Deadly Charade - By Virna Depaul Page 0,23

reality. She loved how they made her feel, and how they made him feel, and how, in the morning, he’d kiss her gently, sweetly, as if she was the most precious thing in the world to him.

But at night... Oh, at night... He’d turn to her, just like he had tonight, with heat in his eyes and a wicked grin and she’d shiver at what she knew was in store for her.

“You like this, don’t you?”

He squeezed her nipple, pinching it hard through her clothing so that the pain sunk all the way to her core. Yes, yes, she thought when he grasped her silk blouse and ripped it from her in three vicious pulls. Her skirt suffered a similar fate. Despite how rough he was with her clothes, his hands were gentle as they roamed over her.

That’s why she frowned when she felt the pinch of fear...and anger that washed through her. Anger and fear that was definitely directed toward him.

He leaned in to kiss her. “I love you, baby, I love you so much. Are you going to be a good girl for me? Let me do whatever I want? Say it. Say you’ll let me do anything I want.”

She almost couldn’t speak over the emotions washing through her. She hated him. He was a sick man and he was always trying to drag her down with him. But she forced herself to say yes, which made him smile and kiss her again.

Her eyes flickered to the lit candles that flickered fragrantly beside the bed.

In terms of weapons, they were deceptively harmless.

But she’d just have to be creative.

And she was.

An hour later his hands and feet were bound to the bedposts and she was sprawled on top of him.

She wasn’t sure if she hated him now or loved him.

Trying to figure it out made her head hurt, so she stopped trying.

For an instant she thought of the man she’d met at Club Matrix. He hadn’t looked like a drug dealer any more than she and her husband looked like users.

Her husband...

She turned back to him.

When she reached for the candles, he laughed, likely thinking she’d repeat the wax play they’d engaged in a few months ago. But that wasn’t what she did.

As the bed sheets started to catch fire with her still on top of him, Toby screamed, “Why? Why are you doing this?”

Why? Her brow crinkled when the lick of heat against her skin made her gasp.

Once again she thought of the man who’d sold her the Rapture.

She shrugged. “Why not?”

Chapter 11

Several days after visiting Tony in the jail infirmary, Linda sat in the courtroom audience as Neil handled Tony’s preliminary hearing. While Neil questioned one of the responding officers, Tony sat with his defense attorney, Roger Lock, a man who had an impressive reputation for getting his clients off the hook. At this point in the proceedings, however, Lock’s skill was hardly necessary. Neil simply had to establish probable cause that Tony committed murder so the court could hold him over for trial. As soon as the judge learned about Tony’s confession, that standard would be met.

“Who discovered the weapon on the defendant?” Neil asked.

Scott Anderson, a baby-faced police officer, leaned toward the mic, his gun belt creaking softly. “The EMTs. They were there when my partner and I arrived and were already working on the defendant, who was unconscious. They pointed out the weapon they’d found on the defendant’s person.”

Linda glanced at Tony. He sat sprawled out and loose limbed in his chair, as if he didn’t have a care in the world. Nonetheless he seemed unusually subdued. Was he still feeling the effects of Moser’s beating? Was he in unbearable pain? Or was he so high on painkillers that he really was lost in his own world?

“Who took possession of the weapon?”

“I did. I bagged it. Took photos of the defendant before he was transported to the hospital.”

Neil had the officer authenticate the wrench and then continued with his direct examination.

“Was anyone besides Mr. Cooper there?”

“There was a dead body. Of a man later identified as Mark Guapo.”

Neil stopped to pull out some photographs, which he then marked. “Your Honor, I’d like to mark these photographs as People’s Exhibits 7 and 8.”

“They will be so marked,” the judge said.

“Now, Officer, in Exhibit 7, is this the man, Mark Guapo, you’re referring to?”

Anderson studied the picture that Neil held out. Linda knew what that photo looked like—not pretty. “Yes.”

“Did you take this photograph?”

“Yes.”

“Does this photograph