I CALLED EDWARD from the car and got put straight to voice mail, so I texted him. If they didn’t need us to question the second friend, we’d head to the strip club to try to get an address for the dancer who was part of Jocelyn’s alibi. I punched the address of the strip club into my phone so we could find it. We’d have to start there to find the dancer since they all used stage names.
I wasn’t sure how I felt about taking Olaf to a strip club. It was like taking the fox to the chicken coop and trusting he wouldn’t eat any of them, but he’d given his word he would behave himself. Either I trusted him to keep his word, or I didn’t. After the interview with Brianna, it just seemed like a day designed to test his limits.
“You enjoyed holding the baby,” Olaf said, and there was something in his voice that I wasn’t sure of: accusation, surprise?
I fought not to squirm as I tried to figure out what to say. “It wasn’t awful,” I said finally, and even to me it sounded lame.
Olaf made a disdainful sound, somewhere between a snort and a growl. “Are you lying to me or yourself?”
“I’m not lying. I just don’t know what to say, okay?”
“This makes you uncomfortable,” he said.
“Yeah, it does, so can we change topics?”
“Why does it bother you that you enjoyed holding the baby?”
“Why does it bother you?” I asked.
“I did not say that it bothered me.”
“Now who’s lying?”
Olaf spoke to Nicky in the backseat. “You must have felt that she enjoyed interacting with the baby.”
“Like Anita said, she didn’t hate it, but she was too conflicted to actually enjoy it.”
I didn’t really want to share my biological-clock issues with Olaf, of all people. Or that one of my fiancés was pushing for babies. Nicky was almost neutral on the topic, which was a nice change from everyone else having an opinion about what I did with my womb.
My phone rang with Edward’s ringtone, “Bad to the Bone,” so I knew to answer it.
He didn’t bother to say hello, just went straight to the point. “We’re headed back to the sheriff’s station. Meet us there.”
“What happened?” I asked.
“The Marchands’ cook, Helen Grimes, came into the station and backed up Jocelyn Marchand’s story. She brought Bobby Marchand’s phone in with more damning evidence against him.”
“What kind of evidence?” I asked.
“Sheriff says we need to head that way and see it. He seems to feel it wraps the case up nice and tidy.”
“Well, shit,” I said.
“We’re supposed to want the case finished, Anita.”
“Usually I do.”
“The sheriff has a hard-on for killing the Marchand kid, so don’t count the evidence as conclusive until we judge it for ourselves.” I think he was saying that for Newman’s benefit as much as or more than mine.
“Fair point. Okay, we’ll turn around and head that way.”
Olaf found the nearest cross street without me saying anything else. He used a driveway to turn around in so we could head toward the sheriff’s station. Then I realized what he’d done.
“Do you know where we’re going?” I asked.
“Back to the sheriff’s station,” he said, eyes on the road, big hands at nine and three on the steering wheel, which thanks to airbags are the new safe positions.
“I didn’t say the location out loud.”
“I heard Edward say it on the phone.”
“Did you hear both sides of the conversation?”
“Yes.”
I looked back at Nicky. “Did you hear it all?”
“Yep.”
“I have some of the special abilities of a real lycanthrope, but I wouldn’t have heard the entire conversation.”
“Perhaps the fact that you are only a carrier for the disease but do not change forms limits your secondary abilities,” Olaf said.
“Probably. Even your hearing isn’t as good in human form as it would be in lion.”
“I have not tested it. Most people do not talk on phones around me when I am in lion form.”
“I’ll bet they don’t.”
“I would think people would treat all the lycanthropes in their lives the same way.”
I didn’t really like his putting himself in the same status as the other shapeshifters in my life, but I let it go. Sometimes you pick your battles with an eye to winning the war. “Actually, we talk on the phone around everyone in whatever form.”
“Then their control of their secondary form must be perfect indeed for the rest of your people to treat them so normally.”
