Read Online Slave to Love by Nikita Black - Free Book Online Page B

of this person. A woman would be much less threatening.”
    “True.”
    She dropped onto the couch, spinning out the theory in her mind. “Lots of men fantasize about a ménage à trois with two women. I just think it would be much easier all around for a woman to get herself into a position to commit the crimes.”
    “Maybe.” He walked over and stood in front of her. “But you forget how charming these killers can be. They come off as normal as the guy next door, so no one ever suspects them. They're talkers, able to put people at ease and make them do things they never even dreamed of.”
    She watched his Adam's apple bob as he swallowed another pull of beer, then swiped a drop of moisture from his lip with his tongue. Her pulse kicked up a notch. What things could he make her do that she'd never even dreamed of?
    She cleared her throat and forced herself to study her glass. “Yes, well. It was just an idea.”
    “And an interesting one. It's good to keep our minds open to all kinds of possibilities,” he said in an oddly gravelly voice.
    She felt the cushion next to her dip and tamped down on her increasingly wobbly nerves. “Does he take trophies?” she quickly asked.
    “Family and neighbors haven’t spotted anything missing.” He paused slightly. “But I suspect he does. Something kinky. Like a collar or whip. Or...something like that.”
    She blinked away the image that created, wishing she hadn’t brought it up. She couldn't get up from the couch again without looking totally obvious, so she scooted back a bit and slung her elbow over the back cushion. “So what's your theory?”
    “About the killer?” He peeled off a corner of the label from the beer bottle. “He's a sociopath. Bad childhood. Abusive father, abused mother. Frustrated sexually, rigid in his habits. Doesn't trust people. A loner.” He shrugged. “You know, the usual serial killer spiel.”
    She studied him, wondering about the man behind the cool, detached façade. She was beginning to think there was a whole lot more to Mick McGraw than what he let people see. “What about you?”
    He looked up sharply. “Me?”
    “Yeah. Do you trust people?”
    He relaxed almost imperceptibly and gave her a wry smile. “Sure I do.”
    “Uh-huh. That's why you're Mr. Warm-and-Friendly at work.”
    He chuckled, going back to his label. “I like being the Iceman. Suits me.”
    “Why? Why don't you want to get close to anyone on the job?”
    He lifted his shoulders uneasily.
    “Afraid someone you like will get hurt? That you'll lose your edge if it's a friend or a lover in the line of fire?”
    “Partly that,” he said, rolling the bottle between his hands. “Partly ancient history.” He took a long draught and gave her a crooked smile. “Partly because I like my sex a little over the edge. Who needs that making the rounds at the water cooler?”
    Her breath hitched. The idea of the Iceman liking kinky sex should have made her laugh. But the laughter died in her throat. Deep down, she suddenly knew it was true. This afternoon when he'd been dressed in that leather harness, she'd seen it in his eyes—the dark, primitive passion swirling in their depths like a vampire's cape.
    It had scared the hell out of her. But as much as it terrified her, it also fascinated her. And drew her to him as to no other man she'd ever known.
    Dangerous.
    With a shaky laugh, she grabbed her barely touched glass and got up to refill it at the wet bar. She flicked on the lights again. “If that were really true you wouldn't be telling me about it.”
    “I trust you with my secret.”
    She turned in surprise. “Why?”
    He took another sip from his beer. “Because you're already over the edge.”
    This time her laughter was genuine. “Right.” If only he knew.
    “So,” he ventured. “What's your excuse?”
    “For what?” she asked, nearly sloshing her wine.
    “For not getting involved.”
    She made another face. “Don't be ridiculous. I have tons of