The MackenroweS II: Fools' Paradise

The MackenroweS

II

Fools’ Paradise

The MackenroweS

II

Fools’ Paradise

Mo’Dayvia La’Beija

Copyright @ 2016 by Mo’Dayvia La’Beija. All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means without the written permission of the author.

Author’s photo by Chantal Regnault

Front Cover by Eve Harlowe

Back illustration by Mo’Dayvia La’Beija

ISBN: 978-1507600788

ISBN: 150760078X

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Thinkstock are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Thinkstock.

This book is printed on acid-free paper.

Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

This book is based on some true events, however, has been fictionalized, and all persons appearing in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real people, living or dead is entirely coincidental.

Dedicated to

Chantal Regnault,

Through your eye behind the lens, you made magic and brightened my shine. To our extremely long and beautiful friendship, may it last forever.

&

Desiree La’Beija,

For journeying to the darkest parts of our minds to discover, tweak, and design the craftiest criminals. To help bring them alive and always being there, even in the wee hours of the nights—this is for you.

&

Jennifer Heyward,

For standing by my side and helping me with the in-depth antagonists and their signatures. I wish you success in all that you achieve.

It is those we live with love and should know who elude us.

–Norman Maclean

Contents

~ ParalyzeD

~ Tossed & TastY

~ Red DeatH

~ Seduce Me Then Slay ME

~ ReuniteD

~ Love Or LoyaltY?

~ Fat Cat, Hot SnakeS

~ The EX

~ The Cringing CorpsE

~ The IntervieW

~ Meeting At MattertaL

~ Ricochet LovE

~ BA’NUX-BAS

~ Family Blood BrokeN

~ Ashcroft To AshcrofT

~ The Ultimate FavoR

~ Dark HedgeS

~ Rubies & Red PassioN

~ KANA’NUKA

~ The Stiletto SlayeR

~ Hidden GrieF

~ Timed To PerfectioN

~ The Chopping BlocK

~ Ruffled Edges, Claw like PleasureS

~ One Fell, Two More Have RiseN

~ Do You Love ME?

~ JiggsaW

~ The ArmstrongS

~ Asking the ImpossiblE

~ Visit Me TendeR

~ EmancipatioN

~ Red DragoN

~ The EngagemenT

~ Thailand Take Me To EcstasY

~ MissinG!

~Tall Tales In ThailanD

~ My Dear ScarleT

~ Murder, JustifieD

~ The UltimatuM

~ Tortured TaboO

~ Heel ThyselF

~ Twisted TriangleS

~ The Headless CorpsE

~ Devised DivisioN

~ The Man Behind The MFA

~ Rest Daddy DearesT

~ Unmasked My EyeS

~ Puzzle Me BluE

~ Cancelation, Death Over FuN

~ Fate Of The SlayeR

~ Mangled DesireS

~ The Prisoner Shall SuffeR

~ KOO’TOS-SU’DAS

~ Proof Of Pain And FreedoM

~ Dining With DeatH

~ Dangerous UrgeS

~ Enigmatic EmotionS

~ Kiss My Scars AwaY

~ AfflictioN

~ BrokeN

~ Hostile HomecominG

~ Blazing BullS

~ RevealeD

~ Safe HaveN

~ Breaking The RuleS

~ Picking Puzzle PieceS

~ Vexed VacatioN

~ Unwarranted GifT

~ Crossing SwordS

~ Basement BrawL

~ FrantiC

~ Deadly DonoR

~ GenealogY

~ Grass & GritS

~ Bury My Body, Save My SouL

~ Montgomery MansioN

~ Hunting GrounD

~ Seared FlesH

~ ForbiddeN

~ WanteD

~ ExpectanT

~ Split From BirtH

~ Take Me ForeveR!

Cast of CharacterS

Supervisory Special Agent Ryan Mackenrowe

Dr. Mark Mackenrowe

Agent Michelle Mackenrowe

Det. Lieutenant Ryan Mackenrowe II aka Junior

Special Agent in Charge (SAC) Gregory Guggenheim II aka G

Mr. Gregory G. Guggenheim

Mrs. Gabrielle Guggenheim

Agent Gavin G. Guggenheim III

Tyler Mackenrowe aka Jean-Marc

Maximus Mackenrowe aka Max

Agent Tia Lang aka The Insider

Agent Carlos Perez

Agent Cornelius Perez

Dr. Gracelyn Regnault

Special Agent Ananis Albero

Agent Jeshua Jacobs aka JJ

Dr. Ruth Robinson-Kensington

Det. Sergeant Albero

Director James David Armstrong aka JD

Mr. Ira L. Overmyer

Senator Olivia Overmyer

Scarlet E. Overmyer

Captain Franklyn Dexter Rosenthal aka FDR

Special Agent in Charge (SAC) Mayson Adam Montgomery

Dr. Anabelle J. Ashcroft

Dr. O’Connelly

Mr. Jonovia Jamerson

INCLUDING

Red Mask

Crossover Characters

*** From the novel Loyalty: The Legacy ***

Mr. Alexjandro Torres III

*** From the novel The Santiago Saga ***

Dr. Patricia Armstrong

Special Agent James David Armstrong II

Special Agent Travis William Armstrong

Detective Christopher Jonathan Armstrong

Miss Amanda Armstrong

Ms. Pleshette Johannesburg aka PJ

AND

Mr. A’madi Assante III

ParalyzeD

BEEP. Beep. Beep. Dr. Billings stepped through his front door and switched off the ADT alarm. Inside, the darkness of his Victorian home greeted him. After turning the vestibule’s lights on, he flung his alligator leather briefcase on the table. He then loosened the Windsor knot of his beige and cream Giorgio Armani tie. He released a long exhale from his hectic workday at the Riverview Psychiatric Hospital. It parroted the vestibule. Tired, but not exhausted, he knew he had two hours before picking up his next conquest named Tracy.

