Deadly Obsession Part 12

One morning, he woke up, not able to look at himself in the mirror after k icking a bounteous-breasted blonde out of his bed and promising to call. H e had vowed then not to take another woman until he wanted to take on a wi fe-and the promise he was ready to take on a family.

Today, he was no closer to wanting a wife. But Laurie Michaels played havoc on his vow. He let out a deep sigh and glanced down at his notes. Cole had a case to solve, and didn't need the distraction of a nosy reporter.

The quote continued to stare up at him, taunting him, from the white pad.

Where had it come from? It wasn't like Cole could walk into any library an d ask which of the thousands of books this phrase might have come from, if indeed it did come from a book. Somehow though, he knew he'd more than li kely find it was a reference from a famous book or journal.

The murderer issued him a challenge, leaving him a clue as to his persona. B ut without the source of the quote, Cole would not be able to find out what it meant.

The door opened and closed as Damien entered the apartment with one of h is band members in tow. Cole remembered him as Sandy Brown. h.e.l.l, how co uld anyone forget a name like that?

"Hey, what's up, Cole?" Damien said as he made his way to the refrigerator and withdrew a bottle of beer and a can of Diet c.o.ke, handing the latter to the light brown-haired man following. "Want a beer?" he asked Cole.

"No, thanks." He watched Damien unscrew the cap, take a long pull from his b ottle, then have a seat on the sofa. Damien's long legs lifted as he propped his feet on the coffee table.

"What's got you bugged?" Damien asked, looking at Cole, puzzlement in hi s gaze.

"Maybe you can help," Cole said, looking at the quote. "Have you ever heard o r read the phrase, ' BS: Ah, sir, you dwellers in the city cannot enter into the feelings of the hunter'? "

"Can't say that I have. Maybe you should ask Sandy here-he's our little bookworm," Damien laughed. "Seems to always be reading something. What d oes the BS stand for?"

"Don't know. You ever heard it, Sandy?" Cole asked.

"Can't say I have," he replied, taking a swallow from his c.o.ke.

"What sort of books do you read?" Cole asked, his curiosity piquing. Sandy didn't look much like the bookworm type.

"Science Fiction, supernatural, biographies-even if I had read that quote so mewhere, I doubt I'd remember it."

Sandy's eyes strayed to the TV. Cole doubted much excited him aside from p laying in a band and checking out all the groupies that followed. "Where'd you get that from?" Damien asked.

"It's a case I'm working on-not much else I can tell you."

"Whoever left it for you sounds like they're knocking you." Damien chuckled , then drank his beer.

"Mind if I smoke?" Sandy asked as he pulled a pack of Marlboro's from his s hirt pocket.

"Help yourself," Cole said, still focused on Damien. "What do you mean, k nocking me?"

Sulfur filled the air as the match was struck against the bottom of Sandy's worn boot. He took the flame to the cigarette extending from his mouth.

"The quote is saying you're a city dweller, man," Damien theorized. "You co me from the city, you're a cop. You can't possibly think like a hunter, a k iller. A hunter is someone who looks for prey."

Cole narrowed his gaze. "So what's coming from city have to do with thinki ng like him?"

"In other words, you're out of his element, man. You can't possibly think like him when you don't come from where he does."

"And where is that? Where does he come from?"

Damien tapped his temple. "His mind, man. You can't possibly get into his mind when you're a cop. You think like a cop-you ain't like him."

Damien had a point. Of course a cop wouldn't think like a murderer. h.e.l.l, w ho would want to? But still, in order to catch the murderer at work, you ha d to get into his head, think like him, and figure out whom he preys upon.

You had to get one step ahead of him to catch him; know before he does who his next victim is.

So far, the perp seemed to prey on prost.i.tutes who had light to dark brown, long hair, and brown eyes. A flash of Laurie Michaels went through his mind.

She had auburn hair, but it certainly could be thought of as brown-and her eyes matched the exact color. Lucky for her that his perp sought out prost.i.t utes.

"Maybe you're right, Damien. Maybe this slime ball believes I can't think li ke him, therefore I can't catch him."

Damien shrugged. "Hey, I ain't no shrink, man. That's just how I'd interpret it."

