Femme Fatale (Black Rose Book 2) Read online

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  ©Femme Fatale

  Copyright © 2013 Suzanne Steele

  Black Rose Series © 2013 Suzanne Steele

  Stormy Dawn Weathers © 2013 Suzanne Steele

  Published by Suzanne Steele

  All Rights Reserved

  This book is a work of Fiction. References to real people, events, establishments, organizations, or locales are intended only to provide a sense of authenticity and are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental. All characters, incidents, and dialogue are drawn from the author’s imagination and are not to be misconstrued as realistic or factual. The author acknowledges the trademark status of various products and locales referenced in this fictional work, which have been used without permission. The use of these trademarks is not authorized by, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners. All rights reserved. No part of this book can be used or reproduced, in any manner whatsoever, without express written permission from the author, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

  Cover Photo © Dollar Photo Club

  Cover Copyright © Suzanne Steele

  Edited by Corey Amador

  Cover Design by Mayhem Cover Creations

  Formatting by Suzanne Steele

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  To the Reader

  The men I write about are Alpha males in every sense of the word. They are the men society warns us about. They are dominant males with controlling tendencies. They are the men you know you should stay away from, yet

  you are drawn like a moth to a flame. If you are looking for a sweet romance, you won't find it here. What you will find is dark passion. Many times my heroes carry what would be

  considered an obsession for the women they love. Each and every character I write about has demanded their voice be heard. I have been true to that calling, and I have stayed true to their personalities, which at times, the reader may not always agree with. They are dark, they are gritty, and many times, their love is dysfunctional, but nonetheless, it is real.

  Stalk Me…

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  Table of Contents

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty One

  Chapter Twenty Two

  Chapter Twenty Three

  Chapter Twenty Four

  Chapter Twenty Five

  Chapter Twenty Six

  Chapter Twenty Seven

  Chapter Twenty Eight

  Chapter Twenty Nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Chapter Thirty One

  Chapter Thirty Two

  Chapter Thirty Three

  Chapter Thirty Four

  Chapter Thirty Five

  Chapter Thirty Six

  Chapter Thirty Seven

  Chapter Thirty Eight

  Chapter Thirty Nine

  Chapter Forty

  Chapter Forty One

  Chapter Forty Two

  Chapter Forty Three

  Chapter Forty Four

  Chapter Forty Five

  Chapter Forty Six

  Chapter Forty Seven

  Chapter Forty Eight

  Chapter Forty Nine

  Chapter Fifty

  Epilogue

  Prologue

  I’m intrigued by the paradox of the average person’s mindset. As a society, we’re programmed to believe in clichés. We’re taught that darkness lurks inside men who resemble the bogeyman when, in all reality, it can just as easily be in plain sight, hiding behind a suit and tie. If the public knew about the monster residing inside me, they would be horrified. I have a family and a job. It’s a life as normal as anyone else’s in existence, but like so many others, I live a double life.

  Honestly though, it really isn’t me they should concern themselves with. No, it is the unassuming neighbor who lives right beside them in their suburban haven of false security. Oh, the horrors that go on behind those closed doors—they’re enough to make the general public cringe.

  It’s a natural thing to worry, but let me assure you that rather than fear me, it’s your own family members you should fear. It’s the people you dine with and your friends you so trustingly allow to cross the threshold of your homes. It’s the pedophile sitting at your table in the presence of the child he’s accosted while his lies fill his victim’s small mind—promises to kill Mommy and Daddy if their shared secret is revealed. What an atrocity to tell them they are special, and say that’s why they are chosen to be subjected to his vile actions. Perhaps it’s your neighbor, who has lived beside you for years, but his friendship has an ulterior motive, as does his reason for bedding your wife. It could even be his wife, who hides her many bruises from when her husband last beat her in a drunken rage.

  It could be any one of these people you would never suspect of harming your child, but the one person I can promise you it’s not, is me. No, I am the man who is protecting you. I’m your friend of sorts, your unsung hero. I’m the man who is bold enough to do what society has failed to accomplish; I kill off the dregs of humanity.

  I do have a code I kill by. No life is extinguished without proper investigative research to ensure he is truly guilty of the offense he has been accused of.

  So, go back to your safe havens, and be rest assured there is someone who is protecting those who are unable to defend themselves and, in some cases, vindicate those who are wrongfully accused. I am not the monster you need to fear; I am the answer to your prayers when it seems like no one is listening or cares about your plight.