A playboy, Dr. Billings had a woman for every day of the week except Sundays. Even he needed a rest day. Since he grew up as the only child, he cherished his solitude but loved the ladies. A physician, he stood six-foot-four with sandy blonde hair and deep blue eyes. His athletic frame, charms, and bright smile made women melt in his hands. His eyes had a way of penetrating their souls. He knew how, when, and what to say to get whatever he desired. He was a brilliant philanderer who worked hard and played even harder. With women, he was a dashing Casanova, yet a mastermind in the psychiatric and social field of science. The only doctor assigned to patient 22-10. Where numbers identified individual patients, patient 22-10 was stationed in a highly secured secretive sanatorium.

Albeit, Dr. Billings’ den stayed dim from the soft light that spilled into the extravagant and well-furnished library. He stepped down two stairs, clicked on his 5K Smart TV then crossed the room. A shadow behind him loomed past the entryway into the adjacent room. The doctor stopped in front of his African mahogany bar. He poured himself a glass of Glen Garioch, bourbon from 1958 as the TV talked to him.

Tonight’s top story here on News CNC5 involved another discovery of a dismembered body part. As we reported early last week, a dog found a severed arm in the Above Air Line State Park. And another discovery was made earlier this evening in a restroom of the small but famous café, named Dale’s Diner. A man’s leg greeted a customer. His screams caught the manager’s attention. When the manager opened the bathroom door, he tried reviving the man who fainted on the floor. But after looking up into the open stall and noticing the severed tattooed leg lying on the toilet, he ran out the restroom to call 9-1-1. Police are not sure if this case has any connection to Maytromex Industries. They are aware most Maytromex’s employees dine at Dale’s Diner and the fortune 500 company holds the deed to the Above Air Line State Park. It's the second body part found within the last ten days. Police are still trying to find the person’s identity from the severed leg. We will continue to follow this story. Now here’s Charles Michaels with this week weather.

Ignoring the evening news, Dr. Billings gulped his bourbon then dispensed another while reviewing the file of patient 22-10. He became intrigued with the latest test results.

He has gourmet food, the best suite, great room service. It’s like an upscale spa for him, but he has done well with his medications and mental therapy, he said, holding his glass. He’s a perfect test subject for the next phase.

Dr. Billings flashed a smile of approval then raised his eyes gazing past the liquored shelves in the mirror to admire himself. Without a word, the mysterious figure behind him stared back. Fear forced open the doctor’s eyes. It was as if he was looking at his twin brother, but he had no siblings. Before he could turn around or utter a word, the stranger grabbed him tight around his board chest and jabbed a hypodermic needle into the side of his neck. Dr. Billings struggled for a few seconds then a loud thump echoed the den when he collapsed on the floor.

He won’t be perfect any longer, doctor, whispered the man. He snatched the doctor’s identification from off the pocket of his white coat. Now sleep my playboy . . . sleep.

The impostor heaved Dr. Billings’ limp body over his shoulder. He made his way to the spiral staircase and hiked up the steps. When he reached the top, he took a sharp left into the master bedroom.

Months of observing the doctor through planted spy cams made it easy for the intruder to know the layout of the physician’s enormous home. In the master bedroom, he tossed the doctor onto the king-sized bed. He undid his tie and used it to blindfold him. After snatching off Dr. Billings’ white shirt, he yanked down his beige suit pants and pulled off the doctor’s red silk boxer brief. He then stuffed it into the doctor’s mouth. After, he tied his ankles, one to each leg post and each hand to the headboard. His grin grew wide as he twisted open a tiny vial. With his gloved hand, he stuck his pinky finger in then trekked to the mirror over the dresser. In a red liquid, he carefully scribbled a phrase is Arabic, ‘هذه ليست سوى بداية.’ Afterward, he taped his signature mask adjacent to the message.

He exited Dr. Billings’ Victorian home from the back door. The singing of crickets and flicking fireflies consumed the rear grounds. He fled through the backyard, around the kidney-shaped pool, and into the patch of woods. On the other side of the forest awaited his specialized motorcycle. Kat purred ready for its destination. His heart throbbed with excitement and joy as he dashed out the woods. He climbed on Kat and then shielded his head with his black and gold custom-made helmet. His night vision activated and the screen of the helmet cleared. ‘Butterflies and Hurricanes’ by Muse blasted from the internal speakers. He squeezed Kat’s handles and escaped into the night.

Stars, stretching across the crowded black skies, wept. The moon felt ashamed and refused to shine its light. Nevertheless, under the cover of the dark of night, his Kawasaki Ninja ZX raced along the highway leading him to the Riverview Psychiatric Hospital. He parked two streets over and waltzed through the front entrance of the hospital as if he had owned it.

Good evening, Dr. Billings. The short female receptionist welcomed him with a wink and flirtatious smile.

He nodded and winked.

You’re back so soon, a big-bellied security guard said as he fixed his security cap. The ladies are waiting for your return.

He gave an a-you-know-I-am-back look with a devilish smile to the guard.

You can’t get enough of this place, can you? asked another security guard further down the white corridor.

Without words, he pointed with a weak grin and expressed a-you-know-you’re-right look. He winked.

Focused on his destination, he advanced toward section 22. When he reached the double doors, a confused look claimed his face. He squinted his eyes then snatched the identification card and waved it by the metal square and the red light flashed green. The beep told him he was cleared. The few male nurses who passed the doctor said nothing as usual. He glanced around as he ambulated forward. He took a quick right then a sharp left deciding to take the more convenient and isolated route to suite 10. It was swift and easy. His eyes smiled as they stole a peek into the room. He stationed his gloves on his hands then swiped the identification card. He crept in like sounds of a feather. His eyes scanned Ryan. A burst of heat coupled with anger rumbled in the pit of his stomach as he watched him sleeping in peace. A lifetime of hatred forced him to inject Ryan’s intravenous tube with Rovenon B. Mentally he thanked Dr. Weston for the concoction he had purchased from him. He eyed his Sky Moon Tourbillon watch, and then he withdrew a disc from the inner pocket of his black motorcycle jacket. After inserting it into the CD player, he nodded his head to his favorite tunes, ‘Would you like to go to heaven tonight?’ played by Cheap Trick. He grew fond of their music ever since he attended their concert. The particular night he met and killed Hope and Sabrina.

