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Dubai, United Arab Emirates
Tuesday, 26 January, 8:09 p.m.
––––––––
I ate too much Dynamite Shrimp but didn't regret it. I needed the sustenance for when Alejandro Sanchez sat tied to a chair in the room Aidan showed me earlier. In a couple of hours I might learn the name of the man responsible for the deaths of twenty-five people. Eli found proof that Sanchez had been in contact with the female victim in Chile, Don Peo, and the two victims in Majorca. Only two of them dancers, the others he had offered backstage work. Easy money for students.
It was clear the killer preferred younger victims, Franz Brandstätter at twenty-six the oldest of them all. Not the fairest. With the victims' faces lined up next to each other something else became apparent. The female victims were beautiful, not due to camera filters or make-up plastered onto their faces. They had a natural glow. Dare I say hope and ambition were visible in their eyes? Perhaps I wanted to remember they were ripped from this world far too soon. Most people in their early twenties have high hopes and dreams for what their futures might hold.
The men on the other hand weren't remarkable. Not ogre ugly, but also not the type of men who would get a second glance when a woman walked past them on the street. The killer's fantasy never focused on them. The women his darkest desire.
I ignored the voices of the three men sitting in the command centre. Unless they had something to offer, like the killer's name and whereabouts, I didn't want to hear it.
Rowan touched my shoulder. "Fin, can you fake it?"
With my eyes still glued to the victims' faces, I said, "Of course, there isn't a woman in the world who can't fake an orgasm."
"Excuse me?" Aidan's voice much louder than usual.
I turned to my husband and sighed. "You know the female body better than most women know their own. I'll never need to fake it with you because you don't give me a reason to. You're so good, the orgasms catch me off guard. Every. Single. Time. We've been together for years, and not once did I ever wish you would hurry and get it over and done with. I'm not referring to you, lover." I walked to where he sat and pressed my lips to his forehead. Men are so predictable.
"Liar," Liam said.
"Not lying at all, I had quite a few sexual encounters before I met your brother. I speak from experience when I say that every woman who has ever lived, can fake an orgasm. Men in their early twenties don't care what a woman wants or needs. It's all about their own gratification. We might as well be blow up dolls. Certain biological things happen when a woman climaxes, and that she can't fake. So, if a man isn't focused on his lover's reactions, and responses, he won't realise she's faking it."
Show me a woman who hasn't faked it because she wanted it to be over, because waxing her own bikini line would be more fun. Or she took pity on the poor guy who tried so hard but didn't have a clue what he was doing. We've all been there. Some of us perhaps even more than once.
"What things?" Liam asked.
I covered my face with my hands and shook my head. With his body count, and not the kill count, he should know the answer. Unless sexually he remained stuck in his early twenties despite being in his thirties. "Liam, I'm sorry to say, but I'm pretty sure most, if not all the continent full of women you've slept with, faked it."
Aidan smiled when our eyes met. The smile turned into a scowl as soon as I asked, "May I teach Liam?"
"No." Aidan lifted the water bottle to his lips.
"Not by having sex with him. I can draw him pictures. The stick figures I'm talented enough to draw will suffice. Whatever I can't draw, I can show him pictures. Not of myself, ones in your medical textbooks. His future wife will thank you, Aidan."
Rowan laughed so hard I wanted to cover my ears. "I'll pay for him to see a sex therapist." He turned to his brother. "Perhaps if you slept with the same woman more than once, you would understand what we're talking about. A one-night stand orgasm is nothing compared to what you have in a committed, caring, relationship." I didn't miss Rowan's use of the word caring instead of loving.
I returned my focus to the victims' faces on the screens. Aidan wouldn't take kindly to me saying one time, with a skilled man, can be better than a year-long relationship. My husband would internalise again, even though what we share doesn't compare to anything either of us had experienced with previous partners. For all his brilliance Aidan has one big flaw. If he considers for one second he made a mistake, or wasn't good enough, he ends up spending hours at the shooting range. Sometimes he ran so far I had to drive to fetch him because he couldn't make it back home. For a trained soldier, avid runner, and the daily workouts of Fortius' operatives, it said a lot as to how far I had to go to pick him up. Both in the literal and figurative sense.
