Jaid Black (33 page)

God rest her soul, he succeeded in doing just that to Lisa Pinoza. Priscilla Harrington-Barnsworth, thankfully, had survived.

Michael’s diary had also detailed his lengthy obsession with Nikki. It had been difficult finding out just how frequently he’d masturbated to perverse fantasies of torturing and raping her, and how many close calls there had been on her life prior to when she’d placed the online ad at
Dom4me.com
. Reading the chilling passages had sent goosebumps down her spine, had made her feel like vomiting. Nikki could only be grateful fate had intervened on all his previous attempts at kidnapping her.

She still didn’t quite “get” what it was Michael had seen in her to begin with, but she had her guesses. Mostly because his obsession with her, according to his diary, magnified a hundred times over upon her promotion at Cleveland General—the same promotion Michael had lost out on. It seemed surreal for Nikki to think something so simple as being beaten out at a promotion could cause her to become the focal point of a madman’s fantasy life, but there it was. His several-months-long fixation on her had begun mere days after he’d murdered Linda Hughes.

For the first two or three days after Lucifer died, Nikki walked around in a daze half the time, her rational mind searching for a logical explanation for what could have possibly turned Michael Sorenson into the monster he had been. She realized there was little rationality to be had, yet for some reason her mind struggled to find at least something tangible it could grasp onto to explain it.

Kim and Megan had told her the story of Michael’s sister and of how his mother had then tried to kill him when he’d been a boy. What Kim and Megan hadn’t known, and what Thomas later uncovered, was that Michael had escaped his mother by killing her before she could kill him.

The only thing Nikki could figure was that each of Lucifer’s victims, herself included, were a way for him to relive his mother’s murder over and over, again and again, like a broken record that never stopped playing. A way for Michael to wield ultimate power over the woman who, in his mind, was all-powerful and godlike to him.

Nikki felt sad for the little boy Michael, who would grow up to never have a normal life, a normal thought, or a normal relationship. That he’d managed to make it through medical school and a surgeon’s long residency was proof that he’d tried, at least to her way of thinking. In the end, of course, he had failed.

But as saddened as Nikki felt for the little boy Michael, she couldn’t help but to breathe easier knowing that the adult Michael was now gone from the world, no longer able to inflict pain and suffering on others. Like a rabid dog foaming at the mouth, there was no cure for what Lucifer was.

 

Yesterday, James had been officially cleared from all charges. He was reprimanded for withholding evidence in the Lisa Pinoza murder case and as a consequence was forced to take an unpaid leave of absence from the CPD. A hearing was scheduled for the following month, at which time his future as a police officer would be determined.

Nikki decided to show up at that hearing whether or not she received an invitation. After all, were it not for James, she and Priscilla Harrington-Barnsworth would be dead.

In Nikki’s soul, there would always be sorrow for Monica Baker-Evans. Monica had died because Lucifer couldn’t have the victim he desired. Like a dead fish thrown Mafia-style at a marked man’s door, she had been nothing more than a warning to Nikki of what was to come. Thankfully, it hadn’t come.

Kim and Megan were doing great and were having a fabulous time forging the mother-daughter bond Roger Cox had thwarted all those years back. In the past eleven days alone, they’d already done each other’s hair twice and given each other facials. Nikki would have laughed, but she found the situation rather adorable.

Kim was back to spending her weekdays at Eastern Academy. Classes would start back next week, so she was busy preparing for the students’ arrival. She didn’t like to talk about the Lucifer case, or about her old dreams, and Nikki couldn’t exactly say she blamed her.

Nikki didn’t like to talk about those subjects, either. Michael was dead, and it was time to move on.

The only thing about the Lucifer case Kim begrudgingly discussed at all was the enigma of Ben O’Rourke. Kim had been certain he was Lucifer until Megan had told her the horrible story about Michael Sorenson and his sister. From there it had been easy to put two and two together.

Still, there was something about Ben that Kim didn’t trust. She admitted to Nikki that she’d had a few inexplicable dreams about the hard-nosed detective with the bad-boy reputation, dreams that led her to believe he would bring trouble into her life. Therefore, she avoided him like the plague.

Ben’s “disappearance” the night of Lucifer’s death had turned out to be not much of a story. His mother had taken ill, he’d rushed over to help his brother get her to the emergency room, and in all the mania, his pager hadn’t been turned on. Ben had been verbally reprimanded by the chief but, due to the nature of the emergency, thankfully not punished for taking off without permission. He was back to work now and was Thomas’s acting partner until James was reinstated—if James was ever reinstated.

The senator managed to emerge from what could have been a potentially career-ending situation virtually unscathed. In fact, her online activities were completely shielded from the press. All of the publicity she garnered for being one of only two females who had ever escaped Lucifer alive (Nikki being the other one) was doing wonders for her campaign. Priscilla Harrington-Barnsworth would be reelected come November without a doubt, and probably by a landslide. Maybe Nikki would even vote for her.