Good and sweet Hope, his mind whispered. The thought popped from his head. He checked his watch and five minutes had passed. He eased over Ryan’s two thick legs. Ryan’s eyes popped open along with his mouth. He tried to grab the doctor by the neck, but his arms were dead. He yelled, but no sound left his mouth. His mind hollered, ‘What the hell? I can’t move . . . Dr. Billings, what are you doing?’

Yes, you cannot move SSA Mackenrowe or shall I say The Slasher, he sneered through clenched teeth. Fitting song, I find great pleasure in their music. Tonight, I’m going to show you a trick of my own, but there’s nothing cheap about it. Ace pierced Ryan’s flesh with his shiny blade, two centimeters from his heart then laughed as his blood spilled from the open wound. This is for killing Pastor Peters. He was my only living relative.

‘I am going to kill you!’ Ryan shouted in his mind.

He was my twin brother, Ace pulled the blade out and slid the bloody sharp knife deep near his left kidney. Don’t worry … I’m not going to kill you. That would be too easy. He withdrew his Spyderco knife and stabbed adjacent to the other kidney. I’m just leaving you a piece of my art . . . a piece of me, he chuckled. Now we will be forever connected.

He chose another spot on his upper chest. He then sliced into him, two centimeters from the right side of his heart like a chef slicing into a cooked ham.

You killed the wrong killer, Ace snickered, wiggling the blade out from Ryan’s chest. He stuck it two inches from his pancreas, But you will never capture me.

After yanking it out, he leaned closer to Ryan’s face and waved the bloody tip in front of his neon blue eyes. They watched each other as small rivulets of blood spilled from his chest and torso. I am to you as the sun is to the moon. He jabbed the knife deeper, centimeters above his liver as he stared intently at him.

You are inferior to me, Ace chuckled. The student has outwitted the master.

Neither a groan, grunt or grumble left Ryan; not even a tear had escaped from his icy blue eyes. If anything, anger and rage consumed them.

‘I cannot believe it—Red Mask. How did he find me? I am going to kill you slowly, far worse than I did to your brother Pastor Peters,’ his mind yelled.

You taught me so much. I’ve always dreamt of us being friends and killing these creatures of the night together. Ace pushed his blade, The Hunter into the side by Ryan’s spleen, twice. Cleaning up the smut of the streets has connected us in such an intimate way . . . Wouldn’t you say? He cut his way passed Ryan’s liver. Oh, I forgot you can’t . . . You cannot talk right now.

His laughter climbed in volume and he felt a joy within. Then he hushed himself, looking around the room as if he was on the lookout. Ace raised his finger in front of his own mouth. Sh, we wouldn’t want any company right now . . . Not just yet. I haven’t finished my masterpiece. He took out his blade from the deep incision, Ryan’s eyes just watched him. Like Ace, he embraced the pain, using it to fuel his hatred and vengeance.

Now, now, now . . . Don't look at me like that. There are no hard feelings. Ace jumped to his feet, rolled Ryan faced down then climbed back on him. I have to finish my masterpiece on you. He jammed his Spyderco Hunter knife in his back two centimeters above his right lung; withdrew it then reinserted it two centimeters below his left one. See, now that wasn’t too bad.

All this hair will make it difficult to finish my signature perfectly, he said as he turned Ryan around. He laid helpless on his back as Ace carved the words, ‘Red Mask’ into his beautiful, chiseled chest. Ah, that should turn out good enough after they stitch you up. Now you’ll never forget me and you’ll think twice before stealing my masks and trying to frame me.

Ace glanced at his watch. Oops, seven minutes until your private nurse makes her rounds. You know timing is everything. You should know that best. He reached deep into Ryan’s wounds near his liver and said, "I’ll use your blood this time. This is a special occasion. Next is your son. You killed my brother; I kill your son. I’m not sure which one, though. He tilted his head, paused and thought about the answer. Maybe Mark, the genius or baby Tyler … I got it! Junior, your spitting image. Yeah, he’s the one. I could barely stomach one of you, let alone two. Yep, Junior is going exactly where my brother is. He dies soon. You will not know when, where, or how, but I promise you he’s history. Ha, ha, ha." He left from Ryan’s bedside and pranced to the vanity in the bathroom. He taped his new signature mask onto the mirror then he scrawled the word, Mishpat in Hebrew. (משפט)

Tossed & TastY

JETLAG coated Ace like fur covering a cat. Evening cuddled him as the sun fell asleep. As he crossed the Tasman Sea, part of him was happy he was in his territory. He loved his new life in Tasmania, Australia. His girlfriend Ashcroft had made his life complete. She filled the void his first love had left. The one who triggered his killing spree over the last twenty-five years. But satisfaction settled in his soul as his mind ran on his nemesis and the painful message he had carved on him. Ace chuckled as his Super Scooper seaplane bounced against the crashing waves. Mentally he thanked his longtime friend, Supreme Judge John Whitmore and his wife, Laura for the gift. Laura’s obsession with Ace’s good looks and charms brought the two men together. His paintings covered various walls in the judge’s chamber and homes. But the unusual nude 9’x6’ painting of Laura that Ace had created for him brought joy to the judge. Therefore, he gifted Ace a Bombardier 415 Super Scooper.

The blessings of having friends in high places, he said, turning off the engines. He jumped on the dock looking up at the plum colored sky. His Sahara Wrangler Jeep awaited his return and hummed when he flicked the switch on his black leather keychain. Ace yearned to return home to his beloved, but he had one more important stop to make. Within thirty-five minutes, he drove to his destination. He passed by the Kingston Health Clinic and the large home across the boulevard. He wondered if his friend Billy was home. Ace didn’t stop, but he pushed on with his purpose.

