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As per her instructions, she saw no one as she donned her dark blue robe, which had been draped over the back of a couch. Neither did she when she padded on silent, naked feet up the marble stairs to the rooftop, where her shuttle waited. Rain lashed the surface in thick ropes. Phone in hand, she was ready to remote-pilot her shuttle closer to the entrance when a large shadow blocked her view of her phone’s dormant screen.

“I wonder how much they pay you for this kind of show?” asked a man behind her.

She kept a thumb on the emergency activation as she turned, slowly, heart racing, even if on the surface, no one would be the wiser. She had lived a lifetime hiding her true feelings, keeping the mask of the nawashi firmly in place. A stranger on a rain-swept rooftop would not change this, even if she took a precaution with her phone.

A man emerged from the shadows created by a recess in the rooftop entrance. Tall, dark blond, with eyes like twin black suns. Dangerous. He needed a shave and some style in his longish hair, but what he lacked in fashion sense, he more than compensated for in ruggedness and physical vigor. A lean tiger.

“I was well paid for the performance you enjoyed.”

“Who said I did?”

Azalea smiled at his curtness. “You just did.”

He did not seem to notice or mind that rain dripped from the ledge over their heads and onto his thick shoulders. Droplets descended along his long black coat like tears down a cheek. She thought he looked hungry, famished, starving. But not for food. And not necessarily for sex either, although there was a lot of that hunger in his dark gaze. She wondered from what craving he suffered and why he could not—or would not—satisfy it. When he pulled his hands from his pockets, she noticed that they shook. He showed her his wallet, flipped it backward so she would see the silver globe pin clipped to the black leather partition.

“Good evening, Officer…”

“Detective Newman.”

“Detective Newman. Can I help you?”

He approached another step, stopped as if he were loath to come any closer and shifted from leg to leg. Nervous. Restless. Perhaps he used drugs. Such a waste.

“On Monday, after six p.m. but before eleven, where were you?”

“In my bedroom, with a lover.”

He arched a dark blond eyebrow. “Name?”

“Mine or his?”

“Both.”

“Azalea Silla. Philippe Gaudet.”

“The blogstar?”

“Yes.”

When he did not make a note, she cocked her head up at him. “Will you not write them down?”

“I have an excellent memory.” He tapped his temple. “And earlier tonight? Were you with him?”

“Perhaps I was.”

“Don’t yank my chain, lady.”

“Would you enjoy it, Detective Newman, someone tying you by the neck? Just the right amount of pressure can bring ecstasy.”

Azalea tamped the fear down when he stalked up to her, did not lay a finger on her, but nonetheless managed to back her up against the wall. The mix of fear and exhilaration hardened her nipples. Between her legs, she felt as though she had melted. In a sharp contrast to her cold, naked feet, heat rushed up in a wave as he held her in his gaze. She willingly let him do this to her. Such a titillating change to her normal life where she was the one with the control.

“I’d never let anyone with a rope near me. Not a chance.”

“Why? Because you would not have faith in a person, even a lover, who tried to bind you? Trust is a powerful stimulant.”

He snorted. “Trust is a bullet to the brain.”

Azalea decided she liked him and smiled. “Perhaps some day I can convince you otherwise?”

“Thanks, but no thanks.” But a sparkle lit his eyes as he gave her a once-over.

“Are you looking for something?” Another wave of heat flared out of her robe when the detective smiled a wicked grin that rounded his hollow cheeks. He was close enough for her to touch by merely taking in a deep breath. Perhaps she should, if only to see his reaction. His eyes were so expressive.

“I’m looking to see if you’re strong enough.”

“To bind you?” The challenge it presented in her mind’s eye made her heart rate quicken even more. Such a tall and sturdy man, with undoubtedly firm muscles and a harder will. She shivered.

“To kill three people and truss them up like turkeys.”

No sound left her when she opened her mouth. Kill…?