“We’ve all been lycanthropes years longer than you have. It takes time to master your inner beast,” Nicky said.
“I have been told that my control is admirable for one so new.”
“It is. I was impressed with your control in Florida the last time we worked together,” I said.
“Thank you.”
“Praise where praise is due,” I said.
“Do you want to have children?”
“We aren’t going to talk about the case or speculate on what evidence may have shown up?” I asked.
“We will know soon enough, and we will do nothing but speak about the case when we arrive back at the station, so I would speak of other things.”
“I really didn’t think you and I would ever talk about babies, Olaf.”
“Nor I, but I saw you with the baby, and something harsh in you softened. I hadn’t expected to see that.”
“It surprised me, too,” I said, and that was honest.
“You talked to the woman in a way that surprised me as well.”
“You mean Brianna?”
“Yes.”
I said, “She surprised me because she named her kids after characters in her favorite book. I really didn’t see her as a reader.”
“She was different as a child. You heard her. She found boys, and books were forgotten,” Olaf said.
“If they were forgotten, she would have named her twins something else,” I said.
“That was unexpected,” he admitted.
“I know. I thought she was just some sexy airhead, but there’s depth in there if you get her talking about something besides strip clubs and her friends.”
“She would cheat on her husband,” Olaf said as if it was just true.
“You don’t know that.”
“I believe I could seduce her.”
“I noticed you putting some effort into flirting with her.”
“Did it bother you?”
“I wasn’t jealous if that’s what you mean.”
“I am jealous of you.”
I didn’t know what to say to that, so I ignored it and said, “She fits your victim profile, except for being a little too tall, so when you started flirting with her, instead of being jealous, I was more worried that you were going to see her as a potential target.”
“So your concern for her safety overrode any jealousy issues?”
“Yes,” I said. I thought, I don’t think I would have been jealous over you, but that was probably a fact best kept to myself.
“Why do you care about her? She is not your friend. She is nothing to you.”
“Brianna’s a person, Olaf. I held her baby and enjoyed it. I know what her favorite book from childhood is and that she named her kids after it. I know that her mom and mother-in-law are buying so much stuff for the babies that she’s trashing her living room to try to get them to stop. I know she’s probably a voyeur at the clubs. She’s real to me now, and the thought that she’s not real to you in the same way is disturbing.”
“I am a sociopath, Anita. I do not feel empathy. You know that.”
“Intellectually I know it, but that doesn’t help me understand it.”
“As I do not understand your sympathy for the woman we just left.”
“I guess we just agree to disagree,” I said.
“You are being very quiet, Nicky,” Olaf said.
“I’m just listening,” Nicky said from the backseat, where he had been unusually quiet.
“You are a sociopath. Do you feel anything for the woman we just left?” Olaf asked.
“I can feel what Anita feels.”
“Do you have no feelings of your own anymore? Have you become only an echo chamber for Anita?”
I heard Nicky sigh. It made me reach back over the seat so he could take my hand. It was an awkward position for hand-holding, but any touch felt better than no touch. I didn’t like that heavy sigh, and I really didn’t like that I might have been the cause of it.
“I have my own thoughts and feelings.”
“Can you act on them?” Olaf asked.
“Of course.”
“If you wanted to hunt Brianna Gibson, could you do it, knowing that Anita would disapprove?” Olaf used the rearview mirror to glance at the other man.
“I have no interest in Brianna Gibson, so it doesn’t matter.” Nicky rubbed his thumb over my fingers as he spoke.
“Your reputation for forcing information from informants was almost as good as mine. You don’t get that good at torture without enjoying it, Nicky.”
I tried not to feel anything about that statement, because if Nicky felt how unhappy it made me, it would mess with his answer. His hand had stopped moving in mine.
“I enjoyed some of it,” Nicky said, “but after a certain point, it stopped being fun and was just part of my job.”
“I don’t believe you,” Olaf said, glancing back in the mirror again.
“I don’t care if you believe me or not.”