As tired as he was from nonstop traveling and hacking up his enemy, he pulled his black jeep on the side street one block over. Silence walked the neighborhood beside him. Few windows lit the magnificent homes on the tree-lined street of Bellward Lane. Ace hiked up the driveway of a beautiful brick three story home. He followed the stone pathway and made a right where he saw a dim light leading to the backyard. He pushed the small white fence open.

Preoccupied with preparing the temperature setting on his built-in grill, the gentlemen had his back toward the gate. He rested the flank steaks on the side of the custom-made rock and marble grill. Two feet behind the man, Ace cleared his throat. It startled the man forcing him to turn around.

Who are you?

I was going to ask you the same question. Ace gave a crooked grin.

He pointed to the gate. Get off my property, before I call the police!

I want to ask you two questions and then I will leave quietly.

What is it? he snapped like a hungry sea turtle.

Are you Lance Davis of Davis’ Pharmaceuticals?

Who’s asking? he growled.

I’ll take that as a yes.

Do you know Dr. Ashcroft?

What is this about? he asked. You have two seconds—

Ace punched him in the mouth cutting his words short. His head flew back, but with a spring reaction, Lance struck back. Ace blocked it. Lance threw another punch at the same time he swooped his foot across the grass trying to trip him. In one movement, Ace jumped up and knocked Lance with a right hook to the left side of his face. Blood spewed from his lips. He stumbled backward. Rage forced him to charge at Ace. He swung a left hook. Ace spun around and threw his forearms up blocking it. Ace turned again and struck a solid blow in his chest. Without stopping Ace, pummeled his face like an angry boxer hitting the punching bag at a gym. Lance fell on his butt. He gasped for air as blood gurgled from the corners of his mouth and down his nose.

Stay away from Dr. Ashcroft if you value your life—

Furious, Lance sprung up and tackled him to the ground. They crashed into the leather lounge chairs and tumbled knocking the table over. Both rolled near the fire pit. He stayed on top of Ace. Lance bashed him in his ribs and hit him in the face. Ace saw red. Hate filled his veins and raged his heart. Ace grabbed him around his neck and squeezed, he lifted his leg kneeing him in the groin from the back. That stole his air, forcing Lance’s eyes to roll back in his head and collapse on his side. Ace, six-foot-four, weighing two hundred and forty pounds pinned Lance. He refused to let go; he squeezed the life from him. With his last strength, Lance clawed at his Ace’s cheeks. Ace watched the life leave Lance’s eyes. He then flashed a victory smile while licking the blood from his lips.

I was just going to beat some sense into you. Exhaling hard, he said to the corpse, But you had to get smart trying to play the Mr. Tough Guy. Now where has that gotten you? But DEAD. I should have just killed you to begin with and save myself the trouble.

He kicked the lifeless body.

Ace, love is making you soft. Ah, what the heck, she’s worth it, he whispered to himself before checking his watch. I’m hungry. His eyes fell on Lance’s hands and the blood underneath his fingertips. Then they adverted to the utensils by the grill. He jumped to his feet, dusted his hands off and snatched Lance by the back of his collar. He dragged him to the fire pit surrounded by the leather lounge chairs. He then dropped him face down into the roaring fire. He chuckled at the sizzling sounds of burning flesh and hair. The smell made him smile inside. The animal within him felt relieved. With a calm in his step, Ace took the butcher cleaver from the side of the preheated grill, returned, and in one swipe chopped off Lance’s fingers. He yanked off Lance’s gray crocodile Thierry Mugler shoes then lopped off his toes. He pulled him by his bloody ankles, which made Lance’s face leave the fire. He rolled him over and stared down at what used to be a good looking man. Now a melted mess. The facial features were nonexistent, just gray smoldered teeth standing out against the blackness of burned flesh.

There they are. Say cheese, he released a sinister chuckle. Then seriousness grabbed his eyes, and he hacked out Lance’s gums, teeth included. You should have stayed away from her. You knew she was taken. Della Parks warned you. I did not buy her a Porsche Cayenne for nothing. She’s my perfect little mole.

Ace gathered his fingers, toes, the teeth and gums in five separate sections. After, he rolled each section up in a flank steak. He tied each steak with cooking rope, placed them in a plastic baggie then left.

In the quiet of the night, he ambled a block over and brought his jeep to life. The drive home kept him tranquil. He passed by Billy’s home. This time, he pulled over and tossed the flank steaks over the eight-foot fence. He knew Billy’s four Rottweilers and three Pit Bulls would have a feast. He smiled at his accomplishment driving down the boulevard. His ride was short-lived when he drove up to his colossal home. His backyard faced the sea. Joy filled him when he unlocked the front door and turned the knob. He couldn’t wait to grab her up and hold her in his arms. Ace stepped in the living room and his eyes exploded.

I told you not to touch that statue, he shouted in a firm voice. He snatched the rag from her hand.

Well, welcome home to you as well. What happened to your face?

His voice simmered. Nothing. Please don’t touch this statue. It’s the only thing I ask of you.

That’s a lie.

What? What do you mean? I give you reign over everything. Except my statue in the middle of the living room.

I’m also banned from your studio downstairs.

That’s my work zone.

All right, but between my O.C.D. and yours this house should remain spotless … including your special statue. I don’t see anything special about Themis, the Greek Goddess.

I’ll clean it right now.

Fine, but first, let me taking care of those scratches. Were you in a fight?

Just a small dispute. He shrugged with a half-smile.

Bad enough I have to deal with your new face, I refuse to have to see it marked up. I miss your real face.

Hey, you are the one who did the surgery.

After you charmed me into doing it. Will I ever see the face of the man I fell in love with?

Yes, in time. Now get your first aid kit. He kissed her lips then smacked her fanny.

This is not a first aid kit, Mr. Ace Chadatelli; it’s a doctor’s professional medical bag.

I’ll clean the statue as soon as you stitch me up, he said. And I want you to take off tomorrow.

Why is that statue so special? She retrieved her medical bag. And why do you want me to take off? Aren’t you going back downstairs to work as usual?

