingering fragrance of
too many flowery perfumes did little to relieve the area’s mustiness.
    At last, he reached the room at the end, stopping in its
doorway.
    The woman inside glanced up, her blue eyes meeting his in
the mirror. In the room’s much harsher light, he saw that her brown hair was a
shade lighter than Lea’s.
    Bitch. Lea would pay for this deception, but first he had to
find her. He forced a smile to put this woman at ease so he could learn all
that she knew. “SiNN,” he said pleasantly.
    She regarded the scar on his chin, then his exquisitely
tailored Italian suit. He sensed her calculating its price.
    “I wanted to give you this out there,” he said, holding up
three crisp one hundred dollar bills. “Unfortunately, too many men were in the
way.”
    She ignored the money in favor of evaluating him. “Liar.”
    His smile broadened at her teasing tone. He spoke at a pitch
only she could hear. “You’re right. I didn’t want you to have to share this
with your partner. You’re the reason for the success of the act, not him.”
    She arched one brow as though trying to determine whether to
believe his lie or not. A moment ticked by, then another.
    He behaved as she did, playing her game easily, knowing he
was better at it than she would ever be.
    At length, a smile tugged at the corner of her lips. “You
have that right.”
    “Then please take it,” he said, moving closer, offering her
the cash. “It will be our secret. You deserve it. You’ve improved my mood
greatly with your performance.”
    To his surprise, she still didn’t take the bills. “Bad day,
huh?”
    “Only if you consider losing a case to be bad.”
    Turning in her chair, she crossed her legs, the tip of her
high-heeled