"Finley, I asked whether you can fake a British accent? Well enough to do it for a couple of hours," Rowan said.
"I'm not sure, mate. Perhaps if the queen demands it." I tried.
"Okay, Finley won't be going as a Brit. Perhaps if you drink a bottle of Walker before we go, you might pull it off."
"A bottle of Walker will make me butcher a Scottish accent, I speak from experience."
"Is it necessary for Fin to talk at all?" Aidan asked.
I spun around and stared daggers at him. "Excuse me? I assure you, Commander Walker, I can get results with or without a fake accent. Besides, Fortius has invisible two-way earpieces, I'm sure you have access to a voice changer that can fake an accent for me." I placed my hands at my sides and breathed hard. "Need I remind you when I hunted predators – on my own – I didn't need a fake accent, or help. I might not have the same level of training as you and the rest of the team, but I'm no less capable of taking care of myself. Or taking down a serial killer."
"Damn, she's sexy when she's angry. No wonder you put a ring on her." Liam slapped his hands together. "I get why you chose that outfit for her. Fin's going as your fantasy."
Rowan turned his chair to face Aidan. "I gave you clear instructions on what they expect women to wear. If Fin doesn't blend in, she'll draw unnecessary attention."
"My wife wasn't made to blend in or disappear in a crowd. The last thing you want is Finley to dress up like some puffed up, pink, plaything. She'll be as uncomfortable as an orca on land. Fin will wear what I got her. End of discussion. At least wearing that she'll be armed. I'm not sending my wife in anywhere unable to protect herself."
"She's a human weapon, I've seen the way Eli trains her. They don't spar, it's full-on combat." Liam swivelled his chair from side to side.
Rowan placed his hands on the table and pushed to his feet. "She's knocked me on my ass more than once, and she's not going in alone. I'll be with her the entire time. Do you not trust me to keep your wife safe?"
Anger turned into a violent storm inside me, and I marched out of the office. Once I reached our room, I slammed the door shut and emptied the contents of the box out onto the bed. Aidan knew me well. Wearing this I would feel more like myself. Even though I would look similar to what I had when I needed to earn extra money after almost totalling my father's newest muscle car.
I returned to the office dressed in what Aidan had bought. The black robe slash coat thingy, I didn't tie at my waist only at my neck. The satin drifted behind me reminding me of a superhero's cape.
"This was the last time you will ever talk about me as if I'm not in the room. It's demeaning. I'm far more than Mrs Aidan Walker. I'm more than an ex-soldier and, as you called me, a human weapon. I have instincts, skills, and I can charm the life out of anyone. Weakness isn't part of my DNA. If I have to rip someone's larynx out to get to the person responsible for the murders of twenty-five people, I'll do so and not lose a wink of sleep."
I held up my hand and walked around the table. The knee-high leather boots more comfortable than they looked. "Aidan, don't start with whether that's even possible. I'm making a point."
"That you are. I like the wig."
I let out an exaggerated breath. "Don't try to flatter me. We both knew strawberry blonde will work with my complexion and eyes." I relaxed my arms, satin caressed my skin as the robe slipped down. I tossed it onto the table.
The Ka-Bar TDI pressed against Rowan's throat. If he breathed too deep, he would bleed. Laughter bubbled out of me and suppressed the rage I felt leaving the room earlier. "Boys, let's get one thing straight. I'm part of this team now, and not just Aidan's wife. I can hold my own, as well as any of you. Tomorrow night I'll get close enough to Biggie for us to confirm whether the tattoo on his right hand is what Rowan suspects."
I turned to my husband. "Unless I say a safe word, you will let it play out, and trust me to do my job. Understood?"
Aidan nodded.
With a few clicks of the mouse, my military records and the case files the Marcel Police Department compiled on The Hangwoman's victims lit up the screens. "I'm not only a wife, mother, your sister-in-law, or ex-military. This will show you my training, and skills, but it doesn't tell you what I'm capable of when hunting a human predator. Buckle-up boys, you're about to see first-hand why your parents trust me to take over the interrogation reigns from the infamous Heather Walker."
"What's your safe word?" Liam's gaze travelled over my exposed flesh. I considered throwing the Ka-Bar at his face but decided against it.
"I don't have one."