Ace sat in silence on the recliner. When she trekked back in the room with her bag, she looked at him with that look that melted his insides.

I thought it would be nice to cuddle in bed all day and just relax. As you apparently keep reminding me of how much I work downstairs. And don’t play like you’re not a workaholic yourself.

I work overtime because my man is addicted to his electronic toys. You barely spend time with me. She flipped open the lid to her custom made medical bag he had bought her. She used a disinfectant solution to clean the dry blood from his scratches. In her delicate way, she spread ointment on them then with caution she covered them with strips of gauze.

And yet I ask you to spend some time with me, and I can’t get a simple yes?

Yes, Ace. I will definitely spend the day in bed with you. She kissed him on his pink lips. Now, take off your shirt.

Why?

It’s ruined. I’m going to throw it away.

He peeled off his blue business skirt and handed it to her.

She held it by two fingers and allowed it to spin. "Oh goodness, it looks like it’s been through a war.

If you’re a good girl, I may have a surprise trip for you.

A trip? Her eyes lit up then they adverted to the bruises on both sides of his ribs. Oh God! What actually happened to you?

Yes a surprise trip, so no more questions.

She examined his sides with her fingers. Well, the good news is you didn’t break anything. The bad news is you’re pretty banged up. He released a painful grunt as her fingers traveled over his ribs. They’re bruised not broken.

Thanks. I’ll be okay. I don’t break easily.

What am I going to say if I take off from work?

Who cares? You’re CEO of the Kingston Health Clinic. You do not have to say anything.

But—

He silenced her with a long wet kiss.

Red DeatH

TONIGHT excited Karl Kellerman. His wife, Senator Patricia Kellerman traveled to the nation’s capital to visit her ailing mother. In their penthouse, the Royal Kensington, Karl sprayed a mist of cologne and pushed his dark hair to his left side. He wanted to be perfect for this night. He smiled at his reflection in the mirror of the master en-suite. Satisfied with the finished image, Karl’s smile disappeared when he noticed a nostril hair peeking out from his aligned nose. He trimmed it then applied some lip balm to his thin lips. He applied a bronze skin toner on his face giving him an instant tan then he left the en-suite.

After slipping on his vested Ralph Lauren Midnight suit, he jumped into his Christian Louboutin soft leather loafers. The buzzer grabbed his attention. He glimpsed at his watch.

Right on time. He cavorted around the enormous sunk-in living room and skipped up the steps to the grand foyer. One last time he glanced in the cast iron mirror then twisted the knob and pulled open the door.

Welcome to my humble abode. Karl reached out to peck a kiss on her pale cheek. She lifted her hand, blocking his lips. I didn’t give you permission to touch me . . . you have a great place here Stephen. She gave her red leather trench coat to him then stepped down into the living room.

Thank you. He folded her coat over his arm. Would you like a drink?

Of course.

The usual?

You know I only drink Red Death . . . You live here alone?

Yes. You look lovely tonight. Red is definitely your color and that leather dress fits you like a glove. He passed her her drink. Here, let’s make ourselves comfortable. Karl gestured his hand toward the charcoal gray Corinthian leather sectional. Or we can go to the bedroom for more comfortability. He hiked his tamed brows with a sexy grin.

After a few drinks . . . we cannot drink while lying on the bed.

True . . . so how was your day?

Busy. I went shopping . . . Which I hate, but what has to be done has to be done. She sipped her drink and ogled him with her apple green eyes.

Karl poured a three-finger of Remy Martin Louis XIII–Black Pearl Limited Edition–tonight is a special night, he told himself as he left the thirty-five-thousand-dollar bottle on the bar. He strolled over, grabbed the remote off the armchair then switched on the music. Sweet sounds of the Moscow Philharmonic Orchestra played Tchaikovsky’s Symphony 6. It reminded him of their first date. As the lights dimmed, the volume grew. She finished her drink. He sat beside her and she handed her empty glass to him. He took her glass then leaned in and stole a whiff of her scent. Her skin was pale as the cream in one’s morning coffee.

I want a refill . . . She paused. A matter of fact I’ll make my drink. You want a refill?

Before he could reply, she took both glasses and frolicked over to the obsidian bar. She turned her back to him and he admired her round butt. She made his drink then slipped a tiny glass vial from between her double D breasts. With smoothness, she sprinkled the entire vial in his cognac then stirred. She made her Red Death next.

Karl sat comfortable on the leather sectional with his head resting on the back of the sofa, immersed in the divine sounds coming from the stereo’s surround system. She swallowed a mouthful of her drink. Before handing him his glass, she kissed him. Their tongues danced then she uttered, Stephen . . .

Yes?

I love you.

Their eyes met with no response. She had handed him his drink and he sipped it. He watched her as she observed him. She grinned, running her tongue over her upper lip. He went in for another kiss. She held him back with one hand pressed against his chest and then she finished her drink.

Finish your drink, so we can move this to the bedroom.

He gulped the balance. Although she held out a hollow vow, she knew how he would respond. Karl loved their role-playing, her smell, her seduction, and her sex. Him obeying orders by a dominating, beautiful mistress made him go wild. Again, he reached out for another kiss; she stopped him by placing her hand over his lips.

You didn’t ask permission. Get up and go into the bedroom. NOW! The green pearls in her eyes brightened with her demands.

Yes, he said submissively rising from the sofa. He eyed her as she sat staring up at him.

Yes, what? She stood to her feet pointing in his face.

Yes, mistress.

And get undressed then lay in the center of the bed, she ordered, tossing her long red hair over her shoulder.

He acquiesced and went to the room then undressed. She seized her red patent leather Moschino bag and followed him into the bedroom. His bed suited for a king. She rested her large bag on the corner of his bed.

Mistress? he slurred, lying in the center of the bed.

Yes?

I can’t move . . .

Good, you might get a treat for that, she snickered, approaching the bed.

No, I’m serious. I really cannot move, he stuttered from his trembling lips. What’s happening to me?

Now this will hurt, but then again you enjoy pain, she bent over to look into his eyes, don’t you.

