Raphael (Deadly Virtues #1)(17)

She refused to be one of them.

“My purse,” Maria whispered, just as Raphael tried to reach for her trembling hand. But when Maria searched the bar top, it was nowhere to be seen. Panic set in. “My purse is missing.”

The bartender overheard her.

“New policy. No personal items allowed in the club. There have been leaks, people using their phones. The boss won’t stand for it. Secrecy is key.” He placed a pink ticket beside her. “You’re number nineteen. Hand this in to the doorman when you leave, and he’ll retrieve your purse. It’s safe in the lockers.”

Maria’s vison shimmered. Tears sprang to her eyes as true helplessness and terror wrapped their talons around her heart. Her purse was locked away. The tracker. The panic button. The syringe to render Raphael unconscious.

Caught in her silent despair, Maria flinched when Raphael possessively took hold of her hand. Instinctively, she went to pull it back, to run from the club and to the safe arms of the church, but in her peripheral vision Maria saw the blond woman approaching from the other side of the room. She was walking determinedly toward Raphael.

She was an innocent.

And Raphael was going to kill her.

Maria closed her eyes. She had to make a choice. She could let this woman perish. Many would encourage Maria to allow it. The blonde was a sinner and had no respect for the Lord. But Maria didn’t judge. She would not cast the first stone. A soul was a soul. She believed everyone deserved a second chance in life. A chance to right their wrongs. It was the most fundamental part of her faith in mankind.

She couldn’t let another die in her place.

“I’ll come with you,” she whispered, unsure if her voice would be heard over the pounding music. But she saw the light spark in Raphael’s unusual eyes and knew that it had.

“Robert?” The blond woman came to a stop beside them. She looked Maria up and down, displeasure on her face. “Are we going to get a room?” She smiled, trying to be seductive. Robert. A pseudonym he must use with his victims.

Raphael didn’t even look at the woman; instead he kept his eyes on Maria. He didn’t let go of her hand. In fact, he gripped it tighter, as if he were sure she would try to escape. But Maria had made her decision. She would see this through.

It was strange. Maria had been in the position of being taken, convinced she would be killed every day that she had been held in captivity. She’d had no choices, her free will stripped from her. No decision had been hers. But right now, deciding she would be the one to die under the devilish hunter’s hands brought with it only peace. And a firm sense of control.

Because she was making the choice freely.

Sister Maria Agnes was walking into this willingly. Eyes wide open. Maybe this was God’s plan for her after all, why she had been saved all those years ago. To bring another killer to justice. Father Quinn and Father Murray would know who slayed her. They could bring him to the police and save more of the lives he would inevitably take.

“I’ve found someone else.” Maria was taken aback by the venomous tone of Raphael’s voice when he spoke to the blonde. He was a chameleon, she realized. In one breath he was seductive and charming, in the next, cold and abrupt. Maria saw the evil underneath as he looked at the woman. “I have another play partner. You’re dismissed.”

The blonde’s face reddened with anger and embarrassment. But she turned away and disappeared into the thickness of the crowd. When Raphael turned back to Maria, he adopted his deceptively charming mask again. “Where were we?” Bringing Maria’s hand to his mouth, Raphael pressed a whisper of a kiss on her fair skin. Even the knowledge that he was an evil man couldn’t stop the shiver of pleasure that shot up Maria’s arm at his soft kiss. “Shall we?” He gestured toward a private room.

Maria let him lead. She had left the ticket for her purse on the bar, but she didn’t expect to ever return to collect it. Maria kept her head lowered as they were swallowed by the crowd, scenes of depravity everywhere the eye could see. As they walked, Maria made a silent prayer. Protect me, Lord. Make this quick. Let me feel no pain.

Raphael opened a door and pulled Maria inside. Towering over her, he reached over her head and shut the door. Maria’s back was pressed against the wood, and Raphael’s hand trailed down her arm until it reached the lock.

It clicked into place with a quick turn of his hand.

In the privacy of the room, the music from the main floor was muted. Only a hum of background drum beats penetrated the space. The room was dark due to each wall being covered in padded studded leather. The spotlights in the ceiling were low and tinged with red. Handcuffs and shackles hung from a black padded wall. What appeared to be medieval-looking wooden stocks stood to the right. Rubber and metal swings hung from the ceiling, chains and cuffs and leather straps hanging off each piece of apparatus. Paddles and whips were showcased on a wall to the left. A large leather-coated bed sat in the center. Its four metal posts offered a variety of restraints—chains, leather binds, rope . . . the list was endless.

Maria’s heart pounded so hard she heard the heavy beat in her ears. What was this place? How did people enjoy this kind of sexual exploration? Maria was chaste. Had never been touched. What she understood of sex she learned from gossip at high school and TV as a teen. This . . . this was like nothing she could have ever imagined.

Two other doors stood on the opposite side of the room. She had no idea what they were. The room smelled of leather and a deep sort of musk that she guessed was filtering into the room from the vent in the ceiling.