"The question remains though, where the h.e.l.l did he get the quote from?"

"Are you sure it's a quote and he didn't make it up himself?" Sandy asked. Hi s gaze briefly left the television to meet with Cole's.

"You might have a point." Cole thought for a moment. "But I don't think this son of a b.i.t.c.h wants me to think he's a poet. No. He's issuing a challenge. I f I find out where this came from, then I'll be one step closer to getting in to his mind."

"Well, look-we got to get going," Damien said, as he plopped his large feet onto the floor, standing to his full height. "Got a gig tonight. Coming by?"

"Not tonight," Cole said, his gaze still trained on the sheet of paper. "I ha ve too much on my mind."

"Too bad. Thought maybe you'd bring that Michaels woman along." Damien quirked one side of his mouth upward. "Now there's one h.e.l.luva babe. Sa w her today."

Cole's gaze snapped up to Damien's. "Where?"

"Pugz and Bailey's Tavern. Left some chick's house, needed some nourishmen t." Damien laughed, tucking his long black hair behind each ear. "Them all -nighters can take it out of you. Know what I mean?...Oh yeah, I forgot. Y ou swore off that for awhile-well, h.e.l.l, if you got to know that Michaels babe, who knows, maybe even you could break the streak."

"Yeah." Cole chuckled. "Who knows."

Laurie grasped a pair of black shoes with chunky heels, wrapping the straps around her stocking feet. Standing, she walked to the mirror and looked at h erself, pulling down the short black skirt. Her black stockings ended on her thigh about an inch below the skirt's hem, as a form-fitting white angora s weater tucked into it, accenting her breast line.

Laurie thought the outfit looked good on her, the exact reason she thought she should change. She had to be nuts to allow Cindy to talk her into going to the Agora. Dragonslayer played there again tonight; common sense told h er not to go. Besides, being a Monday, she did not want to make a late nigh t of it.

For some unknown rationale, Cindy had become enamored with the lead singe r, Damien, and wanted-no needed , she had said, to see him again. Laurie had reluctantly agreed. She had to be out of her mind.

The doorbell rang. Grasping a new pair of earrings, since she had lost one f rom the pair she had worn earlier, Laurie put them on, grabbed her purse, an d hurried down the steps. She opened the door, finding a slinky clad Cindy o n the other side.

Laurie grinned. "You're wearing that?" she gasped in feigned shock.

Black nylons, thigh high boots, and a short, very short, black dress clung t o Cindy, leaving little to the imagination. Laurie thought had Cindy bent ov er, the world would see exactly what resided beneath the dress.

"You are wearing underwear?" Laurie asked, noting the absence of lines.

"A thong." The blonde smiled, patting her behind. "Are you ready?"

"As ready as I'll ever be."

"I'll drive," Cindy said as she bounded down the steps and headed for a two- door black Saturn. "I really appreciate this. G.o.d-the man is an absolute dre am." "He sure is," Laurie said, rolling her eyes, then mumbled, "a real nightmare.

"What was that?" Cindy asked as she crawled into the car.

Laurie sat beside her. "I was just agreeing with you. Damien Vincent is a re al dream."

"Maybe you'll see Cole tonight. You did say they were roommates." Cindy turn ed the key to the engine, put on her seat belt, then shifted the car into ge ar.

"Probably the only reason I agreed to this." Laurie grumbled, putting on her own belt.

"Oh, come now. I'm sure Damien is not as bad as he seems."

"No, he's probably worse. Just don't say I didn't warn you. By the way, sho uld you get sidetracked this evening-leave me the keys so I have a ride hom e."

"That's positively scandalous," Cindy gasped.

"Don't tell me you didn't think of it first," Laurie mocked.

"You're right." She giggled. "I did."

Laurie and Cindy sat at a table in front of the stage at the Agora. Loud mus ic blared through the speakers, vibrating the tables and floors. Damien Vinc ent curled his lips back and gave his rendition of a song by Danzig.

Of course, Laurie had no idea to the ident.i.ty of Danzig, and would not hav e recognized the tune had Damien not announced it before he had begun the song. Whoever this Danzig was, Laurie knew he could not possibly be as evi l as the man now doing a cover of the song.

