Sweet Hell

SWEET HELL

Audrey Godwin

MULTIPLE PARTNER ROMANCE

www.BookStrand.com

A SIREN-BOOKSTRAND TITLE IMPRINT: Romance ABOUT THE E-BOOK VERSION: Your non-refundable purchase of this e-book allows you to one LEGAL copy for your own personal use. It is ILLEGAL to send your copy to someone who did not pay for it. Distribution of this e-book, in whole or in part, online, offline, in print or in any way or any other method currently known or yet to be invented, is forbidden without the prior written permission of both the publisher and the copyright owner of this book. SWEET HELL Copyright © 2008 by Audrey Godwin E-book ISBN: 1-60601-090-5 First E-book Publication: August 2008 Cover design by Jinger Heaston All cover art and logo copyright © 2008 by Siren-BookStrand, Inc. ALL RIGHTS RESERVED: This literary work may not be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, including electronic or photographic reproduction, in whole or in part, without express written permission. All characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead is strictly coincidental. PUBLISHER www.BookStrand.com

DEDICATION This book is dedicated to two young men. They are bothersome, opinionated, bossy, interfering, vexing, annoying, aggravating, frustrating, maddening, and downright sassy, but I love them very much. They are my two sons, Gary and Michael. Thanks guys for loving me even though I write such “nasty” books. Gosh, how the heck did I raise two such prudish characters?

THANK YOU! I want to thank everyone at BookStrand for their hard work in getting my novel to its finished state, and for their encouragement and wonderful friendly attitude along the way. I have found that their number one objective is to bring their readers the very best, and I am thrilled to know that Sweet Hell has a place among them.

SWEET HELL Audrey Godwin Copyright © 2008

Prologue The lonely echo of stiletto heels reverberated through the mysterious, late-night hush of Atlanta's asphalt canyon. The crisp, sharp sound haunted the city streets like a spine-tingling nightmare until at last a woman emerged from a leaning shaft of cold darkness. She rushed swiftly along, darting between parked cars, and then across a rain-washed street. In her haste she stumbled over a crumbling curb that viciously ripped at her hose. With a muffled curse she quickly gained her balance and continued along, the eerie silence of the late hour causing her to cast an anxious eye behind her. Sheer, black terror gripped her when the massive shadows took the heart-stopping shape of a man's profile. She heard the far-off ghostly sound of his shoe leather as it scraped along the hard surface. She hurried, her heart thrashing in her chest, but the shadow man stayed with her, moving when she moved, stopping when she stopped. She shivered when she felt the fog’s misty kiss upon her cheeks, an icy chill on the nape of her neck, and pulled her trench coat closer around her. One by one the lights of the restaurants blinked out, and the smell of burned coffee grounds, mixed with rotting garbage, made her stomach heave. She stopped. She couldn’t go any further. Her breathing was heavy and labored as she leaned her head against a cool, wet lamppost. Finally opening her eyes, she found herself looking down into a shallow pool of blood. She quickly realized it was the reflection of the red, garish neon lights on the rushing rainwater. And then, in a matter of only seconds, she was standing in total darkness. Her head jerked upward. The halogen

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light above her sputtered to a whisper. Dread slowly climbed up her spine like a coiling snake. With no warning, no scraping footsteps, no hideous shadow—she felt a presence. Oh, God, he was behind her. So close she could reach out and— All at once a hand appeared, muffling the scream that came swelling into the night. The man in black wrestled her into a dark corner behind a large trash bin and threw her to the ground. Fear surged through her as the cold glitter of a large steel blade danced threateningly before her eyes. "I saw you," he rasped, his mouth close to her ear. "Wiggling your pretty ass, you were. In front of all those men." "Mmnnff!" she sobbed, struggling against his rough, callused hand. "Know which one I was?" She could hardly move, but her eyes slid toward him, searching the dark face that was caught in the shadows. "Did you find a hundred dollar bill in your g-string?" She remembered seeing the bill waving before her anxious eyes as she danced to the loud, thumping music. She also remembered that her hips got a little looser, and her dancing a little more raw as she smiled, wiggled, and indulged the man holding it. And then she felt his clumsy, calloused hands digging into her soft flesh, her g-string snapping, and the bill tucked safely inside. A bubble of delight rippled through her, knowing it would go a long way to help pay her rent. But the most disturbing thing she remembered was his face. He was deathly pale, his hair was kinky and salted with gray. Just then he leaned into the neon brightness, and she gasped. The play of light and shadow gave his face a grotesque look. His pale, washed out eyes glowed, looking hungry—but not for food. "Yeah," he said, his face close, his hot breath wet on her face. "I waited for you outside the club. Figured my hundred dollars put me first in line for some of that hot, gyrating little ass of yours." She felt the hard pressure of his cock against her, and his voice was a chilling whisper. "By the way you can call me Boris. No need to be on such unfriendly terms since I’m about to get myself some pussy," he whispered seductively. "I been watchin' you for a week now, and every night you come out at the same time. You’re late tonight. What happened, sweetheart? Stop to give

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your boyfriend a blow job?" His hot, wheezing breath stung her cheek as he leaned closer. "Well, now it's my turn." Becoming panicky, she struggled in his arms. A derisive chuckle sounded deep in his throat, but his wicked laugh was interrupted when the door of the nearby club swooshed open, releasing a quick explosion of voices and music. A staggering couple came out and stumbled across the street while hanging onto each other. Their words were low and raspy, each one giggling out suggestive words while they approached the entrance to the alley. "My God," the man growled, “it’s Kitt.” The man held his breath as he listened to the sound of scraping footsteps coming closer and closer. “He can’t find me here like this,” he mumbled as he looked down at the dancer in his grip. Pushing the point of the knife against her throat, he hissed, "One word, bitch, and you’re dead." The dancer, trapped in the man’s vise-like grip, heard their whispered voices and the wet sound of their kisses as they came closer and closer. She agonized, realizing the couple would pass without ever knowing she was there if she didn’t do something. She felt the prick of the brute’s knife at her throat, but she was desperate enough to take the chance. All at once a scream burst from her throat as she reached up to scratch his face. Hot, burning pain traveled along his face. He lifted his hand and touched his wound and saw the blood that seemed to radiate like neon. "You miserable bitch," the man croaked while struggling with her. His large hand quickly grasped her hair and brutally yanked her head back to expose her neck. "Not your lucky day, sweetheart," he said just before he sliced the knife across her throat. As her body slumped against him, he quickly threw her aside and sneaked to the edge of the dumpster. After carefully peering around it to make sure no one could see him, he began running, his feet splashing through the neon-reflected puddles. **** Hearing the scream, the young man turned his head quickly, his eyes piercing the darkness. In only seconds he saw the flapping coat of a fleeing figure and disengaged himself from the clinging woman. He heard horrible gurgling sounds coming from behind the trash bin and went to investigate.

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Seeing the woman, he leaned down, felt along her bloody neck and found a faint pulse. "Call an ambulance!" he yelled to his date who was watching from the sidewalk. "I think she's still alive." The girl turned quickly and ran back into the club. In only minutes a series of sirens sounded in the darkness. Finally an ambulance, one squad car, and an unmarked car bumped up into the alleyway, blocking the entrance. "Over here!" the young man called to the medics as they sprang from the vehicle. Two officers and a plainclothesman emerged from their cars. They slowed their steps when they saw him and quickly drew their guns. They crouched down behind the protective metal of their cars and leaned forward. "Back away from the body with your hands in the air," one officer shouted. Whirling around at the sound of the shouting voice, the young man realized that he was standing in the dead center of drawn guns and a bank of blinding lights. He looked at them with confusion until he felt something wet inching down his arms and looked up. A chill danced down his spine when he saw what the police saw. Blood—a dripping blade. Full realization immediately flooded him. The cold eyes of the crouching officers told him they believed they were looking at a sadistic killer. Panic seized him. "Hey...no—" he said, waving the knife around. "— I-I just found her. Just now. Before you guys got here." He pointed toward the club. “I was coming out…” In spite of the blinding headlights, he saw the dark steel of the glinting guns pointing in his direction. What the hell was this? Sure, he knew how it looked, but couldn't they see that he was only an innocent bystander just trying to help? The blood didn't mean anything. He got it on him while checking to see if she was still alive. And the knife—oh God, why had he picked up the knife?—the bloody knife? All at once he became sensitive to the slowly dripping blood—every wet, sticky drop. One more nail in his coffin. Trying to convince them of his innocence, he foolishly pushed the knife forward while making a move toward an officer. "It's not mine, it belo—” "Freeze!" the officer shouted. He stopped abruptly. "You got this all wrong." He looked over at his

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girlfriend and pleaded, "Vicky, tell them." **** "It's like he...” she began, her words slowly fading when she saw his dark, imposing figure caught in the headlights of the vehicles. Standing there, waving the knife around with the woman's blood all over him, he looked guilty. Like a killer. She hesitated. He was tall, dark, had long black hair with a headband wrapped around his head, and tied at the side. His face had a five o'clock shadow, and a golden earring glittered in the light as it hung from his left ear. Who was he? What did she know about him? She had only met him tonight, after all. Maybe he had done it when, well, she hadn’t been with him the whole time, so how could she be sure? A deep, black fear clawed at the girl's insides as she backed away slowly. "N-No," Vicky said weakly. "I d-don't know anything." **** "Oh God," the man muttered. With fear creeping up his spine, he quickly dropped the knife, turned, and began running. The officer yelled, "Stop, or I'll shoot!" He zigzagged wildly through the alley while explosions on cement walls, garbage bins, and fire escapes blasted all around him. When he finally came out the other end, he burst into the street and kept running. After several blocks he finally slowed down to a trot until exhaustion forced him to come to a stop. Breathing heavily, he leaned over, clutched his knees and looked around, wondering where he was. With his chest heaving he looked up and down the vacant, rain-slick street, trying to orient himself. He didn't recognize anything and looked up at a nearby street sign. My God, he thought, how did I get all the way down to Whitehall? Feeling he was safe from the cops at last, he relaxed against the wall, intending to rest for only a moment. But as exhaustion overtook him, he found himself slowly inching down the wall, and couldn’t resist leaning his forehead against his arms as they rested on his knees. As the night slowly passed, he sat there, still and lifeless, and slept the rest of the night. The next morning he was brutally jolted awake when hauled to his feet

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by a uniformed officer. Jerking his head around, he found the street filled with squad cars, news vans, and cameras. "I didn't do it!" he yelled at the officer. "I was trying to hel—” "Don't give me any of your lies, you jerk," the officer growled, looking at him with disgust. "Waste the judge's time, not mine." He brutally turned him around and circled his wrists with handcuffs. "You have the right to remain silent...” While being herded to the car, the man looked straight into a camera that was focused on him, refusing to lower his head and look guilty. The camera quickly dropped and he caught a glimpse of the cute girl that held it. "Hey, handsome," she said with a flirtatious grin. "This is going to put you out of circulation for a while, isn't it?" "Don't count on it," he said, turning on the charm. "You can leave your telephone number with my agent." The girl, still smiling, lifted the camera again. She inched backwards while staying focused on his every move. "Come on, Romeo, give me something to write home about," she mumbled, trying to keep him as her focal point in spite of the jostling crowd. While the officer pushed him along, the camera hung on him like a leech, dogging his heels, watching his every move. Doing what came naturally, he proceeded to shock the ruffled panties off of every last one of Atlanta’s prim and proper southern sisters by sliding his eyes toward the camera, and gazing at it as if it were his lover. He thought of the beautiful face of the girl behind it, and a slow, sinful smile began twitching at his lips, and his lids lowered, giving her and all of Atlanta a lazy, slumberous look. The camera didn’t move, so his smile quickly turned mischievous, quickly sliding into wicked, and ended with a flirtatious, sidelong glance and a sexy wink. As if Atlanta hadn’t seen enough, his tongue began a sensuous stroke along his lush lips just before he pursed them and kissed the air. He could almost hear Atlanta’s collective gasp. As the squad car finally sped away, the girl lowered the camera her eyes still gazing at the retreating vehicle. Talking to the reporter at her side, she said, "Wow. That little piece of acting could win him an academy award."

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Chapter 1 Passionate whispers, fevered moans, and wet kisses pulsed through the shadows of a dark bedroom where a body of muscled hardness was plunging his throbbing cock deep into the musky sweetness beneath it. He moaned, his thrusts becoming raw and loose, his hips lunging faster, harder, his cock going deeper until at last he jerked and groaned in a shuddering climax. He quickly slumped and rolled away, sweat covering his face, his breathing a heavy rumble. The young woman quickly turned her face from him, hot tears glistening in the cold, hard, silver moonlight. It wasn't enough. Her body cried out for more. Her hands formed tight fists to withstand the hunger that still swirled, the fire that still burned. She yearned for just one more thrust, one more hot, delicious explosion blossoming throughout her groin. As she lay there, feeling the cold emptiness eating her up inside, her hands inched upward until they were shamefully caressing her throbbing breasts. The feel of her own hands reminded Pari of the problem she’d fought against her whole life. She’d been taken to a doctor when she was barely fourteen and heard the doctor mutter only one word to her mother. Nymphomania! The word hung in the air like a heavy scent. It was a bad word, a word that frightened her, a word that meant someone... God maybe, or was it the devil... had lit a fire and put it between her legs. Her young years passed in a blaze of bright lights, raucous laughter, and pawing hands on a dance floor. Eventually she was ruled by the burning desires that raced through her diseased veins and pooled in her groin. Her heels were high, her jeans tight, and her blouses low. Dark corners and the close quarters of back seats became her hiding places. She endured taunts

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such as trash, whore and slut hurled at her like stones. She repeatedly woke up in motel rooms with strangers, and after stumbling home with her makeup smeared and her clothes torn, she would stand before her parents only to endure her mother’s tears and her father’s painful words. Wiping at her smeared makeup, he would whisper with a sob, “You have the face of an angel, Pari, why would you want to ruin it and go out looking like some phony, painted up, store-bought doll?” She felt mortified, but knew he didn’t understand, so she turned away, hiding her face while slinking shamefully to her room. She knew she was hurting them, but felt powerless against whatever it was that drove her. Now, ten years later, Pari was a highly acclaimed defense attorney, but her problem hadn't gotten any better. In fact, it seemed to be getting worse as her anxious fingers continued to stroke her flat, smooth abdomen while moving slowly toward the forbidden zone. She bit her bottom lip with guilty pleasure as she pressed her palm against her cleft. She felt the urgency trembling within its folds. Her valley was sensitive, burning. Her flesh begged, reached, as if alive. Inviting her, tempting her to dig, fondle, and molest herself. Finally, her fingers crept in, slowly at first, her ardent flesh sensuously jolted by the invasion. Her breath came hard and fast, and try as she might, she couldn't tear her eager fingers away from their dirty task. With every dark, forbidden movement she began emitting a series of low, guttural moans of pleasure, and felt compelled to roll her hips while firmly kneading her creamy, succulent canal. Arching her back, her mouth opened in passion. At last with a series of soft, heavy, jerking breaths, she felt herself being swept upward in a carnal tidal wave until the burning warmth of release blossomed and spread completely throughout her groin. While swirling around in that white-hot heat of ecstasy, and allowing it to saturate her so thoroughly, a satisfied smile began tugging at her full, sensuous lips, the hunger of her young body at last overflowing with warm, delicious fulfillment. Finally at peace, Pari lay silent and still, the ticking of the wall clock becoming distant as she slowly fell into a velvety doze. As the minutes passed, the moon rose high into the sky, its harsh light feathering into softness as it draped lazily across carpet and furniture. At long last... she slept.

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The morning brought a chilling rain. Pari got up, showered and went down to the kitchen to find Ron making coffee. Without interrupting his silent vigil, she wandered over and looked out the sliding glass doors. The tiny raindrops zigzagged crazily, making moving shadows on her face as she silently gazed at a small puddle being riddled with frequent raindrops. All at once she felt Ron's hands on her shoulders. His brown, curly head came down and she could feel his warm breath as he brushed his lips along the deep curve of her neck. She leaned her head back into his sensuous caress, pretending to like the gesture, but couldn't get excited as she once had. Was this her fault, or his? She just didn't know. All she knew was it seemed to take more to satisfy her these days. Every night was the same. He pumped, climaxed, and she was left clawing for more. Where had the lusty nights and magical days gone that were so filled with their passion? "Want some coffee?" he mumbled softly against her neck. Pari managed a smile. "Sure." They both walked back to the breakfast bar where he filled her favorite mug with steaming liquid then placed it lovingly in front of her. A worried look filled his eyes. He leaned over the counter and gently stroked her hand while his voice broke through the tense silence. "You've got something on your mind." She didn't look up, just continued to stare down into the dark, steaming liquid until a tension filled the air. "Ron, I—” "Hey," he interrupted, and pushed himself away from the shiny blond wood. "Why don't we have a picnic today?" She looked up at him, surprised. "Ron, it's raining." "We'll have it inside," he said, excited. "I can run out and get some—” "Ron," she interrupted softly. His words faded and his eyes lowered, feeling the weight of the unavoidable moment bearing down upon him. She looked into the face of the man who at one time was able to bring her to such erotic heights she could feel it all the way down to her toes. "Ron, I—” "I don't want to hear it, Pari," he said with a voice full of dread. "You know what I'm going to say?"

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"I'm afraid I do." Avoiding her eyes, he reached up and ran his fingers through his thick, curly hair. Finally he shrugged and said, "Hell, Pari. I may be a lousy lover, but I'm not stupid. I've known this was coming for a long time." "What happened, Ron?" Embarrassed, he turned away. "I'm a lot older than you, Pari. We both knew this day would come. Hell, I—" He paused, not wanting to say his next words. "—I just can't keep up with you anymore." Turning back, he gave her a sad smile. "Do you have any idea how hard that is for a man to admit?" Slowly his smile faded. "I just didn't think it would happen quite so soon." **** The silence coming from her was deafening. No denial, not rebuttal… just quiet agreement. His eyes roamed upward, already missing her beautiful face, her long, silky blond hair and her ivory complexion that glowed with a clean beauty he had so long admired. He teased her about what he called her twilight eyes. They were the most incredible deep purple. Now as they looked at him he noticed once again how their dark fringes curled, and how the deep, thin arch in her eyebrows resembled the wings of a bird in flight. She was so perfect in every way, but one. Her sexual appetite. It had always been hard to keep her satisfied, but now, after the years had piled up, it was impossible. **** Seeing the pain in Ron's dark eyes, Pari lifted her hand and caressed his face softly. The lines at the corner of each eye stood out like two waving flags. The distinguished gray at each temple... when had it spread so wide? He was a handsome man for his age, but it seemed the years had taken a lot out of him... or maybe she had. She fondly remembered the happy times they'd spent together. Pari knew she would never go through a winter without thinking of Ron and the way he once made fantastic love to her in front of the fireplace. He would pour champagne all over her then scour it off with his tongue, knowing it would drive her crazy. And then, like the cat

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that she was, she would anxiously receive him inside her while screaming, scratching, and clawing, and the session that began with a scream would end with a purr. "I'll be out by the end of the day," he said, interrupting her memories. "Ron, I'm so sorry." He looked at her for a long moment as if trying to memorize her face. Then he reached out and stroked her cheek lovingly. "It's not your fault, baby. Go out and get yourself some young animal that can keep you going all night the way I used to." Taking her hand, he pressed it against his lips and looked at her with memories clouding his eyes. "Sorry I got old on you, honey." As Ron walked away, Pari’s eyes shone with tears. An era in her life had just ended, and the man she thought she would spend the rest of her life with looked old. As she watched him leave, he moved as if every joint in his body was throbbing with pain. **** That night when Pari came home from work, Ron's clothes were gone. When she looked around, the apartment seemed so empty, almost eerie. She could hear her footsteps echoing on the shining hardwood floor. There was no joking laughter, no drink ready for her to relax with, and no delicious dinner smells coming from the kitchen. Unfortunately, Ron had been a little too thorough in cleaning his things out. She saw nothing that had been forgotten, and felt such finality to his leaving, almost like the ghostly timbre of a slammed door that she knew would never open again. Why couldn't he have conveniently left something that he would have to come back for later, something that might have given him an excuse to see her again? She turned and went into the lonely kitchen and began preparing a salad for one, remembering all the happy times they had spent there. Since she didn't want to sit at the table alone, she brought her plate into the living room and flipped the TV on to watch the evening news. She needed someone's voice, even if it was piped in through cables. It seemed to be the same old thing. School kids killing each other, a new pill guaranteed by some chemist to cure obesity, or some jock celebrity being brought up on charges for the rape of a groupie. She lifted her remote

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control to change channels when she saw a handcuffed man being escorted into a patrol car by a uniformed officer. The voice of the reporter said he was arrested on murder charges and called him the Moonlight Stalker. So that's what he looks like, Pari thought, feeling a chill as his eyes looked directly at the camera. He looks like a killer, she thought, taking in the loose black shirt that gaped open and revealed the dark, crisp curls on his muscled chest. When her eyes slowly lowered to the skin tight pants that intimately cupped his generous manhood, a flush rose to her face and she began fanning herself with the napkin. "Brazen bastard," she muttered when he didn't hang his head or try to hide his face like most criminals. She was lifting a forkful of greens to her mouth when her hand stopped just shy of her mouth. He was putting on a show. The brazen bastard was putting on a show. With difficulty she managed to open her mouth and swallow the bite of greens that felt like a knot in her throat as the flashing blue of his eyes sent an electric charge down her spine. A disturbing warmth spread through her as he stared at her from the TV screen, lifting his sensuous mouth on one side as if he were mocking the public. Her mouth opened to take in another bit of greens when her hand stilled in mid air. The oil from her forkful of greens slowly dripped onto her skirt. She looked down when she felt the wetness on her leg, and cried out, "Damn!" She jumped up, her fork clattering to the plate. She grabbed her napkin and made a furious effort to dab at the spot, but couldn't seem to keep her eyes off the TV screen. Finally the fury of her hand slowed while she watched him lower his lids and give the camera a seething look. He followed with a sexy wink and thrust his full, sensuous lips forward, brazenly kissing the air just before the picture flipped back to the anchor. She plopped back down in her chair and looked at the big ugly oil stain on her skirt. "Ruined!" she muttered, "The damned thing is ruined all because...” Her words faded. She wouldn't say it. No, in all fairness she wouldn't blame him since she knew full well that she should have changed clothes before she began eating. Throwing the napkin down, she pushed her full dinner plate away, her appetite gone. She couldn't believe she had become so excited from just one look... and from a criminal. She jumped when the phone rang, still thinking about the handsome, black-clad bastard. A bastard that… all right, so she shouldn’t blame him… but she would. His stupid performance had ruined her expensive stretch silk

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skirt. "Oh!" she screeched in another rush of anger and leapt for the phone. "Hello!" "What the hell's wrong with you? Never mind, don't answer that. Just turn on the TV." "You're a little late," she said, still examining her ruined skirt. "I've already seen it." "Pari, he needs a lawyer." "Fine, get him one." "That's what I'm doing." "Clate, I can't do it. I'm swamped right now. Besides, I just started on a new case yesterday." "Whatever it is, it can't be as important as this one." She tried to hold her ground with stubborn silence. She felt for Clate because he was short-staffed and couldn't afford to take on any more help, but he was constantly pulling her off one project and onto another. Damn, it was driving her crazy. Every time she let him talk her into something she swore it was the last time. Now he was selling her the same song and dance, but she was determined that this time she wasn't buying. "Come on Pari, you know I can’t give it to Ryan, and no one else is available." "Not this time, Clate." "Pari, how can you say no? This is high profile stuff. Do you have any idea who this man is? You could make a name for yourself." "I know who he is, he's the Moonlight Stalker, but it's still no dice." "Pari, we both know that's just a title the media gave him. I'm talking about who he really is." "I don't care who he is, Clate. Besides, if it's such a great opportunity, why don't you take it?" "Are you kidding? I'd love to, but the timing is bad." His answer brought Clate's wife to mind. "So how is Jenny?" "She's fine, but I have to keep myself loose for at least another month. When this is over, I've told her no more kids." "That's what you said about the last one, isn't it?" "Yeah, well, you know how it is." "No, I don't think I do, Clate, since I’ve never been married.

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"Pari, you’re trying to change the subject. Will you take it, or am I going to have to give it to that weasel Ryan?" Pari could feel herself weakening. Her eyes darted around her perfect living room full of shining wood, overstuffed furniture, frilly curtains and pastel walls while Clate's persuasive voice drummed into her ear. She could feel herself being sucked in. She had seen Clate argue cases. He was compelling, effective, and convincing. And now he was doing a number on her. "Pari don't make me give it to him. If I do, Kitt Rogan's chances are shot." "Is that his name? Kitt Rogan?" She scowled slightly trying to remember where she'd heard the name before. "He's not an actor, is he?" "An actor?" Clate snickered. "Hell no, but after that show he put on, he might get some offers." Clate was forced to listen to dead silence for a few moments and then said, "Come on, Pari. What's it gonna be? She put up one last argument. "Ryan's not that bad, is he?" "Are you kidding? God only knows how he ever passed the bar exam." "Then why not get rid of him? You can't afford dead weight, Clate." "He's not exactly dead weight." There was heavy silence for a moment. "I mean he does other things." "Like what? Making copies, sending faxes, going for hamburgers?" "Pari, he's got a family, and I don't think he can afford to open his own practice right now." Pari deflated, feeling guilty for even suggesting Clate get rid of Ryan. She also knew she couldn't leave Clate in a lurch like this, but wondered when it was all going to end. The small office operated on a shoestring. Besides the two partners, she and Ryan Warfield, juggled cases on a daily basis. Unfortunately, Ryan was a bumbling idiot that could hardly walk and chew gum at the same time, leaving her with most of the load. She could appreciate Clate's problem since she knew his resources were limited, but she was getting tired of pulling him out of jams. "Pari, you still there?" "All right, Clate, but I swear—” "Atta girl. I knew I could count on you." Pari sighed, knowing Clate had done it to her again. "Hey, don't get too happy. Let me talk to Rogan first and see if we click. He's got all the

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earmarks of a male chauvinist, and if I know my pretty boys, he'd rather die in the electric chair than let a woman represent him." "Yeah, you're right. Well, get back to me as soon as you can and let me know something." "You got it." She replaced the phone and went to clean the kitchen. As she washed and wiped, she found herself stalled, gazing at nothing while remembering the way that nervy, black-clad bastard had looked into the camera. Finally throwing down the dishcloth, she left the kitchen realizing one thing. If Kitt Rogan had done nothing else, he had certainly taken her mind off Ron. After preparing for bed, she made a note in her planner to go see him the next day. I've seen thousands just like him, she thought as she lay in the dark. Conceited bastards, every one of them. She knew the drill. First, he would use her to inflate his ego by flirting with her. Then he would compliment her, cajole, coerce, or anything else he could think of to make her believe he was innocent, except tell the truth. She turned over on her side, remembering that this conceited bastard had the hottest blue eyes she had ever seen. "Mmmmm, Rogan," she mumbled sleepily. "Where have I heard that name before?" Not being able to place it, she turned over again trying to get comfortable, but her mind was racing. Kitt, she thought, isn't that a female name? Maybe it was one of those unisex type names like Bobbie, Billie, Jamie, Robin, or whatever. Her lids became heavy and slowly closed. She could feel herself drifting, but somehow she kept coming back to the handsome, black-clad killer. "Go away," she mumbled as if speaking to him. You damned little nymphomaniac, since when do you send a man away from your bed? Pari lunged forward. "Who said that?" The dappled moonlight revealed that the room was empty and still, except for the constant serenade of cicadas outside her balcony. She seemed to deflate with exhaustion, leaned her head down, and combed her hair back with her fingers. "Need to get some sleep," she mumbled as she wilted toward the bed. She finally dropped off still seeing the sexy wink, the half smile, and the kiss in the air crowding in on her sleep. Sometime during the night Pari thought she felt Ron pushing against her. With her eyes closed, she turned and smiled, feeling his lips nibbling on

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her. When he mounted her she opened her eyes expecting to see Ron, but looked into the flashing blue eyes of Kitt Rogan. She jumped up fighting the air and buried her head in her hands, disappointed that it was only a dream. "My God, what's wrong with me?" She glanced over at the clock and fell back on the bed. "Only twelve thirty," she moaned and quickly turned, grabbed the phone and punched in a number. A sleepy, groggy voice answered. "Hello?" "Ron," Pari whispered into the receiver. "Pari? Is that you?" "Oh, Ron, I need you," Pari rasped into the receiver. "Can you come over right away?" "What's wrong? Are you all right?" "I can't sleep, and I may be starting a new case tomorrow. Please, Ron. I've got to be alert." "What about our... problem?" "I don't know." Her lips pressed close to the mouthpiece, almost hissing it. "All I know is I need you tonight." "Pari, I'd feel like I was... uh... well... servicing you, if you know what I mean." Pari's face colored when she heard the words. She felt like a cat in heat, clawing for her next tomcat. "So I'm an addict to sex, so what? I'm only twenty-four for God's sake, and I need a man." "Pari, my God, I can't. You're an erotic ocean and I'm drowning, all right? I feel—” "Thanks for nothing!" She slammed the phone down in Ron's ear. She got up and began pacing, watching the hands on the clock crawl from one moment to the next. She wrung her hands, flipped through a magazine she found laying on her dresser and felt herself wanting a cigarette even though she didn't smoke. Her head jerked around when she heard the doorbell. She hurried toward the balcony with a frown on her face, wondering who it could be at this hour. She looked down and couldn't believe her eyes. "Ron!" she shouted when she saw him. Turning, she ran down the stairs as fast as she could and slammed the door open. They immediately went into each other's arms and began madly tearing at each other's clothes. Wet kisses, heavy breathing and ecstatic moans filled the entryway as Pari

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clawed at him, desperately seeking satisfaction. While they stayed in full view of the neighborhood, they slowly gravitated toward the floor. The next morning Pari opened her sleepy eyes and looked around curiously. She was laying in the entryway with the front door wide open and leaves and debris blowing in from the street. Apparently when he was through servicing her, Ron, in his haste to depart—had forgotten to close the door.

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Chapter 2 The moment Pari opened the door to the city jail, she became swallowed up in a highly charged atmosphere of leashed danger. She was immediately assaulted by a round of foul language and the pungent odor of sweat, dirty socks, carbon paper, and something she couldn’t define. When she saw an officer passing by with a pencil stuck behind his ear, she knew. Pencil lead. Being down this road before, she deftly dodged the parade of felons that were being roughly herded by the officers in charge until she finally made it to the sour looking desk sergeant. Hoping to be heard over ringing phones, loud voices, and clattering typewriters, she presented her credentials. "I'm here to see Kitt Rogan," she called out. While he looked over her authorization, she tried to keep her composure while being pinched, pushed and jostled by leering captives with hungry looks in their eyes. "You’re here mighty quick. He was just picked up. We’ve got him in a holding cell right now.” “A cell? Isn’t there an interrogation room we can go into?” “Not today. They’re all full. It’s you’re choice. You can talk to him in his cell, or you can wait. I’d advise you to wait.” A chill danced up her spine. “Are you saying that Kitt Rogan is dangerous?” “I’m just sayin’ that you bein’ a woman— “The cell will be fine,” Pari snapped, insulted that the officer thought she needed special treatment just because she was a woman. “Whatever you say, but remember that the cell door will have to stay locked while you’re in there, and there’ll be a guard posted nearby if you need him.” “Thank you. I’ll manage.” “I suppose I should apologize for the inconvenience,” he said as he passed her wallet back to her, "but some days are like this. We just have to

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work people in where we can. For my money, the rules of the justice system were made by a bunch of idiots. We just follow them." Saying nothing, she reached out and took the little leather fold up, recognizing the signs of an officer being on the force too long. She could tell by looking at him that he was nearing retirement and experiencing the first signs of cynicism. Still, you could hardly blame him after years of seeing justice flushed down the toilet in the form of bribes, corrupt cops, and killers walking because of stupid judges, inept legal counsel, or technicalities. She had to believe it would get better... that she could make a difference somehow. Otherwise, why was she here? Feeling the coldness of the cement walls begin to creep into her bones, she watched the sergeant pick up the phone. "Got one for Rogan." While waiting she looked into the faces of the criminals. Many of them were smug and arrogant, and knew the law as well as she did. To them, getting caught meant getting food and a bed for the night. This kind of criminal was a nuisance more than anything else, costing the taxpayer needless money. They would never commit a major crime, never kill anyone. They would just manage to get brought in once or twice a week and spend a night in the local precinct, another name for the criminal’s country club. Just then the desk sergeant nodded toward the guard that held a door open, waiting for her to step through. Even though she'd been in any number of jails and prisons during her career, she never got used to going deep into the bowels of lockup and seeing a jungle of bars that housed human beings. The atmosphere was always cold—iron bars, concrete floors, the eyes of those she passed. Some looked innocent enough to be choirboys, while others seemed to have a legion of demons living inside them. She shuddered at the cold, clammy atmosphere, the glint of murder and raw hunger in the eyes of those that looked at her. Is this what she would see in Kitt Rogan’s eyes, she wondered. After all, she didn't know what to expect from the dark, hulking Rambo twin, and wasn't exactly looking forward to finding out. She watched the guard unlock hundreds of doors it seemed, until he got to the one that housed the famous killer.