  Chapter One

  Melanie

  I make my way into the hospital, rushed as usual for fear of being late. It’s a trait I have that my husband hates even after years of being married to me. As the CEO of a worldwide company, he’s never late to anything. Me? Well, I’m just the opposite; I’m late to everything.

  I didn’t take this job because I needed it for the money. I just wanted to do something with my life to give back to the community. When my husband took my son and me in, my entire life changed. He immediately started raising Tom as if he were his own flesh and blood, even going so far as to give him his last name. Tom is my husband’s only heir, and he is one of the reasons my husband decided to quit killing.

  When Tom started college at the University of Louisville, he insisted on living in the dorm so he could focus on his education and be close to the friends he had grown up with in the area. Now, it is just the two of us at home, and that is a very good thing with what I’m getting ready
to ask my husband to do.

  Quickly tossing my purse behind the nurse’s station, I grab my cell phone and place it in the pocket of my scrubs. After all the years we’ve been married, my husband still insists on being able to contact me at will. While some women might find his possessive behavior overwhelming, I don’t and never have. I think it’s because I understand the reason behind why he is the way he is. He’s seen so much of what our depraved society has to offer that he wants to keep his family in a bubble of protection. Though it isn’t a realistic desire, I suppose it gives him a sense of control to at least attempt to keep Tom and me safe.

  I look up to see one of the doctors heading my way and push away the foreboding thoughts that have been plaguing me since yesterday. In order to pull off what I have in mind, I’ll need to be reticent about anything I’ve seen or heard in the last twenty-four hours.

  In all my years of working as a registered nurse in this hospital, I never would have believed I’d be asking my husband to help the woman known as the hospital babbler exact vengeance. In the past, the girl lived to not only stay up on the latest gossip, but to repeat it to anyone who would listen as well. Life has a way of stepping in and throwing curveballs when we least expect it though, and for her, it came in the form of a scandal. She had gone through a period of wanting to fit in with the hospital’s social elite—the doctors and their wives. I suppose I can’t really blame her; we’ve all wanted to feel accepted at some point in our lives. For some, it was high school, and for others, it comes later in life once they’ve joined the workforce. She was finally successful in landing a doctor years ago, and they’d even gotten engaged, only to find out her soon-to-be husband was a serial killer with a fetish for sleeping with dead bodies.

  After that nasty episode, she toned down quite a bit as far as her gossiping goes, but she still has the itch to know everything that’s going on. Perhaps being in the know is her form of control. It seems we all have a desire for that thing that eludes us, to have some kind of control in this crazy world we live in. I guess the fact that she’s learned to keep her mouth shut counts for something. If I hadn’t sensed a change in her, I most certainly wouldn’t be attempting to help her with what she’s asking me to do. The tragedy she’d been through with her late husband had softened her towards the plight of others in extreme circumstances. Life has a way of changing us, some toward good and others, well… not so much. There is also the fact that I hold a soft place in my heart for her because my husband is also a serial killer. He is the infamous Black Rose. I can only imagine what it would be like to deal with the type of calumny she’s been forced to withstand.

  The thing about a hospital is that it’s like a small community. The same way suburban neighbors keep up with what’s going on in their little cul-de-sac of the world, nurses keep up with what’s going on where they work. This will be one time Evelyn’s nosey nature will come in handy. Normally, it’s the doctors who get the honor of being water cooler fodder. In this case, however, it’s a patient, and only Evelyn and I know the details of what’s going on.

  “How are you today?” The doctor speaking to me chuckles and continues before I have time to answer. “I see you’re late again.”

  “I’m so sorry. It seems like no matter how early I start getting ready, I still manage to be late.”

  “No worries, it’s been a slow night.”

  With that, he grabs the chart he needs and walks over to one of his patient’s rooms. Seeing Evelyn headed my way, I wait for her, hoping she’s found out the information I asked her for.

  Judging by her quick pace and wide smile, she is clearly excited to share whatever it is she managed to find out. Give Evelyn a job to do involving uncovering someone’s personal secrets, and she is in her element. The girl is nothing shy of stellar when it comes to finding out if a rumor is true or just that—a rumor.

  “I had a chance to talk with the patient. She even gave me some pictures she found in a magazine. This guy is some bigwig TV host who covers philanthropy stories here in the Louisville area.”

  Not wanting to risk being overheard, I grab her by the arm and quickly pull her into the janitorial closet where there aren’t any security cameras. If Charles is willing to do this for me, I can’t take any chances that might come back to haunt us at a later date.

  Evelyn’s excited voice interrupts my thoughts focusing on self-preservation.

  “She gave me this.”

  I watch as she unfolds an article that looks like it was ripped out of some hospital waiting room magazine.