The words sent chills running down Laurie's spine making her colder than the cool air-conditioning and circulating ceiling fans blowing about the room.

Women gyrated on the dance floor all vying for the attention of the long-leg ged singer. He loved the adoration, performed for them, but his gaze strayed to their table.

"Isn't he great?" Cindy yelled over the blaring music. "I think he likes me.

He keeps looking this way. Between sets, I think I'll go talk to him."

"Yeah." Laurie chuckled, feeling none of the humor. Gooseflesh continued to plague her as she ran her hands up and down her arms. "I think maybe yo u should do that."

She should not have come. But, no, ignoring her instincts to help out a frien d, she had agreed to escort Cindy into the bowels of h.e.l.l. And just her luck, Damien was at the right seat of Satan.

The song came to its thankful end and Damien announced the completion of hi s first set, throwing the microphone to the wooden flooring with a thump. H e hopped off the stage and headed in their direction as a DJ began spinning CDs for the people still gracing the dance floor. "Oh, lucky us, you don't have to look him up," Laurie grumbled. Had the tab le been covered, she might have been able to slip beneath the surface and h ide from the evil approaching.

"Damien," Cindy cooed, forgetting Laurie as she stood up, greeting the vil e man. "I came down here just to see you play."

"Really?" His lips curled in a sneer as he placed an arm around her should ers. How could Cindy be attracted to the obvious son of Beelzebub?

He turned his attention to Laurie. Damien grasped her hand and brought it to his lips, his other arm still dangling over Cindy's shoulders. She grinned fr om ear to ear. Fingers pointed in their direction, as girls from the dance fl oor whispered behind their hands in obvious jealousy of Cindy and Laurie's st ealing the singer's attention.

They can have him , Laurie thought.

"And what brings you here?" he asked as his lips lingered far too long on her flesh, his hot breath fanning the surface.

Laurie shivered, though not from the chill of the room. "Cindy-"

"The thought of seeing me," said a deep, soothing voice came from behind.

"Cole," Damien greeted as Laurie turned around. Never had she been so g lad to see someone. "You changed your mind?"

"Yeah, something told me after getting one look at you, Laurie, would not b e able to resist seeing you again," said Cole, causing Laurie to gasp. "Am I right?" He winked at her. His boyish charm and heart-melting smile, heate d places which were moments ago chilled.

Laurie grinned. "Far from it."

Chapter 12.

Cole could not attest to the fact, but he had a strong niggling feeling tha t Damien had more than a mild interest in Laurie. Though Damien's long arm draped over the shoulders of another woman at the moment, his dark gaze lin gered on Laurie far too often.

Cole was no fool.

Either he make his own move on Laurie Michaels or chance losing her to th e enigma of his roommate, who never seemed to have a problem getting wome n to be interested in him. At any given moment, Damien had an abundance o f pretty girls on his arm. But this time, Cole wanted what caught Damien'

s eye. The problem-his insecurities stood in the way. Ever since his wife's death he felt no need for a permanent relationship. Th e fact remained, with his lifestyle, he had no room or time for companionshi p. Besides his own misgivings, Laurie was what he hated most, a journalist.

Cole could not easily forget how people like her had plastered his grieving face all over the front pages, making his private life public knowledge.

Raking a hand through his dark hair, Cole grasped a chair from the empty tab le next to Laurie and pulled it over.

"Do you mind if I sit with you?" he asked.

Laurie glanced at him. A shy grin crawled up her face and centered in her eye s as lights sparkled like tiny diamonds in them. "Not at all."

The now familiar stirring in Cole's groin plagued him. His libido had not b een this active in some time. Cole sat down and stretched his legs out in f ront of him, crossing his booted feet at the ankles, his arms over his ches t. "So who's the new one?" he asked Damien, nodding at the woman beneath hi s long arm.

Damien glanced at the blonde who snuggled more fully against him. "Cindy, right?"

She bobbed her head in acknowledgment, sending large heat-made curls bounc ing about her head. Another groupie, Cole thought, taking in her attire.

"Cindy VanWarren," she said, offering him her hand. "I'm a friend of Laurie'