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When they finally stood outside his cell, the menacing black-clad figure had his back to them. The first thing she saw was the familiar long hair, the headband, and the tiny glimmer of an earring. The sound of the opening door invaded the tomb-like silence with a loud rattle and a squeak. She watched as he began a slow turn. When he finally stood before her, her eyes traveled the length of the muscular prisoner, and she sucked in her breath. The six-foot-three giant had the same face she had seen all over the TV screen, but the camera hadn't done him justice. Only a few feet away were the sensuous lips, and the mysterious face that had taken her appetite. He had a five o'clock shadow, making his appearance even more rugged, and she had a feeling the chill traveling along her spine was there to stay. Not only was he tall, he was husky, and his eyes glowed like two bright blue burning coals in his swarthy complexion. His unfriendly eyes narrowed on her while the guard rattled what seemed to be thousands of keys in his hand. She finally entered, and as was her practice, she waited for him to leave before speaking. Pari’s eyes followed Kitt as he slowly paced around the dim cell, his seductive, slumberous eyes raking over her until she was almost squirming under his piercing gaze. Refusing to allow him to intimidate her, Pari met his gaze with her own, and their eyes seemed to duel, one gaze tangling with the other. When the guard had finally gone, Pari walked toward him in a professional manner and held out her hand. "Mr. Rogan, I'm—" Her confident words stopped abruptly when she looked up into the most hauntingly beautiful eyes she’d ever seen. "—Pari Sisco," she whispered, pulling her hand that had begun to tremble, from his. “I’ve been asked to represent you." Nothing but silence—and those eyes. Moving quickly, she began digging into her wallet and expertly flipped her card toward him. "There, see? It says Pari Sisco, Attorney at Law." Keeping his cold eyes on her, he began pacing around her, taking in all of her assets. "Blond hair, high heels, cute little butt, and you smell like the perfume counter of a cheap department store." She turned to face him. "Please, Mr. Rogan, do you think—” "A full, round thirty-eight, and bound to taste like candy," he said. While his torrid blue eyes continued to rake over her, he leaned against the bars, his piercing eyes narrowing on her waist. "Let's see," he said, rubbing

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his chin thoughtfully, "I'd say about twenty-three... twenty-four, tops." Then dropping his eyes, he looked at her hips. "Thirty-six, easy." Pleased with himself, he lifted his eyes and met Pari's. "Well?" Pari didn't want to tell him he was right, or even close. "Yeah," he said, his eyes concentrating on hers. "You got all the things a little nympho is supposed to have, but the one thing that really gives you away is them bedroom eyes." "Are those...uh...bedroom eyes." "Whatever," he said, still looking at her closely. Then stepping away from the bars he leaned down in front of her, clutching his knees. "Good God, those little beauties could make a good man leave home." "Mr. Rogan," Pari said, almost at the point of losing her patience. "Can’t you just forget about my eyes, my butt, or any other part of my anatomy that may interest you? I'm here to talk about you." A frown crossed his face as he looked at her hair. "How long is that?" Pari glanced around, wondering what he was looking at. "How long is what?" "That," he said, reaching out and pulling a very large decorative pin from her hair. His eyes widened as he watched it billow down to her waist. "My God, you look like a Barbie doll. What did they do, sweetheart? Model that doll after you?" Angered, Pari grabbed the pin from his hand, slammed her briefcase down on a nearby table and struggled to get her hair back up, but couldn't, so she gave up. "Mr. Rogan, could I please have your cooperation?" "Is it natural?" "What?" "The color. Is it natural? I don't think I've ever seen a woman with hair as blonde as yours that was natural." "Yes," she sputtered and spewed. "It’s natural, now can we please get down to it?" He smiled the same lopsided smile she'd seen on TV. "'Down to it?'" he whispered seductively while lifting his foot and placing it on a chair. Leaning close to her, he said, "Why, Ms. Sisco, is that a proposition?" Totally exasperated, she turned and began banging on the bars. "Mr. Guard!" she called, stretching her neck to try and see down the hall. "Mr. Guard, may I please get out of here?"

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Kitt chuckled, following her with his eyes. With an arrogant saunter, he walked over and leaned on the bars beside her and folded his arms across his chest. "Mr. Guard." His voice was high and singsong as he mocked her. “May I please get out of here?" Then noticing the way her blouse parted in front, his eyes took on an interested look as he peered down into her cleavage. She noticed where his eyes were, and reached up to try and close her blouse. "What's the matter, Ms. Sisco, do I scare you? Afraid I might try to mingle a few of my nasty bodily juices with yours?" She reached up to slap him, but he caught her hand in mid air and brutally jerked her to him. They were so close she wouldn't have been surprised if the fire in his eyes had burned her. "Don't even think about it, cutie. I get awful unhappy when someone thinks they can use me for a punching bag." Her eyes met his boldly. "You don't scare me, Mr. Rogan. I meet your type all the time. I am wondering, however, how you escaped from the zoo." "Hey, that's not bad," he said, the flames in his eyes licking along her body obscenely. "You know, you might not be as dumb as you look." Her whole body jerked as she managed to wrench her arm from out of his grasp. It hurt, but she kept her eyes on his, refusing to break eye contact and give him the satisfaction of seeing her rub the painful area. "You're a conceited jerk, Mr. Rogan. A jerk, a black-hearted beast and a barbaric bastard. You're also the king of the male chauvinist pains in the asses, and probably a sadistic killer. I wouldn't represent you if my life depended on it." "Ohhh," he whimpered, looking down at her with a feigned hurt expression. "Now you've done it. You've done gone and hurt my feelings." Ignoring his sarcasm, she began shaking the bars. "Where the hell is that friggin' guard?" "Hell and friggin', huh? Is that as profane as you can get, Barbie?" His hand came to rest near her breast. Whisper-soft, his fingers glazed the nipple. It puckered just as he said, "I have to admit it though, you are a nice little piece—” Feeling the pressure of his hand, she jerked around placing herself out of his reach, and looking daggers at him. "I'm not a nice little piece of anything, Mr. Rogan. Not for you, or any other man. I'm your lawyer dammit, and if you don't cooperate with me, your ass is going to fry."

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"Whoa! I think I saw sparks flying. Besides you done said you wouldn't represent me even if your life depended on it, remember? What are you, wishy-washy?" Just then the guard walked up to the door. "You through?" Pari slid her eyes back toward Kitt. "What about it, Mr. Rogan? Are we through?" Kitt was silent while their eyes held each other. "Yeah, we're through," he said, his words echoing through the steel and cement chamber. Their deep stare sizzled for an electric moment until Pari looked away and walked out of the cell. The guard noticed Pari's long, thick hair cascading down her back. "What in hell happened to your hair? Wasn’t it up when you went in?" Kitt leaned on the bars and spoke to the guard in a conspiratorial tone. "Don't tell anybody, Morgan, but the cute little lady lawyer and I were just getting to know each other when you came up and interrupted us." His arrogant eyes slid back toward her and favored her with his famous wink just before he shifted them toward her wrist. "As soon as you leave, you can rub it. I know you been wantin' to.” Pari closed her eyes and counted to ten as she walked out rubbing her wrist. Kitt continued to pace restlessly feeling lonely without the feisty Ms. Sisco shouting at him. He smiled as he heard her little high heeled pumps echoing through the chamber of concrete floors, locked doors, and barred windows. Who knows, he thought, maybe he should have talked to her. He needed someone, even if it was a woman. She was the only one that had come forward so far, but then he'd only been in lockup for a few hours. Besides, what could he tell her that she would believe? He stood there thinking about that rainy night, the one that sealed his fate for all time simply because he tried to help someone. Icy fear washed over him when he remembered the blood and the knife… and the fleeing figure that looked strangely familiar. After that he found himself surrounded by guns, booming voices, and knew only one thing. He had to get out of there. He winced when he thought about the flying bullets that came so close he felt their sizzling heat singe his skin. He managed to get away, but was finally apprehended and arrested in full view of a crowd of onlookers. The bad news was, the woman had died, and now

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he was being held for Murder One, which meant death in the state of Georgia. While deep in his thoughts, he looked around and saw Pari's dark silhouette standing against the late afternoon sun. With the gold of the sun edging her long, billowing hair, she looked like an angel... that is, until she opened her mouth. "Get up, you reject from the caveman society, I'm going to represent you whether you like it or not." **** That night, the watery, bloodshot eyes of Boris Rogan flashed with an evil fire as he watched his son being put into handcuffs and pushed along by a uniformed officer. He quickly pushed himself forward in his chair, pointed the remote control and turned up the volume. In an alleyway just one block from the famous Leopard Club, Kitt Rogan, the notorious Moonlight Stalker was found leaning over the body of Leah Brooks, a stripper. He escaped while surrounded by officers, but was apprehended the next morning and taken into custody. He says that he was passing by, heard a noise, and was trying to help the lady, but when the police found him he was covered in her blood. God, what luck, he thought. An opportunity like this one didn’t fall into your lap every day. Knowing exactly what to do, he turned and punched in the number of the Atlanta Police Department, asking for Chief of Police, Lester Roth. He knew Kitt wasn’t guilty, but that didn’t matter now. The only thing that mattered was that he was caught in a trap. A nice, convenient trap. A trap that Boris had the power to either open—or close! **** Lester Roth’s big-knuckled hand reached for the phone. "Where is he?" It was a deep, raspy, whispering voice that sent a sinister chill down deep his spine, making the chief shiver. "Where is who?" the chief asked nervously, looking down at the receiver. "Who is this?" "Never mind who this is," the voice wheezed. "Where is Kitt Rogan? Do

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you have him locked up?" "Yes, of course, but I need to know who this is before I can give out anymore information." "I'm a relative. Is there an investigation going on?" The man coughed, sounding as if he were in pain. "Yes, sir. We've got a detective looking into the case now. When we receive his report, we'll take it from there." "What does he say?" "He says it looks like…” “The prisoner, dammit, the prisoner. What does he say?” “The prisoner?" The chief paused. "Well, the way he tells it, he was just in the wrong place at the wrong time. It's the story they all tell, but after we check him out, we'll know for sure." "Stop the investigation." The raspy voice ordered, coughing between each word. "What?" The chief looked down at the receiver, frowning. "I said stop the damned investigation." "Now, look here. If this is some kind of joke—” "I don’t make jokes,” the whispering voice said. “My name is Boris Rogan. I’m the boy’s father, and you will do as I say, or else." Any semblance of a smile disappeared from the Chief’s face when he heard the name. He could feel the blood slowly drain from his face as a picture formed in his mind of what the multi-millionaire looked like. He saw a dark, gaunt figure dressed in black from his head to his feet. He always wore a hat, a black cloth wound around his head, sunglasses, and gloves, no matter what the weather. Not an inch of his skin showed through the black wrapping. In addition to a throat condition, it was rumored that he had some kind of skin disease and couldn't be exposed to the sun. It had turned him into a monster who was forced to live in darkness. "Just a moment," the chief whispered nervously. He quietly rose from his squeaking chair, looked around outside his office and gently closed the door. As he slowly sat back down, he found himself listening to the wheezing, whispery voice and answering his questions obediently while introducing names into the conversation that were connected to the case. "Will they do what you tell them?" "They will if they know what's good for them."

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"I know the salary of the Chief of Police is not what a man like you deserves," the voice said as it rasped and coughed. "But you see to it that the others cooperate, and you can write in your own amount." The chief knew it was coming to this, and had wrestled with his conscience during the whole conversation. He spent a few moments listening to the dead silence on the line while his heart hammered in his chest. Then finally he muttered, "I understand. I'll get right on it and see that he's released." "What in hell is wrong with you?" The raspy voice blasted through the receiver. "I don't want him released, I want the bastard dead!"

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Chapter 3 The dark night revealed only one light glowing in the multi-storied building where Pari repeatedly pressed the rewind and play buttons of a VCR. She couldn't seem to get enough of watching the sensuous lips of Kitt Rogan kiss the air. "The stupid jerk. What the hell is wrong with him? They'll fry his ass just to get that friggin' smirk off his face." Just then Pari heard a sound and quickly pushed the pause button. With Kitt Rogan’s pursing lips frozen on the screen, her sharp eyes peered out into the quiet, vacant office that was usually bustling with activity. “Is anyone there?” She waited, and was just at the point of relaxing when she heard the swooshing of the double glass doors in front. She looked out into the leaning shadows that seemed darker and more sinister than before. Her eyes shifted, looking down at her watch. Who the hell could it be? No one would be here this time of night, not even the cleaning people. Her head jerked up when she heard the soft, muffled sound of uncertain footsteps on the carpet, and her fingernails dug into the chair’s imitation leather upholstery. She didn’t want to run scared, but it was all she could do to keep from turning everything off and hiding. She waited forever it seemed until she saw Clate’s head peek around the door. Pari closed her eyes with relief and slumped, almost losing herself in the leathery softness of the chair. "My God, Clate, you almost scared me to death. I wish you’d give me a warning when you’re going to scare the life out of me." "Sorry, but I saw the light on in your office, and I knew it was either you or a burglar. Since burglars rarely use the lights, I figured it must be you." He came in and slumped down in a chair. "So, how are you progressing on the Rogan case?" "Have you seen this?" She clicked the remote control button.

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He chuckled. "Of course, I'm the one that told you about it, remember?" "No, I mean the way he mocks everyone. Why would he do that, for God's sake? Doesn't he know it makes him look guilty as hell?" "Pari, all criminals are like that. At least the crazy ones. They enjoy the limelight, so they put on a good show for as long as it lasts." "Clate, he's not a criminal, nor is he crazy. He’s just a conceited bastard.!" "All right, crazies, criminals and conceited bastards. They all fit into the same mold." She got up and began pacing. "I agree that he may have a lot wrong with him, but he’s no killer, and I'll continue to believe that until somebody shows me some proof.” She turned and stared down at Clate. “The knife he had was found at the scene.” “How the hell do you know that? Just because he says so?” “Jeez, Clate, both his story and the girl's are the same.” She saw the look of surprise on Clate’s face. “Yeah, she finally came forward and spilled her guts. They checked her story out with the bartender at the club, along with some of the bums that hang around there. He's got an alibi that's as solid as a rock. There's no way he's guilty. Someone is railroading him." A charged silence filled the room, and then Clate said, "Pari… leave it alone." “Leave it alone?” she repeated with surprise reflected in her eyes. “I can’t believe you said that.” “Just do it, Pari… if you know what’s good for you.” Her eyes widened at what sounded like a threat. “Clate, you know I can’t do that, and I’m surprised that you’d ask me to.” Thick, ugly prickly silence hung heavy in the confined space, broken by Pari’s next words. “What’s going on here, Clate? What happened to the defender of the underdog? You’ve still got the dirt of the ghetto on you where you rammed the hell out of that cop you caught beating up on a black man. You took him to court and that black bastard got a settlement that set him up for life.” “Pari—” “You’re a fair man, Clate. I’ve always known that about you. Not only did you risk you life, but the Police Department thinks twice when they tangle with you.” She was silent for a few heartbeats, and then angled a look at him. “What happened?” she whispered.

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Clate squirmed under Pari’s glare. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” “No? Well, those bastards are at it again, Clate, and you know it. I may not know all that’s going on here, but I don’t intend to sit still while my client gets fried for something he didn’t do.” “Pari, I think you’re getting a little too involved here. It might be a good idea if you go back and finish the last job you were on. I can put someone else on this one.” “No way,” she said heatedly. “Maybe you can’t… or won’t tell me what the hell’s going on—" her voice lowered threateningly, "—but I will find out." "Pari, the woman, on her death bed mind you, confirmed that it was Rogan. “Now, what more do you want, for God’s sake?" "Confirmed my Aunt Fanny!” she spat. “Clate, you know what that word means in the world of criminals, judges and lawyers. She was being coerced. A blind man could see it. She was being led down a path and told what to say. She was in no condition to fight back. In a court of law it’s wrong to lead the witness, but the police do it every time they get it in their head to finger someone. Who knows the reasons —re-election, a longrunning case, pressure from the media— money?” Clate’s guilty eyes shifted away from her. “That’s what happened with this woman, Clate, I’d bet my last dollar on it. She simply agreed because she didn’t have the strength to disagree. I'll admit it was enough to arrest him, but after all the evidence to the contrary, it's not enough to hold him." "I guess so, but a dying woman’s accusation? Coerced or not, that’s pretty potent stuff.” Ignoring his comments she began pacing, deep in thought. "The police are no help,” she muttered. “Everywhere I turn there's a blank wall. If anybody knows anything, they’re not talking. Hell, their lips are sewed up tighter than a corpse." "That proves it. Silence is guilt. Maybe—" "Clate," Pari looked at him reprovingly, "I know you don't believe that. If for some reason the cops want to railroad him, you’d think they could at least think up a good lie, or dig up a phony eyewitness. This way it just

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makes them look like a bunch of idiots. Either somebody is profoundly stupid, or they're trying to bulldoze him. For my money, it’s a little of both." Pari pointed the remote toward the TV, clicked off the set, and picked up her purse. "I'm going to see him." "At this time of night?" She looked down at her watch. "It's only a little after eight. They don't put the lights out until ten. If I hurry I'll still have time." "You want me to go with you?" She studied him for a moment. “For what reason, Clate? To protect me? Or did you have something else in mind, like spying on my client? We’re supposed to be on the same team, yet for some reason I see you as the enemy. I wonder why that is?” She gave him a cold look. “No, I don’t want you with me. I know what I have to do now. I have to protect my client… from you, and whoever it is that’s running your show.” A flush colored Clate’s fair complexion. “Pari, I—” “You’ll never be able to carry it off, Clate, you don’t fit the stereotype.” Lingering only long enough to give him a saddened look, she turned quickly and dashed out the door. **** He watched her departing figure, her harsh words hanging heavy in the air. Long moments passed until he thought he heard the small musical sound of the elevator's arrival and turned quickly. Picking up the phone, he dialed Lester Roth at the precinct. He waited a moment and pressed his mouth against the receiver. "She knows." "How could she know?" "She's a damned good attorney, that's how. Whose idea was it to keep him locked up without evidence? A blind man could see through that." "You didn't give anything away, did you?" "Of course not, she did most of the talking." "Clate, you've got to keep her off balance as much as you can. It should be easy to plant a few ideas to steer her in the wrong direction. If this thing somehow falls through you don't get one red cent, understood? The day that jerk fries is the day your bank account gets larger, and not before."

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“Yeah, I know." he said, raking his hand through his thinning blond hair. "God, why the hell did I get myself involved in this? Pari, she… she wanted me to give this case to Ryan. I wish to hell I had. The woman’s too damned smart for her own good." "Well, this is your mess. What are you gonna do now?" "I don’t know. Something about this keeps buggin' me. Hell, look at all the people he’s got to buy off, Les. Has he got that much money?" "Are you kidding? This man owns the whole eastern seaboard. Hell, Donald Trump goes to him for a loan." "Yeah, well, I've heard he's sick. He's not going to croak in the middle of all this, is he?" "He's not that sick. He's just got a throat condition, and he's allergic to the sun. That's why he does all his business at night." "You mean he never goes out in the daytime?" "If he does he wraps himself in dark cloth and wears sunglasses. You should see him, Clate. All wrapped up like that he looks like a goddamned ghoul." "He sounds like a freaking vampire." “I’m sure he’s bled a few people dry in his lifetime. Our job is to make sure he doesn’t get thirsty for any of our blood. Just remember what I told you. You do your part to see that everything stays sewed up nice and tight and pretty soon you'll be on easy street." "God, I wish I'd never gotten into this." "You said that. If you’re smart when your conscience starts bothering you, you’ll remember that screaming, squalling tribe of yours. Kids can get pretty expensive. And when it comes time to send 'em off to college? Ouch." "Yeah, yeah, I get the idea." Clate replaced the receiver with tired movements. He hung back for a troubled moment then grabbed his coat and walked out, clicking the lights off as he went. The whole office was in darkness except for a slanting golden light that filtered in from the lobby. He walked toward it, hating himself. Blazing neon from the street beyond the windows glinted in Pari’s eyes. Well hidden in the smudge of darkness, she could see how tired and worried Clate was. She watched him as he walked through several pools of darkness to the elevator. When the panels swooshed open and swallowed up the

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senior partner of Woodbridge and Wayne Legal Counsel, Pari stepped out into the dim light, a lone tear trickling down her cheek. **** Kitt watched as Pari paced, one hand on her hip, the other rubbing her forehead. "God, I'm breaking every rule in the book by telling you this." Finally, she stopped, and looked down at her client. "I just heard bits and pieces, so you’re going to have to help me here.” “Me? Why do I have to help?” “Because, Rambo, if you don’t, you're going to fry sure as hell has fire." Kitt jumped up. "I don’t understand. Why the hell don't you just expose them?" "That’ll come in time," she spat. "But right now I'm just worried about keeping you alive. Who do you know that would want you dead?" "I can't think of…" When he stopped speaking Pari turned and looked at him as if trying to read his expression. "Come on,” she coaxed. “It's gotta be someone with enough money to buy off the whole damned judicial system." "My family is stinkin' rich." "My God, your family? Why would your family…?" Kitt slumped down and hid his face in his hands for a moment. Finally looking up, he said, "When my father dies, I stand to inherit somewhere in the neighborhood of a hundred mil." Pari stared at the man that didn’t look as if he had two dimes to rub together, and slowly sat down opposite him. "You’re sure? This is not some fantasy, some drug-induced dream, some…” When he shook his head, she sighed, and said reflectively, “That's a neighborhood I've always wanted to live in." “Ever hear of the Rogan’s of Bayonne? Rogan Imports?" “Of course, who hasn’t?” "My father owns two airports, a diamond mine, a string of beachfront hotels, computer firms, you name it." "And he's only leaving you a hundred mil?" Pari chuckled. "You don't look like you know where your next meal is coming from. Why do you go around dressed like Rambo?"

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"I don't know,” he said as he stood up. “I guess because I'm what's known as the black sheep of the family. Hell, I'm a free spirit, I dress any way I want." His expressive eyes slid down to her legs. "Why do you wear little short suits, dark hose, and stiletto heels?" Pari frowned. "None of your business." "Exactly," Kitt said, proving his point. "My brother spends every penny of his allowance on rich Italian silk suits, and my sister pierces anything she can get a hole through." Kitt shrugged. “Who knows why anybody does anything?” "A fine bunch of siblings you are." "Hey, no one cares what they do. I'm the one who's going to run the show, so I'm supposed to demonstrate a little responsibility. It’s funny how responsibility can only be met if your hair is short, and your ear is missing an earring. Hell, who knows, maybe that's why I look like I do." "Rebellious type, huh?" "Hey, anything’s better than looking like a boring Wall Street preppie with my nose buried in a stack of friggin' stock reports all day." Pari frowned at him. "Who in this unwholesome bunch of crazy people wants you dead?" Kitt began pacing. "The Italian suit, naturally. He's next in line for the fortune." "And he dresses the part, right?" "Sure. On the outside he's the very picture of what I'm supposed to be, but no one realizes what a creep he really is.” Kitt absentmindedly slapped a hand against the bars. “The bastard spends money by the train load. He's got a closet full of designer clothes from all over the world, and any reasonably attractive woman that gets near him is the next candidate for his bed." Pari's eyes followed him. "Why are you and he so different?" "I don't know. Maybe because I was raised by the governess." Kitt turned and walked to the window. Looking out, his voice was softened by sadness. "My birth was unusually hard on my mother, so she had to stay in bed for months afterward. Ms. Gilda began taking care of me and formed an attachment I guess." "Ms. Gilda? Mmmm, unusual name." "Gilda Montorri. We used to call her Ms. Gilda." "What about the others, didn't she take care of them too?"

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"Yeah sure," he said, as he paced, rubbing his hands together nervously. "But by the time my mother's health improved I guess I was just used to being with Ms. Gilda, and that's where I stayed. It just sort a felt right, you know? I mean, she fed me, clothed me, put me to sleep at night. Hell, she did everything for me a mother would do.” "Sounds like you were sort of forgotten. By the rest of the family, I mean." "Yeah? Well it gets worse. When he felt particularly cruel, my father—” Kitt held his breath to keep it from trembling in his throat. “—well, he had these names...” His words faded as the picture of a ragged, unkempt little boy came to mind, and the hissing words that now, while echoing in his memory, still had the power to sting like the bite of a poisonous snake. You’re nothing but a bastard, did you know that? A dirty, rotten little bastard. Get out of my way, you mongrel. Go sit under the sink with the rest of the filth. How does it feel to be a dirty little crossbreed? Eh? “What names?” Pari asked. “Oh... uh... just some... names,” he said, a sheen of tears glimmering in his eyes. He walked back over to the small window and with his legs spread and his hands in his pockets he gazed out into the dark sky. "Even when we took family portraits, it showed up. I felt bad when I saw myself standing just a few steps outside the family group." He turned and began digging under his thin mattress. "I think I've got one here somewhere." When he found it, he handed it to Pari. Pari took it and peered at it closely. It was an old snapshot and she couldn't help wondering why Kitt kept the crumpled up picture. Perhaps it was the last link he had to his family… to his past. As she looked closely at the photograph, she noticed something she hadn't expected. The obvious difference between the two boys was startling. Kitt was swarthy with dark hair and bright piercing eyes, while the others were light-skinned and blond except for the father. He was stern looking and stood head and shoulders above the rest, sort of like the dictator of a small country. She lowered the picture and looked up at Kitt. For the first time since she'd known him, all the arrogance and conceit was gone. He looked young

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and vulnerable… and abandoned. An embarrassed silence crackled between them, and Pari found herself feeling a surge of warmth for the man that stood before her… the real Kitt Rogan. Stripped of all his arrogant protection, Kitt snatched the picture out of her hand, turned, and put it away. Kitt’s back was still turned when he spoke again, his voice soft and full of pain. "They were determined they wouldn't include me in on anything, so after a while, I guess I stopped trying. I kept to myself a lot, and never felt any love from anyone except Ms. Gilda, so in a way I guess I was raised under a different set of rules. I remember sitting in dark corners a lot and wondering what I had done that was so bad that nobody wanted to play with me." Pari rose from her chair and went over to Kitt, putting a comforting hand on his shoulder. “Kitt… I…” Kitt pulled away from her and walked over to the bars and clutched them tightly, his voice breaking with emotion. "That's why I'm such a rebel, I guess. I don't really feel I've ever been part of the family. I'm sure Jaric would like to see me get permanently lost." "Jaric? Is that his name?" "Yeah." Kitt made a quick brush at his eyes before he turned to face her. "Jaric and I are as close as some brothers can get in some ways, but very different in others." "What do you mean?" "Oh… nothing you'd understand, and I hope to hell you never will. It’s just the story of Jaric, the golden boy, and Kitt, the black sheep." "Sounds like a riddle." "Yeah,” he said, angrily, “a riddle you don't want to figure out." At the remark, Pari felt a chill. "Tell me more." "Don’t you see? The black sheep, the one no one wanted around suddenly becoming the big cheese? Of course Jaric will get his share of the money, but I'm the oldest, therefore the controlling force. That means legally I can put him on an allowance, restricting his spending. I’ll make all the decisions concerning the running of the companies when I take my place as head of the family. You can imagine how that must make Jaric feel. To him I'm just in the way, and now he wants to get rid of me. This situation I've stepped into is the perfect opportunity for him to commit the perfect

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crime. Believe me, Jaric wouldn't hesitate for a minute to buy anybody he had to." Pari turned and looked at him. "I'm going up there." "Hell no!" Kitt shouted as he jerked himself forward from the barred door. "Do you want him to get away with this? I have to go up there, Kitt. If I work it right, I can get him to admit everything." Frowning down into her face, he yelled, "In bed, I suppose!" "You said he likes women," Pari said, thoughtfully. "Do you think he'll like me?" "Does the Pope like Heaven?" He pushed his face down into hers and shouted, "He'll eat you alive, little girl!" Pari looked at him angrily. "You under estimate me, Kitt, and you have since day one." He pointed toward the floor. "You need to be back here working on my case, goddammit." "I am working on your case," she yelled. "But you've got to admit these are special circumstances. I can’t get anyone to talk to me around here, so if I can trap this guy into admitting what he's doing, we’ve got it in the bag." "He's not going to admit anything, Pari," Kitt said. "He'll have you in bed before you can get your coat off." "If I have to." Kitt’s eyebrows shot up. "What?" "I'm just teasing. With a little underhanded seduction he’ll have his guard down, and I can get him to talk. I can even do a little sneaking around with my surveillance equipment.” Picking up her purse to leave, she looked up at him and smiled. “Don't you worry, I can find out plenty. I can put microphones in the most unusual places." Kitt grabbed her shoulders and clenched his teeth. "Not in the places he'll want to get at." She pulled herself out of his grip, and went over and rattled the doors of the cell. Looking back at him with a sly grin, she said, "If I didn't know better, Mr. Rogan, I'd think you were jealous." "You can't do it. I'm not a lawyer, but isn't there some kind of rule that says you can't record a conversation without the other person's consent?"

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"Well, I am a lawyer, and a damned good one. The truth is, any good lawyer can get around anything they want to. It's called loopholes… and I majored in it." She winked wickedly. "Pari, don't do this!" "My mind's made up." "If Jaric finds out what you're doing, your life won't be worth a friggin’—" He walked over and abruptly stuck his hand in the pocket of her jacket and drug out several items. “—paperclip, a ragged old business card, or a half-eaten roll of lifesavers.” “You can have the lifesavers,” she said, teasingly, having enjoyed the feel of his hand moving intimately around in her pocket. They were standing close, their eyes making an erotic connection that neither one would accept or admit. "Wish me luck?" she said softly. His voice was almost a whisper. "Please don't do this." “Got to,” she said simply. From somewhere far away, Pari heard the sound of the guard’s scraping feet and clanking keys as he came closer. Finally pulling her eyes from Kitt’s deep, magnetic ones, she walked out, looking back just in time to see his hands clutched tightly around the bars. Pari hurried home and raced around her bedroom, throwing things in a suitcase. She called the airport and made a reservation on the first flight to Bayonne, New Jersey. Just before she left, she called Clate and left a message on his answering machine. She told him she had to leave town for a few days. She didn't offer any reason, only that it was an emergency, and would explain when she returned. On her way to the airport, she tried to lay a plan in her mind as to just how she was going to enter the lives of the Rogan family. If Jaric Rogan was as dangerous as Kitt said he was, it wasn't going to be easy. Pari had a feeling that there was a mountain of skeletons in the closet of the mysterious Rogan family—and she felt like rattling a few. **** Jaric’s steps were muffled as he climbed the wide staircase in the grand mansion he called home. He knew what his father would be doing about now. The room would be dark except for one lamp, and he would be

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standing at the window, looking into a cloudy sky as he waited for his dinner to be brought up. Smoke from his cigarette would be circling his head, and in the quietness of that room, his breathing would sound difficult and labored as it always did. Janic’s eyes anchored on the door as he approached it, and knocked. "Who's there?" "It's Jaric, Father. I have your dinner." "Jaric?” Boris said from behind the closed door. “Why the hell are you bringing my dinner up? We have servants for that.” “You’ve been in your room most of the day. I was hoping you’d come down and share some port with me after you eat.” “I don’t feel up to it tonight, Jaric. I have some things on my mind, and I need the quiet to think." “Something I can help you with?” “I’m afraid not.” With a look of disappointment on his face, Jaric slid the try onto the table. “If you need anything more—“ “I’ll call Weems. That’s what I pay him for, after all.” “Good evening, then.” Jaric turned to leave, but hesitated when he heard the turn of the knob. He quickly slipped into a shadow and watched as his father cracked the door open to reveal his pale, ghostly face through the small opening. He held his breath at the shadowy lighting that cut his face up into a sinister light and shadow mask. The dim light exposed a scar on the left side of a strong, square face, the ugly, zigzagging line curving from his graying temple down to the edge of his mouth that seemed to be frozen in a harsh, twisted line. His dark hair was very curly, and lightly salted with gray. Since he lived with anger, his dark eyes were narrowed and suspicious, his teeth in a clench, causing a muscle to constantly jump along his strong, jutting jawbone. He loomed tall and foreboding, his size intimidating. When he talked, he seemed to lean forward, his reckless gaze intent, and his piercing eyes capturing the helpless victim and keeping them in his charge until he released them. His imposing presence worsened when he had to wrap himself in black cloth to protect his skin from the sun. When his father’s door finally closed, Jaric turned to go back down, the emptiness of the mansion greeting him as he headed for the bar where he

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knew a few stiff drinks would give him beautiful dreams of wealth—and his father’s death. **** While his hulking shadow loomed large and frightening against the dimly lit wall of his room, he ate in silence, his cancerous throat gagging at the bland food. He put one spoonful in his mouth after the other until he threw the spoon down, clattering it against the tray. “Slop,” he croaked, remembering the appetites of his youth. He ate anything he wanted, had any woman he wanted, and lived only to please himself. Today he had to follow a rigid set of rules if he wanted to stay alive. And he would—if only to disappoint those who were looking forward to his death. With that thought, he picked up the spoon and ladled another bite into his mouth.

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Chapter 4 A banged up taxi covered with road dirt inched to a stop in front of a tall iron fence. Pari leaned forward, noticing the classic design of the steel fangs that seemed to have sprung up from out of the ground, heavily covered with vines. Her searching gaze fell on an ornate sign that fit securely on a large, square brick post that stood beside the gate. It told her everything. Rogan 23 Chapel Hill "Yes, this is it. I'll get out right here." "Don't you want me to get a little closer?" "No, this is fine. My visit's a surprise. By the way, could you come back in about an hour?” “Lady, you’re pilin’ up a big bill here. First from the airport to the hotel and now out here. I might as well just wait, because I’m still gonna have to charge you for the hour if I have to come back.” She looked around at the thinly populated neighborhood. “I wonder if there’s a phone nearby.” “Don’t you have a cell phone with you?” “Can’t get a signal.” She looked at the driver. “Do you—?” “Mine got stolen. I leave my cab for two seconds… two friggin’ seconds. When I come back my phone is gone. Damn, the crooks these days.” “Yeah, well, I guess that leaves us both out in the cold.” “You goin’ to see somebody here? Why can’t you call from the house?” She looked up at the mansion. “Maybe,” she muttered, knowing they might not be too friendly when they learned what she was there for. “Oh, well, I’ll face that problem when it happens.” After digging around in her purse, she finally waved the bills in front of him and got out.

