Grace Street (A Chapter 8 Novel, #1) (25 page)

She stood as well and took one step forward
to reach a hand out, desperate for his touch, but he pushed it
away.

“This is just a game, remember? I’m only here
to…”

She cut in, ready to finish his ludicrous
statement. “I remember. You’re here to ‘help’ me. But here’s a news
flash, Victor: it seems to me that I’m not the one who needs the
help here.”

He shot her a cold look and crossed his arms
over his chest. “I don’t need help.”

“Neither do I,” she countered. “So I guess
we’re at an impasse.”

He nodded in discontented agreement, “I
suppose so.”

Her eyes dropped to hide her disappointment
in how the evening was turning out. “Am I free to leave?” she
whispered.

She felt Victor’s finger on her chin, lifting
her face. “Is that what you want?”

“You know what I want,” she replied even
softer than before.

He sighed and shook his head.

“Fine. I’ll go,” she choked out as she turned
and sulked away. She made it to the door when Victor wrapped his
fingers around her wrist and yanked her back.

“Like hell you will.”

He pulled her into his embrace and smothered
her with his kiss, stifling any objections she might have had. Not
that she had any. She didn’t really want to leave. She wanted to
hold him and to be held by him. He swept her up into his arms and
marched the short distance to the bed and laid her down gently.
Yes, this was the man she had missed during his absence: her sweet
and temperamental Victor.

*

Elsa woke to the sound of Victor’s deep and
peaceful breathing. After his admission and desperate kiss, they
had simply laid in bed next to each other until they fell asleep.
She kissed the corner of his mouth and walked down the stairs to
the living room. Still naked, she turned on the fireplace and
squatted in front of it for warmth.

The evening had been so perfect. He hadn’t
even mentioned their abrupt departure on Sunday or the cruel words
they both had said to one another. His writings were beckoning her
and as much as she wanted to be near him, she couldn’t wait to get
back to continue reading so she could learn more about him.

Staring at the crackling fire, she became
lost in her thoughts.
Burnt and unrecognizable
…
Unrecognizable from what? From whom he once was? Then that would
mean he wasn’t always like this.

A warm blanket and strong arms suddenly
encompassed her and held her close.

“You’re freezing. What are you doing out
here?” Victor’s voice seemed distant.

“Thinking,” she curled into him.

His arms squeezed tighter yet. Managing no
more than a hoarse whisper, he breathed into her ear, “I wish I was
inside your head to hear your thoughts. You would never have to
speak you desires, I could just sit close like this and feel every
one of your dreams and wishes and fulfill them one by one.”

His deep voice simmered with barely checked
passion and his words stoked the already out-of-control fire he had
ignited within her. Her heart clenched and she looked up into his
eyes. They were focused on the flames and reflecting the red embers
in the darkened room.

“Why do you say things like that to me?”

He blinked rapidly and met her gaze.

“Is this part of your game, Mr. Black?” she
implored.

He pushed the hair from her eyes and kissed
her forehead tenderly. “No, my words are real and this is the real
me.”

Without saying anything, she mentally begged
him to kiss her, but he only sat staring down at her, visibly
struggling internally with his emotions. Gently, he pushed her
away.

“You’re free to leave.”

Why couldn’t he just accept what she was
offering? She sat on her knees for a long moment not even knowing
herself what she was trying to offer him before rising to leave.
She climbed the stairs to the bedroom slowly and gathered her bag,
a sinking feeling starting to overwhelm her with each of her steps.
She descended the stairs to see Victor waiting by the open door
with the blanket wrapped around his body. She wasn’t even sure how
she was getting home until she saw a cab parked on the street
waiting for her. On the verge of breaking down, she was unable to
look him in the eyes. She gulped loudly and stepped forward when
she felt a tear roll down her cheek.

He reached out and brushed it away with his
thumb. “No tears tonight, Elsa.”

She looked at him bewildered. “I thought you
liked my tears?”

“I do, but not tonight.”

Standing just inside the open door, Victor
watched as the cab drove away. Guilt was ever present and he tried
to brush it off like he had done countless times, but he couldn’t.
Not this time. Not as easily. He hadn’t been so conflicted over a
woman in years. Where the hell was it coming from? He suspected it
had everything to do with the intense scrutiny he was feeling
regarding the Cambridge case and his workload, and nothing to
actually do with the female in question. At least he hoped that was
the case. There was no way in hell he would allow himself to get
attached to a Chapter. Love or anything remotely like it didn’t fit
onto his agenda. He shook his head and sighed.
Elsa
. He
needed to stop thinking of her as only a number. But why?

The dream
… the vivid and macabre
images were still lingering in his memory and he never wanted to be
that man; not in real life; not even in a dream. The work he was
doing with his Chapters was keeping him from being that person.
They helped to keep his mind off the inevitable truth of his
ancestry and distract him from the darkness that threatened to
overtake him.

Even though the blood of the brutal man he
called his father was coursing through his veins as was his cruel
mother’s, he tried to convince himself that he was still his own
man. He was doing something constructive with his character flaws
and using them for something good by helping people who couldn’t
help themselves. Wasn’t he? He clenched his jaw. Who the fuck did
he think he was kidding? Himself, that’s who. It was better that he
lied to himself than to allow the ugly truth of what he had done to
all those Chapters seep into his thoughts.

God damn Chapter One
.

Seating himself at the table, he reached for
his journal. He couldn’t help but wonder what kind of man he might
have turned out to be if One had never come into his life. Would he
be kinder? Less cruel? A loving man with a family of his own? Or
would he be just some wishy-washy, half-rate FBI agent barely
pulling his own weight? Or worse yet, some pussy-whipped asshole in
an unhappy relationship with a woman who would never allow him to
explore his dark side? He would never know and he didn’t want to.
These were the cards life dealt him and was going to play them for
all their worth.