But . . . but—

Don’t worry, I’ll take care of that butt in a minute. First thing, first. She stuck her hand in a pair of latex gloves after she waited a few minutes. As the drug took effect, his eyes widened, his eyelids and lips froze, his entire body was incapacitated. A sense of joy overflowed through her seeing him disabled while fear lurked in his eyes.

She reached into her bag and pulled out a boxed case. She flipped open the cover. A selection of makeup displayed from eyeshadows, lipsticks, and liners to concealers and foundations. After painting him pretty, she yanked out a long black object the size of a ketchup bottle and shoved it in him. The excruciating pain forced his eyes open as it raced up his spine and exploded in his brain. She dug into the bottom of her bag and withdrew a clear square box. Scarlet pressed the only button on top and it began to inflate. When it finished it resembled a 24" baby incubator. With a smile, she guided his foot into the clear box. She ran her tongue across her lips as she pulled her portable electric carving knife. Scarlet stuck her hand throw one gloved opening and with the small carving knife she pushed her hand through the other. She gripped his right foot tightly and switched on the machine. The blade vibrated and rattled as it sliced his flesh straight through his bloody ankle. Like a hot knife slicing through Swiss cheese. His silent screams were not audible. Nonetheless, tears escaped Karl’s eyes. The drops of pain rolled sideways passed his temples and into his ears.

Her joy beamed. She dusted the foot that remained in the clear incubator box. She fitted the left stiletto on his only foot. She then took an identical red patent leather stiletto from her bag and twisted the heel of the shoe. It allowed her to remove the outer casing of the heel. A five-inch blade shined against the moonlight, which seeped in through the sheer curtains. She knelt down on the bed beside him. With a slow, steady pace, she inserted the blade into the flesh of his right temple. As she did it, she watched the life leave his eyes. Blood trickled down the side of his face and onto the bedspread. Before leaving the bed, she took black liquid eyeliner and drew five Chinese symbols on his forehead. She left an elaborate feathered mask on his face—daring the law to find her.

Soon after, she washed the glasses and wiped everything she had touched, including the leather sectional. She threw on her leather trench and shades then fixed her red flowing hair. Her departure was quick and clean. She left from the back exit, which led to the rear parking lot. She hopped in her red sports coupe then sped out smiling.

Seduce Me Then Slay ME

AGENTS and officers alike paraded the halls of Riverview Hospital. Voices echoed from walkie-talkies and whispers traveled through federal earpieces. Nevertheless, the quiet, subdued facility stood guarded like the Pentagon. Employees steered away from Section 22. The entire corridor remained cleared except the three police officers who stayed outside Suite 10. Carlos and Gracelyn collected evidence from Ryan’s suite. The operating room was the hall, past the entourage of men in blue. Worry stood alongside Armstrong, the Director of the FBI, and the other two FBI agents who waited outside. Armstrong was not a God-fearing man, but for the first time in his life, he prayed. His silent pleas were broken.

What do you mean I’m not allowed in this section?

Sorry officer, I’m just following orders, Agent Barkley, a rookie said.

Stand aside agent, Det. Albero ordered. My partner is family.

I cannot do that, and you’re an officer of the law, I’m an agent. You do not have clearance or rank to give me orders. The young agent gave a wry smirk.

Junior stepped closer, too close. Face to face, his neon blues stared at the new agent.

First of all, it’s not officer, it’s Lieutenant, and I don’t care who you are, I’m a Mackenrowe. He was itching to smash his face in, but he promised Michelle and Tia he would change and foremost his father’s life took precedence.

Half-scared, half-tired and completely annoyed, Armstrong marched up behind the new FBI agents and barked, Agent Barkley and Agent Law move aside now! Let these men through. He eyed them in disgust, This is SSA Mackenrowe’s son and his partner, Sergeant Albero.

Junior prayed in silence as he passed through the agents who tried blocking him and Det. Albero.

Thanks, JD. How’s he doing? Junior shadowed Armstrong’s steps. They rounded the corner and stopped at the entrance of the operating room.

I don’t know. When I arrived, he was already in surgery. They informed me his private nurse found him with deep gashes and bleeding profusely. They immediately rushed him into surgery. He’s been in there for the last three hours.

Do they have any leads on who did this? Det. Albero asked, using his tongue to roll his lollipop to the other side of his mouth.

This is my fault, Junior mumbled as worry took hold of his hand. He leaned against the gray and blue hospital wall staring down at the pristine floor tiles as his mind scolded him. My gut feeling told me not to listen to Tia. The one time I should have overruled her. How did the intruder get in? This place was supposed to be the best in confidentiality and the highest in security.

We believe it was Red Mask, Armstrong said, their eyes met in an instant.

Oh God, not him again. Det. Albero pulled the lollipop from his mouth and glared at both his partner and Armstrong.

What makes you think it was Red Mask? We haven’t seen any of his handiwork over three years. Junior pushed himself off the wall and stood on his feet. Are you sure it’s not a copycat?

No, it was Red Mask. He left a message on the mirror. It said ‘Mishpat.’

So that could be anyone . . . everything about him is public knowledge. Det. Albero chimed in.

Not everything, we at the FBI as well as the MFA had withheld a few things from the public, just in case, something like this happened. Junior, do you remember the mask he used on his last two victims? Armstrong folded his arms across his buffed chest.

Yes, it was a different style than his usual one. Almost half of the mask revealed the victims’ faces.

Well, we never released that mask to the public. We kept that top secret. That was the mask taped alongside the message.

Was the message written in blood? Junior inquired.

I’m not sure, it’s written with some red liquid. I called your brother to give him an update.

When will he be here?

He’s not coming.

What! He needs to be here.

Armstrong said, He sent Agent Perez and Dr. Regnault.

I guess he still has issues with your father, Det. Albero suggested.

I guess so. Armstrong agreed after placing his hand on Junior’s shoulder.

I don’t care what he feels or what he thinks. Dad is not The Slasher. Mark is wrong, and he should be here.This is dad’s life we’re talking about, he said, tapping the keys on his phone.