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“Okay by me,” he said, grabbing the bills before he abruptly jerked the cab into gear. As the driver pulled away, Pari walked up to the gate and looked around, feeling almost minute in comparison to the size of the estate. It seemed odd to her that a mansion of this size wouldn’t have a security system. She was thankful it didn’t though, since she would rather her presence not be announced. She looked down, noticing that the gate was slightly open, so she gently pushed and it moved easily. Once she got beyond the entrance, she lifted her hand to shade her eyes and looked out over the rambling grounds. The drive was wide and tree-lined and ran right up to a running fountain where it rounded a beautiful statue that sat right in the center. She had never seen anything quite so grand. The grounds were endless, and impeccably landscaped. She couldn’t see beyond the house, but judging by the size, she imagined a pool, and maybe even a tennis court were in back. Not far from the mansion was a shaded path leading to a beautiful garden that surrounded a pond with ducks. The mansion itself was columned all across the front, and so white it almost hurt her eyes. She slowly began the long trek up the tree-lined drive. As she got closer, she gasped when she looked up and saw a large window in one corner of the mansion with black drapes. The minute she saw it, she felt a chill and thought of death. Finally pulling her eyes away from what resembled a huge black eye, she walked up the steps and rang the bell. She stood there for a while before she heard someone approaching the door. When it opened, Pari almost melted in her tracks. The man was very tall, husky, and extremely well built. He had long, wavy blond hair that was combed back from his face. Pari's glance scanned down and saw that the blond in his hair gradually turned dark as it extended into long sideburns. He also had the deep shadow of a mustache, which gave him a very dashing appearance. Finally her eyes met his and saw sparkling flecks of green in ponds of blue. "Are you through looking me over? If not, maybe I could further entertain you by showing you the mole on my—" "Sorry," she smiled shyly. "What can I do for you?"

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"Oh, uh—" Pari began, trying to remember why she was there. "—I'm doing family trees and I was wondering if—" "No, thank you," he said, his lush mouth twisting into a sarcastic smile. "The less we know about our family tree, the better we like it." He started to close the door, but Pari stopped him. "But, sir, who knows, you may be the offspring of Bach, or Beethoven. Possibly even—" "Jack the Ripper?" "Of course not. I was going to say—" "It doesn't matter, miss. I'm simply not interested." Pari was getting desperate. She couldn’t let him close that door, so she blurted out the first thing that came to mind. "This is the Rogan residence?" "That's what it says on the gate." "Then, Mr. Rogan, I’m sure you wouldn’t want to pass up this opportunity. May I just ask a few routine questions?” When he seemed impatient, she went on quickly. “I won’t take long. It’s sort of like a survey.” She smiled, slightly embarrassed. “I have to hand in something, you see. You wouldn’t want me to be fired.” He sighed. “All right, but would you please—” “You have a brother… Kitt Rogan?” Jaric didn't say anything, just looked at her, his eyes narrowing. "You also had a governess… uh, Ms. Gilda, I believe is what you called her?" "How the hell did you know—" "You're very blond and Kitt is very dark. Do I detect a few skeletons in your closet?" "What the hell is this?" "And you are…?” She left the question lingering. He crossed his arms in front of his chest, leaned on the doorframe and smirked. "Why don't you tell me? You seem to know as much about this family as I do." "Jaric?" The smirk fell, and a suspicious frown replaced it. "Yes. How did you know that?” "Why are there black curtains in a window on the second floor?"

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He glanced up for a split second before he replied in an irritated tone, "It's my father's room. He's allergic to the sun, so we have to hang blackout curtains on his windows." "Is he sick?" "Yes. He has a throat condition." "Is he going to die?" Pari asked softly. "We're all going to die someday," he returned mockingly while looking down his nose at her. "You're not very good at this, are you?" "What do you mean?" "For a tree climber, you're asking all the wrong questions. You see, you're supposed to be digging into the past, not the present." Pari gave him a weak smile, and shrugged. “Well, I’m kind of new—” "You're not a tree climber at all, are you? You’re a goddamned reporter." Jaric looked out onto the grounds. "Do you have cameras hidden out there somewhere?" He looked back down at her, his green-flecked eyes shooting fire. “I hope you know that this could be called an invasion of privacy.” Pari had to think quickly. "You said your father's going to die. Is that why Kitt Rogan's life is in danger?" Jaric's eyebrow’s arched. "Now wait a—" Pari pulled out her card and presented it to him. "I'm Mr. Rogan's attorney." Jaric grabbed her card and didn’t even give it a glance before he threw it down. Pari looked at the card floating down to the portico and frowned. "Why does everyone throw my cards—" Suddenly she felt strong hands on her shoulders when Jaric whirled her around and pushed her hard against the outside wall of the mansion. "What in hell are you doing here?" Pari felt his fingers digging into her arms and looked up into his angry face, Kitt’s voice echoing through her head. He'll eat you alive, little girl. "II'm looking into his case, that's all." "That's the work of an investigator, you little idiot, why are you doing it?"

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"I can't sit around waiting for an investigator's report. There’s no time. Someone is railroading Kitt into the electric chair, and I’m trying to find out who." "Are you in love with him?" "He's my client, that's all." His hands relaxed a little and he lowered his head close to hers as if they were sharing a secret. "All right, listen to me. You're a history buff, see. You came here to construct our family tree, okay?" Pari looked at him curiously. "I don't understand." "You'll stay here at the mansion—" All of a sudden he grabbed her again. "No," he said emphatically while pulling her along with him. "You'll stay in the cottage. Yeah, that's more believable. You need privacy and quiet to work on your research, and since no one can keep an eye on you out there, you can come and go as you please." "What is this?" Pari said, jerking herself out of his grip. "It's a good thing I'm the one that opened that door just now. A little thing like you would get eaten alive by him." "By who?" "My father." "Your father?" "You know, the throat condition?" "Oh, yes," she said, trying to keep up with everything he was jabbering about. "You'll take all your meals with us," he said as he looked down at her and put his finger under her chin to close her mouth. "Are you following me?" "Tell me about your father." "Please keep up, Miss… uh…” “Sisco. Ms. Sisco.” “Yes, well, Ms. Sisco, we've gone well past that." "Kitt thinks it's you." "Me? Why would he think that?" "He says you hate him. In fact the whole family does, so he says." "Well, yes, I used to, but that was kid stuff. We're both adults now and things have changed."

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"What about the family money, the fortune?" She peered up at him. “That hasn’t changed.” "What about it?" "Kitt's the oldest." "Yes, but I'll get my share." "What about control, the companies… stock reports?" Jaric chuckled. "Not for me, I'm afraid. Too stuffy. I'm too damn young for all that. Maybe someday, but right now it just doesn't fit into my lifestyle." He looked down at her. "I'm sure Kitt told you about that." "He did mention something about Italian suits." "Well, he's right. Believe me, Ms. Sisco, I want Kitt very much alive, because when he goes, that's when little old Jaric here has to buckle down and quit jumping into fountains naked." "You did that?" "Right out there," he said, pointing at the large, running fountain. "Just the other night, in fact. I was drunk I'm afraid, but from what I understand I made a big splash… excuse the pun." "Well, this certainly puts a wrinkle in the old plan," she mumbled, looking up at him. "How long has it been since you've seen Kitt?" He shrugged. "A few months… years… I don’t know. Life just seems to pass… you know?" "That's probably why he thinks you still hate him. You two need to get together and bury the hatchet, so to speak." She paused. "By the way, isn't there a sister somewhere?" "Yes, Monica. I don't know where she is, though. She just got up and left one day when she, uh… oh, I don't remember her exact words, but it's equal to the phrase… finding oneself?" They arrived at the cottage. "Well, here it is." "Why, this is lovely." "I guess so. I've spent more hours out here than I care to count. You know, when I want to get away from everything that has the Rogan name stamped on it." He stepped up and opened the door. Pari went in and looked around. "You must have spent a lot of time here,” she said, walking around stroking the furniture and looking at the

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rugs. "It looks very comfortable." Turning back to him, she smiled. "You know, not starchy and stiff, but lived in." "We keep it up just like the mansion." He leaned against a wall with his arms folded across his chest. "Someone will come in every day to clean it for you." Pari gave him an uncertain look. "You know, I don't know if it's such a good idea for me to stay here." He pushed himself away from the wall. "You want to help Kitt, don't you?" "Of course, but I already have a hotel room.” "But a hotel room… it’s unthinkable. Chapel Hill is a suburb. Half your time would be taken up going back and forth. Besides, this isn’t a job you can do long distance.” She shrugged, and looked around the cozy room. “Well...” “Come on, I'll show you around." They went from room to room and he pointed out interesting things about each one until they made it to the bedroom. "There's only one bedroom, but one is all you'll need." "It's extremely lovely," Pari said, starting to pull her coat off. Feeling a sudden childish whim, she threw herself down in the middle of the bed and bounced on it to see how soft it was. As Jaric watched her bounce, he brought his hand up, hiding a smile. Sitting down on the side of the bed, he asked, "What's the real story with you and Kitt? I can't imagine he hasn't made a move on something as delectable as you." "We have a business relationship, Mr. Rogan. Actually, I don't even think he likes me… that way." "Then he couldn't be my brother," Jaric mumbled as he lowered his lips and met hers in a soft kiss. He gradually pushed her backwards on the bed, covering her face and neck with his hot breath and wet, hungry kisses. Pari struggled, feeling constricted by something. She managed to look down and noticed she still had an arm in one of the sleeves of her coat. Kitt's voice echoed all around her… He'll have you in bed before you can get your coat off.

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In another part of the city, a black-clad man stepped out of a helicopter and onto the roof of one of Atlanta’s tallest skyscrapers. A group of men met him and acted as his escort through the whipping wind. He was led into the penthouse of a building that seemed to be made of nothing but glass and steel. When he walked into a large conference room, all talk ceased, the occupants trying to cover their gasps at his appearance. Surrounded by heavy silence, the imposing figure in a dark coat and loosely wrapped black cloth made his way to the head of a large table in a room where one wall was nothing but floor-to-ceiling windows, making it bright with sunshine. His eyes glared at each of those gathered at the table from behind the dark glasses. “When you morons get through shivering in your boots… sit.” His voice was gravelly, digging deep into his afflicted throat. A soft sliding of chairs on the carpet was heard, followed by another heavy silence as nervous eyes darted at each other. Minutes that seemed like hours passed. “Well, what the hell are you waiting for? I’ve been told there’s a problem. Is someone going to speak up and tell me what it is?” All at once the silence was filled with murmurs, throats being cleared, and heads turning to see if some brave soul was stupid enough to sacrifice himself. A small voice somewhere in the crowd said, “Sir, Eller Whittington won’t take the bribe.” “Eller Whittington? Who the hell—” “The judge, sir.” The words cut into Boris, and he fairly shook with anger. He tried to sit quietly, but finally jumped up and began pacing around the room. All at once he stopped and whirled on the man who spoke. “Does the bastard know who he’s dealing with?” Getting no reply, he raked his eyes over the rest of the men in the room. “If he doesn’t, he’s about to find out.” “What… are you going to do?” Boris’s nostrils flared with anger. “You leave that to me.” His stare raked over the group. “There’s one thing you’ll do well to learn. No one crosses me. No one!”

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They nervously glanced away, trying to keep their eyes averted, but the moment came when they could do nothing but turn back to the ominous figure. “Somebody say something, dammit!” "Mr. Rogan," Clate Woodbridge began, taking a chance to have himself heard, "if Eller Whittington won't take the bribe, there's nothing we can do. We'll have to forget it." "You're wrong,” he bellowed. “We don't need Whittington." "What do you mean, sir?" "Kill him." "Kill the judge?" "No, you idiot, kill Kitt Rogan." "You mean just go into the jail and blast his brains out?" "I mean that since he's in jail, all you have to do is make it easy for him to escape. Then in pursuit, you kill him. It’s the perfect plan for all you people eager to save the taxpayers the cost of an execution." The others exchanged worried glances. "What do you think, Les?" Clate whispered. "Speak up, you imbeciles," Boris growled. Lester Roth turned to him. "I don’t know. This is getting out of hand… turning into something else entirely." "If this killing is carried out as I have suggested, you'll get the money I promised you." "But, Mr. Rogan, you have to admit, this is much different than we originally planned. I mean, sir, someone is going to actually commit murder here." "And it wasn't murder before when you were going to put an innocent man in the chair and fry his ass well done?" "Well… sir… that's not exactly the same thing—" "Oh yes, it is, but you’d never admit it. I’m not stupid, I know what you bastards want. You want more money. I ought to crush everyone of you under my heel for even thinking you can manipulate me. And I would if I thought even one of you was worth the effort.” He glared out through the strip covered with dark sunglasses and looked at each one of them. "All right," he rasped. "If this is carried out according to plan, you'll all get twice the amount I promised. Is that agreeable?"

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Surprise twinkled in their greedy eyes, and while furtive glances darted about, his raspy voice echoed around the room. "But, if one thing goes wrong—” His piercing gaze darted to each of them. “—just one thing," He suddenly lunged forward, slapping his cane loudly on the table making the group jump back. "I'll have every drop of your miserable blood!" His eyes shifted to a man that cowered in silence. “Yours,” he said menacingly, “and yours, and yours, and yours!” he growled as he pointed them out, one by one. After a few minutes of thunderous silence Boris pulled his eyes from the frightened men and looked over at the window. Seeing the last rays of the sun as it went down, he slowly began unwrapping himself. The men looked on in awe as his face was slowly revealed. "What in hell do you think you're staring at?" he yelled, abruptly leaning himself over the table as if daring them to say something... anything. The men recoiled and quickly turned, making a scuffling sound while hurrying out. With the room vacant, Boris walked over to the large ceiling-to-floor window and looked out on the twinkling world that lay at his feet. While standing in the chilling darkness, he put his fists on his hips, reared his head back and began laughing as if the scurrying population below amused him. **** All at once the footsteps of the men halted, their sweat dripping like blood along their foreheads. They turned and looked at each other when they heard his maniacal laughter echoing throughout the steel rafters. Fear, stark and vivid, glittered in their eyes. What the hell had they gotten themselves into?

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Chapter 5 With his eyes angled toward Kitt’s cell, Morgan whispered to Schuster. "What the hell is taking him so long?" "Are you kidding? I coulda told you it wouldn’t work. He's not stupid like most of these jailbirds are. It’s too damned obvious if you ask me." "No one's asking you, pinhead. I was told to make it easy for him, and that's what I'm doin'.” "Hey, Morgan,” Kitt called out from his cell. “You'd better come and get your keys before I decide to take a hike." The two guards looked at each other and shrugged. "The bastard's either smarter than anybody's got a right to be, or incredibly stupid." "Maybe he'd just rather be alive than dead," was Schuster’s brilliant comment as he got up and stretched. "Since there ain't gonna be no floor show tonight, I'm headin' down to my own station." Morgan slowly sauntered down toward Kitt's cell. When he approached the bars he saw Kitt sitting on his bunk with his discerning eyes watching him. Morgan smiled arrogantly and turned the key in the lock. "So, why didn't you split? Anybody else would’ve been outta here in a flash." "Too easy. Looks like a setup to me." "You're a prize jerk, you know that?" Kitt jumped up and grabbed the bars while snarling in Morgan's face. "Maybe so, but I'm a prize jerk that's still breathing." "Suit yourself," Morgan said flippantly as he turned and left. Instead of going back to his station he found a pay phone, put in his change and dialed a number. "He didn't go for it, Mr. Rogan." "Why the hell not?" the angry voice wheezed. "Because he's smarter than that. He knows stupid things like that just don't happen."

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"Then try something else, you imbecile." "I don't know what else to do, for God's sake. I left the keys hangin' in the door. All he had to do was push it open. The door wasn't even locked." "I said, keep trying. He'll bite after a while, he has to." "He said he thought it was a setup. It's like he knows what we're doin'." "Has anybody been in to see him?" "No." "How about his lawyer?" "Come to think of it, she ain't been here in several days." "Any phone calls?" "No, sir. No one's called, no one's come by. It's a wonder he ain't started talkin' to himself." "Then he couldn't know." "Mr. Rogan, the man ain't stupid. He knows a setup when he sees it." The raspy voice trembled with uncontrollable anger. "I don’t give a flyin’ fuck what he knows, you moron. Lead the freakin' bastard to the front door if you have to, but get him out of that cell. Then when he tries to run away, shoot him in the back. Understand?" "All right, but he's gonna think I'm the prize jerk of the century." "And he'd be right. You just do what I say, or else, got that?" Before he could hang up, Morgan heard a string of profanities on the other end and a loud noise as he banged the receiver on something repeatedly. He cringed when he imagined it to be his head in the old man’s hands. **** When his anger was spent, Boris was wheezing worse than usual. He staggered to a window, quickly pulled the curtain back and unlatched it. Leaning out, he took several deep breaths before his eyes were drawn toward the cottage where he saw a light. While he stood there concealed in darkness, he saw a woman wrapped in a towel walking back and forth in front of the windows. She reached up and took a pin out of her hair, letting her thick blond curls tumble carelessly, almost reaching her waist. The towel dropped.

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With the shadow of night draped around him, he remained silent and still. His eyes traveled slowly from her beautiful face down to her creamy shoulders. As he watched the arousing bounce of her breasts that he could taste with his tongue and feel with his hands, he sensed the familiar surge of fire in his groin. She turned and his stare captured and lingered on her slim, but slightly rounded abdomen. His shifting eyes then took him to her furry cleft where it snuggled between two silky thighs that cried out for a man's caress. She seemed to be taking her time putting on a sheer nightgown, allowing the silk to whisper across her soft skin, caressing it intimately. The light went out. The warm picture of a woman’s body had re-kindled a familiar lust that was only satisfied with prostitutes and call girls. The sight of a real woman within his reach caused him to turn quickly and leave his room. **** The door of the study slammed open, revealing Boris’s imposing frame standing on the threshold. His shadow stretched across the room, his scar slithering down his face like a coiling snake. He lumbered heavily into the room, his daunting figure looming over Jaric. "Who's the woman in the cottage?" Jaric's eyes widened in surprise at the question and floundered for a moment. "Uh…well…I'm…I'm sorry you found out, father. I was going to tell you tomorrow as a surprise. I've hired someone to trace our family tree. You know, dig through our history to see who our ancestors were. I was going to take her down to the family graveyard—" Boris leaned his heavy bulk down over his son, wheezing loudly. "My God, Jaric, do you think I have nothing better to do than go digging around some ancient graveyard for old bones?" "Well… I had hoped… I mean you've had so much on your mind lately I just thought it would be a little diversion for you." "Good God, boy, you must think I'm in my dotage. Now you listen to me you little drooling idiot. You're not fooling me, see? I don't know where you found her, but keep your zipper closed and get rid of her. She's nothing but a cheap little whore.”

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"Get rid of her? Father, she's my guest. I can't just ask her to leave for no reason. It would be rude." The room's dim shadows continued to do wicked things to Boris's scarred face, and as he stared down at Jaric he leaned closer, his piercing eyes stabbing into his. "You dare disobey me, boy?" Jaric felt his temper rising, and couldn't resist speaking up with a seething anger of his own. "I'm not a child anymore, father. I can't be kept in my place with one of your famous looks. They may scare little children, trembling clients, and servants, but it won't work on me. Not anymore." He slowly stood, facing his father. "Speaking of whores, what about your cheap little whore, Gilda Montorri? Or are you still trying to sweep that dirt under the rug just like you’re trying to do with Kitt? How many freakin' times did these young impressionable eyes come into your room to find her bouncing around on top of you? You didn’t even care enough about your family to lock the damned door. She sucked the life out of you, you old bastard, and then robbed you of millions by having your son and dumping him on your doorstep. If you'd kept your zipper closed thirty years ago, you wouldn't be in this fix today." Boris lifted his hand, and with a killer’s rage, back-handed Jaric across the mouth. Jaric fell back in the desk chair with blood dripping from a cut lip. He touched the wound lightly and turned his eyes toward his father. “The girl stays. Like father, like son. Right? "For two cents I'd put a bullet through your head too, you stupid, ungrateful clod." He turned away, but stopped without looking back when he heard the sarcasm in Jaric's words. "Poor father. A clod on one hand, and a bastard son on the other. What a shame. What a dirty, rotten shame." Boris paused a moment, cut his eyes around slightly before he walked silently away, the muscle in his jaw jerking in anger. Jaric grabbed a tissue and pressed it carefully to his cut. He winced at the pain, dabbing at it repeatedly while the tissue absorbed the bright red of his trickling blood. All at once he heard the wheezing breath. His head jolted upward, his eyes glancing around the vacant room looking for his father. When he didn’t see him, he jumped up and jerked his

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head around wildly to find where the ugly, gravelly, rasping sound was coming from. It seemed to be coming from everywhere. The furniture, the walls. The whole damned room seemed to heave with the sound of the old man’s wheezing breath. When he couldn't stand it anymore he fell to his knees in the middle of the room and clasped his hands over his ears to keep out the tormenting sound. It was in the ceiling, in the carpet, and in the very air he breathed. He heard it when he woke, he heard it when he slept—he would hear it to his death. **** "Morgan! Morgan! Get the hell down here." “Oh hell,” Morgan said, irritated at being interrupted. He angrily threw his cards down, pushed his chair back and sauntered down the hall, frowning. "What the fuck do you want, jailbird?" Kitt kicked on the cell door and it opened. "What the hell is this?" The guard looked at the door grinning, cutting his deceitful eyes back up to Kitt. "Looks to me like an open cell door." Parting his legs in a wide stance, and resting his hand on his gun, his eyes, filled with challenge, looked at Kitt. "Well, what're ya gonna do about it?" Kitt's eyes narrowed on the grinning, idiotic face. "What's the matter, Morgan, don't you like my company?" Indicating to the door, he continued. "Why the hell don't you just send me an engraved invitation to my funeral?" He grabbed the bars, and yelled in Morgan's face. "If you think I'm gonna run outta here and take a bullet in the back, you're crazy. Now cut the hijinks, you waddling keystone cop, and tell me who put you up to this, and why." Schuster, who had been watching from a few feet away, sauntered up, grinning. "It's your old man, kid. He wants you outta here." "Schuster, you got a big mouth," Morgan said, chewing his words. The guard waved a hand at Morgan. "No, no. I think the kid needs to know what's goin' down here." "My father?" Kitt looked over at him and frowned. "Then why doesn't he just pay my bail?"

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"No, no, you got the wrong idea, kid. See, he wants you to try to escape so we can shoot you in the back." The guard chuckled. "Real nice guy. Don't forget to send him a Father's Day card… if you're still alive." Morgan glanced around the shadowed halls, turned to Kitt and continued in hushed tones. "It started out as a railroad job, see. They tried, but couldn't get a thing on you, so your father started buyin' off the authorities. Everything was workin' out fine until he got to the judge." He chuckled. "Hell, that father of yours almost got busted for attempted bribery. Anyway, our instructions are to make it easy for you to escape and shoot you in the back when you try. With you out of the way, the problem's solved." "What problem?" Morgan shrugged. "We don't know, kid. Why would a father want his son killed?" Kitt was thoughtful for a moment, and then turned, and slid his eyes toward them. "I need your help." The two guards glanced at each other and then and back at Kitt. "Yeah?" "I have a pretty good idea why my father wants me out of the picture, and it has to do with the money." “Yeah?” they chimed in together, suddenly interested. "My father's sick and doesn't have very long to live. When he dies, I stand to inherit the bulk of his fortune, which includes control of his companies, and management of his estate." Kitt’s eyes were filled with intensity as he looked at them, his voice urgent. "Whatever he's offered you, I'll double it. I promise you if I get out of here alive and stay healthy, you two will be rich." Kitt stared hard at the two uncertain faces. "Well… is it a deal?" "I don't know," Morgan frowned. "If we go along and your father finds out about this, our lives ain’t worth a plug nickel." "You think it’s worth anything now? I hate to tell you this, gentlemen, but you’re dead already." Their eyes widened. "What do you mean?" "My father's a powerful man. With one lift of an eyebrow, he can wipe you off the face of the earth. If I die, do you think he's gonna let anyone stay alive that had anything to do with this little fiasco? Hell no. He’s taking you

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for a ride, gentlemen, and before it’s over he’ll have you so far under the ground, you'll be in China." The two guards looked at each other. "Your only chance," Kitt whispered, "is for me to stay healthy and outlive my father. If I do, we'll all be rich." Morgan frowned. "Yeah? How do we know you won't do the same thing once you get your hands on all that money?" "Because I don't do business that way, you creep. I'm not a killer, you know that." Morgan turned his head as if looking for prying eyes, but the halls were dim and vacant. “Mind if we talk about it?” “Sure, go ahead.” Morgan looked at Schuster and nodded toward the other side of the hallway. The fat little guard followed him. Kitt kept his eyes on them, his hears picking up everything they said. “What do you think?” Morgan asked. “I think he means it,” the little guard answered. “Hell, you’d believe it if the Pope said he was a Baptist.” “Hey, I’m just tryin’ to stay alive here. If what he says about his father is true, I say we take the kid’s money and split to that nice little town called End-of-the-worlds-ville.” Morgan was thoughtful for a moment before they both nodded and walked back to Kitt. “Okay, so we’ll go along. But if you’re foolin’ with us, you’ll have that bullet so deep in your back you’ll be strummin’ your harp in the middle of hell.” "All right," Kitt whispered, "here's what we'll do. Tomorrow night at dinnertime…" **** Kitt looked up and saw Morgan outside his cell with his dinner tray. On it sat a covered plate, as usual. Morgan cleared his throat, indicating to the plate with his eyes before he pushed it through the opening in the bars. Kitt got up slowly, glancing around for onlookers as he reached out and took the tray. After they traded knowing glances, Morgan left him alone.

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Kitt set the tray down on the scarred-up table, moved around the table and slowly slid into the chair beside it. Keeping his eyes peeled for anything suspicious, he gently lifted the cover. When he saw a gun, his hand slowly reached in and grasped its familiar form. With his glance continuing to dart around, he brought it out slowly. He leaned over while keeping the gun under the shadow of the table while making sure it was loaded. Satisfied, he slipped it unseen into the waistband of his pants. That night, very late, with the assistance of Morgan and Schuster, Kitt escaped. As soon as he got on the outside, he hopped a dusty, northern bound freight train and headed straight for Bayonne. And his father. **** Kitt was working feverishly on the lock to the cottage outside the mansion when he heard something. He stiffened for a moment, pulled the gun and whirled around. After years of being apart, the two brothers finally faced each other. "Get the hell away from me, you bastard. I just want to get Pari and split." "She's inside." Jaric said anxiously, keeping his eyes on the gun. "What's the matter, Kitt? I know we haven't been friends exactly, but you act as though I'm your enemy." "Look, Jaric, I don't know how much you have to do with this, but just stay the hell away from me and you won't get hurt." "I know what you're thinking, man, but you're wrong. I'm not in this." "Don't you want control?" "Hell no. You know me, Kitt. I don't have any business sense. Even if I did inherit control, I'd have to hire someone to manage everything. This way, it stays in the family. Father's a lunatic, you know that." Kitt was hesitant, but he wanted to believe him, so he slowly lowered the gun. Jaric, breathing a little easier, walked up to Kitt and draped his arm across his shoulder. "You poor bastard. I think it's about time somebody told you the whole story. Come on inside and get cleaned up while I put on some strong coffee. You're gonna need it."

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Kitt stood in the shower enjoying the hot spray. When he finally stepped out, he combed his dripping hair back, snipped it a little and shaved. He left his sideburns long with only the shadow of a mustache. When he reattached the earring to his left ear, he felt much better. Jaric had found him some clothes, so he dressed quickly and went into the kitchen. Over a steaming mug of coffee, he listened to his brother's strange story. "Kitt, you remember, of course, how Ms. Gilda used to take care of you?" Kitt shrugged. "Sure." "What did you think of her?" "She was good to me," he said, casting an angry look at Jaric. "The only one in the whole damn place that was." "She was good to all of us, but don't you think she treated you a little more special than the rest of us?" "I don't know, she might have, why?" "Kitt, think about it. Why do you think she kept you with her all the time and never let you play with us?" "I didn't play with you because you didn't want me," Kitt said, anger pouring out of him. "I was left out of everything. I don't even know how I got in on the family portraits." "Kitt, my God, haven’t you figured it out yet? Look at us, for God's sake. Your dark, we're light. Mother was blond, and father has dark brown hair. Don't you remember, Kitt? Ms. Gilda was a fiery, raven-haired beauty that came over here from Romania. Remember her deep accent?" “So?” he said, but as soon as the words left his lips, his gaze fell on Jaric. His eyes shifted to his blond hair, his blue eyes, and his fair skin. Suddenly the truth slapped him in the face like the cold hand of a corpse. It was true. Why hadn’t he seen it before? How could he have ever believed he was one of them? Jaric’s words took on a soft, foreboding sound. "Mother and Ms. Gilda became pregnant about the same time. We were born on the same day and the same hour, but you came first by only twenty minutes." "Oh, my God. I’m his bastard son. That’s why he doesn’t want to leave his money to me." “That’s true enough all right, but it gets worse. Remember the stripper, and the man you saw running away?”

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Kitt cocked his head curiously, and said, “Yeah?” “It was father.” “My God, father? That was him? He killed the…” “He was stalking her. When you interrupted his nice little rape he had to get away quick, so he slit her throat, and ran. He found out later that you had been blamed for the murder. It couldn’t have worked out better for him. He immediately put the plans in motion to frame you by calling the Chief of Police. He offered to buy off—“ “I know all of that, Jaric, Pari told me.” “But did she tell you that since the frame didn’t work he has given instructions to the authorities to kill you?” “Yeah, I learned that from the jail guards. I just didn’t know why, or how much you had to do with this.” “Nothing. Absolutely nothing. But I knew something was up the night father came home with an ugly scar that stretched from his eye down to his mouth. Now I know it was the stripper’s calling card." “How did you find out about all this?” “Sneaking around, listening to phone calls, reading his mail, intercepting a few messages, putting two and two together. Kitt looked sick. "Is my name Montorri or Rogan?" "Your name is Rogan, man. You might have been illegitimate, but you were still a Rogan and father knew it. Hell, the older you got, the more you took on the traits of the Rogan clan." Jaric grinned and slapped Kitt on the back. "Welcome to the family, Kitt. You can be proud that you're a lustful, deceitful, conniving, money-grabbing bastard just like the rest of us." Kitt looked at Jaric. "But is it legal?" "What?" "My name." "Hell, yes. Ms. Gilda put all that on your birth certificate. She named Boris Rogan as the father. When he denied it, she threatened to get a blood test and have the results printed in every paper from here to California." Jaric grinned. "She was the only woman that ever got the best of Boris Rogan, and he never forgot it. In a fit of rage he destroyed your birth certificate as if trying to deny that you existed. That's why he hates you, and refuses to admit you to the family. After that, things became kind of

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uncomfortable around here until she finally left... with a nice chunk of change, I might add." “If I’m her son why didn’t she take me with her when she left? How the hell could she leave me behind?” “She wanted you to stay and be raised among the Rogan money. She knew you were next in line for the fortune and didn't want to take that away from you." “God, I feel like some awful joke has been played on me.” Jaric snorted. “Joke is the right word, all right. Apparently Father didn’t know what to do with you, so he ignored you, and made us do the same. I remember him sitting in his big leather chair looking down at the dark little waif playing all alone in the corner. You could see hate written all over his face. Sometimes I felt sorry for you, watching us from those shadowy corners. Every time I'd make a move toward you, father would give me one of his killer looks and I'd back away." “God,” Kitt said, burying his face in his hands. "I'm sorry you had to find out like this, Kitt." Kitt stood and began to pace. After a while he turned to Jaric, his eyes filled with tears. "Why the hell didn't somebody tell me?" "Good God, man, who cared enough to tell you? Even your own mother didn’t tell you. To Father you were just one of his many sins coming back to haunt him. He tried to sweep you under the rug just like any dirt you would try to hide, but couldn’t. You can say one thing for him, though. Knowing you were his flesh and blood, he took you in." Kitt whirled around. "So he can kill me now." "There's a lot more at stake now." "Where is Ms. Gil… uh, mother now?" Jaric shrugged. "No one knows for sure, but I think she went back to her homeland." Kitt slumped down in the chair and hung his head. "What a mess, what a holy fuckin' mess my life has been." Jaric looked at Kitt in his misery and then looked down at the dark liquid in his cup. "You won't believe this, but there were times when I actually wished I was you." Kitt lifted his gaze toward Jaric. "Why, for God's sake?"