  “She swears this is the guy who was the leader.”

  I take the article, looking at it as she continues speaking.

  “She said there were three other men, but he was the one issuing the mandates. Apparently, the guy gets off on watching and just telling the other three what he wants them to do. He sounds like a sick son of a bitch, Melanie. This poor girl is a mess because of him. They really should be prosecuted, but I honestly don’t think the girl is stable enough to go through a trial. Just seeing the guy’s picture sent her into a full blown panic attack.”

  Getting them arrested for the kidnapping and rape of the young woman lying in one of our hospital beds isn’t exactly what I have in mind, not that I have any intention of sharing that sentiment with Evelyn. The level of violence in these attacks can only be attributed to a deep-seated hatred of women, and if there’s one thing I’ve learned from my husband, there’s no rehabilitation for that. They will continue committing these heinous crimes until they are no longer physically able. The only way to stop these men is to kill them.

  “Evelyn, you can’t tell anyone about this. The woman spoke to you in confidence, and she’s already told you she doesn’t want to prosecute. I’m certain she just wants to forget about what happened and get on with her life.”

  I feel no guilt about veering my nosey little friend off course concerning my intentions; just call it the proverbial means to an end.

  “After the scandal I went through, I would never do that. She’s the one who was accosted, and if she just wants to move on with her life without the stress of a trial, who am I to try and dissuade her?”

  Good, it’s working.

  “Well, I must admit, you aren’t the blabbermouth you used to be.”

  “Hey…”

  “I’m just stating the obvious. You’re still inquisitive, but you aren’t such a bigmouth about your findings.” Changing the subject back to the matter at hand, I ask, “Can I take this with me?” I wave the article she handed me a moment ago out in front of me.

  “I’ve got no use for it. I’m certainly not going to let our patient see it again. The first time was traumatic enough for the poor girl. What are you going to do with it?”

  No way am I letting Evelyn know what I have in mind. What I have planned is going to be tricky with a third party involved, much like walking a tightrope, but it is doable.

  “I just want to do some Internet searches on him. I’d like to see where his speaking engagements have been and then try to find out if there have been other victims in the same towns where he has lectured.”

  It’s true that I want to come up with a timeline of sorts, but that isn’t all I want to do. I continue weaving a web of lies that will make sense to my curious counterpart.

  “If there have been other women, maybe one of them will be bold enough to step up and talk to the authorities. Even just one pissed off victim could be all we need to see this guy prosecuted and off the streets so he can’t do this to anyone else.”

  “Do you think he’s killed anyone?”

  “I don’t know, but I think it’s highly probable.”

  Though I suspect these guys have probably killed potential witnesses, I’m not going to share that little tidbit with Evelyn. Could it be that Richard’s partners brought him the women, and when he became tired of torturing them, it was by his hand that the victims were executed? It’s a feasible theory and, from the things I’ve learned from my h
usband, one that makes complete sense.

  Lately, the news has been full of stories about missing women who are found murdered at a later date. I’m convinced Richard Roundtree isn’t just abducting, torturing, and raping; I believe he’s also guilty of murdering. Regardless of whether or not he’s killing his victims, he still needs a visit from the infamous Black Rose, and I’m going to see to it that he gets just what he deserves.

  Chapter Two

  Charles

  “What you’re asking me to do is very contrary to your nature.”

  “I’m not the same woman you rescued.”

  After stalking my way over to the woman who intrigued me to the point of obsession so many years ago, I lift her chin with one finger to force her to look me in the eye. In a sense, there is some truth in her words. In the years since she has become mine, she has successfully attended college and obtained her nursing degree. As far as I am concerned, though, she has always been strong. After all, she was a single mother long before I took her and Tommy in.

  Nostalgia hits me hard with the memory. He was always Tommy as a young boy, but with the passing of time, he insisted we start calling him Tom. Her son became my son as well, and he carries my last name, no different than if he had been born of my loins. Well, I suppose there is one difference; I have no worries that he inherited the gene I carry—the one that marks me a serial killer. I vowed years ago to never father an heir for fear he would harbor the same darkness I carry within my soul. I’m convinced there are elements of truth to both sides of the argument between nature and nurture. Even the slight possibility of passing on my serial killer traits has convinced me to err on the side of caution.

  “I beg to differ with you, love. No matter how you grow and change, there are certain areas you will remain the same—the areas pertaining to me.”

  “You know what I’m saying.”

  “I know exactly what you’re saying. You’re saying you wish to join me on my quest for vigilante justice—a campaign I gave up years ago for you and our son.”