Nikki smiled at her thoughts as she drove into the parking lot of her high-rise apartment complex. Nah. Probably not. But life, she concluded, does go on.

Good-bye, Michael.

In terms of her own life, everything was back to normal at the hospital. The entire staff had been shocked to say the least upon discovering that one of their own had been responsible for the grisliest crimes in Cleveland’s history. The hospital had provided a trauma counselor for anyone who wanted to talk it out. Some had taken advantage of that service while others, like Nikki, had not.

Strange as it sounded, especially considering all that she’d gone through, Nikki didn’t feel as though she was harboring any issues that needed airing. Those issues—fear of the unknown, fear in general—had died with Michael.

The only issue Nikki had to deal with these days was the surly, growling detective who’d moved into her apartment a week ago. She smiled as she climbed out of the Mercedes and headed toward the elevator that would take her to where Detective Grouch was waiting for her. She passed by his Cadillac on the way to the doors, the sight of it never failing to make her heart thump pleasurably . . . because it was proof that Thomas was hers.

It had taken him a while to let Amy rest in peace, and although Nikki knew he would never completely recover from her death, Thomas had, to a great extent, let go of his guilt in regards to it. A picture of his daughter hung in their living room—a photograph he could now smile at and remember the good times, rather than keeping it out of sight to avoid thinking about her.

Sinking her key into the lock, Nikki opened the front door. She could hear the television on, as well as the familiar sound of Thomas cursing under his breath as he attempted to not burn himself while cooking dinner. She grinned, loving that sound as much as she loved seeing his Cadillac parked in the garage when she came home from the hospital.

“I’m home,” Nikki called out, throwing her keys onto a nearby table. “Hey, I think I smell spaghetti,” she said as she rounded the corner and headed toward the kitchen.

Thomas frowned. “It was supposed to be meatball sandwiches,” he growled. “They sucked, so I threw some spaghetti sauce on them. They ain’t half bad now.”

He was wearing a Harley-Davidson T-shirt, snug jeans, and a chef’s apron—and looking as sexy as sin itself.

“Great.” Amused, her eyebrows rose. “Can hardly wait to eat.”

He bent his neck and gave her a quick kiss. “Don’t be a smart ass.”

She chuckled. “Sorry. So how was your day?”

“Oh—same old, same old. Glad it’s the weekend. How was yours?”

“Not bad.” Nikki watched him pour her a glass of wine, fascinated by the way his bicep bulged doing little more than moving his arm. “Any news on James?”

He nodded. “Looks like the senator plans to help him get reinstated,” Thomas said as he handed her the glass of wine. “Said her rep would be showing up to his hearing.”

“Thank God for that.”

Thomas sighed. “Yeah. I just hope it’s enough. He’s been through a lot as it is.”

They had dinner in the living room like they typically did, sort of watching television but mostly talking. She enjoyed these conversations as much as she relished what normally followed afterward.

Nikki’s eyes studied Thomas. “You haven’t tied me up lately,” she announced, her tone teasing.

His eyebrows shot up. “It’s been two days! You make it sound like I’ve been subjecting you to the missionary position for months on end.”

She chuckled. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to call your Masterly skills into question.”

“It’s not that.” He ran a hand over his jaw. “It’s just . . . hell,” he muttered, glancing away. “I don’t know.”

Nikki looked at him quizzically. “Thomas?” She stilled as the possibility he might not be enjoying their sexual explorations as much as she did crossed her mind for the first time. “You don’t like it?” she whispered.

He snorted at that. “Like it? I
love
it.”

She released a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding in. “Then . . .?”

Thomas sighed. Setting down his wineglass, he gave her face his full attention. “Nik, I’ve read all your books. I’ve read about how the bond between a Dominant and a submissive is supposed to be more intense than a normal couple’s. I’ve read about how this happens because of the extreme trust the submissive places in the Dominant during sex and blah blah blah.”

She frowned. “And?”

“And call me weird, but I don’t want our ‘intense bond’ based on sex! I want to be loved for me, not because I can tie you up like nobody’s business. Though I am damn good at that,” he sniffed.

Nikki’s eyes shimmered with amusement. Detective Grouch was damn good at something else, too—getting under her skin like nobody’s business. “Yes, you are. And that has got to be the sweetest thing I’ve heard in my life.”

His face colored. Her expression turned serious.

“Thomas,” Nikki murmured, reaching over and placing her hand on his thigh. “The bond between us was intense way before we had sex. The books make for great reading, but sex alone could never have forged what we have together. That came from friendship, love, and mutual respect.”

His face gentled as his hand slowly found hers. Their fingers laced together on his thigh.

The remainder of the dinnertime conversation was light. A joke Thomas had heard at work, Nikki’s recounting of the yummy chocolate chip banana muffins she’d found at a new bakery en route to the hospital. Twenty minutes later, Thomas went into the kitchen to refill their wineglasses. But instead of bringing her another drink, he returned with something else in his hand that startled her.