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Jaric shrugged. "Because father left you alone. He tried to pretend you were invisible, so he ignored you. We got all the yelling and discipline." "You also got all the love." Jaric almost choked on his coffee. "Are you kidding? There was no love in that house, and still isn't." "But at least you belonged somewhere, Jaric. You had a family, someone that cared enough about what you did to yell at you. If I'd gone out and drowned myself, he wouldn't have batted an eyelash." “What I can’t figure out is why in hell you even care." “I’m a leaf that blows in the wind, a piece of debris that someone has thrown away, that’s why I care. I want roots, to belong somewhere for God’s sake, and I want someone to care what I do, what I think, how I feel. I never had that. Hell, man, don’t go wishing you were me, it’s no friggin’ fun on this side of the fence either.” "Well, for whatever it's worth, now you know the whole story." "The whole story?” With revenge in his eyes, Kitt looked at Jaric. “Oh, no, not by a long shot, little brother. Now that I'm older and know the truth, that old bastard is going to have to face me with what he's put me through." “Kitt, my God, think this thing through. You figure once he finds you here he’s going to invite you in to shoot the breeze? Kitt, he wants your head on a plate.” “I’m not leaving!” Kitt bellowed. His teeth clenched and he chewed his words dangerously. “I’m not going to turn tail and run just because he wants me dead. I’m not a kid anymore, Jaric. I don’t tremble in his shadow or stammer when I talk to him. I’m as big as he is, and I can yell just as loud— ” His eyes shifted to Jaric, his words low and threatening. “—and it’ll be his head on the plate... not mine!” “I hope you’re right, Kitt, but right now he doesn’t know you’re here, and I think we need to keep it that way until we figure out the next step.” **** Pari woke up smelling coffee and hearing voices. She slowly got up, crept down the hall, peered around the doorway and frowned. She saw Jaric, but something was different. "What the hell have you done to your hair?"

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Kitt's hand went up to his wet head and stroked it. "I just trimmed it a bit, that's all. "But it's black. You look just like…" Just then she saw Jaric in all his blondness walk up beside Kitt, and couldn't believe her eyes. "Wha…?" "Pari,” Jaric said, “this is Kitt." She looked from one to the other—and fainted.

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Chapter 6 Morgan and Schuster stood looking into the empty cell. "It sure looks bare, don't it?" Schuster whispered to his partner. "He'll be back soon," Morgan said, his arrogant eyes looking down at the pudgy guard. Schuster’s eyes widened. "What?" "He's just gone to sick bay, nothing to worry about." A grin slowly spread across Schuster’s face. "Oh, yeah, he's just in sick bay. Probably be back soon. Got a bug of some kind." Morgan poked the little guard while quickly glancing around. Speaking low, he said, "You know what we gotta do now, right?" Schuster scratched his head. "I'm a little fuzzy on it, why don't you fill me in?" "Ever play a game from both sides of the table before?" The excitement in Morgan’s eyes seemed to glimmer. "What's to keep us from collectin' on both sides, huh?" "I'm not sure I'm followin' you." "Well,” Morgan began, leaning down close to the little guard’s face. “What’s to keep us from bringing a warm body in here and…” His hand moved quickly as he sliced his finger across his neck. Schuster’s beady little eyes followed the quick moving fingers until sudden understanding dawned on his fat little face. "Ohhh, yeah," Schuster said, looking closely at the brains of the operation, "a warm body." Then all at once his smile dropped and he frowned up at his friend. "Whose?" "Oh, we'll find one… somewhere." Morgan turned and swaggered back to his station. "But why are we goin' to so much trouble?” Schuster asked, waddling fast to keep up with his friend. “Why don't we just tell Mr. Rogan that his son is dead and start collectin' all that dough?"

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"You dunce,” Morgan rasped. He stopped abruptly and looked down at his friend who appeared to have lost his mind. “There's gotta be a body, that's why!" Irritated, Morgan reached up and pulled Schuster's cap down over his eyes and ears. "It's a good thing you got me to watch after you, you know that?" Shaking his head, he walked away. "But that sounds dangerous,” Schuster said, struggling to get his cap up. “I think we oughta just play it straight.” When he finally freed his head from his cap, he looked up only to find empty air. He quickly turned his head toward his pal and began an energetic hobble to catch up with him. Morgan stopped abruptly and turned, causing the little guard to bump into him in his haste to catch up. "What in hell is wrong with you? You got something against bein' rich? If you don't want to collect all that money, it’s all right with me, but I ain't settin' around this joint night after night babysittin' a bunch of lowlifes that don't do nothin' but fart, belch, and scratch their fat asses." He thumbed himself in the chest. "I got plans for my life. Yessir, I got big plans." "So what's our next move—" Schuster looked up at Morgan with an eye-blinking, kissey-butt smile. "—boss?" Morgan looked down at Schuster and winked. "We're goin' out tonight, that's what." Schuster’s eyes widened with pleasure. "We're goin' out?" Morgan nodded and smiled, thinking Schuster had at last caught on. "Can we go dancin' boss? I love to—" Morgan grabbed Schuster's cap again and began hitting him with it as they walked down the hall and around the corner. **** Pari woke up to a wet cloth on her head and looking into two sets of beautiful blue pools with little green flecks in them. She slid her unbelieving eyes over to Kitt. The headband, the dirty stringy hair, and the five o'clock shadow were gone. There was nothing left but nicely trimmed, thick wavy hair, the earring, and a dazzlingly handsome man. She looked from him to Jaric. She saw exactly the same face, hair, eyes, earring, everything… except he was blond.

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Looking at them, she felt dizzy again, and put her hand up to head. "My God, your twins." Kitt smiled, "No, Pari, we're not twins, just half-brothers." She frowned. "But you look so much—" "A freak of nature, that's all." "A freak of nature that saved your butt, is all," Jaric said. "How do you mean?" Kitt asked. "When father saw you, he couldn't deny that you were his son even though he would never admit it. That's what's been eating at him all these years. You're a constant reminder. A thorn in his side, for God's sake. He couldn't bring himself to get rid of you then, but the closer you get to the fortune, the easier that decision is to make." "I don't know, man, all this is so damned hard to believe." "Hell, Kitt, hate is eating him up inside, and has been for years. You remind him of a time in his life that he was vulnerable to a woman. He'll never forgive you for that." "Is that why father is such a woman hater?" "Nah, I think he's always been that way. A woman to him is only good for one thing. The breaking point was when he found himself the victim of one and couldn't do anything about it. Then you came along… dark like her… always reminding him." "I've got to meet this monster and set him straight on a few things," Pari interjected. Kitt and Jaric looked at each other and laughed. "No offense, Pari, but a little blond Barbie Doll isn't exactly the one for the job," Jaric said. "Why the hell does everyone keep calling me a Barbie Doll? Give me a break for God's sake." She pushed the two hulking brothers aside, got up, and poured herself some coffee. Jaric winked at Kitt mischievously then went over to Pari and began poking her good-naturedly. "Get away from me," she said, turning her back on him. "I'm not speaking to either of you." Not being discouraged, Jaric peeked around at her, making a funny face just before he began tickling her unmercifully.

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She screamed, barely managing to set her sloshing coffee down. Turning quickly, she began laughing and wrestling with him. When she finally caught her breath and dried her mirthful tears, she looked from one to the other. "God, I can't make up my mind which of you is the handsomest." As her eyes carefully raked over both their faces, she frowned then asked, "How the hell could something like this have happened?" “Skeletons.” Jaric’s reply caused a heavy tension to invade the room, and as his eyes met Kitt’s over Pari’s head, they could almost hear the bones in the Rogan closets rattling furiously. **** That night Morgan and Schuster were strolling through the sleazy district of Bayonne dressed in civilian clothes. They walked along slowly, observing ragged creatures of every size, shape, and color. Some hobbled along the dark streets, some lay in dark doorways drinking from plainwrapped bottles, while others staggered from one leaning post to another. "There," Morgan rasped, poking Schuster. The little guard’s head whirled around. "Where?” "The dark, long-haired one. He's the spittin' image of the Rogan kid right down to the headband. He's just about the same size, too." "Yeah, he's perfect." Morgan pulled out his club and extended it to Schuster. "Here, you take him." "Me? Why me?" "I spotted him. Now it's your job to grab him. We're a team ain't we?" "Well… yeah. I can see how that'd be fair." Morgan looked down at the squat little guard with a frown. "You ain’t scared are you?” “Me?” the little guard snickered nervously. “No way.” “Careful now. Don't go messin' this up. We'd never be lucky enough to find another one as good as him." "Yeah, boss, I got him," Schuster said, crouching, with his eye on his prey. He gave his enemy a menacing look then growled and snapped his teeth, trying to sound ferocious. He inhaled a big mouthful of air, trying to

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make his body bigger than it was while moving his feet in a little dance as he whizzed his hands through the air, practicing Karate chops. Becoming impatient, Morgan clenched his teeth. "Will you get goin’?" Schuster sneered at Morgan just before he abruptly grabbed the club out of his hands. Shifting himself nervously, he reluctantly began walking toward the dirty street derelict with the large stick burning his hand. As he got closer he saw the man walk into a dark alleyway, and followed him. Morgan couldn't see what was going on, but heard the scuffle between the two. He waited, listening until he heard Schuster's voice rising and falling. Waaaaaaaaaaaaaaah! Morgan ran toward the alley and saw the two struggling. In the darkness he managed to make out that Schuster was riding the back of the homeless man while the dirty creature was going around in circles trying to get him off. Morgan ran up, grabbed the club out of Schuster's hand, lifted it high in the air and brought it down on someone's head. The two fell to the ground, but only one got up. The ragged bum turned and looked at Morgan. "Hey, thanks, fella." "Oops," Morgan muttered. The man turned and started to run, but Morgan was right behind him. With a giant leap he landed on the ragged creature's back, knocking him to the ground. Morgan straddled the bum, lifted the club high into the air then plunged it down, again and again. When the man quit struggling, Morgan got off him and dragged him back and laid him alongside Schuster. Morgan frowned down at one, then the other. "Now I've got two bums to take back to lockup." Once he got the two back to the car, he pulled Schuster up to a sitting position and gently slapped his face until he brought him around. When the little guard slowly began to stir, he felt the slaps and began fighting Morgan. "Hey, what the hell you think you're doin'?" "Shhhh," Morgan whispered, looking around. "Get the hell up from there and help me." Instead of getting up, the little guard grabbed Morgan's collar. "You hit me, you bastard." "Hey, I didn't know it was you. It was dark, for God's sake."

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"Yeah?" the little guard frowned. "You're a cool guy, Morgan, but sometimes I don't think you like me." Morgan yanked himself out of Schuster's grasp. "If I didn't like you, why would I give you the chance to get killed right along with me?" Schuster stopped and thought about it for a moment, and then suddenly his face brightened. "Yeah, I guess that’s right… okay." Friends again, the two struggled and grunted until they got the heavy body into the car and drove back to the jail. Under the cover of darkness, they slowly pulled up at a secluded back door. Morgan ran up, and with a mass of jangling keys, he unlocked it. The two of them pulled the body out of the car, and with heavy breathing, loud grunts, and painful groans, they managed to get him inside. "Hey," Schuster whispered loudly as he struggled, "I ain't in shape for this." "Shut up. You want someone to hear?" Schuster frowned at him. "You just remember when all this blows up in our faces that it was me that wanted to go dancin'." The narrow halls echoed the sound of their scraping shoes along the cement floor until they finally got him in the cell and on the bunk. With everything done they leaned against the bars trying to catch their breath and then crept away. They left the homeless man knocked out and bleeding— and the cell door unlocked. The worst part over, they made their way down to Morgan's station to wait. About twenty minutes later they heard a soft squeak as the cell door opened. Peeking around the corner, they watched the movements of the dirty, ragged man as he carefully crept past the unlocked door, and began running for his life. Morgan stepped out from the shadows, pointed his gun at him with both hands and fired once…twice…three times, the sound of the explosions bouncing off the cement walls. The man’s body jerked and fell to the floor when one of the bullets finally pierced his back. The guards slowly walked toward the crumpled up mass of tattered clothing, and looked down at the Kitt Rogan look-alike. As blood slowly pooled around his dead body, the two guards looked at each other, but couldn’t see anything but dollar signs. Morgan checked the ammunition in his gun, pushed it down into his holster and picked up the

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phone. Rasping into the mouthpiece, he told the listener, "Kitt Rogan is dead." **** It didn't take long for the media to receive the news of Kitt Rogan's death. Pari picked up the TV remote control, and tuned into the local news broadcast… “We have just gotten word that the mysterious Moonlight Stalker is dead.” Lunging forward with surprise, Pari pointed the remote control toward the TV and turned up the volume. Kitt Rogan, who was accused of being Atlanta's Moonlight Stalker was shot last night while trying to escape the County Jail. It seems Mr. Rogan's cell door was mistakenly left unlocked, and Sid Morgan, a guard at the jail happened to be standing nearby. When he saw the prisoner running for freedom, he drew his gun and shot him in the back. The eldest sibling and heir of the Rogan fortune died immediately. Pari couldn’t believe it. She clicked off the TV and wandered, as if in a trance, into the living room. Kitt looked up at her. "Pari, when do you have to get back—?” “You won’t believe it,” Pari whispered. Kitt looked at Jaric, and then back to Pari. “What’s wrong?" "I just heard it on the news. Kitt Rogan is dead." Kitt's eyes widened. "What?" he said, frowning as he rose from the couch. Raking the fingers of both hands through his hair, he yelled, "Those bumbling idiots!" “What’s wrong?” Pari asked. “Don’t you see?” Kitt spat angrily. “Those stupid, moronic nincompoops have fixed it so I'll never inherit anything." Jaric walked toward Kitt, his shoulders rising in a quick questioning shrug. "But why? It seems to me the perfect solution. Father thinks you're dead, so he won't be looking for you, and the oldest still inherits the fortune." "Now you're the oldest, Jaric,” Kitt said. "Legally I'm dead."

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"Yes, but don't you see? You'll only be dead until Father passes. After that you come out of the grave, proving you’re alive, and presto, you inherit everything." Kitt turned to Pari. "What about it, Pari? Can it work?" Pari shrugged. "Sure. Let’s just hope it doesn’t take him too long to die." "I just hope we haven't missed anything," Kitt said while trading glances with Jaric. "Well, looks like you have more business sense than you give yourself credit for, little brother." "Oh, I can think when I have to, but I wouldn't want Father to find out." "Oh? Why is that?" "He thinks I'm a clod and I'd like to keep it that way." Jaric leaned lazily against the fireplace. "If he ever found out I could think for myself, he would expect me to grow up and take responsibility. Right now I'm just happy being a clod." Pari walked up to him and put her arms around his waist, speaking softly, "But a loveable one." **** Feeling like a fifth wheel, Kitt clumsily backed into the bathroom where he tried to deal with the too familiar feeling of rejection. He had always envied Jaric, the golden boy of the Rogan clan, and now, seeing him with Pari, he envied him even more. Slowly lifting his eyes to the mirror, he looked at himself while hearing the echoing cadence of his mother’s Romanian accent telling him countless fairytales. Fairytales where the prince was always blond, and the evil villain always dark… like him. "This is stupid. Why the hell should I care?” he growled. “She’s nothing but a little slut anyway, and this is not friggin' Camelot." With that he abruptly opened the door and stopped in his tracks when he saw the way Jaric and Pari were feeling each other up. Kitt’s eyes narrowed on Jaric's fairytale blond hair as it tumbled carelessly around his head and pulled back quickly. He didn’t know which was worse, the jealousy he felt from wanting Pari for himself or the feeling of being left out again. The tight corner, the darkness...it all felt so familiar. Once again he was all the things he’d run

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miles to get away from. The bastard, the mongrel, the crossbreed, the dirt under the carpet—the sin.

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Chapter 7 The next day Pari was sitting on the bed wrapped in a sheet. She held the phone in her hand, punching in Clate’s number when Jaric scooted up close and began kissing the back of her neck. She closed her eyes and whispered huskily, "Hey, tiger, cool it, huh? If I don't check in with my boss, he'll think I've skipped the country." "Have you ever done it with him?" Jaric mumbled while nuzzling her neck. Pari frowned at him. "With Clate? Of course not. He's married and has about a dozen kids." Just about the time Clate answered his phone, Jaric leaned over and reached between Pari's legs. "Ohhhhh, God, Jaric don't do that!" A faraway voice came from the other end. "Hello? Who's there? Hello!" "Clate! Just a minute." She turned to Jaric and began struggling, but he was determined to make love to her. "Jaric, let me go. Clate's on the line." Jaric continued moving his fingers around inside her and she couldn't keep from moaning. "Ohhhh, God, Jaric, stop." Finally, unable to resist, she moved her hips into the probe, and screamed as a hot orgasm flared within her. As her canal contracted again and again against Jaric's magical fingers, Jaric pulled her backward and tried to mount her. Pari, being a little quicker, pulled herself out of his grip and jumped up from the bed. While breathing hard and laughing, she put the phone to her ear. "What the hell is going on?" Clate yelled from the other end. “Hey, is this some kind of obs—” "Clate," Pari breathed into the phone while watching Jaric make funny faces at her. After several giggles she turned her back so she wouldn't have to look at him. "This is Pari. I just wanted to check in with you and see what's happening."

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"Oh,” he said, hesitating, and then continued. “Are you all right? I thought I heard struggling.” “Fine. So what’s up?” “Well, I'm sure you know about Rogan's death." "Yeah," she said, beginning to breathe normally again. "Yeah, I heard." "Where the hell are you anyway, and how long are you gonna be gone?" "Well, a few more days at least. Why? Do you need me for something?" "No, nothing immediate, but there's Rogan's funeral. Do you want to be there?" "I don't know, do you think I should?" "Well, you were his lawyer, I think it would be a nice gesture. Keep in mind it'll take place in Bayonne. His father, Boris Rogan, wants his body returned to be buried in the family cemetery." Pari's eyes widened in alarm as she looked over at Jaric. "Really? I, uh, well, sure, he would want that, wouldn't he?" She mouthed something to Jaric, but he frowned at her, not understanding. "You sound funny, Pari. Where are you anyway?" "No mystery, Clate, I'm… I’m at home in Macon," she said quickly, hoping he wouldn't try to contact her there. "When I heard about Rogan’s death, it hit me kind of hard, so I came down here for a while. I'll keep in contact, though." She made another panic face at Jaric, and mouthed something, but he still didn't understand. "At home, huh?" Clate smiled. "So how's the family?" "Oh… they're fine," Pari said, looking at Jaric who was trying to get her attention. "Get off the damn phone, Pari," he rasped just loud enough for her to hear. She mouthed something back at him, while trying to be patient with Clate's slow, good-natured conversation. "Well, I hope you're having a good time." "Oh, it's a blast." She looked at Jaric, trying to mimic an irritation at Clate’s slow, southern, unhurried attitude. "Getting plenty of rest, I hope." She looked down at the tumbled up bed and muffled a snicker. "Oh, I stay in bed most of the time."

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"You know I've always wanted to live on a farm. Are there many problems…" When he kept going on and on, she began raking her fingers through her hair. "Clate? I…I'm sorry…I…" "You know, the pace must be incredibly slow down that way. Real restful. Am I right?" Looking down at the phone and making impatient faces at Clate's small talk, Pari let out a big breath and rolled her eyes upward. "Pari? What's the matter? Do you have a problem?" "Do I have a problem? I hope to tell you I have a problem." "My God, Pari, what is it?" "The chickens won't lay, and the cow died. Well… gotta go!" She slammed the phone down and looked at Jaric with fear. "Oh, my God, we're in trouble!” She grabbed a sheet, ran into the living room, and found Kitt. She rushed around the couch and sat beside him. "I just talked to Clate." "He said your father was having your body brought back home to be buried in the family cemetery." He kept his eyes glued to the TV screen, determined not to look at her. "So?" "Kitt, the minute he sees that body, he'll know it's not you." He was silent as he turned to her, his searching eyes resting on the soft roundness of her breasts. They reflected confusion, as if he couldn’t keep his thoughts straight. "Don't you see? We have to do something." Finally Kitt jumped up. "You and Jaric figure it out, I'm going for a walk." "But Kitt…" She looked after him as he slammed out the door. Turning, she saw Jaric leaning in the doorway. "What's wrong with him?" "Don't you know?" "No, tell me." Jaric went and poured them both a drink, handed a glass to Pari and flopped down on the couch. Looking down into the dark liquid, he said, "As far back as I can remember, Kitt's been on the outside looking in. He always watched me and Monica playing together, but was never allowed to join in." He looked over at Pari. “I’d always see him sitting in a dark corner

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somewhere, watching us. Sometimes at the top of the stairs, sometimes behind a chair." Jaric chuckled. "One time I even saw his little face covered with tears, peering out from behind a grate. How he got in there, I'll never know." "Are you saying—" "I'm saying, Pari, that he feels left out again. And, who knows, he may be in love with you." "But he never gave any indication," Pari said, standing up to pace with the drink in her hand. "And even if he had, I could never carry on an affair with a client, I’d be disbarred." "If I know Kitt he wouldn’t have wanted to muddle your business relationship with something intimate anyway. You've got to understand that Kitt is a very serious-minded man. No playtime mixed in with business is his motto. That's why he's so perfect to take over father's estate. He's the only one that could do the job the way it should be done. I wish father could see that." As if seeing Pari for the first time, Jaric’s eyes widened and raked over the sheet. "My God, Pari you don’t have a stitch on. Why in hell did you come out here like that?" Pari looked down at herself. "Like what?" Saying nothing, he lifted the glass and drained it. “Hell, no wonder he had to go for a walk. If he has to get that picture out of his mind, we may never see him again." "But I didn't know he had any feelings for me." "Yeah, I know. Hey, I think it’s time you got dressed, okay?" A look of surprise crossed his face, and he began feeling his jaw and his throat. "My God, did those words come out of my mouth?" "Jaric,” Pari said, looking at him with amusement. “Aren’t you ever serious?" "Hey, life's too short, you know? But right now... " Suddenly there was a loud pounding on the front door. They looked at each other. "Who could that be?" Pari whispered. Jaric ran over and peeked out through the curtain. "Oh, my God, it's father." He looked over at her. "Quick, get your clothes on!" The pounding came again. "Open up in there!" he bellowed while rattling the doorknob.

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"Damn, there's no time—” He paused a moment while looking around. “—shit… and no back door.” He looked at Pari. “I can't let him find me here. Maybe I can go through a window,” he said, pushing her toward the door. “You answer it, and I'll hide." "Like this?" she said, looking down at herself. "If you don't, he'll break the friggin' door down." Pari made her way toward the door then looked back at Jaric as he disappeared safely into the bedroom. She jumped when she heard the booming voice again, and felt the door rattling in its frame. Finally she opened it, and gasped at what she saw. Looming before her was a man wrapped in black cloth, gloves, and sunglasses. He pushed past her, looking around. He turned to her, his gravelly voice booming. "Where's Jaric?" She swallowed nervously. "Uh… Jaric… he’s… uh… not here," she stammered while cutting her glance toward the bedroom. Boris turned, went toward the bedroom, his gaze quickly jumping to the unmade bed. He walked over and raked through the covers, and then turned quickly, his eyes sliding over her as they searched along the sheet she was wrapped in. "Not here, huh? Well, maybe he's not now, but he's been here. I can smell him all over you. Actually, I doubt if he’s been in his own bed since you got here. The little clod's a lot like me. Always has been, and always will be a sucker for little whores like you." A spear of anger shot through Pari. "Now just a minute!" Boris reached up and took off his sunglasses, his red-rimmed eyes stabbing her until she cringed under his penetrating gaze. Icy fear crawled up her spine as she saw him slowly begin to unwind the black cloth from around his face. She forced her mouth shut, trying not to show any outward signs of her horror at his pasty complexion, and the scar stretching from his temple to the edge of his thin, curling mouth. As he slowly walked toward her, she began backing up. Before she knew what was happening, he quickly reached out, pulled at the sheet, and it fell to the floor. Standing naked before him, Pari felt a blush rise to her face. She quickly leaned over to grab at the sheet when the dark, hulking figure brutally grasped her arm and pulled her to him. She was looking right into his glinting eyes and could feel his constant wheezing breath in her face. "I've had a few whores in my time, one more won't matter."

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Pari struggled as Boris jerked her to him and clasped her hands behind her back. She tried to push him away, but couldn't. She screamed and fought but still he managed to push her against the wall and press himself to her. Just then Pari heard the front door slam, and footsteps as they scurried into the bedroom. Quickly releasing her, Boris turned to face the intruder. Pari’s eyes jumped from Boris to Kitt. One jumped forward with murder on his mind, the other looked at his attacker as if he’d seen a ghost. Without wasting a moment, Kitt pulled his fist back and busted his father in the face, sending him into unconsciousness. With quick, deft movements, he grabbed the sheet and covered Pari with it when Jaric burst out of the closet. She turned to him, surprised. "I thought you were gone." "No, just in the closet." Pari's mouth fell open. “You mean when I was here being… you were…” Her words faded away as the full impact of what he was saying exploded inside her. She looked at Jaric, waiting for him to offer an excuse. When he didn’t she slowly backed up and sat on the bed. Looking down at each of the brothers as they knelt over their father’s motionless body, she realized they were so much alike, yet so different. Jaric was going to hide like a coward in the closet and let his father rape her, but Kitt was willing to help her even if it meant revealing himself to his father, which might mean his death. Tears began gathering in Pari's eyes. All at once she saw Kitt's strength, his goodness, and his concern for her, and knew that he was someone she could love. Before it had only been an attraction, but now it was so much more. She knew now that her heart had actually been seized by this conceited, arrogant black sheep. When had it happened? The first time she’d seen him? When she’d first learned of his innocence? Or was it the day she saw his arrogance melt away and a lost little boy’s vulnerability take its place? When? She turned away quickly and began dabbing at her tears with the corner of the sheet. Kitt and Jaric covered the old man’s face, picked him up, and managed to get him out of the cottage. While they were gone Pari put her clothes on in a daze. Finally wilting down in a chair, she grabbed at a tissue and continued to dab at her eyes as she thought of Jaric. She had actually thought she was falling in love with him. Thanks to Kitt, her eyes had been opened, and she saw Jaric for what

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he really was, weak, selfish and spoiled. He was the typical rich kid that had everything handed to him on a silver platter. Unfortunately, he grew up into the kind of man that would go from woman to woman, never settling down or doing anything meaningful with his life. No wonder he didn’t think he could handle the family fortune. Pari had been blinded by his blond good looks and his charm, but it was all so superficial. Just then Pari heard the front door open. She rose from the bed, looked around the doorframe and saw Kitt. She slowly walked out of the bedroom, her fingers stuffed into the back pockets of her jeans. Her eyes darted up at him shyly. "Thank you," she whispered, trying to smile at him, but instead a deluge of tears began falling down her cheeks. Kitt opened his arms to receive her and she ran to him. "Oh, Kitt!" **** Kitt held her tight, his face buried in her clean-smelling hair. He closed his eyes, enjoying the softness of her body against his. “Are you okay?” he finally asked while she was still in his arms. “Yes,” she replied. “But if it hadn’t been for you…” Her words faded as she pulled herself away and looked up into his beautiful blue eyes. "Do you want to go to the bedroom?" "My God, Pari, is that the only way you know how to say thank you? With your body?" "I don't know, Kitt. I just want you." "Well forget it! I'm not taking you while you still have the stink of my brother all over you." "What?" She frowned. "The day I take you is the day you come to me clean, like a virgin." Anger swelled within her. "I hate to tell you this, Kitt, but I haven't been a—" "I know," he interrupted as he pushed past her, then quickly turned. “I want you, Pari, but hell, have my seed mixed with his? No way. If you were to get pregnant, you wouldn't even know whose child it was." "Why are you making this so complicated?" "Get yourself clean of Jaric—" Kitt began, a grave sound to his voice, "—body and soul. When you’ve done that and I'm still around…"

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"Kitt, don’t say that. I care about you, I do. It may even be love." "Pari, that might have been good enough at one time, but now, well, things are different. Besides, you probably said those exact same words to Jaric only this morning." "No, Kitt, I didn't." "You've got to understand that if we ever do come together, there won't be room for any other man in your life." All at once he grabbed her and crushed his lips against hers. After a few sin-packed minutes, he pulled back and looked down at her with half-closed, sex-starved eyes. "Believe me, baby, you wouldn't have the strength." She stood against him crying softly and holding him tight. "I'm yours now, Kitt." He smoothed her hair with his hand. "No, not now. Maybe someday." "I don't understand you." He abruptly grabbed her chin, turned her face up to his and looked at her with somber determination clouding his eyes. "No? Well, here's something else you won't understand. If you ever crawl into my father's bed… it's over. Do you understand? No chance in hell.” “Your father? My God, Kitt, why would I do that?” “You don’t know my father. Just remember what I said." He pushed her away and banged out the door. She pulled back the curtains and tearfully watched him as he disappeared into the woods.

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Chapter 8 That night the moon was full and laid a shimmering silver carpet over the grounds of Chapel Hill and the Rogan mansion. Boris Rogan was looking past his black curtains, and into the lighted windows of the cottage. There he saw his two sons, one blond and the other dark, with their heads together. He then slid his eyes back to the bedroom of the cottage where he saw Pari putting polish on her fingernails. "And which one is going into your bed tonight, you little tramp?" he wheezed, his breath loud and gravelly. "Who knows? Maybe this scarred up old tyrant will be the lucky one." His phone rang, and dropping the heavy drape, he went to answer it. "Mr. Rogan," the deep voice said, "this is Lilliandecker's, the most prestigious, sensitive, and might I say, caring funeral parlor in the Deep South. We give'em the best, then lay'em to rest." He chuckled, clearly waiting for a reply to his witty dialogue. When none came, he cleared his throat and continued. "Sir, we have your son's body all prepared to be transported to Bayonne. Are there any last minute instructions?" "Just throw the bastard into the ocean, he's not my son." With anger burning inside him, Boris slammed the phone down. **** Back in the cottage Jaric and Kitt were busy trying to figure out what their next move would be. "Well, he hasn't shot you in the back yet." Jaric shrugged. "I'd say that's a good sign." "I know that old man, Jaric. He's cooking something up, and it makes me nervous just sitting around waiting to see what it is."

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Just then they both looked up as Pari came walking through in a flimsy little nightie. She was making a big production of waving her hands around, drying her nail polish. "What in the hell have you got on?" Jaric asked. "Jungle Red," she smiled, putting her hands up like claws. "Grooooowwwwwl." "No, I mean what are you wearing?" She looked down at herself. "Just a nightie." Then making a seductive pose, she cut her heavy-lidded eyes over to Kitt and whispered. "Like it?" Kitt looked embarrassed, his eyes darting away. "Who the hell wouldn't?" Jaric said, grabbing her arm and speaking to her under his breath. "What in hell are you trying to do? You shouldn't be walking around like that in front of Kitt. Now go in the bedroom and put something on for God's sake." Her eyes reflected anger as they stabbed Kitt. "I could walk in here naked and he wouldn't…" A knock sounded on the door, and everyone looked toward it. "Oh, my God, it must be father again," Jaric said walking toward the door. "Quick, Pari, get in the bedroom, and Kitt, you stand back." "Hell no!" Kitt roared as he lunged forward. "I'm not afraid of the old bastard." "You'd better be afraid," Jaric said, his hand on Kitt’s chest, pushing him away. "Especially if he's got a loaded gun in his hand." Kitt reluctantly went and stood in the bathroom doorway while Pari ran toward the bedroom. Looking back to make sure everyone was out of sight, Jaric grasped the doorknob, prepared to confront his father. Swinging the door open, his eyes widened. Instead of the tall, imposing figure of Boris Rogan filling up the doorway, he saw the small figure of Weems, the butler, standing there with his hand outstretched. "For you, sir." Jaric looked down and saw Weems holding a sheet of neatly folded notepaper, and reached for it. As soon as the note was safely in Jaric’s hand, Weems abruptly turned and walked away. Standing in the door, Jaric looked up and saw his father looking ominously out of his black-draped window. Then lowering his head, he opened the note and read it… I request the presence of all of you at dinner this evening in the

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Grand Dining Room. Be there promptly at eight. Please dress. As soon as the door closed, Kitt ran out and grabbed the note from Jaric's hand. After reading it, he looked at him and asked sarcastically, "Should I wear my bullet proof vest?" Pari grabbed the note and read for a moment. "What's the Grand Dining Room?" We have two dining rooms," Jaric replied while deep in thought. "The Grand Dining Room is for entertaining, and the other one is for family gatherings.” "He considers us special, huh?" Pari smiled. "Look at it another way," Kitt replied. "He doesn't consider us family." "I don't understand why he asks us to dress." Her teasing glance darted between them. "I mean does he expect us to come naked?" "Pari," Jaric said, "dressing for dinner means… don't wear blue jeans." Pari frowned at him. "You spoiled, rotten jackass, I was making a joke! For your information, instead of living in the lap of luxury my whole life, I’ve had to claw my way up the ladder of success. If by some chance I don’t know what ‘dress for dinner’ means it’s because I’ve had my mind on other things like my college education." "My dear, this you would have learned in your high school etiquette class." "Why, you bastard!" She lifted her hand to slap him. He caught her hand, and spoke in a seductive tone. "Let's save the bites and scratches for later, shall we?" “In your dreams, Romeo!” She swatted at Jaric’s hand when he slapped her backside as she flounced away. Turning to Kitt, he spoke under his breath as they watched her seductive wiggle. "Cute little whore, isn't she?" "If you care for her, how can you call her that?" "Care for her? Me? Oh, no. You know me. I’m a love ‘em and leave ‘em kind of guy. Here today, gone tomorrow." "You bastard," Kitt muttered under his breath as he watched Jaric saunter into the bedroom. ****

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Kitt hung back a few feet as the two others stepped cautiously up the wide steps of the mansion. He wasn’t looking forward to this evening, and made a mental note to stay alert. His father was tricky, and he needed to stay focused. The three of them had just approached the door when suddenly it swung wide, appearing to open on its own. Walking in, they looked around the cavernous foyer before they saw the small face of Weems peeking out from behind the massive door. The little man moved briskly to close it seconds before he indicated with a gracious hand toward the library. "Follow me, please." Weems ushered them into a warmly lit room, and announced, “Your guests, sir.” Boris was sitting at his desk looking over some papers that looked like computer print outs. At his side was a drink, and a lit cigarette was resting in the groove of an ashtray. At the sound of Weems’ voice, he looked up, and then down at his watch. With a flurry of movement, he closed a folder, put it in the center drawer of his desk, and turned the key to lock it. "Thank you for being prompt," he said, his graveled voice barely above a whisper. "Weems, tell Sarah we'll be coming in—” He turned back to his guests. “—that is unless you would prefer to have a drink first." “Let’s get this over as quick as possible,” Kitt muttered to Jaric. Leaving the others behind, he headed toward the dining room. “Kitt, please,” Boris rasped. “Aren’t you going to introduce me?” “I believe you’ve already met,” Kitt said heatedly. “Or have you forgotten? The cottage, father. You attacked her. Don’t tell me you’re getting so old you’re forgetting things.” “I only meant a formal introduction.” He scowled at Kitt. “I do hope we can get through dinner without any of your barbarics.” “Look,” Kitt growled, “we just want to get this evening over with. May we go in to dinner now?” “Be my guest,” Boris replied, watching them turn and head toward the dining room. “But—” His eyes glittered with manic sparkle. “—I would like to have one word with the young lady, if I might.” This brought the three to a halt. Each one turned and looked at Boris, paused for a moment and looked uncomfortably at each other, exchanging vigilant glances.