I said, “I know you took pride in that part of your job. You liked having the reputation for being a bad guy.”
Nicky nodded and started rubbing my fingers again with his thumb. “I liked having a reputation that scared other bad guys. Yeah, I enjoyed that part.”
“You enjoyed causing pain,” Olaf said.
“Up to a point, absolutely, but beyond that point, not so much.”
“What point?” Olaf asked.
“I don’t think Anita would enjoy us talking shop until we figured out exactly what point it stopped being fun for me.”
“I would enjoy it,” Olaf said.
“Maybe over late-night drinks sometime but not now,” Nicky said.
“I would like to understand how we are different from each other.”
“We talked about that earlier. You’re a born sociopath, and I was made this way. It probably means I have more of an emotional range than you do.”
“Did you feel sympathy for your victims? Is that why it stopped being fun for you?”
“No, it just didn’t please me anymore. I like rough sex, rougher than most people, but after a certain point, torture isn’t sexual for me. It’s just information gathering. It’s taking pride in how long I can keep someone alive, how much pain I can cause them and get the truth out of them. I saw people in the industry that did shit that would make anyone talk, but making them talk isn’t the same as getting the truth out of them. People will lie to save themselves, to get the torture to stop. They’ll tell you anything you want to hear, but lies won’t keep you and the people you work with alive. Lies won’t help you accomplish your mission. Put people through enough, and they can start hallucinating from the pain. Once that happens, their information is useless.”
“You can heal them and question them later,” Olaf said.
“Most of my pride’s jobs were time sensitive. We didn’t have time to nurse our prisoners back to health. My job was to get useful information, details that helped our unit stay alive and accomplish our objectives.”
“What did you do with the people once you had all the information you needed?” Olaf asked.
I fought to not feel, to try to be empty of emotion so Nicky could answer truthfully. I tried to go into the big static emptiness where I used to go when I knew I was going to have to pull the trigger on someone. It was an empty, quiet place.
“Killed them or let someone else kill them.”
“Fast or slow?” Olaf asked.
“Fast. Once they talked, it was over.”
“Didn’t you enjoy the kill?”
“Not really. Killing them was just part of the job at that point. Sometimes I was glad to kill them.”
“You enjoyed it.”
“Not in the way you mean,” Nicky said. He let go of my hand and sat back in his seat.
“You said you were glad to kill them,” Olaf said. “That implies joy in the kill.”
“I enjoy a good hunt. I enjoy killing people that are trying to kill me. I like proving I’m better than they are, but killing someone who’s chained up or so hurt they can’t do anything back to you, that’s like a canned hunt. There’s no enjoyment in that for me.”
“Then why were you glad?”
“Glad it was over and done,” Nicky said. “Glad we could get on with the next part of our job. Glad I could put the people out of their misery.”
“Are you saying you felt pity for them?”
“Maybe.”
“I saw some of your videos, Nicky. The man who did that had no pity for his victims.”
“I’ve seen your videos, too, Olaf. You enjoy the work a lot more than I did.”
“Do you think your victims hurt less because you did not enjoy it, Nick?”
“No.”
“Do you think they were less afraid because you didn’t enjoy their screams?”
“No,” Nicky said, and there was no emotion in the word.
“Do you think you’re better than me because you felt more for your victims?”
“No. If it’s morals you want to split, then I’m worse, because I had some pity, some feelings, and I still did it. I think that makes me worse.”
I looked at him between the seats. “Is it being tied to me metaphysically that makes you feel bad about it now?”
Nicky made a little waffling motion. “I don’t remember feeling bad about it before, so probably, but I know that I didn’t enjoy the harm I caused past a certain point. It stopped being exciting or sexual or anything remotely resembling an emotion I could explain to you, Anita.”
“You’re a werelion. You like blood and meat,” Olaf said.
“In my food, not in my sex.”
“I don’t believe you.”
“I’ve said it before, Olaf: I don’t care what you believe.”