Your persistence with trying to figure me
out, C8, is getting infuriating and will only get you into trouble.
My thoughts have now taken a turn toward the malevolent side and my
dreams of recent are distressing. You’re pushing me and I’m near my
breaking point. My sanity is already questionable and I fear what
might happen if you drive me too far to the edge. I don’t want to
hurt you, either physically or emotionally, though it’s inevitable
at this point for your heart and spirit to be broken once I’m done
with you. Though I do admit to wanting to break you, it’s your
willpower that I want to defeat, not your heart and sure as hell
not your spirit.

Will my cruelty and distance obliterate your
inner light like mine was snuffed out? I hope not…that’s never been
my intention. Or has it? I can no longer tell the difference
between what I want and what I need.

My brain is cluster fuck right now and
you, in no small way, have contributed to that.
C1 started all this fucked-up mess and now

Frustrated with himself for thinking about
the one person he thought he had put behind him, he left the last
sentence unfinished and furiously crossed a line through it.
Turning to a section designated as his own chapter, he
continued.

Will I age with grace? Am I going to leave
my mark on this world? My life is ticking by and I’m beginning to
feel as though nothing has been accomplished - all my time wasted
on Chapters, people, who can’t see what I’m trying to do for them
or don’t want the kind of help I’m offering. Am I really helping
them? To admit that I’m doing anything else would force me to
accept a reality I’m not ready to face. Not yet. Not until my work
is done. When will that day come…? I wish someone could tell
me.

He slammed his journal closed, threw it
across the room and sunk low into the chair. He leaned forward and
fisted his hair, his body and mind near the breaking point. He
needed to get the Cambridge Killer. And, God, how he needed to
break Elsa. He had to make her understand that there was no future
with him and that the light that she was so convinced was in
everyone had flickered out long ago, and there was no rekindling
it.

***

The drive back to Elsa’s apartment was
agonizing. She held her tears rigidly until she stepped foot into
her home. Even then, she only allowed herself a brief moment of
grief. She was tired of the tears. She hated them. She dropped her
bag on the floor and stared at the dark, empty room. There was
nothing and no one for her there. Not Victor. Not Mr. Black. She
turned and walked out without a second thought. Mr. Black’s
manuscript was whispering to her from across town, demanding to be
read and dissected. The real Victor was in there somewhere, on
those pages, waiting to be exposed.

She caught a bus to her office building and
when she entered, security looked her over curiously. She made up
some lame excuse as to why she was there on a Friday night when she
should be out living her life; what little of one she had.

The late spring night was beautiful and the
weather outside was almost perfect making her wish she was out
enjoying it instead of obsessing over a man she knew was broken and
completely wrong for her. She sighed miserably. Poor Victor, he was
wrong for everyone, even himself. Opening a window, a cool, damp
breeze blew in and whipped her hair around. Victor’s faint scent
filled the room. She smelled of him.

Turning to the page she had left off with,
she decided it best to not read anymore about Peyton, the
masochist. Her heart and stomach couldn’t take it. Anyway, what was
to be gleaned from reading all the gory details of that unspeakable
encounter? Would she learn anything new about him? Maybe… but not
the kind of things she wanted to really know and nothing good would
be achieved by reading what Mr. Black was capable of putting
another human being through.

It was Victor that she wanted to learn about.
She would just have to save the rest of that chapter for another
day; a day when she could see past the darkness he said he couldn’t
deny; a day when she knew for sure that there was still light
within him.

She flipped through the pages until she came
to a new Chapter.

Chapter 4 – Jordan, age 40. Profession:
Project Manager

Prologue: We were introduced at a city
fundraiser by none other than the Mayor of our lovely city. It was
hard to deny the attraction felt between the two of us. I can only
guess it was just as much a surprise to you as it was to me. I felt
your eyes on me the entire evening. It’s a strange thing when one
realizes they are attracted to the same sex, most especially when
it has never happened to this degree before.

Elsa’s eyes froze on the words
same
sex.
She glanced at the name and profession again. Victor was
bisexual? She never would have guessed.
Never
. She prided
herself on her ability to pick up on that sort of thing and not
once did she ever get the impression that he was bisexual. Maybe
he’s not. Perhaps he’s gay and in denial? She huffed under her
breath. Victor Laurenzo, aka Mr. Black, was
not
homosexual.
The way he fucked and knew his way around a pussy… there was no way
in hell he was gay.

If I weren’t so interested in finding out
how your lean physique would feel under my control, I might have
felt sorry for your gorgeous wife and children that you were
wearing on your arm like a badge of heterosexuality and as some
sort of confirmation of your thinly-veiled masculinity. I’m often
times amazed at how easy it is for me to see through strangers’
façades when the ones they love can’t even see the real people
hiding beneath their masks. It’s a God-given talent, I suppose, and
it has served me well in my profession.

Elsa frowned. Not at the thought of Victor
being attracted to man but because Jordan was married with
children. It was natural for men to be attracted to each other on
some primal level, no matter how much they may deny that little
fact
, just like it was inherent for women to be attracted to
one another, at least in her opinion and experience. It was ironic
that he was writing about people wearing masks when he was wearing
one himself. He may be a brilliant man, but he really was a man in
serious denial.

It was a big step for me to move forward
with you, but your utter maleness was hard to resist. I wasn’t sure
you would accept my offer and I might end up with not only a black
eye, but a bruised ego, however, my initial perception about you
was spot-on. I’m even convinced that if I hadn’t come forward and
made the first move, you would’ve done it yourself. Being an
ex-Marine, you’re known for going after what you want and getting
the bad guy. I like that. It’s something we share in common. And
I’m very bad, Mr. Faux-Machismo.