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Seeing their hesitation, Boris rasped, "I assure you, she'll be perfectly all right." “No ripping of clothes... that sort of thing?” “Kitt, please. Conduct yourself in a civil manner.” “After your award-winning performance in the cottage? No way in...” “Kitt,” Jaric said, restraining him with a hand on his arm. With his jaw clenched, Kitt turned to Pari. “It’s up to you, but if you want my advice...” “I’m sure I’ll be fine,” Pari said with a forced smile. “You go ahead. I’ll… we’ll be right behind you.” The brothers reluctantly walked into the dining room, looking back with curious glances. When they passed out of sight, Boris turned to Pari. "My dear, I hope you’ll forgive me, I have a throat condition, and can’t speak much above a whisper.” “Yes, I’m aware of your condition.” “I found out just the other day that you were Kitt's lawyer. Is that true?" "Yes," she said. "And a very good one if popular opinion means anything." "Thank you." "Yes, Jaric tried to convince me you were a history buff. You know, family trees and all that hogwash." Pari was uncomfortable not knowing what repercussions would come from their intended deception. "Tell me, Ms. Sisco, where did you go to law school?" "Harvard." "Harvard. Well, I'm very impressed." Looking at her closely, he continued in his wheezing tone. "Did you have any trouble passing the bar?" "No," she frowned at his questions. "Why?" Ignoring her question, his eyes boldly raked over her from head to toe. "No reason. Actually I only wanted a chance to apologize for the way I treated you this afternoon, and for the things I said. I hope you can forgive a stupid old man. I'd like us to be friends if that's possible." “Forgiveness doesn’t come easy, Mr. Rogan. I’m still shaking from that experience.”

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“Yes, I can certainly understand that. I was angry at my sons, actually, and I’m afraid you were caught in the crossfire.” “Well, I’ll try not to let our first meeting color my opinion of you. Of course you’re forgiven.” “How very encouraging, my dear." He put out his arm and she took it. Before he moved them away, his eyes took a furtive and hungry plunge into the low neckline of her dress. "Shall we join the others?" A soft smile graced Pari's face when Boris gallantly pulled her chair out for her and she thanked him. Jaric and Kitt exchanged curious glances, knowing their father was up to something. When Boris was seated and everyone was comfortable, he rang the dinner bell and the meal was served. It went well, and Boris proved to be a very charming host. After dessert, he led them back into the study, and when everyone but Kitt had their drink in hand, he took a letter opener and rapped on his glass. “An announcement, if you will.” The three of them turned toward him in unison. "I'd like to welcome you all to the mansion. You won't be returning to the cottage." As if on cue a soft burst sounded, and an orange glow lit up the room. Their attention was drawn to the study window. They rushed to it, and stood there in amazement. “You bastard!” Kitt growled, looking at his father who was sitting leisurely smoking his pipe. “Yes, Kitt?” Boris rasped, “You wanted to say something?” “Why?” Kitt whispered. “Don’t you know? Can’t you even guess, Kitt? I wanted you here, but knew you’d never consent to move into the mansion. Now you have no choice.” Having no answer, Kitt looked at him helplessly before turning back to the window. **** As soon as the fire went out, Kitt wandered out and looked at the smoking ruins of the cottage. He walked around aimlessly for a few

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moments before he spotted the family cemetery. He saw a small hill of dirt in the distance and slowly walked toward it. As he got closer, he saw that it was an open grave. The headstone was shiny and new with his name engraved on it. Kittain Salvatore Rogan 1977–2008 Looking at it, Kitt got a chill. Hearing the subtle crack of charred timber, he turned and saw his father approaching. "I suppose we'll have to re-fill the hole now," Boris said, looking at the darkness of the yawning void. "You’ll want to change the date too." Cutting his eyes over at his father, he added, "Unless you have something in mind." "Oh, I have a few plans, but nothing you have to worry about. I suppose you know the whole story, though, so I won't pretend I wasn't trying to get you out of the way. Surely you can understand why." "No, I'm afraid I don't. I'll never understand why a father wants to kill his own son." "Don’t stand there being so pious, Kitt. So I’m greedy. I have money, and I want to leave it to someone in the family. Not a dark-skinned little waif that came in the back door.” “You fucking bastard! Back door, front door, what does it matter? I know why you wanted me dead.” Kitt looked at the scar on his father’s face. “Where did you get the scar, father? Last time I saw you—“ “All right, so you know the truth. I cursed you when I saw you coming out of that club, but it turned out to be a convenient way to get rid of you.” “I’m so glad I could be there for you father.” “You just keep in mind that in view of your death, the case is closed, and money has been spent so the case will stay closed. Understand? I don’t know what you’ve got in mind, but if you come up out of the grave now, I’ll deny I ever knew you, and it’ll be your word against mine.” “And your money.” “You’re damn right.” “Sure, you can push me out of the picture, just like you did when I was a kid. You didn’t care how it felt… the rejection, the pain of not belonging.

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I’m as much a part of this stinking family as Jaric. Why can’t you let me in, father? Why, after all these years is it so important to continue to push me away?” “There's only one thing wrong with you, Kitt. You were born to a woman that has no place in the society of the elite. She was low, cheap, common." Kitt felt his neck prickle with fury. “She was good enough to warm your bed.” “Yes, she was that. God, she was beautiful. Gave a man a good ride.” “You’re talking about my mother. I think I’d watch my mouth, old man.” “Don’t tell me you haven’t had the same thoughts about the delectable Ms. Sisco.” Silence stretched between them. “Don’t try to deny it. You’d be lying, we both know that.” “My thoughts are my own business.” The old man chuckled. “You know, Kitt, I have to admit it. I like the way you talk up to me. Sometimes I can almost hear the bones shaking of those who fear me. Just once I’d like to find someone that’s not afraid… someone like you. You remind me of myself when I was your age.” “Hell, father, doesn’t that tell you something? Doesn’t it mean anything that I have your blood running through my veins?" "It’s contaminated, Kitt. You’re not a pure blood." "But I look like you, I walk like you, I talk like you, I have your business sense and—" He looked toward the mansion. "—I also like cheap little whores." Boris smiled as if he was amused. "Do you, now? Well, maybe you should add that to your resume." "Father, don't you see? I don't care about the money. Give it all to Jaric if you want. All I want is to be recognized by you as part of the family. You’ve never even shook my hand, slapped me on the back, or called me son." The moisture in Kitt’s eyes glittered in the moonlight as he looked at his father. "Would it be so hard?" The silence hung heavy while Boris lowered his head and studied his feet. Finally he lifted his eyes and contemptuously slid them toward him. "Yes, Kitt, I'm afraid it would." Casting him a hard-edged look, Boris turned and left his son in silence.

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The tears in Kitt's eyes crept silently down his cheeks as he felt the sting of rejection once again. Watching the back of the disappearing figure get swallowed up in the darkness, he vowed with clenched teeth, "You'll rue the day you ever said those words… old man." **** As soon as Pari was shown to the bedroom that was to be hers, she went to the closet, yanked the door open and found her clothes hanging there. She walked over to the chest, pulled out the first drawer and saw her lingerie folded up neatly. "He's sick," she muttered and walked back to the closet, grabbed her suitcase and tossed it on the bed. While throwing her things into it, Jaric walked in. "What are you doing?" he asked. "What do you think I'm doing? I'm leaving. I'm not staying in the same house with a crazy man. Burning down his own property, for God's sake. How do you know what he'll do next?" She continued opening drawers, pulling clothes down off hangers and throwing them in her suitcase. Jaric rushed over, grabbed her suitcase and began emptying it out. "Pari, he's okay. He's just a little eccentric, that's all. All rich people are eccentric. It's in the rule book, or something." "Eccentric, my Aunt Fanny. The word is crazy, Jaric. Crazy as in bdlbdbldblbdlbdbldbl,” she said, running her finger up and down over her mouth. **** Boris Rogan was in his room listening to the loud voices down the hall. "So the little beauty thinks I'm crazy, does she?" he rasped, leaning over his dresser and looking at himself in the mirror. The dim light distorted his features as his lips grimaced into an evil smile. "Wait until she finds out just how crazy."

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Chapter 9 Boris turned from the mirror, still hearing the raised voices. Leaving his room, he walked down the hall and quietly made an imposing appearance in Pari's doorway. The yelling suddenly ended when Pari looked up and saw him. Jaric turned around. "Come in, father." Boris looked at Pari. "May I?" "Of course." Boris walked in, his eyes fixed on Pari. "Leave us alone, Jaric." "But father, I…" Boris turned and yelled, "Get out!" Jaric glanced quickly at Pari before he turned and left reluctantly. Boris sauntered over slowly and closed the door. While keeping his eyes on Pari, he locked it. As he walked toward her, she began backing up, watching the scarred face as it came nearer and nearer. "You look frightened." Her voice trembled. "A little, maybe." "But why?" "I don't… know," she said, as she bumped the wall. "Do you think I'm going to hurt you?" "No, I guess not, but you do look capable." "Then it's my capability that frightens you." "It's your capability of… a lot of things." "If you mean sex, yes, I'm quite capable. In fact, that's what I wanted to talk to you about." "You want to talk about sex?" "I want to offer you a proposition." "Huh?"

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Boris lowered his eyes, scanning her body. “You're very, shall we say, soft looking, and curvaceous." Looking up at her, he added, "That, of course, will be for me." He looked down at her slim stomach, and hourglass figure. "I can also see that you're capable of carrying a child well." He looked up at her once more. "That, of course, would be for the child." "You are crazy," Pari said with a trembling voice. "Why do you say that? God picked a woman to bear His child. Was He crazy? Why am I any different? Whereas He wanted purity and goodness in His woman, I want beauty, brains—" He looked at her intimately, the tone of his voice, suggestive. "—and an insatiable lust for sex." His eyes roamed her body once again. "Yes, I should think a child would be very happy to live inside you and be nurtured by those wonderful breasts." "You have two sons and a daughter. Why would you want another child?" "My wife was sickly, and bore me a clod. Gilda Montorri bore me a nice, healthy, boy, but she was of low standing. I'm sure you can understand that I cannot let a governess’s child inherit my fortune, even if he is my own. And I certainly can't let a clod manage my estate." "What makes you think I could do any better?" "You're smart, beautiful, well educated, young, and—" He looked down her cleavage. "—quite healthy from all appearances. The son… or daughter you bear me will have the Rogan name of course and with both our brains I've no doubt the child will be a genius." "What about age? You can't leave a fortune to a baby!" "I'll simply give temporary custody of my estate to Kitt. Once the child comes of age, it will take over as my one and only heir. I'll leave Kitt and Jaric something, of course, but the bulk of the fortune and full control will be for the child." "And what do I get?" Pari said, challenging him. "You'll get a big chunk of my estate, and… me." "You?" "You'll have to become my wife, Ms. Sisco. I won't have another bastard child born into this family." "My God, I can’t believe the nerve you’ve got. Marry you?” Her voice softened almost to a whisper. “Mr. Rogan, you may be able to scare the living daylights out of those poor saps who call themselves men, and you

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may be able to buy off every judge, jury and police official on the eastern seaboard, but this lawyer is not for sale.” “So money is not the answer. Mmmm, what a shame. I didn’t want to have to do this, but now I must—please excuse my dramatics—bring out my big guns." “What the hell does that mean?” “It means, Ms. Sisco, that you will do as I ask, or be exposed for what you are.” “I know what I am, you bastard. I’m a lawyer, and a damned good one. With just one phone call I could have you arrested for bribery, and murder. With what I know I could put you away for the rest of your life. Now who holds the big guns?” “I’m sorry, but I can’t comment on that, it’s just too easy.” “I should have known you’d try to make something sexual out of it.” “And of course, you would know about sex, wouldn’t you?” “What do you mean?” “In my office I have a computer print out of your life. I have had a private investigator on your trail ever since I knew you were here. He has uncovered some very nasty things about you. Care to know what they are?” “There’s nothing about my life that I’m ashamed of.” “You love Kitt, don’t you?” “I… I…” “Of course you do. You wouldn’t want him to find out what kind of life you’ve led, would you? I mean, I’m sure you are aware of what kind of man Kitt is. He may be a wild sort, but when it comes to the woman of his choice, Kitt is a stickler for purity. I’m sure he’s aware that a woman of your age and experience isn’t a virgin, but still he has his principles and wouldn’t want to even touch a woman with a… disease shall we call it? A disease that controlled her so completely that it made her do dirty things like… sleep with strangers. Ms. Sisco, I happen to know that at one time in your life you indulged in prostitution. Not only to feed your nymphomania, but to pay your way through college. Now I can do one of two things with this information. I can tell Kitt, or with a few telephone calls I can ruin your career. Either way, Kitt will be lost to you.” “But you wouldn’t, surely.”

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“Don’t underestimate me, Ms. Sisco. I would do whatever it takes. Boris Rogan always gets his way.” “Mr. Rogan, please…” “I think you should call me Boris.” She began wringing her hands. "Do you know how much I hate you? I don’t only hate you for what you’re doing to me, but for everything you've ever done to Kitt. Pushing him away when he was a child, trying to kill him, and for rejecting him now." She turned and looked at him. “You’re right. I do love Kitt. Maybe I’ll never have him, but through you maybe I could get just a taste of what it would be like to be with him." She turned away again. "What I'm saying is, every time you make love to me, I'll think of Kitt." Tears began falling down her face. "Every time you kiss me, it'll be his lips on mine. Every time I look at you, it's his face I'll see." Wiping at the tears, she looked up at him. "If you can live with that, then I guess I have no choice." "I don't care if you see the devil himself in me," Boris rasped, his eyes boring into her. "All I want is your sex, goddammit, and the child." "I'll have your child, Mr. Rogan, but I’ll never love you." "Love is for starry-eyed teenagers, Ms. Sisco. We made a deal, and if you live up to your end, you'll be set for life." He looked around. "I'll get Weems to move all your things into my bedroom—" "No!" Pari cried. "No?" "I couldn't live with black curtains on the windows. If you want me, you'll come to me in this bedroom, or not at all." "Not an unreasonable request. Granted." He looked at her standing in the corner. "Now… how about getting out of that damned corner and begin earning all those millions that you will someday enjoy?" “Sure, why not,” she said. “Sleeping with you will be no different than sleeping with any one of the faceless creeps who left money on my night stand." “A bit more profitable, I would think,” he said, walking toward her while taking off his smoking jacket. Throwing it aside, he began unbuttoning his shirt and lowered his hands to the belt on his trousers. Standing before her with his clothes hanging, he rasped. "I'm very hungry,

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Ms. Sisco, and right now you look better to me than an inch-thick rib-eye steak." She turned her head away, but he grabbed her chin, turned it back toward him and smothered her lips with his. She struggled against him, her soft body bringing his cock to life, and turning the carnal flame inside him into a wildly leaping inferno. It had been so long since he’d had a woman like Pari, his movements became frenzied, his breathing, a lust-filled rasp. He could hear her whimpering in his ear as she responded to him, yet hated herself for it. It excited him to the point that he reached down and ripped at her panties and dug his fingers into her dripping cunt. Her hips moved against his probing fingers, her wet, fragrant breath scorching his ear. He lifted her off the floor, his hands pulling her legs up around his waist. He quickly carried her to the bed and brutally tore at her clothes until she lay naked before him, her clothes hanging loosely around her body. His eyes raked every inch of her as he frantically pulled at his own clothes, casting them aside one-by-one. And then at last his body lay hot against hers. He could feel his desire mounting as his twitching cock pushed against the protective cleft that guarded the entrance to her pulsing cunt. He cursed at the barrier. A moan caught in his throat as he pulled it roughly back and pressed the pulsing head of his cock into her juicy softness. Surge after surge of sinful desire rose in him, turning him to pure flame as he plunged into her forcefully, his movements becoming hard and savage. She arched her back and moaned while pressing her hips upward again and again, meeting his mad plunges. He’d known many women like Pari, and they all liked it rough. He knew that she loved every vile move he made on her body. He also knew that she was the type to hate herself for it, but while in the throes of passion, she still found herself raging upward, raw sensuousness transporting her to greater heights. He loved wringing the whimpers from her throat, and he loved the shame he knew she felt while her body continued to respond to his. When her actions too her beyond her control, she grasped him, clinging, bucking like a shutter in a storm. She bit her lips to stifle her outcries of delight, but they came anyway... unbidden and wild... like a bitch in heat, the passion burning up her body as it transported her into the sweet agony of release. While shaking violently, she went over the edge, her passion accompanied with the realization of

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what she’d done. The knowledge caused her to quickly turn her head away, but it was too late to keep Boris from seeing the guilty tears he had caused her to shed. The next morning Pari woke from a deep, satisfied sleep, but her happiness quickly dissolved when she looked over at Boris. Everything came back to her in a flash, causing a deep shame to color her face. “Oh, God, no,” she muttered while hearing Kitt’s voice echoing around the room. …if you ever crawl into my father's bed… it’s over! **** Later, as they all sat around the table at breakfast, Kitt watched both Pari and their father suspiciously, not exactly being sure what happened the night before. They all ate in silence for the most part, but when he saw Boris and Pari leave the dining room together, he turned and looked at Jaric. "Were you in Pari's room last night?" "No, I thought you were." "I went to talk to father last night and he wasn't in his room. When I passed Pari's room I thought I heard something, so I stopped and listened at her door. Jaric, there were noises. Nothing loud, just… noises." Jaric frowned. "I know what you're thinking, but you’re wrong." Hesitating for a moment, he cut his eyes over to Kitt. "She wouldn't… would she?" "She might, but what would be the reason? I mean, he almost raped her, for God’s sake. She was terrified." "Could it be money?" "Good question." Kitt stood up and began pacing while raking a hand through his hair. "I knew father was up to something, but I never dreamed Pari would… God, it’s too bizarre." Kitt turned toward Jaric. "Jaric, where does father go at night? You told me he goes out about three times a week. Do you know what he does… where he goes?" "You mean besides raping strippers? He conducts business at night because of his allergy to sun." "I thought he had a business manager that did most of that for him."

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"He does, but I guess there are just some things that Cliff can’t do. Besides, you know how father is. He always wants to keep his finger in everything." "But three times a week?" "Hell, man, I don't know. I just know he goes and observes hotel operations, examines the planes, looks at the books, and has meetings with his executives. He's always taking the 'copter out to different places." "When will he be going out again?" "Tonight." Kitt turned quickly and ran upstairs. He paused at Pari's door and heard voices. He couldn't tell what was being said, but he knew they were in there together. He turned and went into his own room, but kept a watch to see when Boris came out. When he saw him open the door and quietly move out, Kitt quickly left his room and met him in the hall. "Father, I've been thinking. You'll be going out again tonight. Would you like some company? I'd be happy to go along and lend you all the help and support I can." Boris moved to go around him. "It's not necessary. I can take care of everything myself." "But father—" Boris stopped and looked back at Kitt. "—don't you think I should be learning how to take care of things for you? You've been at this a long time. Now's the time to put it in someone else's hands. Someone younger, perhaps?" Boris smiled. "I can't die fast enough for you, can I, Kitt? Well don't dig my grave just yet, you young bastard, I've got a few things to do before I go." "Yeah?" Kitt asked. "Like what?" Boris glanced toward Pari's room, turned back to Kitt and said, "You're a smart boy, you figure it out." Watching him as he continued down the hall, Kitt finally turned and headed in the opposite direction. When he got to Pari's room, the door was ajar and he looked in. He saw her sitting on the bed crying. He approached the threshold and knocked on the open door. She jerked her head up. When she saw him she turned her head, trying to hide the tears as she wiped at

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them. Without invitation, he pushed the door open and walked in. He stood with his hand on the doorknob, watching her silently. "Do you want to tell me what's going on between you and father?" She looked embarrassed, buried her face in her hands and began sobbing again. "Oh, Kitt, I didn't want it to happen. It's just that he's such a strong man, and I'm so…" “Cheap… or maybe easy would apply. Am I right?” “And you’re such a saint, I suppose," she said angrily. "What can I say? He caught me at a weak moment, he—” "And what about Jaric? Did he also catch you at a weak moment?" "Kitt,” she said, hurrying to him and lifting her hand to stroke his face. “I know what you think of me, but it's you I really want." "Why?” he asked as he caught her hand and pushed it away. “Because I'm the only man you haven't had?" "Get your smutty hands off of me. You're dirty, and you smell like Boris Rogan." She began pulling him with her as she backed up toward the bed. "Take me, Kitt," she whispered. "I won't tell. It'll just be between you and me." He allowed himself to be pulled toward the bed. “Father just left the room, haven’t you had enough? Does it take more than one man to satisfy you?” His eyes roamed over her body. “I knew what you were the minute I smelled that cheap perfume. It was all over your hair, your clothes… even that stupid little card." "You want me, Kitt, you know you do.” He looked at the wildness of her hair, and the body he so longed to touch. "When you came into my cell, I knew you were trouble." "Then why don't you punish me for it?" she asked, giving him a heavylidded, sexy stare. "Mmmm?" He watched her as she lay back on the bed and invited him to lay beside her. "You're a goddamned witch, and you know it." She looked up at him with her lazy, slumberous eyes and pulled the sheer negligee away from her body. "Ever make it with a witch?" she whispered. He looked at the way the bed was mussed after her hot session with Boris. "If you think I'm getting into a bed that's still warm from Boris Rogan you're as crazy as he is."

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He turned and slammed out of the room, but the door bounced in the frame and he whirled around, seeing Pari’s reclining voluptuous body framed in the doorway. From where he stood, he saw her rise up on one arm and look at him with a malicious look on her face, her words dripping with venom. “Just you wait, Kitt Rogan,” she hissed. “You’ll have a weak moment. And when you do... I’ll be there!

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Chapter 10 The next day Boris stomped into the mansion in his usual stormy way and immediately instructed Weems to have everyone down in the study in fifteen minutes. He unwound the black cloth and hung it on the clothes tree along with his hat, coat and gloves. He proceeded into the study and walked around, adjusting the drapes to keep the light out before he turned on several lamps. Once he had transformed the cheery room to one of gloom, he poured himself a drink, and waited for the others as he paced thoughtfully before the fireplace. Minutes later they began trickling in slowly, curiosity written on their faces. Finally pulling his eyes away from the contents of his glass, Boris positioned himself behind his desk, then nodded to Weems to close the door. After making himself comfortable in the soft-leathered chair, he indicated a luxurious counter sparkling with chrome accents, and said, "Help yourselves to the bar and have a seat, please." By the time everyone was seated, a slight tension had spread throughout the room. Boris began by clearing his throat, and proceeded to speak in his usual raspy whisper. "I’ve brought you here because I have an announcement to make." “Another announcement,” Kitt muttered to Jaric, “I hope it’s better than the last one.” “Kitt, if you will refrain from your insolent remarks, I’ll get on with it.” The two men’s eyes met and lingered for a moment until Boris finally pulled away, took a deep breath, and turned to the other two, a frigid edge to his actions. “He’s doing it again.” Kitt growled. Boris’s stare shifted back toward Kitt. “If you have something to say, Kitt, say it loud enough for all of us to hear.” “I said, you friggin’ bastard, that you’re doing it again.” “What? What am I doing again?”

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“Pushing me out, ignoring me as if I don’t exist. The only way I could ever get any attention was by—” “Are you in this room?” “You know I am, old man.” “This is a family meeting and you’re here. Isn’t that enough? What more do you want?” “I’m here for a reason, old man, and you know it. I don’t know what this friggin’ announcement is, but I’d be willing to bet anything I own that I’m here only because it’s something you want me to hear. Otherwise, you wouldn’t care if I was here or not.” “Very astute, Kitt,” he said with a sinister sneer, his piercing eyes digging even deeper into Kitt as he leaned toward him. "The fact is Pari and I are getting married.” Jaric almost choked on his drink, and Kitt’s face drained of blood, an angry flame leaping in his eyes when he shifted them toward Pari. Boris’s lips stretched into an evil sneer when he saw Kitt’s reaction to his words. He then cut his gaze over at Pari, the beautiful little slut he was using to sink yet another knife into Kitt. He’d bought her for the paltry sum of a few million, and kept her with his threats of an expose’. She was merely a possession... a tarnished object to be thrown out with the garbage once he was finished with her. Yes, that’s all she was. A tool to be used to bring the rebellious Kitt Rogan to his knees. His only regret was that this kind of slow death wasn’t lethal. The best he could hope for was to drive Kitt totally insane so he would either take his own life, or kill the woman he loved. Even if he didn’t die, he would be totally incapable to serve in the capacity of heir to his fortune. With his money he could buy off any judge to say the words, but that wasn’t good enough. He wanted to torture him... to watch him squirm... to drive him to the very brink of insanity, and then have the pleasure of locking him up in some rat-infested asylum for the rest of his natural life. If he could just live long enough to see it. And he would. He had to. Even if he had to do it from the grave! Feeling the weight of Kitt’s angry glare, Pari turned to Boris. "Tell them everything." Delighted to pour a little salt into an already bleeding wound, Boris said, "To finish what I was saying... Pari and I love…"

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Pari lunged forward. "You lying bastard. I hate you, and you know it." She looked over at Jaric and Kitt. "It's nothing more than a business arrangement. He wants me to bear a child for him, and I told him I would for a portion of the estate." “You money-hungry little… There must be more to it than that.” “No. What… what else could there be?” “Is he holding something over your head? Something—” “Stop right there, Kitt,” she sobbed, “I don’t owe you any explanation." “You’re right, Pari, you don’t owe me a damned thing, but just answer one thing for me. What the hell happened to the strong, uncompromising lawyer who was willing to go to any lengths to help her clients? Since you’ve been here I’ve seen nothing but a sex-starved little tramp… a spineless little bitch that’s just as week and greedy as everyone else. What a friggin’ disappointment you are.” With that Kitt jumped up and raced toward the door, refusing to hear anymore. "Kitt!" Boris rasped as loud as he could. "I forbid you to leave this room. You'll stay until you hear everything, so sit down." Kitt whirled around. "I've heard all I want to hear, you dirty, pathetic old man. You bought Pari off just like you buy everyone else. A business deal, for God's sake. Another Kitt Rogan to bring into a house without any love. Another Kitt Rogan to hide in corners and wonder why he's left out of everything." His eyes darted to each of them. "Well, you can all jolly well go to hell, because I don’t intend to stick around to see it." Boris vaulted from his chair, and the yell that came out of his afflicted throat sounded more like a loud gurgle. "Kitt, I said sit down." As soon as he’d gotten the words out of his mouth, his hand flew up and clutched his throat. Kitt stopped in his tracks then whirled around to face Boris. The two men stared each other down until Kitt finally challenged him, his voice low and ominous. "If I'm not your son, why should I have to do anything you say?" The room was heavy with silence. "Well, am I?” Kitt yelled, stepping forward and leaning over the desk. “Am I your son, or not?" Boris struggled in his silence, his face, his whole body trembling with rage.

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"You can't even say it, can you?" Kitt shouted. “Say it, dammit! If I'm your son, say it, you old bastard!" Boris sprang forward. "You young bull, don't you talk to me that way!" "I'll talk to you any damn way I please until you admit that I'm your son!" "I've never denied that you are the son of my body." "The son of your body? What the hell does that mean?" "He means you were conceived in lust, not love," Jaric replied softly, looking somberly down into his drink. Kitt’s eyes shifted to Boris. "Is that true, father?” Not waiting for an answer, he continued. “If it is, Jaric is also a son of your body, because you’ve never loved anyone in your life, old man." Kitt’s eyes narrowed. "You don’t even know the meaning of the word." "That's entirely possible, but nevertheless, I'd like you to stay." The old man’s eyes challenged Kitt. "Will you?" “No. Why the hell should I? I’m not wanted. You’ve made that painfully clear.” “That’s right,” Boris wheezed, lashing out at Kitt in a flood of rage. “Walk out the door. No one wants you. I was crazy to ask you to stay. You’ll never change. Every time a problem licks at your heels, you run away. You’ve been doing it all your life, and you’ll continue to do it until you die. You’re not my son. My son would stay and face his problems and conquer them. But your answer to every problem is to run away. Isn’t that right, Kitt? To walk away as if it doesn’t exist? My, what a man you are! Problems arise, you turn your back on them. Yes, I can see how that would be tempting. But, Kitt, one day you’re going to have to quit running and face your demons.” “The only demon I know is you.” Boris emitted a sinister chuckle. “Then face me, Kitt. Face me, and win. Roll over the old man and show the world what a man you are. No one has ever bested Boris Rogan. You be the first. I dare you. I challenge you to a duel of wits, Kitt. Only one will come out the winner. Who will it be? Boris Rogan, or his bastard son, Kitt?” “You’ve got yourself a challenge, old man. I’ll stay and face the demon with the blackest heart… my father. I'll stay and listen to the sounds that come out of Pari's room at night. I'll stay and see her grow big with my

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father's child, but most of all, you pathetic old bastard, I'll stay to see you DIE!" Boris was jolted at Kitt’s last few words. "Well," Boris began, his words being forced through twitching lips, "I hope I don't disappoint you." His eyes followed Kitt as he took his seat, both working hard to get their emotions in check. Finally managing to pull his eyes from his oldest son, he continued. "Very soon now you will all see our yard filled with landscapers. I've done some checking, and they assure me they can have the lawn done in three weeks." He glanced down at a calendar. "The wedding will take place on Saturday the 28th at—" "Landscapers? You're having the wedding on the lawn?" Jaric frowned. "What about your problem?" "If you will let me finish, Jaric, I was going to say Saturday at midnight." Pari's eyes widened. "At midnight? My God, who gets married at midnight?" "Pari, you know I have to avoid the sun, and midnight is a magic hour." "For witches and vampires maybe," Pari retorted. "Why can’t we have it inside?" “Inside? But you said that you loved garden weddings. I’m only trying to…” The disappointment on her face caused him to pause. “I’m sorry if you’re unhappy. I was only trying to bring a little romance into our arrangement. A wedding in a moonlit garden. Isn’t that romantic?" "I suppose." Boris’s eyes skipped over each of them. "I knew this wouldn't be an easy family meeting, but I did expect a little more cooperation." He looked back at Pari. "Especially from you, my dear." "But midnight, Boris." Slamming his fist down on the desk, he shouted, “I am the head of this family, am I not? And as such I make the decisions, and expect you to abide by them." Again the pain of lifting his voice above a whisper showed on his face, and he grasped at his throat. “If I—” cough “—manage to get through this meeting without—” cough “—ripping my throat out it will be a miracle.” While rubbing his throat, he glanced at Pari and said, "You will contact your employer and tender your resignation. Is that clear?" "What? Why can't I just take a leave of absence?"

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"You will resign," Boris wheezed. "But father,” Kitt said, speaking up in her defense, “Pari has a career—" "I think we've heard quite enough from you, Kitt." Kitt’s anger jumped into his throat and almost choked him. “You made me stay here only to be rebuffed? You bastard. You did it intentionally. You knew—” Interrupting Kitt’s outburst, he looked at Jaric. "Jaric, you've been very quiet. What do you think? Am I being unusually cruel to ask Pari to resign her position?" "Father," Jaric began, "women today—" "Ah, yes, women today," he repeated, his glance darting from one to the other. "You don't think I'm being cruel, just archaic. Well, for your information I'm not being cruel, or archaic to expect Pari to stay home and take care of her body, rest, and have a healthy child. I can remember back when a man was considered thoughtful to expect his wife to do that." Pari quickly stood and took Boris' arm. "Boris is right,” she said. “I'll talk to Clate. I’m sure we can work something out." “Throw your career away?” Jaric asked. “Why? You’re not even pregnant yet.” Kitt’s eyes slid toward his father. “Father’s in a hurry, Jaric,” he said, leaning forward in his chair. “You can’t kill me, so you have to hurry and have a child before you die, is that it? A child to leave your fortune to?” Hate etched Kitt’s face. “Wake up, Father, you’re not in your prime anymore. I doubt you can even father a child.” “That just proves how young you are. Anyone that’s not thirtysomething should be turned out to pasture, right?” Knowing Kitt was watching him, he pulled Pari to him. "Well, boys, I’m not over the hill yet. The satisfaction you see in Pari’s eyes will testify to that.” As Boris began to fondle her, the room became silent, and heavy with intimacy. Kitt and Jaric’s eyes met and spoke volumes before they both turned and strode toward the door. "Sit down Kitt!" Boris rasped loudly, still looking down at Pari. "I'll tell you when you can leave." Kitt stopped in mid stride, and turned, seeing him blatantly making love to Pari in front of him. The old man was silent as he occasionally cut his eyes toward Kitt to make sure he was watching. Finally, when Pari began

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crying out with pleasure, Boris said, "You may leave now, and please lock the door on your way out." **** Kitt hurried toward his room and began to pace, not knowing what to do next. His anger seemed to possess him in such a way he could easily kill. He couldn't stand the thought of anyone touching Pari, much less his father. He knew she was nothing but a little tramp, but she seemed different somehow. Not like the rest. She’d entered his life like a disease. A disease he’d become infected with. He knew there wasn’t any cure, and would never be until the moment he had her beneath him. His hot arousal jumped at the thought, and his eyes closed, seeing her, feeling her respond to him as he thrust, again and again. He felt a thrill leap up inside him. His breathing became ragged, and when his hand drifted down to his front of his jeans, he knew he had to get control of himself. Giving his head a good shake to clear these thoughts, he knew what he had to do. He sat down on the side of the bed and picked up the phone book. "Philo Benedict," he muttered to himself as he flipped through the pages. Then finding the right page, he traced his finger down the listing while he kept repeating, "B, b, b, b-e… b-e-n…" Finally anchoring his finger on a name, he whispered, "Great." Memorizing the number, he threw the book aside, picked up the phone and punched the number in on the keypad. The phone rang several times before a young voice answered. "Mr. Benedict's office." "Yes," Kitt responded quickly. "Is Mr. Benedict in? This is Kitt Rogan. He does work for my father." "Oh yes, Mr. Rogan, let me get him for you." Mr. Benedict answered immediately. "Kitt, my boy, how are you doing? What is all this malarkey about you being dead? I almost swallowed my teeth when I heard the news." "A case of mistaken identity, from what I understand, Philo. Father took care of it." "Good old Boris. Knows just how to get to the bottom of things, doesn't he?"