I had a thought but wasn’t sure if I should share it out loud. I forgot that, with Nicky this close, a clear thought was enough, and I didn’t have to say it.
“Yeah, I think you’re right,” he said.
“Thank for you for admitting it,” Olaf said.
“I wasn’t talking to you, Olaf. I was talking to Anita.”
“She didn’t say anything— Ah, you read her mind again.”
“I did.”
“What did she think that was so right?”
“That I’m into edge play and risk-aware bondage, but you’re a serial killer, so once my victims were hurt past a certain point, I didn’t see it as sex, and you still do.”
“Those don’t sound like Anita’s words.”
“Nicky’s paraphrasing,” I said.
“What did you actually think?” Olaf asked.
“Nicky explained it better. Thoughts aren’t always as fully formed before you say them.”
“Do you do edge play and risk-aware bondage with Nicky?”
“If I say yes, will you drop this line of conversation?”
“No,” he said.
I said, “Then I’m not going to answer the question.”
“Nicky, do you need the bondage to have sex?”
“You mean, to get aroused enough for sex?” Nicky asked.
“Yes.”
“No, I can get it up without it. How about you? Do you need the violence to do it?”
“For the physical act, no.”
“How about to enjoy it?” Nicky asked.
“I will answer the question if you will,” Olaf said.
“Without the rough, it’s no fun, but I can do vanilla. I did it for some undercover work,” Nicky said.
“As did I, but without the rough, as you put it, it is not satisfying.”
I honestly hadn’t been entirely sure that Olaf could get it up without the extreme violence. It was strangely positive that he could, better than the alternative.
I could see the sheriff’s station up ahead. We were about to learn what the new evidence was, and I was going to get out of this conversation. Double win!
“Do you want to have children with Anita?” Olaf asked.
And just like that, we were back to being trapped in the conversation from hell.
“No,” Nicky said.
“Why not?”
“The woman who calls herself my mother is the one who took my eye when I was fourteen, and that’s just the scar I can’t hide. It’s not even close to the only one. She abused my younger brother and sister, too, but I was her special boy. My father knew and didn’t do a damn thing to protect us. With that as my pedigree, I don’t think I should breed.”
“So, you do not care if Anita has a child with one of the other men in your lives?”
“That is none of your business,” I said.
“No, it’s all right,” Nicky said. “I want to answer.”
I tried not to sigh and just motioned him on.
“The men she’s closest to are like family to me. Nathaniel calls me one of his brother-husbands, like the polygamist term sister-wife. If Anita wants to have kids with some of my brothers, then it’s just more family to love.”
Olaf parked in front of the police station and turned off the engine. I was already reaching for the door handle when he asked, “And do you truly love them as you love Anita?”
“No, I’m in love with her. I love some of the men like brothers and some as friends.”
“What of the women in your poly group who are still back in St. Louis?”
Nicky grinned, but it was more a baring of teeth, like the reminder that he had sharper ones in his other forms. “Most of them are afraid of me, so no, I don’t love any of them.”
“What about sex with them?”
“See the first answer: They’re afraid of me. And none of them likes rough sex or bondage, so what’s the point?”
“Even Angel and Petra?”
Fuck, I thought.
“I don’t love either of them,” Nicky said.
“Have you had sex with them?” Olaf asked.
I wanted to get out of the car, but was afraid the conversation wouldn’t stop, and then I wouldn’t be here to know what answers Nicky had given. I might need to know both the answers and Olaf’s reactions to those answers, so I stayed. Damn it.
“I’ve had sex with Angel.”
“And?” Olaf said.
“And Anita is very uncomfortable with this line of questioning,” Nicky said.
“Does that mean you won’t answer or cannot answer me?”
“It means that Anita would have to tell me she’s okay with me answering.”
I looked longingly at the sheriff’s station; it was right there. There were clues to see, but I knew Olaf wouldn’t leave this question alone. Since both women were being set up as bait, it seemed like it was a question that would have to be answered. Oh, hell.
