Carlisle felt his desire for her well up beneath his calm exterior. He wondered how long he could handle this. His lust for her was growing with each dance and she was causing it to do so. She knew how to drive a man insane. Make him lose control.
He struggled to keep control. Each dance was pushing him closer to a trance. The rhythmic movements of her hips. And the dance beat. Her sexy smile.
It was all coming together to weave a spell he could not resist. With one final push, she had him so deep that he would never be able to climb out. But the charm had worked on someone else too. Micky Larsen. Carlisle’s roommate.
But Micky had fallen so easily. Maybe too easily. He had hit the bottom hard. Where he was, there was no return. He was permanently under her spell, just like Carlisle.
She smiled. Two would be better than one. Hell. She wasn’t above giving pleasure to more than one. It would keep her busy all night.
“Shall we go, boys?” She asked.
“C’mon, Micky,” Carlisle stated vacantly, “let’s go show this lady a good time.”
“Sure thing, Carl,” Micky answered.
“Your place or mine?” She inquired.
“Ours,” the two spellbound men replied.
“OK,” she replied, slipping her slender arms around both men, “lead on.”
Both men fumbled their way to the door with her between them. Slipping out of the club unseen, no one-except the bartender and server-noticed them leaving. Into the night they went, headed for the house that Carlisle and Micky shared.
“So which of us plays first?” Micky was asking Carlisle.
“We’ll let the lady choose, Mick,” Carlisle replied.
She smiled. “First come, first serve, Carl. Micky gets to play after.” She winked at her second suitor.
Michael and the boys were gathered around the poker table attempting to take Marcel’s mind off his failed marriage through faking losing streaks. Marcel, smarter than they wanted to admit, knew they were doing so on purpose. He appreciated their efforts, but Evangeline had been his life. Now, he only had his work. And that had been the reason she left.
He had stubbornly refused to let go of the case that had the whole team stuck. No leads. No real clues. No weapon. No bodies. Just missing men.
He had talked Mike into letting them pursue this but now, he was regretting it. He missed Evangeline too much. And the kids. He wondered if his son still idolized him. He wouldn’t blame him if he had stopped. He had become a workaholic. The case had come to mean more than his family and he was now paying the price.
“Can I use de phone, Mike?” He suddenly asked.
“Sure, Justin,” his friend responded.
“I-I jus’ need t’ hear her voice,” the Cajun bowed his head.
“I know, Bro,” Michael smiled sadly, “I know you miss her. We all do.”
The Cajun rose from the table and headed for the living room, where he could have some privacy. Reilly looked over at Michael, then at Danforth. He shook his head. He knew what his friend was going through. He had almost lost his wife over this damn case as well. He figured they were all close to losing their families because of it.
He would be going insane right now too, if his beloved Sierra had left. Just out of sheer luck, he had made a promise that had made her stay. After this, there would be no more. He didn’t care. Even if he had to take a cut in pay, he would rather be on traffic duty than to be embroiled in another endless case like this one.
Danforth’s wife was like Michael’s. She was a little stronger and understood that sometimes her husband would be called upon to solve unsolvable crimes. She knew it would take nights and weekends. Yes, it would seemingly take over their lives…but only until the case was solved or had been put away as a cold case, to be reopened when something new came to light.
She was a good-natured woman, who had the patience of a saint. She was as much like Michael’s wife and Reilly’s was like Evangeline. Hell. She had tried to help Arlene give support and advice to Evangeline and Sierra. But Sierra had been the only one who listened.
Evangeline had not been able to take any more. The case had claimed its first emotional casualty. They knew there would be more, but they had to be strong for their men. And especially strong for Marcel. Yes, they-as the women-had to show the men their support.
Misty roamed Carlisle’s house naked. Going from one bedroom to the next, she kept the two men busy for the night. then, At one in the morning, she absently went to the kitchen. It was apparent that she was not awake, but neither man was awake either. They had both been drained of all their strength through a marathon of lovemaking. Absently, while she was still in the kitchen, she picked up a knife from the counter.
Moments later, still asleep, she showered and dressed. still sleep walking, she made her way to Morgan’s condo. Her home. Letting herself in, she crashed on the couch. Somewhere along the way, the knife had been dropped in the storm drain. She had no clue that she had done so. Nor did she realize it had been in her hand. Wrapped in plastic, it would remain there until some unsuspecting child would spot it and alert the nearest parent.
It wasn’t there alone. Knives were scattered throughout the city storm drains. All connected to the unsolved disappearances. But they had to be discovered, first. And who knew when that would be.
back at Carlisle’s house, two men lay dead in their beds. Both had been stabbed multiple times. Both bodies were covered in blood, their blood. There was blood everywhere. There was only one thing wrong.
There had been no removal of the bodies. No effort had been made to clean up. And that would be the turning point in the case. But it would mislead Michael and his team briefly. But only briefly.