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"Philo—” Kitt’s voice dropped down to little more than a whisper. “— I'd like you to run a background check on someone. Could you do that for me?" "Son, I could run a background check on the devil himself. Is that all you need?" "For now, but I don't want anyone to know about this. Keep it strictly confidential, okay?” “Sure, I get the idea.” “I don’t know how many details I can give you. I don't know much about her past." "Well, son, if you did, you wouldn't need me, right? Actually, it doesn't take much. Let's start with the name." "The name is Pari Sisco. P-a-r-i. You know, like Paris except leave off the s." “Pari Sisco from Macon, Georgia?” “Yes, how did you know?” “Your father had me check her out very recently. I put a rush on it. Urgent, he said it was. I got the report back to him… I think it was two days ago.” “Father had you…” “Yes. Your father should have the report. I’m surprised you didn’t know.” Kitt became lost in his thoughts and a thick silence fell for a quick moment. “By the way, how is your father? I haven't seen the old coot in ages, it seems." "He's fine." "His health?" Philo’s question flooded Kitt’s mind with hellish pictures of what Pari and his father were doing in the study. “It’s… un… unusually good." "Give him my best, would you?" Kitt hung up, his large hands closing over the phone in a vise-like grip. It took all his control to keep from ripping it out of the wall as the obscene pictures of Boris and Pari became unleashed in his mind. He quickly turned and ran down the stairs to the study. He expected to see the door still shut, but it was open, and no one was around. He walked to the door, and just

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before entering he looked around, his gaze jumping from corner to corner to make sure no one was there. With a quick movement, he stepped into the room and closed the door. His eyes shifted to the desk where he knew the print out was. It took him back to the evening they came to dinner. He had seen his father reading a print out, and then locking it up when they arrived. The middle drawer, he thought to himself as he began to move toward the desk. His feet stealthily moved around the desk until his eyes anchored on the middle drawer. Picking up a letter opener, he sat down in the softly squeaking chair and began to jimmie the lock. It took long moments and many twists and turns until it was done, and a resounding ‘click’ was heard. He slowly opened the draw and took out the folder. Kitt read for hours it seemed, his breath catching in his throat at every new sentence. By the time he was through, he lifted his head, and uttered, “My God.” **** That night at dinner, Pari’s eyes kept cutting toward Kitt, watching the muscle in his jaw tense as he clenched his teeth. She had deliberately played up to Boris, trying hard to make Kitt jealous, yet he seemed determined to ignore her. When the meal was finally over, he threw his napkin down and couldn't get out fast enough. Pari was worried. Kitt wasn't acting like himself, and chills went up her spine when she remembered the way he had looked at her. She could almost feel the daggers he shot at her with his eyes. She wanted to talk to him, but could never get him alone. She had to explain about the money… about everything. The money wasn’t for her, at least not all of it. Her parents needed that money. As for the other thing, dear God, nobody understood. She had to have money and selling her body was the only way she knew to get it. She’d tried other things, but they just didn’t pay enough. She knew it was a risk, but sex for sale seemed like the perfect solution. When it was over she’d thought it was all behind her… buried in a deep dark place where no one would ever find it. Who would have guessed that the information would get into the wrong hands, causing her to lose the only man she could ever love?

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Staring at the door Kitt had passed through, she took a deep breath, smiled at Boris, and excused herself, telling him she wanted to freshen up after dinner. She hurried out of the dining room just in time to see him go into the study. She was about to follow when she heard a noise and stepped back into a shadow. It was Boris heading for the study, and his after-dinner drink. The door was left open, so she crept up as close as she could to hear their conversation. **** Kitt stood at the bar making himself a stiff drink, looking down into the smooth amber liquid as he poured it. He heard his father come into the room and lifted his drink, but didn’t touch the glass to his lips. He frowned down into the liquid as if he could find the answer to his torment there. "She's a tramp, Father, why would you want to marry her?" Boris grinned, and looked over at his son. "Are you so pure, Kitt?" "No, of course not, but…" Sitting down in his big leather chair, Boris reached for his pipe. "Then why are you acting so self-righteous all of a sudden?" Kitt turned, watching him get comfortable in his favorite chair. "But Father, she's nothing but a whore. Why would you want a woman like that to bear you a child?" "As a matter of fact, she's exactly what I want. I'm not like most men, I guess." He began filling his pipe. “I suppose most men want an innocent looking Madonna to be the mother of their children, but not me." Putting the pipe into his mouth, he struck a match and held it to the bowl when suddenly his movements stopped. With a thoughtful gaze he looked down at the neglected flame, the flickering blaze glinting in his eyes. "No,” he rasped, slowly removing the pipe from his mouth. “I don't want some dog of a woman in my bed that I have to force myself to lay down with night after night." His attention came back to the flame and his lips pursed around the pipe stem as he drew the fire down into the bowl. The pungent odor of smoldering pipe tobacco filled the room and a thick cloud of smoke escaped from his mouth as he continued. "I want a beautiful, delicious, juicy woman that will keep me happy as well as give my child beauty and brains, and a

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healthy appetite for the world." He shook the match out amid the thick smoke before he tossed it into an ash tray. "We're a special breed," he added as he leaned his head back and puffed on the pipe. "The Rogan men, I mean." Kitt turned, sloshing the liquid as he banged his drink down on the bar. "God, why do I feel like I'm being ripped apart?" "It's your sense of decency struggling with your basic lust for the kind of woman Pari is. I mean, look at her for God's sake. She's beautiful, smart, and always willing. What more could a man want?" "Then it's not Pari I want, just her type. Is that what you’re saying, father?" "Who knows, Kitt? But as long as that lust has you by the tail and not by the heart, don't worry. Lust after her, take her every time you get the chance, but never marry her." "Hell, father, that doesn’t make sense. Your wedding is…" "Kitt, the only reason I'm marrying Pari is to give the child a name. I don't want another bastard born into this family." "One's enough, huh?" Kitt spat out while grabbing his glass from off the bar. He quickly upended it, drank the scorching liquid down in one gulp, slammed the glass down and banged out of the room. "Yes," Boris muttered as Kitt slammed out. “One is quite enough." **** Kitt passed so close to her she could smell his aftershave, and feel the small breeze his rushing body made. Instead of calling out to him, she stayed within the shadows of the foyer a moment longer, tears creeping down her cheeks. Their words had made all the unhappy memories of her childhood came back to her. She put her hands up to her ears trying to keep from hearing the words attacking her from every side. Tramp! Whore! Slut! Trash! She shook her head, trying to dislodge the pictures that insisted on pushing themselves forward. Would she ever escape the name-calling? Just because she liked… no craved the touch of men, she was punished. She couldn't help it, the doctor said so right before he… People talked, and word spread quickly. She thought about the men that knew what she was. They came after her, not the other way around. She

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sadly thought back on how she had shamed her family and felt an embarrassed flush climb up her neck. She’d studied hard and went through law school, determined to make something of herself so they could be proud of her. But no matter how hard she tried, no matter how good her grades were it seemed the only thing anyone could remember was what she’d been. There was no escaping the past, no changing, no climbing out of the gutter. She was a tramp, and a tramp she’d always be. With a hurting in her soul, she lifted her trembling hand and wiped the tears away. "Well, if that's what everyone thinks I am, that's what I'll be." She burst out of the shadows and ran upstairs. Now that she knew what he thought of her… what they all thought of her…she didn't care anymore. She'd do anything she could to get him. After all, what did she have to lose, her reputation? She at least had the advantage of knowing that he wanted her…that he was burning up inside for her. With that in mind, she was determined to have him…any way she could.

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Chapter 11 “You’ll learn more from those stock reports than you will coming with me,” Boris said to Kitt as he strode out of the study. Kitt sat looking down at a jumble of words and numbers that meant nothing to him. As he flipped through the pages, he could hear the soft murmur of Weems and his father in the foyer. “The car is here, sir.” “I won’t need those, Weems, it’s dark out.” “I see, sir. Then we can expect you back before the sun makes an appearance?” “I’ll only be gone a few hours.” “Very good, sir.” Kitt heard the door close softly. He had offered to go along, but instead Boris had settled him in the study to look at a stack of stock reports that looked to him like another language. Kitt knew that Boris was only trying to keep him out of his hair and didn’t give a rat’s ass if he looked them over or not, but still he sat behind the desk rustling the puzzling papers. He tried to make sense out of words he’d never heard before, and figures he didn’t understand. He couldn't seem to concentrate. Finally throwing the papers aside, he pulled himself out of the squeaking chair and strode over to the bar and fixed himself a drink. With the gin and tonic tinkling in his hand, he stood at the window gazing at the millions of stars that twinkled against the nighttime sky until his drink was down to nothing but ice. Looking into his empty glass, he considered fixing himself another, but instead, turned back to the dry stock reports. The figures didn’t look any more inviting now than they did earlier, so he muttered, "To hell with it, I'm going for a swim." After changing into his suit, he stopped by the kitchen for a cold glass of lemonade. While pouring it, he looked outside and saw Pari gliding effortlessly in the pool and gazed at her for a moment. She was so beautiful

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with the moonlight reflecting on her wet body, he could hardly move his eyes away. Finally, as if moving through a dream, he reached up in the cupboard and took out another glass and poured it full. When Pari saw him, she swam up. "I hope one of those is for me." "No, I just didn't want to go back in when I finished the first one." "Very funny," she said, pulling herself out of the pool. “Is the weather usually so warm this late in the season?” “No, but this year we’re having an Indian Summer.” “If I didn’t know better, I’d think I was still down south.” Kitt looked up at the clear sky. “Enjoy it while you can, the storms will start soon, and you’ll be wishing you had it all back.” “Too bad it has to end.” "I hope you like lemonade," he said as he indicated to her glass. "Love it," she said, smiling at him seductively. "It makes my lips pucker." He could hear the implication in her husky voice. "Give it a rest, Pari, I'm not interested." "I haven't met the man that's not interested." She took a drink, lowered her lids and looked over at him with mischief in her eyes. "Hey," she laughed, "why don't we spike these?" "Do what you want, but I'm keeping my head as long as you're anywhere around." "Oh?" she said, her lips pursing from the tart lemonade. "Big husky Tarzan afraid of little old Jane?" His gaze raked over her wet body, knowing it would be so easy to take her here, but instead he rasped, "Tarzan not in the mood." “Yeah?” she said with a saucy wink. “Jane can change that.” “Quit flirting, Pari. You’re terrible at it.” “I may be a little rusty. Haven’t done it in years.” “I find that hard to believe.” "What are you like when you're drunk?" she asked. "You don't want to know." She looked up, suddenly very interested. "Dangerous, huh?" He kept his eyes off her wet body. "You’ll never know." "God, you’re so prim and proper. Why the hell don’t you loosen up and do what you’ve wanted to do since we met?"

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"And why don't you go in and put a decent suit on?" "Oh, Kitt, you're such an old maid." His head jerked around. "What the hell did you call me?” With the movements of a jungle cat, he rose from his chair and turned toward her. “An old maid?” he asked. “Is that what you said?” “What if I did?” she said, as she slowly grew stiff with fear and backed away. “Say it again... I dare you.” Kitt saw a look of panic reflect in her eyes and loved it. “Kitt, what are you going to do?” She put her hand out. “Stay back, you bastard.” She just had time to put her glass down when he grabbed for her, quickly picked her up and threw her in the pool. “Get in there and cool the hell off, woman. And don’t come out until you can act and talk like a lady.” Pari came rushing up, wiping the water out of her eyes, and anchored her gaze on him standing at the pool’s edge with his hands on his hips. "My God, Kitt, do you have a license to carry that thing around?" He looked down at where her eyes were looking and saw his ample anatomy outlined against his swimming briefs. He leaned down and grabbed a towel, wrapping it around his waist. "I see you haven’t cooled off one bit. Apparently you're at your peak tonight." "If you mean my sexual peak, I don't get there for another few years." "Thanks for the warning. I'll make sure I'm nowhere around." "Coward!" "What the hell did you call me?" "A coward, you bum. Coward! Coward! Coward!" Kitt pulled the towel from around his waist and jumped in. “You’ll pay for that,” he yelled. Pari screamed when she saw him lunging for her and ducked under so he couldn’t see her. When she had been under for several seconds, he looked around. “Pari? Where are you?” He whirled around again and again, looking everywhere, the seconds stretching into minutes. A feeling of panic began growing inside him.

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While he was splashing around trying to find her, she rushed up out of the water in front of him and grabbed him around the neck. While pressing herself to him, she asked, breathing heavily, “Were you worried?” "Don't start, Pari, the moon's too damned full for this." She glanced up at the moon just before she slid her eyes back down to him and whispered, "It would be a shame to waste it. We're alone, Kitt. Jaric's in town, and Boris… well, who the hell knows where Boris is… or even cares?" Her legs lifted and wrapped around him. "Cut it out, Pari," he said. "Have you ever done it under water?" she whispered, her hot breath against his face. While hanging onto him, she fumbled with her bikini top until she got it untied, and it began floating away. "Oh, my God," Kitt mumbled as he looked down at her shining breasts, bouncing in the water. “Pari, stop right there. This is getting out of hand.” Looking steadily into his eyes, she whispered, “Really?” “Really,” he said, watching her other hand as it reached down and untied her bikini bottom until it went floating off. "God, Pari, you don't know what you're doing," he whispered, his voice becoming guttural. "I know exactly what I'm doing." She reached up and pulled his face down and kissed him deeply. Her hands pulled on his trunks and he pulled his lips away. He felt an electric charge when their eyes met. “Don’t do that,” he said. "I see the way you look at me, Kitt. You think I don't know, but I do. I know you want me, no matter how much you deny it." She was dynamite with her naked body rubbing up against him. He could feel himself getting hard, and there wasn't a thing he could do to stop it. He tried to push her away, but she held on tight. Before he knew it, they had somehow managed to get themselves into a dark, shadowy corner of the pool. Her open lips began to lightly graze his, her tongue mischievously reaching out and licking him. A blaze of desire flared into full flame inside him, and he opened his mouth to grab at it. Oh, God, how was he going to get out of this? Did he really want to? Her curves were seductively soft, and

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she fit so well in his arms. He was weakening, and he knew it. They both knew it. "Mmmmmm." Her voice became husky. "You taste so good, Kitt." Her legs clenched him, her hips moving... undulating... surging... heaving... rolling. Kitt moaned, and grabbed her, husky whimpers of delight escaping his throat. His lips blazed a trail across her face, tasting her, the chlorine water from the pool, a heady erotic elixir. He felt reckless as his tongue licked her face and sucked hungrily until he came to her ear. He plunged his tongue in, and she went wild. "Ohhhh God, Kitt! Ohhhhh!" In her passion she thrashed in his arms. He wanted nothing more than to tear at his own trunks and grind her against the wall of the pool when he looked up and saw Jaric walk out on the patio. It was like throwing ice water on him. He quickly pulled away from Pari, and ducked under water. “Where the hell is everybody,” Jaric yelled, strolling aimlessly out to the edge of the pool. Seeing something floating on the water, he stooped down and picked up Pari's bikini top. He examined it as it hung dripping and limp from one finger. "What the hell is this?" He looked up as Pari swam out of the shadow. "It's mine." "Well," Jaric said, looking at her and smiling, "looks like I got here just in time." He quickly removed his clothes, jumped in, and while they were in a clinch, Kitt sneaked out of the pool. **** While Boris was locked up in the study tending to paperwork, Pari stood on the balcony watching all the activity that was taking place on the grounds. Everywhere she looked, colorful flower petals, greenery, and pieces of ribbons were blowing across the grass in the breeze. She knew it would be beautiful once it was finished, but right now, quick-moving men were putting up decorations and lights on everything. The night would be lit up like magic, all the trees, shrubs, and even the beautiful flowered path for the bride to follow when she came down the aisle. The podium, as well as the arch over which the podium would stand, would also be lighted. It reminded Pari of a fairyland.

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Her gaze shifted and she noticed Kitt walking the grounds with a darkhaired woman. They stopped, turned, and faced each other. The woman looked up into his eyes flirtatiously. Pari felt a pang of green-eyed jealousy wrench her painfully. She knew that look all too well. It was the look of wanting. The look of love. Pari's eyes widened when she saw the girl reach up and kiss Kitt. But what was worse, Kitt responded by kissing her back. They talked a while longer until they reached her horse that was tied to a bush. They said a few words of goodbye, she mounted the mare and kicked it gently, causing it to turn. Her lovely body swayed on the saddle as she handled the animal like a pro. Kitt waved just before she turned and rode away, and then strolled back up to the mansion as if he had something on his mind. Pari turned and rushed to the head of the sprawling stairway. As Kitt approached the first step of the steep flight, he looked up and saw her. The awkward moment caused him to hang back, his stride becoming slow and unsure. Finally, as if making a firm decision, he made his way up while she made her way down. As they neared each other, their eyes locked and continued to hold until they at last met. Kitt looked at her coldly, and said, "Hello… mother." Pari ignored his remark. "Who is she?" "Who's who?" "You know who, dammit. The brunette with the horse." "Oh," Kitt replied, looking amused, "that was Lynette." "Lynette?" "Yes. Lynette Silvers. She's a friend." "She must be a pretty good friend." Pari reached up and rubbed her finger across his lips and held it up in front of his eyes. "She left her calling card." "So, mother. What do you intend to do? Ground me?" "Will you stop calling me that?" The amused look left Kitt’s face, replaced by one of irritation. "Well, isn't that what you're going to be? My friggin' mother?" "I don't want you to see her again." "Who?" "Who the hell do you think? The stupid bitch that wears too much lipstick."

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He clenched his teeth and spoke in a soft, grating tone. "I'll see any damned woman I want." He turned abruptly to go around her, but she stepped in front of him. "You were going to make love to me last night." "Love? Make love, did you say? My dear, love had nothing to do with it. It was raw, animalistic, and I felt as if I’d lost all my senses and tumbled down into the middle of hell. You were all over me like a batch of writhing, coupling snakes. I’ve never felt anything like it before, and hope to God I never do again. Last night I was out of my mind. I could have ravaged you until there was nothing left. A man can only feel that way if he’s sunk as low as he can get.” His eyes dropped, a hungry look in them as they raked shamelessly up and down her body. “You can believe me when I say that I’m staying as far away from you as possible. I have no desire to visit hell again." Unmoved by his words, she whispered suggestively, "There's no one here now." "Nice invitation, but I'll pass." "What in hell do you do when you get the urge, take a trip to see your lipstick queen?" "If I do, at least I don't have to take a number to get in her bed." His crushing words rang in her ears, crumpling her face in pain and quickly filling her eyes with tears. She said nothing, just lowered her head, turned, and went to her room. **** Kitt regretted the words as soon as they left his lips. His repentant eyes followed her, and his mouth opened to call her back, but nothing came out. He watched her close the door, knowing he had hurt her deeply. Pari stayed in her room all day. Every time Kitt passed her room he would look toward the closed door, waiting for it to open, but it never did, not even for dinner. Finally Boris came out of the study, went up to her room and brought her down to share a late supper with him. "What's wrong with you tonight, Pari, darling? You seem withdrawn." "It's nothing. I'm just tired, that's all." She sat back, fanning herself. "It's been so warm, I guess it's drained all the energy out of me."

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He reached up and felt her forehead. "You're not getting sick, are you?"" She pushed his hand away. "For God's sake, Boris, I'm tired, that's all." As soon as the words came out, she broke down and began crying. Boris looked at her, frowning. After thinking about it a moment, he said, "Oh, it's that time of the month, huh?" Pari looked up at him and began laughing. "Yeah, whatever." She stood up. "I'm going to bed." "I'll be up lat—" "Alone, Boris." "But Pari—" "Alone." Boris grabbed her arm and flung her around to face him. “I wonder if the answer would be no if Kitt were the one asking.” “You’ll never know, will you, Boris?” "All right,” he growled, “go to your bed. Cry over him. Kiss your pillow like a silly schoolgirl. Be with him in your pubescent dreams and satisfy yourself with whatever is handy while his face fills your imagination. I warn you now. That is all you’ll ever have of him, a ghost, a specter in the night!" His teeth clenched, and his eyes pierced hers with a dark look. "Just don't get used to it." Angrily jerking herself out of his tight clinch, Pari turned and walked quickly to the dining room door. When she rounded the arched entry, she ran right into Kitt, bumping herself fully against him. They both reached out, clinging to each other to keep from falling. When she realized who it was, she hung her head and tried to get around him as quickly as possible. "Excuse me," she muttered. “Pari,” Kitt whispered, intimately. The tone of his voice pierced her heart, and she struggled to get away, but Kitt's arms wouldn't give. “Kitt, please,” she said, looking up at him. "I'm sorry," he said in the same intimate tone. Tears filled her eyes again. She turned, trying to break away, but his hands still held her fast. "Let go, Kitt," she urged, too ashamed to look at him. "Yes, let go, Kitt." Both Pari and Kitt jerked around at the whispery, wheezing voice. "What's going on here?"

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"Nothing," Kitt said as his arms dropped to his side. "I was just apologizing for something I said to Pari this afternoon." Pari and Kitt exchanged knowing glances. "What was it?" When he encountered hesitation from both of them, he glared at Kitt angrily. "I want to know now." Seeing the fierce look on Boris's face, Pari quickly jumped between Kitt and Boris. "It was nothing, Boris. I'm embarrassed to even tell you, it was so silly." His eyes stabbed into hers. "Tell me." "He called me… uh, mother." She shrugged. "Now, I ask you, isn't that a silly thing to get upset about?" "It had better be nothing more than that." Boris looked from Pari to Kitt suspiciously. "I'm warning you both." **** Kitt was becoming increasingly edgy. Seeing Boris and Pari together night after night, hearing the cries, the moans that came out of her room was driving him to madness. He didn’t know if they were cries of passion or pain. He couldn’t leave the mansion, but he couldn’t stay. He refused to let his father know he was making his life miserable, so he endured the wolfish looks he gave Pari, and the filthy words he heard him whisper in her ears. His touch didn’t stay in the bedroom. He moaned his kisses and trailed his fingers down inside her blouse in front of anyone that happened to be around. He was a hedonistic bastard that took his pleasure whenever he wanted. Well, hell. Why did he care? She was no better than he. She probably deserved it. Maybe it turned her on. Who knew? And then one night he saw the look on Pari’s face when Boris whispered something dark and disgusting to her. That look made him want to take his father’s neck and squeeze the life out of him. He had to do something, but what? His chance came the next evening after dinner. Kitt invited Boris into the library for a drink. "What are we celebrating?" Boris asked. "Do we have to be celebrating something for a son to want to have a friendly drink with his father?"

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Boris teasingly lifted his drink up and looked at the contents. "Doesn’t have poison in it, does it?" "I hardly think so, since I'm drinking it, too." Boris glanced at Kitt suspiciously. "I don't trust you, Kitt. Do you want to know why?" "I'd love to know, father." "Because, you rascal, you're too much like me." Kitt cut his amused eyes over to his father. "Am I, really?" "You're clever and devious, and I have to watch you every minute." He laughed, shaking his head and frowning. "The best of the litter, and you have to be a damned bastard." The smile on Kitt's face vanished. He quickly turned away from his father, hurt deeply by his remark. But instead of letting Boris see how it affected him, he said nothing, and hurried to fill his father’s glass once again. As the evening wore on, their speech became slurred, their movements less coordinated, and they toasted everything from mom’s apple pie to the dark seams in women’s hosiery. “I’ll shoot him.” Boris slurred. “I’ll shoot the damned bastard that invented seamless pantyhose.” He looked around, his head bobbing drunkenly. “Where ish he? I’ll shoot the damned bashtard right between his fucking eyes.” After forever it seemed, the old grandfather clock finally bonged out the four o’clock hour. Kitt had watched his father the whole time, seeing him get drunker and drunker until he was at last out cold on the couch. He got up, walked over and began gently slapping his face. “Father,” Kitt said. “Father, wake up.” Boris lifted his bobbing head one more time, and slurred, “Where the hell ish he? I’ll deshtroy the bash…” The words faded when his head dropped heavily on the couch for the last time, and his glass fell from his hand, spilling the contents on the carpet. Satisfied that his father was at last dead drunk, Kitt picked up the glass and took it to the bar. He grabbed the bottle of gin, capped it and put it away before he emptied the contents of the second bottle and turned it upside down in the trash receptacle. Boris hadn’t known there were two bottles, one 86 proof, the other, only water. Kitt had been feeding his father straight gin,

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but filling his own glass from the bottle of water. The damning evidence at last put away, he walked over to the couch and pulled his father’s body forward, struggling to get him up and over his shoulder. When he finally succeeded, he carried him out by the fountain and carefully laid him down on the grass. Knowing full well what he was doing, he slowly began tugging at the old man’s clothes. Piece by piece, he tossed them aside, scattering them around the fountain. When he was through, he looked up at the sky. As each second passed... as each thump of his heart grew louder... as the wheeze of his father’s breath sounded in his ears... and as each drop of his blood turned to ice, he watched as the black sky turned slowly to blue. It was almost over. It was almost time for the scorching rays of the morning sun to make their long-awaited appearance. He looked down at the older version of himself and spoke softly, "You were right, father, I am like you. Right down to the dirty, rotten, stinking, killing core." Slowly Kitt rose, still looking down at the man he hated. Then he turned and went back inside and stood at the library window. Holding his first drink of the evening in his hand, he stood there and lifted the liquid poison to Boris in a toast. Then waited patiently… for the sun to rise.

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Chapter 12 In his delirium, Boris saw himself surrounded by flames. He felt like he was laying on a hot griddle and the devil was frying his flesh. He bucked and moaned, and cried out for help. His eyes sprang open and he looked directly into a giant ball of fire bearing down on him. The heat from it immediately blinded him, and his eyeballs began sizzling. He let out a gurgling yell that made Kitt jump. Kitt was sprawled on a chair in front of the library windows. When he heard his father’s tormented yell, the empty glass fell from his hands as he jerked his head up and looked around. Slowly he became oriented and the full realization of what was happening hit him. He sprang to life and turned quickly to the window. Before the unbelieving eyes, he saw his father lying naked in the hot sun, twisting on the ground like a live snake on a hot griddle. "Arrrrgggghhhhh!" the tormented voice cried out again and again. "Ohhhhhhhh, God!" The guttural screams kept getting worse. "Help me, somebody help me, I'm in hell!" Kitt looked up at the clock, as it began bonging out the nine o’clock hour. He looked out the window. Apparently the sun had been bearing down on Boris for hours, and now he was writhing in pain, lifting his rasping voice as loud as he could get it. Kitt began crying, his torment almost as loud as his fathers. His heart was being torn from his chest as he continued to stare out the library window watching his father squirming in the blazing sun. It took everything he had not to run out and relieve his torment. In desperation he finally turned his back on the terrible sight and grabbed the edge of the bar, grasping it so tightly it caused his knuckles to turn white. Every wheezing cry, every painful, gravelly yell dug into Kitt like a knife. Sweat began popping out on his face mingling with his tears, but he wouldn't move.

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You dirty crossbreed! Get under the sink... under the sink... under the sink! A rat’s nest is good enough for you, you filthy mongrel! The hurting words whirled above his head as he held on to the bar. He got a mental image of himself crouching in corners, looking through grates, waiting for his father to invite him in to be with the family. How many birthdays, Christmases, and Thanksgivings had he missed simply because Boris refused to recognize him as his son? And then there were the rare occasions when Boris took his family on outings, or gathered them all together for family portraits. If he managed to get in on it, he had to sneak in, standing on the fringes of the group. For a long time Kitt had thought that maybe he was different, not normal somehow. But as he got older and realized that wasn’t it, one question constantly whirled in his mind. Why did his father hate him? Not knowing the answer, he became rebellious, doing things just so his father would notice him. When his father was finally forced to confront Kitt, he would look at Kitt as if he were dirt on the carpet. Stand up, boy and look me in the eye. Don’t be a witless idiot all your life. Speak up. Only cowards stutter. But that’s what you are, isn’t it? A sniveling little coward, fit only to wash floors and toilets. The next thing Kitt knew, he was flung into the bathroom and locked in. And now here he stood, listening to his father’s tormented wails. Not being able to stand the sound one more minute, he slumped down in a chair and reached up, pressing his hands over each ear as hard as he could. But still the cries came. Pounding! Pounding! Pounding! Just when he thought they would never end they slowly began to melt into another voice that floated above his head. “Then face me, Kitt. Face me, and win. Roll over the old man and show the world what a man you are. No one has ever bested Boris Rogan. You be the first. I dare you. I challenge you to a duel of wits, Kitt. Only one will come out the winner. Who will it be? Boris Rogan, or his bastard son, Kitt?” When the voice finally faded away, Kitt’s head jerked up. The crying out had stopped. He raced to the window, but when he looked out he turned

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away quickly, not being able to accept what he saw. Had the body been smoking in the sun as he thought? Was it covered with red welts that made it appear as if his skin was literally coming to a raging boil? No! God, no! It couldn’t be! With this horrible picture stamped forever on his mind, Kitt felt his stomach begin to churn and clutched at his mouth. But it did no good. He leaned over the little sink at the bar and retched until he thought his insides were coming out. After a few minutes when his stomach had stopped its heaving, he breathed deeply and rubbed the sweat from his face. He slowly began moving, thinking of only one thing. At last it was over. The man that had been literally cooked in the sun was at last out of his misery. He turned slowly. He knew what he had to do, but could he do it? With one foot carefully placed in front of the other, he managed to get as far as the portico, and stopped. From there, he saw the man. The great Boris Rogan that looked more like refuse than a human being. Again, forcing one foot in front of the other, he walked down the steps and over to his father. He didn’t know what power moved him, but somehow he managed to pick Boris up, take him inside and lay him on the couch in the study. After getting him as comfortable as possible, he turned, and called the doctor. Like a good son. Kitt paced impatiently, downing one drink after the other. His head jerked up when the doctor had completed his examination, his unsmiling face telling the story. "There’s nothing more I can do for him until the ambulance gets here. I’ve covered him with ointment and bandages to keep him as comfortable as possible, but he’s going fast. If you’re a praying man, Kitt, pray that he dies and dies fast. He’s fried, right down to his eyeballs." "I don’t understand. He was out cold most of the time." "It doesn't matter. When he woke up, he looked straight up into the blazing hot sun, and with his sensitivity to it…" The concerned doctor looked at Kitt. “This must be hard on you. Are you sure you don’t want me to give you something? A sedative, maybe? You don’t look like you’ve slept all night.” Kitt shook his head and lifted his drink glass. “God, no. I’ve been drinking all morning. I wouldn’t want to mix anything with this. You’d have two dea—” Kitt caught himself and looked at the doctor. “God, I’m sorry. I don’t know what I’m saying.”

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“It’s okay, Kitt, I understand,” he said, squeezing his shoulder. “But the first chance you get, get some sleep. Doctor’s orders.” “Yeah, sure,” Kitt replied, feeling as jumpy as hell inside. **** When the ambulance finally came screeching up the drive, the noise woke Pari and she quickly got up and dressed. While running down the stairs, she became alarmed when she saw several white-clad men rushing around. Her heart jumped into her throat when a medic carrying a stretcher came out of the study with someone on it. She looked around wildly for Kitt. She remembered going to bed last night with both him and his father in the library drinking. Knowing how much they hated each other, she knew something must have happened to one of them. “Oh my God! Where’s Kitt!” she yelled, and then quickly heaved a sigh of relief when she saw him coming out of the study. She ran over to him. “Kitt, what’s wrong?” “It’s father, he… he got drunk and passed out by the fountain. The sun got to him. He’s in pretty bad shape.” “Oh, god, no,” she breathed. “Is he going to be all right?” “The doctor’s been here. He doesn’t give him much of a chance.” “Is there something I can…” Before she finished, one of the medics walked over and began talking to her. "Hi," he said. "My name's…" While he was talking, Kitt quickly pulled him away from Pari. "That's the sick one over there," he said, pointing toward the stretcher. "She's perfectly healthy." He looked her over and smiled. "She sure is." “I’d hate to have to report you,” Kitt said, a cold tone to his voice. “All right, all right,” the medic mumbled while going back to his work reluctantly. Kitt turned to Pari. “You want to do something? Then get the hell out of here with nothing on." She looked down at herself. "What do you mean nothing? I've got on shorts."