“Does Angel know who and what I am?” Olaf asked.
That made me turn and look at him. “She knows.”
“And yet she is still flirting with me.”
I nodded.
“How rough does she like her bondage?”
I fought not to squirm or blush and failed on the second part. It made Olaf smile, and I glared at him. I started to get angry and welcomed it. It was so much better than embarrassment. “Not as rough as you do.” My voice was thick with anger, my skin warm with it.
He undid his seat belt so he could turn and look more fully at Nicky in the backseat. “But she is rough enough to satisfy you?”
“In a group scene with Anita involved, yes.”
The blush that had been fading flared back to life. “And we are done talking about this topic,” I said.
Olaf stared at me with his eyes lost behind the dark sunglasses, but the intensity of his attention was still like weight on my skin. “If we are to date each other, Adler, I need to know certain things.”
“He can ask them when you’re not around, Anita,” Nicky said.
“No, if you’re going to answer, then I need to know what’s said, I think.”
“Even if it makes you incredibly uncomfortable?”
“Even if,” I said, and just like that, I got myself under control. It was just another kind of bravery, and I would be brave, damn it.
“Ask,” Nicky said.
“Do you only have sex with the other women with Anita present?” Olaf said.
“With Angel, yes.”
“What of Petra?”
“She’s one of the ones who’s afraid of me and doesn’t like it rough.”
“So, you haven’t had sex with her?”
“No.”
“Okay, we’re done, right? We have a clue waiting for us, remember?” I said, and reached for the door handle.
“One more question,” Olaf said.
I actually rested my forehead against the window glass. “What?” I asked, and sounded tired even to myself.
“Anita must enjoy sex and bondage rough enough to satisfy you, but does she enjoy it rough enough for me?”
“For me, she’s great,” Nicky said. “Our kinks match up really well.”
“After seeing your videos, I’m surprised that Anita would agree to it.”
“My videos were mostly about work, about being scary enough to make people believe my old lion pride’s threat was good, or as an advertisement to what we could do for prospective customers. The stuff that Anita wouldn’t survive without scars or worse was torture to gain information or to make a business point. That’s what I meant earlier when I said that I enjoyed the interrogation only up to a point. After that point, it was just work.”
I sat there trying to go to that static, white-noise, empty part of me so that I wouldn’t care that a man I was in love with was saying such terrible things. I knew what Nicky was, or what he’d been when I met him. I knew that if I hadn’t possessed him, he’d probably still be happily torturing and killing his way across the world with his old lion pride of mercenaries, but it was still hard to hear him talk so casually about it. I realized that I wasn’t Nicky’s Jiminy Cricket. I was more his road-to-Damascus salvation.
“My videos are what I enjoy,” Olaf said.
“No one would survive that, so no, Anita doesn’t like it rough enough to keep you happy,” Nicky said.
“I would like to try,” Olaf said.
“I’m not sure how we can test your sexual preferences and keep Anita safe,” Nicky said.
“I would be willing to do a vanilla version of what I prefer, if there is such a thing,” Olaf said.
I couldn’t hold on to my peaceful white-noise place.
“Anita is too unhappy with this conversation for me to continue with it,” Nicky said.
“We need to go inside now,” I said. I opened the door and actually got my seat belt unbuckled and a foot outside before Olaf’s deep voice dragged me back.
“I would like your permission to speak with Nicky later in more detail to see if our kinks match.”
“I don’t know what to say to that. The thought of Nicky giving you that many personal details makes me incredibly uncomfortable.”
“But if we are negotiating for actual dating and sex between us, then more shared information is better, isn’t it?”
I glanced back at him and fought to keep the panic from showing on my face.
He smiled then, a wide, happy, predatory one. “Don’t hide your fear from me, Anita. You know I enjoy it.”
And that was it for me. I got out of the car and kept moving. I needed more people around me. I needed not to be the only nonsociopath in the conversation.