his hands fisted at his sides. “He’s dead. The dead won’t come calling.”
Now she glanced back at Joel. Most people—when they knew the truth about him—they looked at him with pity. Maybe morbid fascination. She didn’t stare at him with either. She just…looked. Gazed straight into his eyes.
Joel swallowed.
Then she spoke. Her voice was low and quiet as she said, “He cut you over one hundred times, didn’t he? Kept you chained up, locked away. He drugged you in your own hospital and snuck you down to the bottom level. Your friends and colleagues were right there. You thought they’d help you. You thought someone would come to save you. Only no one did.”
Another lump rose in his throat. “I don’t need a fucking walk down memory lane, thanks so much.”
“No.” She inclined her head. “Memories don’t help. I thought perhaps you’d want some payback. That could help. But like I said before, I guess I was wrong.” Another low exhale. “I won’t be bothering you again. Good night, Dr. Landry.”
He didn’t move.
The floor creaked in the other room as she made her way to the door.
Payback? That word slithered through him. Dark. Sinister. Tempting. “Payback?” Joel bounded after her. She’d already undid the three locks. He caught her arm and swung her around to face him, pinning her between his body and the door. “What the hell do you mean, payback?”
“All of that rage inside of you. The pain that wants to break free. Don’t you want to give it a proper outlet?”
His heart was about to burst out of his chest. “Lady…”
“You may call me Chloe. I think I told you that already. If I didn’t, my apologies for not allowing the familiarity sooner.”
His back teeth clenched.
Her face softened as she stared up at him. “You’ve seen behind the curtain. Gotten a glimpse at the real monsters out there. Other people can pretend that bad guys are just on TV shows or in movies, but you know the truth.” Her gaze didn’t leave his. “Dangerous people fill this world. Killers hide in the shadows, and there are freaks out there who get off on giving pain to as many people as possible.”
“Lady…”
Her lips tightened.
“Chloe,” he corrected. Disturbing curiosity filled him. “Just what is it that you do for a living?”
Did she smile? Maybe. A brief curl of her full lips. “I solve crimes.”
“You said before that you weren’t a cop.”
A shake of her head. “I don’t deal well with rules and regulations.”
Like he hadn’t already figured that out about her.
“I’m strictly freelance,” she explained. “I come in when a department needs a fresh pair of eyes.”
He couldn’t look away from her.
“A killer is hunting in New Orleans right now. It’s my job to find him. But I could use some help tonight, and that’s why I came to you.”
The drumming of Joel’s heartbeat nearly drowned out her voice.
“So what do you say, Joel? You want a little payback for all the pain you’ve endured? You want a chance to help me put away a killer?”
And even before he spoke, Joel knew there would be no turning back. Because she was right. The rage and pain were tearing him apart. Payback? “Hell, yes.”
***
“You brought me to a strip club?” Joel’s voice was a rough growl that raked across her skin.
Chloe slid her fingers down the neck of her beer bottle, enjoying the cold sensation against her skin. Music blared around them, and one very flexible woman spun and twisted on a big pole right in the middle of the stage. “Yes, I did.” Chloe took a sip of her beer. Made a face. She hated beer but she’d figured she should try to blend in with everyone around her. “You’re welcome.”
His fingers tapped on the small, round table. It immediately wobbled. “You’re jerking me around.”
Her gaze flew to him. “Men like strip clubs.”
He stared at her.
“Women do, too.” She motioned vaguely around the room. There were plenty of men and women in the crowd.
“Chloe.”
Fine. “We’re not just here for the show. We need to talk to one of the strippers.”
“Why do we need to do that?”
“Because she’s a witness.” She motioned to the flexible woman on stage. “Because I didn’t believe all the info that I read in the police report.” She was ticking off points left and right. “Because I want to hear her responses for myself.”
He drank his beer. Didn’t seem to mind the taste. He hadn’t bothered changing when they’d gone out. Battered shirt. Battered jeans.