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"You've got a piece of material around your boobs, and another one around your hips! Your friggin' bikini covers more than that." "Fine. I'll go put that on." She whirled around, and he caught her arm. "Don't give me any trouble, Pari. The doctor says father is going fast. If he dies I've got to manage the estate at least until the will is read, and I don't need you making things worse." “You don’t say?” She angrily jerked her arm out of his hand, walked over to the desk and wrote something down on a piece of paper. With a defiant look she walked up to the medic and pushed it into his hand. Giving Kitt a go-to-hell glare, she went into the kitchen and made herself some toast and coffee. When the ambulance and crew were gone, Kitt walked into the kitchen and slapped the piece of paper down in front of her. "You go around giving out your telephone number to every man you see? Why the hell don't you just go into town and write it on the wall of every men's room you can find?" Ignoring him, she got up and put her coffee cup in the sink. Then she turned, her full lips shimmering with butter. "Maybe I will. With Boris gone, I've gotta get it somewhere, and you sure as hell aren't giving any away." With a rebellious twinkle in her eye, she bit off a piece of toast. Kitt’s teeth clenched in anger as he slapped her face, knocking the toast out of her hand. She glared at him. "You bastard." Her voice trembled on the verge of tears. "You can't treat me this way.” "Why the hell do you waste so much time in the courtroom, Pari? Why don’t you just hang a sign out. Whore for sale… cheap!" The words hit home, sending a shock through her. She raised her hand to slap him, but he caught it. “When I tell Boris—" "You won't be telling Boris anything for a long time, and in the meantime you answer to me. Is that clear?" With his face so close to hers, he could smell the toast and butter all over her. Her lips were shiny with oil, and there were tiny crumbs laying sensuously on her moist lips. She made his mouth water. He’d never wanted toast so bad in his life… toast, a la Pari. "What's happened to you, Kitt?" she whispered.

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"You mean besides suddenly having the responsibility of a multi-million dollar estate dumped in my lap? For starters, my mother was a cheap tramp, and my father an ugly, wheezing, killing tyrant that tried to do to me what I did to him." His eyes narrowed and his voice became low and ominous. "Like father, like son." "What do you mean?" "Get out your law books, counselor, I tried to kill my father last night." Pari's eyes widened. "You did… you did… that?" she asked, pointing toward the front. "No. I don’t believe you. You couldn’t. Boris might have been a tyrant, but you would never…” With her gaze looking deep into his, she whispered, “But why?" He looked at her with his blue eyes flashing. "Why does any man try to commit murder?” His eyes raked over her face tenderly, and his voice softened. “For a little whore that smells of butter and toast. For years of neglect. For a little waif that spent his whole life in a dark corner, wanting nothing more than to be loved. I did it for a lot of reasons.” A guilty silence filled the room. “I lost it, that's all." Then his expressive eyes dug deep into hers, and he whispered, "Like I did with you in the pool the other night." He glanced down at his watch. "I've got some calls to make." He turned and walked toward the door, stopped suddenly and looked at her. "Remember what I said. No trouble, or I'll turn you over my knee." "Why you miserable…" she began, defiantly putting her hands on her hips. "You'll do no such…" He turned abruptly and started walking toward her. Her eyes widened when she saw him coming, whirled around quickly and ran. He watched her run, a smile tugging at his lips. He turned to leave, but stopped when he caught a glimpse of the broken toast on the floor. Remembering her moist mouth he looked toward the door, the compelling smell of buttered toast still playing at his nostrils. **** When Jaric drove up into the drive, he noticed several items of clothing scattered around the lawn. Getting out of his car, he walked over and picked

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up someone's shorts while looking curiously at the other items lying around. Finally he skipped up the steps and walked in the front door. "Hey!" Jaric cried out. "I'm home!" He looked around the huge, spacious foyer then up into the winding staircase. Finding no one, he stretched his neck around several doorframes. When he heard footsteps, he looked up and saw Kitt. "Hey, bro, what's happenin'? I was beginning to think no one was home." "Where the hell have you been?" "Oh… around." "What's that you have there?" Jaric lifted up the shorts and let them hang from a couple of fingers. "You tell me. I found it lying on the lawn with some other clothes. It's getting to where every time I come into this house I find someone's discarded underwear. What the hell goes on when I'm not here?" "Have a drink with me in the study and I'll catch you up on a few things." **** A foreboding silence hung heavy over Kitt as he led Jaric into the study that would from now on be his office. He stepped up to the bar and began making their drinks while Jaric slumped down on the couch. With his back to Jaric, Kitt's face became shadowed. His eyes narrowed with cruelty as he contemplated the lie he was about to tell. It was a simple one, and had been well rehearsed in his mind. It was the lie he had told everyone, in fact, but Pari. To her he had told the truth. Why? Because he was testing her. In some twisted way he wanted to find out what he would do with the information. The lawyer side of her would coldly want to see a wrong put right, but the dirty little nymphomaniac would keep his secret… for a price. A cunning smile stretched his lips until he realized he was doing exactly as Boris would have done. He inwardly shook himself. What was happening to him? Was he becoming as cruel as Boris? Had the mantle been passed down? Was he truly… the tyrant’s son? He turned then, the ice clinking in the glasses as he moved. He pushed the glass toward Jaric, the shadow on his face gone, being replaced by a somber, but friendly and open look.

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Jaric sprawled in his chair, took the drink and looked at Kitt expectantly. Kitt leaned against the edge of the desk. "Jaric, father is in the hospital." Jaric lunged forward. "My God, what happened?" "He got drunk last night, stripped off naked, and collapsed on the front lawn. Those are his clothes you found. I think he intended to jump into the fountain, but he never made it." "He stayed there all night?" Kitt avoided the question by saying, "I brought him in about nine this morning and called the doctor." "What’d the doc say?" Kitt looked down into his drink. "He doesn't give him much of a chance. He needs a lot of care, and if father does recover he’ll be blind. The doctor said the sun fried his eyeballs." "My God, Kitt, this is awful." Kitt cut his eyes over to Jaric, and spoke with pretended concern. "You should have seen him, Jaric. His eyes were red and swollen, and his skin was becoming splotchy. He was literally turning red, and parts of his skin had started rising up in blisters, it was awful." Jaric looked up at Kitt. "What happens now?" Kitt shrugged. "I guess I'll just have to carry on in his place as best I can." "Thank God you were here, Kitt. I don't know how I would have managed if this had fell on me." "You don't have to worry about anything Jaric. I'll take care of everything." "Thanks, man. I appreciate it." Jaric rose from his chair and started to leave when he thought of something. Slowing his stride, he turned and said, "What about Pari? How is she taking this?" Kitt almost snickered, but managed to catch himself. "She's fine. A little shook up, but she'll be okay." "Have you thought about looking into father's will? You know he was planning to change it." "As a matter of fact I'm waiting for a call from Cliff right now. I don't really think we have anything to worry about. I believe father was waiting for Pari to become pregnant before he actually changed anything."

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Jaric smiled. "I knew you'd know how to handle things, bro." He turned and skipped out without a worry on his mind. “I’ll get a shower and see you later.” Kitt sat down at the desk looking daggers at his brother's departing back and mumbled, "What a friggin' clod he is." Just then the phone rang, and without taking his eyes off Jaric, he picked it up and put it to his ear. "Rogan residence, Kitt speaking." "Hello, Kitt, it's Lynette. I was hoping you would answer." "Sorry, Lynette, I have to keep this line open." He banged the phone down in her ear. "That broad leaves me cold," he murmured as he cut his eyes over to Pari who was standing barefoot in the doorway still clad in her short shorts. As his eyes moved over her body, he felt himself becoming aroused. "Why didn't you tell Jaric the truth?" "I told you the truth. What are you going to do about it?” “I don’t know yet.” "I thought I told you to put something else on." "What I wear is none of your business," she retorted. He said nothing, just rose up from his chair, and began walking toward her. Her eyes widened, remembering what he'd said earlier about turning her over his knee. "W-what are you going to do?" "If you won't take them off, I'll do it for you." Pari's eyes widened. "You wouldn't." "Oh, wouldn't I?" As he continued toward her, she began backing up. He quickly caught her arm, threw her down on the couch and grasped the waist of her shorts, jerking on them. Their eyes met and he stopped. "Don't stop, Kitt," she whispered, looking up into his feverish eyes. She took his hand and laid it on the little tie of her brief top. He gently pulled it, and saw the material fall away, exposing her breasts. Small beads of sweat began breaking out above his lip and on his forehead as he looked at them. Feeling an erotic fever burning him up inside, he slowly lowered his mouth and began drawing ecstatically. Moans and whimpers escaped his throat. He felt as if his insides were exploding with

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desire for her. "Oh, God," he whispered as he pressed his face into her soft, hot flesh. Brrrrriiiiiiinnnnnnggggg! Kitt jerked his head up from the feast of Pari's breasts. "Let it ring, Kitt. Don't stop, please." He pulled away from her. "I have to. I'm expecting some calls." Grabbing the phone, he said, "Rogan residence, Kitt speaking." "Kitt, it's Doctor Parker. Is something wrong? You sound like you’re out of breath." "No, I'm fine." "I'm afraid I have bad news, son." Kitt turned and sat on the edge of the desk, waiting for the doctor to continue. "Your father passed away about an hour ago." “Half an hour?” For some unknown reason Kitt looked down at his watch. It had been at least that long that he’d been feeling these strange sensations inside. What did it mean? "Yes. We spent a number of minutes trying to revive him. The ordeal he went through was just too much for him. He died of heart failure." Kitt was silent for several seconds, the pause heavy and dark. "What happens now?" "He’s in the hospital morgue now. I need to know what funeral home you want his body sent to." "Sorenson," Kitt replied without hesitation. "Sorenson?" the doctor repeated. "Yeah, the family has dealt with them for years. It’s out on Beckwith." "Okay. If you need anything, just call, okay?" "Yeah, thanks, doc." Kitt gently replaced the phone. After a short pause, he said with cold emotion, "Father's dead." He pushed himself away from the desk and began walking toward the door. "I've got to tell Jaric and the household staff." "Kitt," Pari called from the couch. "Don't you have some unfinished business to take care of?" Kitt stopped in his tracks, turned toward her and stared at her for several seconds. Then he shook his head in amazement while a baffled smile played along his lips. "Pari, I can’t believe you. The man you were going to marry

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has just died, and you're lining up your next bed partner? My God, woman, how cold can you get?" "Apparently not as cold as the person who's responsible for his death," she retorted. Kitt’s incredulous smile dropped quickly. He strode toward her hurriedly, clamped a rough hand on her arm and whispered, "You little bitch. Do you want someone to hear you? If you don't keep that mouth of yours shut I could go to jail for real this time, so forget it, do you hear? Just forget it." "Kitt… darling," she said with syrupy sweetness, "you have nothing to worry about. I don't want you to go to jail, I just want you to be nice to me." "You mean you want me to come to your bed." “You make the choice,” she whispered. "It's either my bed… or jail!" Kitt’s eyes gazed down at the winner of the contest… the nymphomaniac.

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Chapter 13 The day was dark and windy. A crowd of cars was parked in the Rogan driveway and along the street. A group of people stood in the family graveyard listening to a solemn-faced, black-clad minister expound on the virtues of a rich old tyrant in a satin-lined coffin held suspended over a gaping hole. Jaric seemed restless as the pastor droned on and on. Slowly the wind kicked up, rustling tree limbs and blowing dry leaves in circles on the ground. Jaric leaned close to Kitt and mumbled under his breath, "I wish to hell he would hurry up. There's a big black cloud over us that looks like it's bursting at the seams. I can just see us all being washed down this friggin' hill riding on the top of Father's coffin." "Jaric,” Kitt rasped, subtly glancing around to see if anyone had heard him. “Settle down, and keep that mouth of yours closed for God’s sake." All at once a loud clap of thunder rolled through the sky, and the minister looked up worriedly. Before the thunder finished its earth shaking sound, a rod of flickering light pierced the air and plunged down among the people, hitting the boards that were supporting the coffin. Gasps and screams filled the air, and the crowd backed away from the smoke that was rising in the air. Next came a loud crack and the boards supporting the box broke, sending the heavy coffin crashing into the hole. "The good Lord says bury the bastard!" the minister shouted just before he turned and began running. Everyone took their cue from the astute man of God, turned, and followed after him. The cloud finally burst and sheets of rain began falling. Umbrellas went up all over while the mourners scattered to their cars. The weather didn't allow for kind words or condolences, only frightened screams, and heavy footsteps splashing through already deep puddles.

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"Well, that's that," Kitt said grimly, looking out the study window with a newly lit cigarette hanging precariously out of his mouth. They watched as the heavy rain filled the gaping hole. "Looks like dear old dad's going to have to swim to the hereafter." Jaric was looking over Kitt’s shoulder at the depressing sight. "What about the will?" "Cliff is bringing it over this afternoon," Kitt said, dropping the drape, and then crossing to the bar. "Did he tell you if father had changed anything?" "He said there were plenty of ifs, ands, and buts, but basically it's the same." "What about Pari?" "Father did promise her a chunk of the estate." "For a few rolls in the hay? They sure as hell must have been some screamin' fu—" They looked up and saw her pausing in the doorway. "—uh, funny stuff. Yeah, funny as hell, Kitt, you ought to read it sometime." Jaric avoided Pari’s eyes, gulped his drink and slinked out of the room as quickly as possible. Kitt cast Pari an amused glance. "Don’t mind Jaric, he's always got his foot in his mouth." "I know all about Jaric, but you're a different matter altogether." Kitt glanced at her innocently. "Got a problem with me?" "A small one." "Fire away, sweetheart, I'm all ears." "It's getting very lonely in my bed, you bastard." Kitt gave her an easy smile. "Haven’t you guessed by now that your little amateurish attempt at blackmail isn’t going to work?" She laid her hand on the phone. "I could pick up the phone right now and…" Kitt’s smile vanished as he laid his hand over hers. "Pari, don't even try it. You're a lawyer. You know as well as I do it wouldn't work. It’s circumstantial, no eyewitnesses. Not even a murder weapon. Hell, the sun’s the killer. He got drunk and staggered out on the lawn and fell unconscious

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before he could jump into the fountain. The same thing happened to Jaric not two months ago.” “Who put him out there?” “Your word against mine, Pari. Hell, if need be I could buy off every authority on the eastern seaboard.” He reached up and tweaked her nose. “Don’t tangle with me, sweetheart, I’ve got money on my side and the Rogan name." “Now you’re beginning to sound like your father. Not very attractive, I must say.” Kitt challenged her. “Then why did you sleep with him?” Pari looked away quickly. “Answer me, dammit, if he was all that unattractive to you, why, Pari? For money? That makes you no better than…” “Shut up!” She slung the angry words at him while glaring defiantly, but the intensity of his eyes held her still. She snatched her hand away. "I wouldn’t have anyway. I guess you knew that." "Cliff Stanley is coming over this afternoon to read father's will." He watched for her reaction. "You're mentioned in it." "Me?" she said with a derisive laugh. "Why? Our little business arrangement didn't quite work out, did it?" "Nevertheless, Father would have wanted you to have it.” “I suppose,” she muttered, watching the blowing rain scatter the soggy decorations around on the ground. "Kitt, since Boris is gone there's really no reason for me to stay here any longer, so, as soon as the will is read I'm going to take the first plane back to Atlanta." He seemed wistful for a moment, but quickly pulled himself out of it. He crossed over to her, smiled, and put his hand out. "It's been a blast." She put her hand in his. "Remember the first time I offered my hand to you? You almost left it hanging." "A million years ago, wasn't it?" "A lot of water…" she began, but couldn’t go on. Then a pained expression crossed her face. "We could have had such a lovely affair. Who knew our relationship would amount to nothing more than a tired cliché." He lowered his eyes in silence; almost wishing he didn’t know as much about Pari as he did. Would their relationship have been different if he had never found those print outs? A woman like her brought out the raw side of

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a man. He could become obsessed with her, with her brand of love. A man lived to find a woman like her. Someone as lusty as he was, someone he could have anyway he chose. And she was slipping through his fingers. She moved to withdraw her hand from his, but he held it tight. When she looked up at him, their eyes met with longing. "I've learned a lot about you, Kitt." "Oh? And what's that?" "You're a man of few words, but you definitely know how to talk with your eyes." "I hope that's a compliment." "I don't get it. You look at me as if you could eat me up, yet you won't touch me. Why?" "You know my standards." "I haven't been with a man in more than a week, isn't that long enough?" "Jaric?" "That's past history, and Boris is dead for God's sake, what else do you want?" "I told you, dammit. I don't like numbers." "And I don't like brunettes with too much lipstick." While their eyes were locked in a conflict of desire, the doorbell rang. Kitt pulled himself away and went to the door himself, dismissing Weems. He ushered Cliff in, and introduced him first to Pari, and then Jaric when he finally sauntered in. While Cliff took his place in the chair behind the desk, Pari sat down, looking curiously at the thick mustache. Putting her hand up to her mouth, she leaned over to Kitt. "My God, I could brush my hair with that thing." "You couldn't pull a horse brush through that mane of yours." "Careful there," she purred, her glance darting toward him, “I’ve got claws.” “Meeeeoooowwww,” Kitt responded sarcastically. Cliff looked over at Kitt. “Ready to start?” “Oh… sure,” Kitt said, thinking they’d been caught talking in class. “Fine,” Cliff said, and continued. “The original will only stands if the circumstances haven't changed. The estate is broken up into thirds, one third and control of the Rogan Empire going to Kitt, the eldest son, and another

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third to Jaric, and the other to Monica.” He looked around. “Is Monica here?” “We don’t know where Monica is,” Kitt responded. Cliff’s eyebrows rose curiously, he paused for a moment and then went on. “There's nothing else except an additional clause added recently concerning Ms. Sisco. He looked down at the document and began reading. "To Pari Sisco, who has made my nights—" Cliff looked up embarrassed and smiled sheepishly. "This is the first X-rated will I've ever handled. I won't—" He squirmed uncomfortably in his chair. “—read it now, you can read it later if you want." His shifting eyes looked back down at the papers with a frown. "Anyway he leaves her three million dollars." He paused, his eyes searching the print before he went on. "Oh, yes, here's the part I was looking for. It's rather unusual, but in essence it says, if at the reading of this will, Ms. Sisco is pregnant, one half of the estate will go to the unborn child, and the rest divided up three ways. Kittain Salvatore Rogan is to have temporary control until the child becomes of age at which time he will then turn over full control to the child." Cliff looked at Pari timidly. "Are you pregnant, Ms. Sisco?" "No." "Well then, it automatically reverts back to the original will, and Kitt, being the oldest, is the controlling heir." Cliff pulled a pen out of his pocket and was about to hand it to Kitt when he remembered something. “Oh, yes… I… please excuse me, it seems I left something out.” Kitt and Jaric’s eyes darted to each other, wondering what their father could have added. “It seems that Ms. Sisco cannot inherit the three million unless she continues to live at the mansion for a full year.” Cliff lifted his eyes and saw the questioning looks from Kitt and Pari, but said nothing. “That’s it?” Kitt said. “She has to stay here a year? That’s ridiculous. For what reason?” “From what I understand, your father wanted to make sure that Ms. Sisco got the best of care—” “But that’s only if she’s pregnant. She just told you she isn’t.” Cliff shrugged. “I’m sorry, but he didn’t allow for that possibility, and she’s bound by the statutes of the will. She’ll have to remain here to collect the money. It was his intention to exchange the money for the child.”

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“My God,” Pari gasped, looking up at Kitt with a dazed look in her eyes. “He wanted to buy my child? He was insane. He’s made me a prisoner, Kitt. Do you understand? A prisoner.” She grabbed his arm. “Kitt, I need that money, but another year? Kitt, do something. You’re in control now. Contest the will.” “It’s okay,” he said. “We’ll work something out, I promise.” He turned back to Cliff. “Where do I sign?” The room was deathly still as the pen scratched out Kitt’s signature. He handed it back to Cliff with a forced smile that didn’t reach his eyes. Looking down at Kitt’s signature, Cliff opened his briefcase, laid the papers inside a folder, and clicked it shut. “I’ll take these back to the office, file them, have a copy made and send them to you through the mail.” He rose from his chair, walked around the desk and put his hand out to Kitt. "Well, that's over, so I guess I'll be going." "Cliff, you are going to stay on as legal counsel and business manager, aren't you?" "Sure, if you want me." Cliff's eyes drifted over to Pari. "I understand Ms. Sisco is an attorney." "Yes," Kitt responded, following Cliff’s eyes. "She practices in Georgia." "Kitt, I've been wondering. Do you think that maybe I could call—" Before he could get the words out, Kitt slapped Cliff on the back and began pushing him toward the door. "Too bad you have to leave, Cliff." "Wait a minute, I—" "I'll be in touch," Kitt said as he closed the front door in his face. Walking back into the study, Kitt saw Pari looking out the window and walked up behind her. Without turning around, she said, "So, have you decided what to do?” Kitt was silent for a moment, allowing the words to pierce the hush of the room. “You know, someone’s will is a very important document.” Pari turned to face Kitt. “Kitt, Boris was insane, and this request is unreasonable. We both know that.” His head was lowered as if he was thinking. Finally, he looked up at her like a little boy that had been bad. “I could force you to stay.” Her eyes widened. “You wouldn’t. For what reason?” He smiled. “You’re right. No valid reason.”

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She took a deep breath. “Have you figured out how you’re going to get around this insanity that only your father could think up?” Kitt rubbed his jaw. “Cliff holds a few of the purse strings, being our business manager. He’s pretty stiff-necked, and doesn’t like to break the rules, so I could never talk him into looking the other way and expending the funds to you. But I could write you a check on another account. That way you could leave with the money in your pocket. Cliff wouldn’t know anything about it." She breathed a little easier. “I would really appreciate it, Kitt. I don’t see that it’s such a big deal. After all, it isn’t much, considering what your father’s estate is worth.” "Surely you're not complaining." "No, I suppose not. Three million dollars for a few weeks work isn't bad." "Working on your back couldn't be that hard," Kitt responded sarcastically. "Are you starting that again?" she fumed. "I was trying to get pregnant." "Oh, sure, sure," he said, angling a look at her. "Well… if I enjoyed it, that was just… well, you know." "Oh, sure, I know." "Kitt Rogan, you make me so mad.” She started to slap him, but he grabbed her arm. "I believe I told you once that I don't enjoy being used as a punching bag." "Well, neither do I. I’ll remind you of that the next time you threaten to turn me over your knee and spank the hell out of me." "I'd be afraid to lay a finger on you, bitch, you'd think it was foreplay." "Ohhh!” she yelled, pulling herself out of his grasp. “I can’t wait to get out of this place!” Tossing her head in a saucy manner, she left the room. "Kitt, my boy, I do believe I'm going to have to give you a few lessons on how to woo the fairer sex." Kitt looked over at Jaric who was sitting on the couch with a drink. "Where the hell did you come from?" Jaric shrugged. “I live here. A third of the estate is mine, remember?" "Jaric,” Kitt asked, frowning. “How long has it been since you and Pari have been together?"

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"Just last night.” Kitt felt as if he’d been kicked in the stomach. She’d lied to him. The little witch had lied, and he had believed her. It would serve her right if he made her stay here and earn her keep like the slut she is. Kitt turned to Jaric. “Are you sure?” he asked. “Are you kidding? I wouldn’t forget a thing like that.” He looked at Kitt curiously. "Why?" "She said—” Kitt hesitated. “—I don’t know, something about not being with a man in a week.” “Pari? Don’t let her feed you that kind of bull. She couldn’t go without a man for a day, much less a week.” Kitt stood frozen, his fury rising with every second that passed. He should have known she’d lie to him. The little bitch couldn’t be trusted. Why had he let himself forget it? Jaric got up to walk out, slowed and turned. "Oh, by the way. Now that all this is over, I'm leaving for the land of ooh la la." Kitt pulled his thoughts away from Pari long to enough to say, "Oh yeah? And where is that?" "Paris," he said, smiling broadly. “I’m going to give those French gals a run for their money.” “Good luck,” Kitt said. “So you’re letting Pari leave, right? I mean, with that clause in the will?” “You heard her, she can’t wait to get away from me.” Jaric grinned. “You know, if you were smart, now that father’s out of the way, and I’m leaving for Paris, the field is clear. I mean, after all, everybody else in the house has had her. Now it’s your turn.” He winked meaningfully at Kitt before he turned and walked out. Sure, let’s just pass her around, Kitt thought as he went to the bar to fix himself a drink. As the ice tinkled lightly in the glass, he looked down into the cool amber liquid wondering why he couldn’t enjoy life the way Jaric could. Why was he so intense and serious all the time? A woman like Pari was ripe for the taking. She couldn’t help it. It was a disease the report had called Nymphomania. A woman willing and ready anytime. A decadent woman flooded with her own sexuality, and ready to share it.

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But that was the problem right there. Not the slightest bit of discipline in her life. She’s ready to share it with anyone. If he fucked her, it wouldn’t be special. He’d just be another faceless bastard eager to rub her itch. He knew why he agonized over her, if he’d only admit it. The little tramp was special to him, and he wanted to be special to her. Not just another nameless creep fawning after her, hoping to get the chance to stick it into that luscious little cunt and get the best ride of his life. Kitt. The voice echoed around the room in a rasping whisper. What the hell are you waiting for? Go ahead, get yourself a nice juicy piece of her. Kitt whirled around. “Who said that?” His glance darted around the room, but everything was silent. All he could hear was the hollow sound of the rain. **** After breakfast the next morning Kitt sat down at the desk in the study and began making out a check. After a whole night he was still fuming over Pari’s lies to him. His pen had just begun to swirl out his signature when he stopped. He just couldn’t let her get away with it. Taking the check in hand, he tore it up, letting the pieces float down to the blotter. He knew of only one way to make her pay for her sins. She was in her room packing, so he began a quick stride up the staircase and down the hall to her room. He stood silent for only a moment before he knocked softly. "Come in," she called out. Kitt stepped in. "I thought I'd come up and see if you needed any help." "As a matter of fact, I could use some help with this zipper." He walked up, turned her around and began tugging on it. He worked with it for a moment and finally got it free, sliding it all the way down her back, slowly. Kitt noticed she didn't have anything on underneath. His pulse began to pound, and heat hotter than any fire that hell could produce clenched his groin as he looked at her soft pale skin. He licked his lips. He could swear he was salivating. He couldn't resist reaching his hands into the shadowy opening and around her waist.

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**** Feeling his hands creeping around her, Pari leaned against him with her eyes closed. His breathing became ragged as one hand lowered to her abdomen and closed around her furry mound, while the other came up and began caressing her breasts. Pari leaned her head backwards, enjoying his lips along the soft curve of her neck. "Kitt, you know I want you, but don't start something you don't intend to finish." He didn't answer her, just dug his fingers into her juicy canal. "Ohhh God," she moaned as a lusty fire began to engulf her. She felt her dress slide off, and Kitt’s lips as he kissed her naked shoulders while pressing the bulk of his engorged cock against her firm little butt. "Before you go," he whispered, his breath tickling her ear. "How about a nice long, hot fuck?" Her eyes flew open. She jerked away from him and whirled around, holding her dress up in front of her. He came after her, but she ran. "What the hell are you running from? Isn't this what you've been wanting?" He quickly grabbed her and pulled her to him. Struggling in his grasp, she began crying, "Not like this, Kitt. This is cheap and dirty." "Cheap and dirty is the only way you know how to do it. It's the way you've lived your life, you little slut." "Why do you always say things to hurt me?” she sobbed. “Why?" "Why not? Whores can’t feel anything.” “Kitt, if your upset with me because of Boris—” “Before he died, father had a private investigator looking into your past. Know what he found out? You're a dirty little nympho, Pari. Probably slept with every man from here to California. Not only do you have the stink of the Rogan men all over you, but every man you've ever known. When you were fourteen you seduced the local preacher. When your parents realized you needed professional help, you seduced your therapist, not to mention every man and kid in the county, including your goddamned uncle."

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Grabbing her shoulders, he lifted her and kissed her violently, and then made a big production of bringing his hand up and wiping at his mouth as if afraid he might be contaminated. His eyes never leaving hers, he walked over to the door and opened it. Standing in the doorway, he turned and looked back at her. “The worst part is, letting this disease turn you into a high-priced whore.” “I had to get through college, Kitt,” she sobbed. "That’s no excuse. There are scholarships, places you can go for help. Grants. You chose to go through college on your back. What did you do, Pari, sleep your way up to valedictorian?” “Kitt,” Pari sobbed, “please don’t do this.” “How does it feel, Pari, to know there's a man in the world that doesn't want you? You stink,” he rasped, looking at her as if she were a painted up hooker on a street corner. “You’re dirty, and ugly, and I wouldn't touch you with a ten foot pole." Before he closed the door, he added, "By the way, I cancelled your plane reservations. You might as well unpack, sweetheart, because you're not going anywhere. My father paid you three million dollars, and by God, you're going to earn every penny." He cruelly began counting on his fingers. "Now, let's see, we have the maid, the butler, the cook, the chauffeur, and beginning today, our very own resident whore.” When Kitt slammed out the door, Pari felt as if her heart had been ripped from her chest. She collapsed on her dress, staining the expensive material with her tears. She had struggled all her life with the fire between her legs, but couldn't have even guessed that one day it would drive away the only man she could ever love. **** From somewhere far away… somewhere in the netherworld, a sinister spirit lay in wait. Today he’d made his first appearance. His presence wasn’t bold, but guarded. His words weren’t forceful, but merely suggestive. With the subtle cruelty of a tyrant he had engineered the situation perfectly. He had to be cagey at first, and restrained. They couldn’t know that he was around, he had to bide his time. But soon… like a whisper in the night... like the subtle slither of a snake... like the silent weaving of a spider web around the captured fly he would move stealthily into their lives. Only then would

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they know. Only then would it become painfully clear that—Boris Rogan was back!

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Chapter 14 One night when everything was quiet, Kitt awoke from his sleep and thought he saw a man standing in a dark corner. He lunged forward quickly, yelling, "Who's there?" Hello, Kitt, the whispering voice said. Recognizing the familiar voice, Kitt squinted into the darkness and saw a grotesque body covered with disgusting running boils, scars, and lesions. "My God!" Kitt cried out. The wheezing voice continued, Yes, you bastard, it's me. I guess all doubt, if there ever was one, is gone. You're my son, all right. Who else would have thought of getting me drunk and then leaving me to die in the sun? He paused, the silence heavy and thick with hate. Brilliant, I must say. My plan was to drive you crazy, and it worked. What I hadn’t counted on was the powerful combination of both love and hate, which is what you felt for me. That’s what tipped you over the edge, that, and your desire for Pari. Where I made my mistake was underestimating the years of torment I put you through. Kitt continued to look in horror at the large, ghostly replica of his father, still seeing him in the horrible condition he was in the day he died. "You're not here, you… you can't be. Your d-dead for God's sake." Really, Kitt, did you think you could get rid of me that easily? A little lesson concerning the afterlife, my boy. You see, only the body dies. The spirit lives on to do exactly as it pleases, so— He spread his arms. —here I am, part of the family again. Lowering his head, he looked down at the horrible sight he had become. But I can't do much like this, can I? He slowly lifted his gaze from the festering mess to where Kitt sat. I need a body. A strong, healthy, virile body. A body without any weaknesses. The horrible vision of Boris Rogan seemed to float as it approached Kitt's bed, his voice becoming more ominous with every step. I will feel everything that you feel.

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I will see through your eyes. You will respond to my commands. You will obey me. "No!" Kitt yelled while pushing himself back against the headboard. When you speak it will be my words. When you think, it will be my thoughts. As Boris neared the bed, Kitt put his arms out as if he could stop him, but the horrible truth was he could sooner stop a tornado. The specter continued on toward him, following him as he stumbled around trying to get away. When there was no place left to go, Kitt crouched down and put his arms up over his head as if trying to hide. The spirit shrunk, arrowed, and his echoing voice filled the room as it pierced Kitt’s body. You thought you had won, Kitt, but you were wrong. The contest between us continues, and there's only one way to defeat me, and that is if your will is stronger than mine. There was no lightning, no thunderous roar, no devilish fanfare of triumph, only an icy coldness that seeped into him. When the whispering, wheezing echo of words died, Kitt could feel the new awareness that had invaded him. In only seconds his thoughts turned corrupt. He felt sensations of pure evil languishing inside him. He could feel the utter decay that rendered him powerless while bursting free to hurt, kill and destroy. Cruel, depraved desires and lewd, base vulgarities whirled in his brain. Obscenities restlessly lay on his tongue, ready to be issued forth like the hot, hellish lava of a spewing volcano. He lowered his arms and looked down at himself. He felt his arms, his legs, and smiled as if he were pleased. Then he slowly rose from the bed and stood in front of a mirror. When he saw the young, handsome, healthy body he hissed, Oh, yessss, and turned and walked out of his room. The corridor was dark, but he knew where he was going. He saw it up ahead. Pari's door. When he reached it, he opened it softly. She was lying partially covered by a sheet, the moonlight giving her pale skin a beautiful radiance. "No!" Kitt said, struggling against him. "No, you old bastard, leave her alone." Yes! Boris urged him on. You've wanted her since the first time you ever saw her and now's your chance. Against his will, Kitt walked over to her bed. Looking down into her serene face, he reached out and caressed her cheek with his hand.