From the look of things, he’s not the only one who thinks that. Red Mask must believe that as well for him to attack Ryan and leave that message on the vanity mirror.

After surgery, he’s coming home with me. I don’t care what Tia says. Junior brows met. The MF computer at the MFA answered his call and redirected him to Mark’s voice service. Anger boiled Junior’s blood. He stuck the phone in his back pocket. It rung.

Hello, Mark?

No, it’s FDR.

FDR, what’s up?

I need you and Sergeant Albero downtown immediately.

We can’t make it. Let’s someone else handle it, Det. Albero said aloud.

Where are you?

I’m in Connecticut at my father’s hospital. Why?

We have a code ten-twelve at 1441 Park Avenue at the Royal Kensington; the penthouse. My men are telling me it’s Karl Kellerman, the senator’s husband.

Only thing that matters right now is my father . . . everything else takes a backseat.

Listen you can visit Ryan anytime. I’m your captain—

I’m not able to go, my father was badly attacked. He’s been in surgery for the last three hours. Albero is here with me and JD.

What! Who attacked him?

They believe it was Red Mask.

Sheesh, not him again. Confusion filtered his words; he questioned, Why?

The same undying rumor, he must believe my father is The Slasher. On the other hand, it might be payback for my father stealing his masks from the evidence room. I don’t know, and I don’t care, all I care about is about my dad’s safety.

All right, keep me updated. When you’re finished, I would like you to take over Kellerman’s homicide. This is a high-profile case and the media is going to feed on this like obese people at a Thanksgiving dinner table.

Okay, but isn’t this Mark’s expertise?

Only if it’s a high-profile serial killer; so far, we have one husband dead, and I hope that’s all we have. The last thing we need is another serial killer; I still haven’t forgotten about Red Mask and The Slasher.

See you soon. Junior shoved his phone in his back pocket. Our next case is Mr. Kellerman.

You mean Kellerman as in Senator Kellerman? Armstrong asked.

Yes, I do … It was a homicide at the Royal Kensington penthouse.

Our work is never done. Det. Albero popped another candy in his mouth.

ReuniteD

MANHATTAN was wet. The skies were dark and cold, but it did not stop Michelle from making a safe landing. She landed the XL7 Jetcopter perfectly on the heliport roof of The Silhouette Towers. The minute she finished shutting down all systems to the XL7 Jetcopter, she glanced over at G and gave him a warm smile. She knew he was right all along when he told her she would get them to New York City safely, rain or snow. The electrostatic lasers of the propellers retreated into the aircraft’s body. Seconds later, the multicolored electrostatic laser glass stairway extracted touching the heliport. They both exited the aircraft.

Before the birth of Tia’s son, Maximus Mackenrowe, Mark had secured the Mackenrowe mansion in the Hamptons for Junior and Tia. Granted, Ryan had given Michelle the deed to the estate. After what had occurred three years ago, she knew she would have never been able to live in peace at the Mackenrowe mansion. She told Mark, her fiancé. The memories once happy, bright and full of joy had turned to darkness and sorrow after her husband’s trial. When the jury acquitted Ryan, Mark tried to wash away her pain by traveling to Greece. She visited her best friend, Dr. Ruth Kensington. However, the darkness had still haunted her.

As her engagement gift, Mark purchased the Park Tower on 82nd Street and Park Avenue. An erected skyscraper made of bulletproof-mirrored glass. Seventy-five floors of luxury apartments, concierges, and top-grade security. The gigantic parking lot adjacent to the tower was used to build a replica. Before the additional construction of the MFA, Mark had the second skyscraper built. Tower B had a professional gym, which he named, Extreme and an elegant restaurant, he called Shadows. Although Mark owned and renamed both buildings, The Silhouette Towers, it did not satisfy him. Hence, he called in a few favors to his close friend, Senator Olivia Overmyer. He would not be happy until he owned the entire city block it stood on.

Rain soaked the roof of The Silhouette Towers along with Michelle and G’s boots. She dashed to the elevator. He followed. His eyes averted to her, Ming, I knew you would handle that aircraft like a pro. You’re a natural.

Thanks, but I’m happy we made it here in one piece. This rain is getting heavier by the minute, Michelle said. I’m glad you transferred to the MFA.

Well, it wasn’t by choice. Director Armstrong requested for me to be the official liaison between the Bureau and the MFA.

You’re going to like the MFA . . . it’s like no other place in the world.

I’m glad Mark signed off on it, G said. I’m proud of both my nephews.

I know. So am I. I was worried about Junior, but he turned his life around and did wonders. I just wish Mark could get some rest without any nightmares. Then I would be so happy.

He still has those nightmares?

Yes, I hate it. I’m glad I’m home for good. Michelle’s eyes left his, and she shifted her stance. The arrival of the elevator brought her eyes to the open doors.

So how does it feel to have the full power of the FBI at your hands?

I cannot explain—

The elevator doors slid open to the living room.

SURPRISE!

Voices boomed throughout the ground floor of the triplex. Michelle jumped back bumping into G, who stood behind her. He gave her a gentle push and the elevator doors closed behind them. The welcome home party spun a glowing smile on her small oval face.

After training at Quantico, Virginia for the last three years, she was ecstatic to be home, and more importantly, to return to Mark’s arms. He embraced her and kissed her deeply. For a brief second silence surrounded them, and then reality crashed them back to earth when she felt a tug on her pants leg. Jean-Marc’s neon blues glared up at his mother and with a candy grin, he uttered, Mommy, welcome home.

Thank you, Jean-Marc, I’ve missed you so much. She lifted him on her hip then covered his face with a thousand kisses.

He giggled while pointing toward the dining hall, Your favorite cake is inside the dining room.

We have lots to talk about; I’ve missed you, Mark whispered in her ear.

She replied with a kiss. After this great party.

We’ve missed you, especially me, I miss our nightly chitchat, Tia confessed, delighted to get out of the Mackenrowe mansion.

