Page 6 of Crushed
But she wasn’t afraid of me.
I pulled out my phone and found the number for the new physician on staff at my estate, Dr. Davis, and sent a quick text:Update?
The patient is asleep, he sent. It was unnerving that he didn’t use a pronoun or a name. But I dismissed the formality for now. He was new too. He would have time to adjust to proper protocol. It had taken the last physician quite a while before she found a rhythm, working for me at the estate.
The new server fixed the band of her bra, then hopped off of the stage, winding through the empty circular tables and chairs, heading towards me. She offered her hand, even though she was more than twenty feet away, when a familiar voice popped up to the side of me.
“It’s been a long damn time, Stone,” Teagen said. “How long were you abroad? Months?”
“Months,” I said. I spun around on the stool to face the bar again. Brown hair in loose curls rested on Teagen’s shoulders, the same faded harp necklace leaning against her chest. Teagen and I had long since discovered that we weren’t a match. The attraction wasn’t there, and Teagen couldn’t offer me what I needed. Still, I could kill time with her.
“You’ve been keeping the place busy, I assume,” I said.
“You missed the action when the Pros’ Angel was on the loose.” Ah, I had read about that in the news. A serial killer had taken revenge on the abusive customers of sex workers. Teagen narrowed her eyes. “Don’t tell me it was you doing the killing all along,” she said. “If it was, I guess I should be thanking you.”
I shook my head. I had been abroad, dealing with an international business matter.
“How was it here?” I asked.
“It was slow as hell,” she whined. “Itsucked. But it’s better now.”
I glanced around; the club wasn’t busy, but it was still early. A few booths in the lounge were filled with wealthy men and half-naked women. The blond server, the new one, was now talking with Iris, the club’s contortionist and the server who had worked at the club the longest. Iris donned short black hair, fishnets, and platform boots with decorative buckles, yet she fancied herself a dominatrix turned nurturing mama bear. The protector of the servers. The mother of the flock. The most trusted server at the club. Don’t even think of touching any of her girls.
It was good for the new server to be talking with her. Iris could teach her things.
I could teach the new server things too. Engaging with her would be worth it to see how long she lasted, before she dropped out.
“Who have you been entertaining?” I asked. I downed the rest of my scotch.
“Irvine, for a while anyway.”
Irvine Montgomery, one of the wealthiest bankers in the nation, had been one of the serial killer’s victims. I had recognized his name in the headlines.
“My condolences,” I said.
“Yeah,” Teagen paused, glancing around, avoiding eye contact. She gestured at the bar. “Want to order me a drink?”
I nodded, and she ordered her usual while I got another round of scotch.
She stirred the vodka Shirley Temple. “What have you been up to lately?” she asked.
“I’m in talks to acquire another company.”
“Seriously? Another company, Cormac?” I grinned, and she added, “Will you ever slow down?”
There were reasons I couldn’t let go, not until I had no doubt in my mind that I had taken every opportunity to save the inevitable future. Because no matter how much money a person had, we could never guarantee safety. I would always be searching for a way to protect my daughter. To promise her the future that she deserved. To never let anything hurt her. So that the same thing that happened to her mother, wouldn’t happen to her.
“No,” I said.
“You’re obsessed,” she said.
In a way, she was right. Work was a coping mechanism, a way to exhibit total control. Itwasan obsession. A need. A craving I fulfilled. Any compulsion I had to manipulate and subdue, I did while dealing in pharmaceuticals.
And the urge I had to use that control on women? When I found a server willing to try to search for her darkest, deepest fears, I used her. Fucked her. Pinned her down until she snapped and begged for freedom. Whittled her down until I shredded her to her very core.
But no server was ready or willing to go there, not once they realized that they couldn’t hide behind false pretenses, not when they were broken down into their base instincts.
The new server’s honey-bright hair shimmered in the dim lighting. She looked almost angelic like that, surrounded by a world of the virtueless.