Hey, welcome back, Cornelius claimed while pecking her on her cheek. I’ve been craving your cooking.

You were greatly missed, Mrs. Mackenrowe, Maria Gonzalez, the babysitter said as she took Jean-Marc from Michelle’s arms. I’ll get him and Max some cake . . . C’mon Max. Maria held his hand and disappeared into the lavish dining area.

Agent Callahan, Agent Catalina, the MFA Watchmen–Agent Davenport, and Agent Wisdom chatted in the lounge on the first floor of the triplex. Tia along with G, Mark, SA Bushwick and his wife Agent Bushwick attended as well. Mark had employed Agent Bushwick as the children’s private teacher.

The Bushwicks accompanied the kids and Maria in the dining room with the catered food and the immaculate seven-layer chocolate cream cake.

Where is your brother? Michelle asked Cornelius. And Gracelyn is missing?

Mark sent them to Riverview.

Riverview? She drew closer to Cornelius, touching his arm she stared at his baby brown eyes. What happened?

I think it’s best for Mark to tell you. He diverted his stare to his plate of fried chicken, rice and beans, yucca and a green salad.

Why— Michelle’s phone cut her words. Hello.

Thank God, Michelle I’ve been calling you. Dad was brutally attacked.

What! Oh God, how? she said in shock. What happened?

Red Mask stabbed him a dozen times. He’s bleeding profusely.

She could hear the unnerving fear in Junior’s voice.

Is he okay? How did Ace find him?

I don’t know. Albero and JD are here; I called Mark so his team can comb over the crime scene, but he sent Carlos and Dr. Regnault instead … I don’t know; I would have thought Mark had gotten past his ill feelings about dad. I mean this is his life we’re talking about.

I know … I’m on my way. Tell the administrator for the hospital to prepare the heliport. I will need the lights to land properly. I’ll be there within the hour.

Okay, see you then.

Michelle marched up to Mark, I need to speak with you. She pulled him by the hand like a child into one of the six colossal bedrooms. She asked, Why haven’t you gone to check on Ryan?

Why should I? He shrugged. Junior is over there with JD and an entourage of FBI agents and law enforcement. Besides, I sent Carlos and Dr. Regnault. They will handle whatever forensics necessary.

I don’t care if the entire military was there; he’s your father.

"He is not my father; he is a man portraying to be my father. My father is dead. He sneered. Moreover, I had to be here for your welcome home party. Was I supposed to run to Ryan, the serial killer, and miss greeting my fiancée who I have missed so greatly?"

For your father’s life, I would not have minded. It would have been understandable. Her eyes met his.

You are still in love with him, are you not? He searched her honey-golden eyes as if he was examining her soul.

She turned her face toward the bay windows. No, not the way you think. I love him and care what happens to him. I told you I’m not in love with him, but he’s still your father.

Stop saying that! he yelled, throwing his hands in the air. "My father is dead."

She eased up on him. She was gentle when she brought his hands to his sides. With eyes upon eyes, she asked, Sweetheart, you mean to tell me if he dies right now you would feel nothing?

Mark tilted his head. His face stretched as if he felt a lifetime of pain. "He ran around for thirty years killing thousands, thousands of people. Just imagine the amount of suffering he has caused to all those families."

You haven’t answered my question.

He withdrew his hands from hers then spun around and with ice in his veins, he said, No. I would not shed a tear.

Then I don’t know what to say. Just when I thought I knew every inch of you, you surprise me. Then again, I shouldn’t be surprised . . . It seems to be a theme with you Mackenrowe men. She headed for the door. Either way, I’m going to see him.

No. He stepped in front of her. I do not want you to go. This is your first night back. How can you just leave me and run to him? Then you wonder why at times I question your love.

"It’s not a question of love; it’s a matter of compassion and forgiveness . . . It’s a matter of being human. Regardless of what he has done, no matter how horrific it was. You should always remember if it weren't for him, you wouldn’t even exist." Her daggers pierced his heart as he froze from the agonizing truth. She waltzed around him and left the bedroom. Michelle sidestepped everyone in the lounge and ambled up to G. Since he had trained her for the last three years, he noticed her facial expression immediately.

Ming, what’s the matter?

It’s Ryan. Red Mask broke into Riverview Hospital and stabbed him a dozen times. I am on my way over there now. I just wanted to inform you because I know you two are close. Her eyes swelled with tears.

I’m coming with you. He rose to his feet and ushered her to the elevator in the rear corner of the living room. Once inside, the elevator bypassed the library on the second floor and the master bedroom on the third. It went straight to the roof. Seconds later, they strapped themselves in the XL7 Jetcopter. When she pressed her thumbprint on the orange screen, it ignited. The sides of the aircraft slid open and the wings extracted. The force of air from the two electrostatic laser propellers in each wing shot the XL7 Jetcopter upward fifty feet from the heliport. From there, Michelle aimed north toward Connecticut.

Love Or LoyaltY

MICHELLE rushed into the Riverview Psychiatric Hospital with G on her heels. He was six-foot-six and his long legs gave him an advantage over her, but not this night. She wore her worries on her oval swarthy face as she breezed through the blockade of agents. On viewing G, the FBI agents did not bother to stop her. They nodded their heads toward G and respectfully said hello to her. With deaf ears, she raced past them down the corridor leading to the operating wing.

All eyes shot toward the entrance of the operating room as the surgeon pushed open the swinging door. With a blank stare, he said, I’m sorry—

Junior snatched him by his blue scrubs and yelled in his face, What the heck do you mean you’re sorry?

Junior, C’mon man, let him go so that he can finish. Armstrong tried prying his hands from the surgeon. Det. Albero helped, but Junior would not release him until he heard Michelle’s voice.

Junior! She approached him. He released the doctor before she could ask.

Mr. Mackenrowe, the doctor said, fixing his disheveled scrubs. I was about to inform you I am sorry; we did the best that we could. However, your father would need a specialized plastic surgeon to rid the scars left after his recovery.

"So, he’s going