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She moved, and uttered a quiet moan. He slowly pulled the sheet back, looked at her smooth body and lowered himself gently beside her. **** Pari’s eyes fluttered open. "Kitt," she whispered, seeing a strange look on his face. It was the face she loved, but somehow something was different. Seeing the look in his eyes, sheer black fright swept through her, causing her to pull away. “Be still,” he whispered, grabbing her shoulders and pinning her down. She struggled beneath his weight. His lips opened and he buried his face in her neck, drawing on her perfumed skin. “Pari, my darling, don't fight me. It's been so long.” Pari frowned. The voice was Kitt's, but the words were strange. “You're so lovely, my dear, especially in the shining radiance of the moonlight.” Pari's eyes widened. The words were coming from Kitt’s lips, but they sounded more like… Boris. She pulled away and looked at him closely. “Kitt,” she whispered. “Tell me it’s you. Tell me, Kitt. “Quiet, my love,” Kitt said as he slowly moved his lips from her neck down to her cleavage. With the hunger of a wild creature, he gathered her in his arms while he mounted her. Pari remembered all the fevered nights she had spent alone, wanting Kitt. Now, he lay over her, parting her legs, and softly growling as he drew hungrily on her breasts. She felt his hand groping her cleft, and she couldn’t keep from responding. She arched her back and moaned as his fingers sank into its soft darkness. "Ohhhh God, Kitt." His hand moved faster, pushing, pulling. She couldn't stay still. Her hips began revolving, straining shamelessly against his hand. Then before she knew what was happening, she was assaulted by a giant, throbbing orgasm. She began to quiver, her cunt continuing to spasm over and over again as she drifted into its hellish fire. He slowly removed his fingers and replaced them with his large, heavy cock that worked itself into her like a crazed

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snake. The sensations it brought with it were incredible, and Pari squirmed as if being assaulted at every plunge. His hands began a lust-arousing exploration of her soft flesh, squeezing, demanding, forcing, causing her to whimper with need. A need so powerful that she scratched at his back, his shoulders until blood flowed down her fingers. Like a bronco she bucked to reach the silver bliss that eluded her. And then at last it came with a groan and a hiss, and she flared over and over again, feeling herself sail into the depths of a hot, scarlet flame. It was then that a blood-curdling scream was wrenched from her throat. It drifted on the night, through the halls of the mansion, and across manicured grounds until it reached the leaning shadows of Boris Rogan’s tombstone. **** The next morning at breakfast, Kitt could hardly look at Pari. He, or rather Boris, had practically raped her. Now he was going to have to apologize and try to explain. God, it was so stupid. How could he make her understand? How could he tell her it was Boris that had assaulted her? She would think he was crazy. And maybe he was. He had just told her she was the resident whore, and now she probably thought he was making sure she earned the money she’d inherited. He looked down at his food as his thoughts continued. God, it had been good, though. He never realized Pari could be so wild and uninhibited. She was a man’s dream. She’d wrapped herself around him, scratching and plundering like an alley cat. He lifted his eyes and looked at her, a strong arousal filling his groin. The only problem was he didn't know if he was feeling these things, or if it was Boris. A little of both, the echoing voice said as it drifted through his mind. A jolt passed through his body when Pari looked up and met his eyes. He wanted to look away, but instead their eyes lingered and fused, a hot, electric thrill passing between them. When the meal was over and Pari rose from her chair, Kitt asked to see her in the study. "Please, just go in and I'll be there shortly." It was apparent that Kitt’s thoughts were troubled when he took his place behind the desk. He absentmindedly picked up a pen and began nervously turning it in his hands. He finally looked up at her, struggling with

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what he wanted to say. "Pari, I… I have to apologize for last night." He got up from the chair, threw the pen down and began pacing. "I don’t… I don't know what got into me. All I can say is… well, it just wasn't me, that's all.” He looked at her. “Believe me, I mean that in the truest sense of the word. I hope you’ll try and understand." "Understand what? You haven't told me anything yet." She quickly rose from her chair and walked over to him. "If it wasn't you, who was it? It was your arms, your mouth, and your—” "Please Pari," he began, turning away from her and self-consciously pushing some papers around on his desk. “Let's just forget it ever happened." She rushed around to face him. "You seem embarrassed that you even lowered yourself to touch me, Kitt. Is that what you're implying? Do you feel dirty now? Ashamed?" "I'm not implying anything, I'm just trying to apologize and explain my actions." "My, my, what a gentleman you are," she whispered, with tears in her eyes. "You were right, you know, when you said I've had many men. I have, and not one of them ever felt they had to apologize for showing me how much they wanted me, or sending shivers up my spine, or making such incredible love to me I melted in their arms." "Making love?" he spat, turning to face her. "I wouldn't call what happened last night making love, for God's sake. It was more like an attack, wouldn't you say?" "Maybe it started out that way," she said, wiping a tear away. "But you surprised me. Whatever it was, it's more than I've had from you since I've been here, and I loved it." "Maybe… maybe you should go." "You mean leave the mansion?" "Yes, I think it would be best." No! "Yes, dammit!" Kitt yelled. With a sudden movement he leaned over the desk as if he were struggling with something inside him. If you send her away, you'll be sorry. “Kitt,” Pari said, “do you want me to leave?”

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Kitt was silent as he hung his head. But then he slowly looked up, his eyes radiating a raw, crude need as he leered at her. Smiling an evil smile, he pushed himself up, went over to her and took her in his arms. “Of course, you won't leave, my dear. You can stay here as long as you like.” “Are you sure?” Pari said, looking at him curiously. Kitt didn't answer for a moment, only shook his head and looked at her. "My God, did I hurt you?" "No, of course not." He took the check book out of the drawer, and scribbled a few words on it, and then handed it to her. “Have a safe journey, Pari.” Pari took the check and looked at it, her eyes reflecting confusion. “Kitt, you just said… Kitt, I want to know what's going on. You've been acting strange ever since your father died, and it seems to be getting worse." Kitt forced a smile, still having trouble meeting her eyes. "Really, Pari, you're imagining things." He sat down at his desk and tried to busy himself with several things, still working hard to avoid her eyes. "By the way, would you tell Weems that I'll be going out on business. I should be back by dinnertime." Kitt watched Pari’s reluctance to leave, and then dug out the stock reports. He hovered over them for several hours, the language of the stock reports suddenly making sense. It was as if he’d seen it all before. The unreadable scribbling suddenly became clear, stock abbreviations, acronyms and the subtle language of brokers that were Greek to him before now was like a second language. Kitt began feverishly writing something down on a pad, and mumbling. His face reflected conflict as he made appointments over the phone. His hands moved quickly from one task to another, his brain registered calculations with the precision of a machine. By the time he was through, he was tired, physically torn between the two different people— who were now one. **** “These books are a disgrace!” Kitt bellowed in the faces of the hotel executives. He got up, pushed the books off the desk and ripped up the printouts. He raised his fist and waved it in the face of Horace Wilton, and

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yelled, “If you can't do any better than this, I'll get somebody who can. Do you hear me? I'll fire the whole freakin' bunch of you and start over!” "But Mr. Rogan—" “I don't want excuses, you weasel, I want results!” Kitt pushed himself through the swarm of open-mouthed executives and stomped out. Kitt quickly got into the chauffeured limousine, sat back and reached for a cigar. After lighting it up, he immediately began coughing. A voice filled Kitt’s head. Sorry, old chap, I forgot you don't smoke cigars. Kitt quickly put the cigar out and tried to ignore the words he was hearing. There was nothing really wrong with those books, you know. You just have to put the fear of God into them sometime. "I wish to hell you were alive so I could tune you out," Kitt mumbled, and then winced when he heard a wild laughter going on in the deep recesses of his mind. Ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha. You've got quite a sense of humor, Kitt. I never gave you credit. By the way, I'm going to let you handle the next call. I'm going to sleep. “Sleep?” Kitt mumbled, surprised. “Ghosts don't sleep, do they?” This one does. A loud yawn filled his head, and he felt the receding of something strong, something willful, something evil. Just then Kitt happened to look up and noticed the driver looking at him in the rearview mirror. He reached up and closed the tinted window between them. **** When he walked into the mansion at dinnertime, he hadn't been bothered with Boris since he said he was going to sleep. He sat down at the table and greeted both Pari and Jaric. Sinking into his own troubled world, he lowered his head and ignored both of them for the rest of the meal. "Kitt," Jaric said, but got no answer. "Kitt," he said again. Kitt looked up. "Did you say something?" "I just wanted to let you know I'm leaving in the morning." "Leaving? Where are you going?"

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"Kitt, I told you. I'm going to Paris. Remember?" "Oh, yes. Well, have a good trip." Kitt lowered his head, entering into his dark thoughts once again. After dinner, Kitt went into the study, closed the door and locked it, not wanting to talk to anyone. He heard a knock later, but didn't answer, and eventually whoever it was went away. Kitt knew everyone thought he was acting strange, but he was only trying to protect himself, and them. He couldn't let them know what had happened. He couldn't even begin to explain. The rest of the evening went along blessedly uneventful. He managed to get a lot of work done before he went to bed. About midnight, Kitt reared up from his bed with a yell filling his head. He put his hands over his ears to try and keep the sound out, but it was no use. Why in God's name didn't you wake me, you young idiot. The spirit of Boris propelled Kitt out of his bed and ran toward the door. "No!” Kitt yelled while struggling with Boris. “I'm not going to her again, do you hear me old man? Not again!" Well, I'm going, and unfortunately where I go, you go, so get the lead out. Kitt’s feet moved while lascivious thoughts powered through his mind, and as he neared Pari’s room, his hands began tearing at his clothes. He had no say over what his body did anymore. His father’s will was too strong for him, and he found himself doing and saying things that were not in his nature. When he at last flung her door open he saw her sitting at her vanity dressed in sheer lingerie. At his abrupt entrance, she jerked her head around, her eyes reflecting fear and confusion. As his eyes raked her up and down, he could feel the desire swirling around inside him. “I don't like it!” he yelled. “It covers up too much. Take it off!” With trembling movements, she slowly rose from her chair and hesitantly began pulling at her nightgown when suddenly he reached up and grabbed the top and ripped it down the front. “From now on when I come into your room, you will have nothing on. Understand? Nothing!” "K-Kitt,” she asked, her breath trembling in her throat, “w-why are you acting this way?" “I'm just giving you what you want, you little nympho. Don't play coy with me, bitch, I know you like it rough.” He picked her up and threw her

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down on the bed and fell down on top of her. Without any foreplay, he immediately opened her legs and plunged himself into her roughly. Kitt was immediately grabbed by the hot sensation of arousal filling his groin as he plunged in over and over again. A wild, mad thrill of desire scorched through his body at every sensuous touch of her body. It flooded him, driving him deeper into the most unholy act of seduction he’d ever known. Even this wasn’t enough. He desperately needed more of her, so he lifted her legs and wrapped them around his quaking body. The pleasure was hellish and explosive. The two gasped in sweet agony while the real world... the world outside this room, seemed to spin and careen on its axis. Together they found the tempo that bound their bodies and reached together for the stars. As they soared higher and higher, Kitt could feel blessed release just beyond, but it was elusive, stroking him, enticing him, tempting him go beyond his senses into a world of fire, and let it surround him. Their frenzied actions caused the bed to bump loudly against the wall while the legs made a muffled thump against the carpet. They both held on to each other tightly, and as each of them climbed higher and higher, he heard Pari scream when her release came, followed by his own powerful release that jerked him around like a madman. As they finally lay together tired, but satisfied, their lips lightly touched, and their fragrant breath mingled together… as one. As soon as his strength returned, Kitt quickly rose from the bed, slammed out of the room and went back to his own where he fell face down on the bed, tears crowding his eyes and wetting his cheeks. What in hell is wrong with you? You're sleeping with the woman you love, and you act like it's the worst thing that could happen. Hell, we're both getting what we want, so what's the problem? "You're not sleeping with her, you bastard, you’re raping her, and using me to do it. Why in God's name don't you go to hell where you belong?" Raping her? She loves every minute of it, you pathetic wimp. "All I know is, if this is what Pari has had to put up with from you, old man, she deserves every penny you left her, and more besides." Well, Boris said, sounding tired. I’m not going to argue with you. That little episode took a lot out of me, so I'll have to go now. Talk to you tomorrow Kitt, and thanks for one hell of an evening."

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Chapter 15 The next day as Kitt was being chauffeured through Bayonne, he lunged forward and yelled for the driver to stop. "Stop, dammit, stop!" The driver looked puzzled as he pulled up in front of a little place called The Crystal Ball. "Wait here," he said as he jumped out of the car and walked quickly into the little shop. Opening the door, he heard the clear tinkle of a small bell overhead and saw nothing but varying shades of darkness caused by the soft light that spilled in from the back. Looking toward the light he called out, "Hello." There was no response, so he walked around looking at the curious merchandise. He could hear movement from somewhere, so he followed the sound and saw a woman stocking the bins with merchandise. “Hello,” he said. “Oh, hi,” she said, looking up at him and smiling. “I’m not open yet." “Oh? The door was open.” “Sorry. An oversight,” she said as she looked at him closely. "But since you’re here, what can I help you with?” “Uh, well…” His eyes raked over her. She was dressed in a gypsy costume with a scarf around her head and long dangling earrings that brushed her shoulders. Her bare shoulders, Kitt noticed, or was it Boris? Her hair was thick and hung in dark ringlets down her back. Her outfit, or costume, was ancient, and very colorful. "I don't know exactly what I want." His nervous glance darted and jumped around the little shop, and then back to her. "Look, I know this is going to sound strange, but, well, what do you know about possession?" "Possession?" she repeated, her piercing eyes still reading him. "Is this your problem, or someone you know?" "Hey, listen, m-maybe I need to come back another time." He began backing toward the door.

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"Mr. Rogan…" He halted his steps. "You know me?" "Of course,” she said, laughing. “Everyone knows who you are. You're the image of your father." A sorrowful look came across her face when she looked back at him. "I was very sorry to hear of his death, by the way." "Yes, thank you, Miss… uh?" "Pentrose," she smiled, putting out her hand. "Corinne Pentrose." As Kitt took her hand, her eyes narrowed to an all-seeing stare. "I can see that you have troubles, Mr. Rogan. Do you want to tell me about them?" Kitt dropped her hand. "I'm afraid no one can help me, Ms. Pentrose." His lips trembled upward in a smile. “But I appreciate the offer.” "You know, possession happens most often among those who have just lost someone close to them. Like a father, perhaps?" Kitt avoided her eyes as he looked around. “Interesting merchandise you have here. Ever—” "Death is not the only door we go through when we die, Mr. Rogan. There are other doors beyond it. The spirit can take any one of them. Life is full of choices. So is death." Hogwash, Kitt. What the hell are you doing in this place? I leave you alone for one second and what happens? I find you in this dump listening to this junk. Kitt immediately felt himself full of an evil entity that forcefully turned his body toward the front door. His feet moved, his hands grabbed at he front door, and right before he yanked it open, he said, “Thank you… uh, Ms. Pentrose.” He then felt himself being shoved into the limo while growling at the driver to take him home. You'll never get rid of me, you bastard. Is that clear? Not until I have no use for you any more. Do you hear me, Kitt? Never. After a time, when the voice became blessedly silent, Kitt laid his head back on the seat, wondering if he was going to have to spend the rest of his life at the beck and call of his dead father. I believe you already know the answer to that one, Kitt, my boy. Then an echo of laughter swirled through Kitt’s head. God, this is almost better than sex.. ****

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A few days later Kitt was looking through the dining room window at his father's grave when he heard the doorbell. He reluctantly moved away from the window and walked toward the front door. Before he got there, Weems had opened it and was talking to a young woman. She was out of costume, but Kitt immediately recognized her from the little shop in town. "It's all right, Weems. You can let her in." She came in looking around at the elegance of the mansion. "Wow, I've never seen anything like this, not even in the movies." Kitt walked up to her, extending his arm toward the door to his right. "If you'll come into the study, Ms. Pentrose, we can talk there." He escorted her into the room and when she was seated he closed the door and locked it. "Well," Kitt said, looking at Corinne. "You certainly look different than you did yesterday." "Yes, I guess I do," she said, smiling. She leaned back and put a cigarette in her mouth. Quickly remembering her manners, she said, "I’m sorry, do you mind?" "No, of course not." He picked up a lighter and leaned forward to light it for her and asked, “Would you like a drink?" "Sure, I'd love one." "What kind of poison do you take?" he asked as he looked the bottles over. "Doesn't matter, as long as it knocks my socks off." He poured them both a stiff scotch on the rocks. After passing it over to her, he sat on the edge of the desk and looked at her hair. "So you're a redhead." She smiled while reaching up to ruffle her hair. "Yeah. The wig and the whole schmear, it's all for the customers. A gypsy fortuneteller has to look the part, put on a show, I guess you'd say. It's funny, but people won't believe the picture unless the frame is right." She took a puff off her cigarette with her eyes anchored on him. "Does that make sense?" "Actually it does." "It's a kind of foreplay, I guess. You have to get them in the mood. You know, set the stage, so to speak. If that's right, you can make them believe anything. If I sat there in a pair of torn blue jeans and a bustier with my red

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hair sticking out, they wouldn't believe a word I said no matter how true it was." She shrugged. "It's all a freakin' show." "You even talk differently." He smiled. "Are you sure you aren't possessed?" She laughed and took a drink. "We're all possessed with one thing or the other. With me, it's trying to scratch a living out of that pathetic little shop my mother left me." "So you don't really read fortunes, or speak with the dead, or any of those things, right?" She looked up at him and laughed. "You know, you're just like all the rest. Lookin' at me like this, you don't think I know a friggin' thing." She sized him up with her eyes, and then with the wisdom of the ancients, her voice took on an ominous tone. "Mr. Rogan, my mother taught me everything she knew. If you tell me to leave, I'll leave, but I came out here today because I think you need help. Am I right?" "As a matter of fact I do,” he said rolling the frosty glass in his hands while he looked at her. “But I don't think anyone can help me, Ms. Pentrose. Not even you." She pushed herself forward, and her eyes held his captive. "He recedes when he's tired. Usually after a particularly tiring episode, or if he's been active for a long while. During these inactive times, he sleeps if that's what you want to call it, much like we do when we're tired, but when he's awake and active, he gives you hell." "When did you meet my father?” Kitt asked jokingly. "When is he most active, Mr. Rogan?" Thinking of Pari, he answered with a slight shrug. "Evening, around… well between eight and midnight or two in the morning." "Is there some special reason he wants to be active during those times?" "Yes, but I'd rather not say." "Is that the only time?" "No. I have clients I have to see sometime. He picks and chooses the ones he wants to scare the hell out of, and comes around during those sessions." "What does he do when he's most active?" "If you mean after he's put the fear of God into everybody—" He cleared his throat self-consciously. "—well…"

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She sat looking at him, waiting for his answer. He began to squirm, clearly uncomfortable. "Do you have to know this, Ms. Pentrose? I can't see that this has anything to do with my problem." "Oh," she said, looking at him knowingly. "So that's the way it is. Is there a woman in the house?" Kitt jerked his head up and glared at her, trying to control his anger. "I can see that I've hit a nerve, so I'll just leave." She dug down into her purse and found a card. After looking at it for a moment to make sure it was the right one, she shoved it toward him. "It's apparent that you're going to have to think about it, so I'll leave this. If you decide you want to tell me your troubles, Mr. Rogan, I'll be glad to listen. But keep in mind I'm not just a shoulder to cry on, but a practicing witch. I believe that between the both of us we can put that bastard back where he belongs." She drained her glass, put out her cigarette and walked over to the door. Turning her head, she glanced back at him. "If you're game, call me. If not—" She shrugged. "Sorry I bothered you." She pulled on the door, but it wouldn't open. He hurried over to her and unlocked it. "Sorry." She looked up at him impatiently. "You sorry bastard, you ruined my exit." Then she gave him a teasing smile, winked, and walked out. Kitt turned and went back to the desk. While looking down at the card he heard a noise and turned to see Pari standing at the door. "Who the hell is she?" "What? Who?" "Why is it you're always trying to play innocent. You know who, dammit. The redhead in the ragged jeans. Who the hell is she?" "It's none of your damned business, Pari, now get out of here, I've got other things on my mind." "You bastard!" Her head jerked around as if she were looking for something. When she saw the small statue, she grabbed it and hurled it at him. "You snake! You…you sneaking son of a bitch!" When Kitt saw the flying objects coming at him, he leaped behind the desk and peeped out. "Pari, for God's sake, what's gotten into you?" When there wasn't anything left to throw, she ran over to him and began beating him on his chest. "What were the both of you doing in here with the door locked? Tell me, you lying bastard."

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He grabbed her flying fists and held them fast. "Why is it all of a sudden you think you've got a copyright out on me? I can see any damned woman I want." Anger contorted her face while her nails reached up to scratch his face, but he managed to hold them while he noticed their resemblance to claws. "Why, you little wildcat." He moved, pinning them behind her. Suddenly their eyes locked and his arousal flared. In one swift movement, he cleared the desk and pushed her down on it. Her legs went up around his waist while she tugged at his shirt. His hot breath blew on her neck as his mouth opened wide and began feverishly drawing, tasting her perfumed skin. His seeking lips moved down to her full, round breasts and his breath came harder as his passion grew. He grabbed her firm, round hips and pulled them to him. He moaned as his cock pressed against her, but finding her panties in the way, he reached down, and with one hand, ripped them off. She spread her legs wide, and as her cleft opened, Kitt pushed his himself in, causing Pari to cry out in ecstasy. A host of unruly sensations caught them both up and locked them in a passionate embrace. It was then that Kitt realized Boris was in control. He didn't know when passion had turned to violence, but felt compelled to mouth a string of obscenities into Pari's ear while forcing himself deeper inside her. As his plunges brutally pushed her against the desk harder and harder, she had no choice but to submit. Kitt wept in shame and rage as he heard himself saying filthy words that he never even knew existed. His hands grabbed Pari's wrists and pinned them above her head and looked down at her with his teeth clenched. This wasn’t an act of passion, but hellish lust. Demonic abuse that Kitt had no choice but to participate in. With Pari's breasts thrust forward, he had an irresistible urge to bite and chew, but he forced himself to turn his face away. Slowly he could feel his head being forcefully turned, and felt Pari's taut nipple as it pressed against his mouth, begging to be taken. The dark mass overpowering Kitt had won, and he hungrily clamped his mouth down on it, drawing frantically. As his mouth and tongue made an erotic feast of one breast and then the other, his trembling breath was coming wet, hot and hard against her skin. He feverishly moved his scouring tongue over her neck and her face, but it wasn't enough, he wanted to eat her up, crawl inside

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her. His insane desire made his mouth open as wide as it could and take her ravaged breast inside, and the more he tasted, the more passionate he became. “Ohhhhh God!” he cried out with erotic pleasure. As he roused her passion, his own grew stronger. He could sense the awakening flames within her, and continued with his raw act of possession. He could feel her surrender as each of them were bathed in liquid fire. With each deep thrust he moaned in ecstasy, whispering obscenities in Pari's ear while biting and licking. Finally, Kitt brought himself and Pari to a shuddering climax that sent them both jerking like a mad whip crack. After it was over and they both caught their breath, Kitt slowly rose, the sweat on his face mingled with tears. Pari slowly removed herself from the desk, holding her torn clothes up in front of her. "Kitt…" "Get away from me Pari," he said, turning away from her, "and don't ever come near me again. If I try to force myself on you, hit me, scratch me, Hell, kill me if you have to, but don’t let me touch you." "Kitt, please—" "I said go, dammit!" When Kitt heard the study door close, he lowered his face in his hands and dissolved into shameful tears that caused his whole body to shake violently. In the back of his mind he could hear a flood of maniacal laughter and the words, That's my boy! ringing in his ears.

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Chapter 16 Later on that day, Kitt had gone out on business and Pari was in the study mixing herself a drink when a glittering object lying on the desk caught her attention. Curious, she picked it up and looked at it closely. It was a blue card with stars and half moons cleverly scattered across it. She read the name and address, noticing as she turned the card, how the metallic objects drifting in a mysterious night sky changed colors Pari stared at it a long time. She remembered the redhead, and knew the card must be hers. Anger began eating at her all over again. Kitt had refused to tell her anything then, but as she angled her eyes back down at the card, she knew there was a way to get at the truth. It took her only seconds to make a decision. The durable drink glass thudded heavily against the shining wood of the desk when she put it down. “Damn,” she muttered, feeling the wetness of the liquid as it sloshed over the rim of the glass, making it necessary to take precious time to grab the bar rag to wipe up her mess. After several wasted seconds, she turned and quickly ran upstairs to get her purse. On her way out she glanced at herself in the mirror, took only a moment to apply a little lipstick along with a few quick brush strokes through her hair. When she got back downstairs, she ran into Weems and told him she was going out for a while. Not waiting for a reply from the little man, she quickly turned, grabbed a set of keys lying in a bowl on the foyer table, and hurried out to the garage. Anticipating her intent, she was nervous and a little out of breath. Her trembling fingers fidgeted with the dangling mass of metal, dropping them several times before she finally found the car they belonged to. Being unfamiliar with the city of Bayonne, she drove very carefully. Finding Broadway was no problem since it was a main thoroughfare, but because it was such a long section, finding 42nd street and some little place

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called The Crystal Ball was a little trickier. She breathed a little easier when she at last looked up and saw the little shop perched on a corner shouting at everyone with its wild colors. She immediately began looking around at the available parking spots and was fortunate enough to find one just around the corner. Pulling up, she didn't step out of the car right away, but sat there until her stomach stopped doing flip flops. Pari could feel her face flushing with embarrassment. She knew she was acting like an idiot, but she just couldn’t stop herself. She had to know if Kitt was involved with this woman. He was sure to find out she’d been here, and the scene he would make. Oh God, just the thought! Maybe she should leave. There was still time. He’d, never know she’d been here. She looked around at the traffic, trying to make up her mind. She wrung her hands, reached out for the key a couple of times, but somehow she just couldn’t turn it. While sitting there she found herself wondering just how many women there were. Lynette Silvers, and now Corinne… who-the-hell-ever. She couldn’t remember the name on the card and looked down at it. “Pentrose,” she breathed followed by a little whimper. “Ohhh, God, what am I going to do?” Looking down at her watch, she could feel the time ticking away. Finally, throwing caution to the wind, she muttered, “To hell with it. I’m going in, and whatever happens, happens.” She quickly emerged from the car, and even managed to put one foot in front of the other until she finally turned the corner and walked up to the door. She looked own at the doorknob as if it were the head of a snake. She reached for it, but allowed her hand to hover for a moment while trying one final time to talk herself out of this. There was still time. She didn’t have to go in. But if she didn’t, she’d never know. She couldn’t stand that, and Kitt would never tell her. If she loved him she had to fight for him. It was as simple as that. Nervously rubbing the tips of her fingers together as if she were breaking into a safe that held many secrets, she lowered her hand and gave it that final twist of her wrist. The shadowy little shop was heavy with atmosphere and unlike anything she had ever seen before. The colors were vivid, and the memorabilia that was scattered everywhere gave the place an authenticity that was amazing. The walls were lined with pictures of caravans and campfires, showing how the handsome Gypsy men and women existed in their rustic life of

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moonlight and magic. She could even hear the old song, “Golden Earrings”, playing softly in the background, which seemed to make everything come together. There was no one around, so she breathed a sigh of relief, momentarily. "May I help you find something?" Pari whirled around and stood looking into the face of the same young woman she had seen at the mansion. She was wearing a long black wig, bandana, dangling earrings, and a colorful outfit that seemed to blend in with the surroundings. "Are you—” Pari looked down at the card. “—Corinne Pentrose?" Corinne smiled when she saw the card. "Yes. You have my card. Did we meet somewhere before?" "You were out at the Rogan mansion today?" Her smile froze. "Why… yes." Pari noticed her odd reaction. "My name is Pari Sisco, and I’m a guest of the Rogans." She trembled inside. "Look, I know it's none of my business, and if Kitt knew I was here he'd kill me, but I came to find out what business you had with him." "So Kitt… uh, Mr. Rogan doesn't know you're here?" "No," she said, "but I'm sure you'll tell him the first chance you get." "Why should I tell him anything?" "Because you and Kitt are obviously—" "Oh, so that's it," Corinne interrupted, looking at Pari with discerning eyes. "Well, you can pull in your claws, Ms. Sisco, I'm just trying to help Mr. Rogan with a problem he has, that's all." "A problem? What problem could he possibly have that you could help him with?" "Sorry, but that's privileged information between me and my customer." "Customer?" Pari chuckled, looking around the shop. "Nice try, Ms. Pentrose, but Kitt would never come to a place like this—" Her words stopped, and her eyes slid back toward Corinne. "—unless, of course, there was something here besides bat wings and eye of newt that would hold his interest." "Ms. Sisco, I assure you—" She rudely interrupted, refusing to listen to Corinne's continued denial. "What could you be discussing that would require locked doors?"

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“Please, Ms. Sisco—" "I may have my problems,” Pari interrupted, “but a friggin' snake charmer? I’d say Kitt needs his head examined.” Just then something caught her eye and she grabbed a plastic container from out of the nearest bin. As she looked at it closely, she said with amazement. "Powdered Dragon's Blood?" Curious, she continued to read. "Oh, I see. With Vitamin D added. Well, that, of course, makes all the difference. I simply couldn’t touch a thing without the proper nutritional allowances. You know, coffee, tea, juice… Dragon’s Blood." She tossed the container back in the bin. "Really, Ms. Pentrose, do people actually buy this stuff?" "I could hardly stay in business if they didn't." Pari recklessly began picking up things, looking at them and tossing them back down. "What? No bat's milk?" Corinne quickly reached out and grabbed Pari's flailing hands. “Please, Ms. Sisco. These are merely ingredients that go in different kinds of potions. Love potions, fertility—" "Love potions?" "You don't need a love potion, Ms. Sisco. You've probably already got every man in Bayonne panting after you." "All except one," she spat. "All right," Corinne said with a shrug. "Go ahead. Rant and rave all you want. I'm certainly flattered that you think I could give you any competition. I honestly think his taste runs more to beautiful blondes than funny-looking red-headed psychics." Pari couldn't help but laugh and turned away in embarrassment. "You must think I'm a fool." Corinne smiled gently. "Where men are concerned, we're all fools." When Pari’s laughter slowly turned to tears, Corinne's smile fell. "Hey, are you okay?" "I'm sorry," Pari whispered, wiping her tears. "I'm worried about him. He's been acting so strange lately. Not like himself at all." **** Corinne put her arms around Pari, wondering how she would react to the truth. She turned the possibility of telling her over and over in her mind

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until she finally made a decision and quietly walked over and locked the door. "Come with me," she said softly, and led Pari to a small area in the back. The cozy little alcove was closed off with a colorful beaded curtain. It was furnished with a table, a phone, a small refrigerator, and a couch. "This is where I take my breaks," she explained and sat down, indicating toward a chair for Pari. Leaning back, she took off her wig and ran her fingers through her short hair. “God, that thing is heavy.” She tossed it aside, slipped a cigarette out of a pack and lit up while Pari sat quietly dabbing at her eyes. When Pari began coughing and waving the smoke away, Corinne said, "Oh, God, where are my manners.” She immediately reached for the ashtray to put the cigarette out. “No. Please, that’s not necessary.” “Are you sure?” "Yes, of course." "Would you like one?" Pari shook her head. "Now, tell me how much you know about Kitt's problem Ms. Si—" "Please, call me Pari. I don't know anything really. I've tried, but he just refuses to talk to me. He's very secretive." "His lovemaking, is it different than it was before?" "Actually, I don't know. He wouldn't touch me until recently. Now it seems he can't get enough." Fresh tears began creeping down Pari's cheeks. "He's violent, and he hurts me, but the sex is just so incredible. I've never experienced anything like it." Corinne’s face pressed into a worried frown while pushing a box of tissue in front of her. Pari plucked out a handful and dabbed at her eyes. "Sometimes I think he's going to kill me, but it's useless to fight against him." She kept her eyes lowered, feeling ashamed. "He's getting worse, and I don't know what to do." “Why don’t you leave?” “I can’t. When Boris died, he left me a few million, but only with the stipulation that I stay at the mansion a year after the will was read. Kitt thought it was ridiculous and was willing to go ahead and give me the money and let me leave, but, well, for some reason he changed his mind.”

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“That’s because...” She couldn’t say it, she just couldn’t. She smoked nervously, ground the cigarette out in the ashtray while struggling with what she had to tell her. Finally she leaned toward Pari, looking at her closely. “Pari, leave for God’s sake!” “Didn’t you hear me?” “I heard, I heard!” Forget about all that, take my advice and get out of there.” “I told you… the inheritance… I’ll lose it.” “How the hell much is your life worth? Listen to me. You have to get out of there. Kitt…” Corinne’s words faded when she lost her nerve, but finally decided to speak quickly before she changed her mind. “Pari, Kitt has been possessed by his father’s spirit. That’s why he’s acting so strange.” “Oh, please,” Pari said with a snicker. “You can’t… surely you don’t mean…” Corinne pulled her eyes away from her and lifted them upward while plowing her hands impatiently through her hair. “What the hell did I expect?” she muttered and looked back at Pari. “Look, I know it’s hard to believe, but it’s true. You’ve got to get out of there before he kills you.” “Kills me? Corinne, don’t be ridiculous. Boris, not even at his worst would…” Pari’s words stopped for a moment when she remembered that Boris had tried to have Kitt killed. “What am I saying? Of course he would. But he’s dead… he…” She looked over at Corinne. “But that was different,” she said as if trying to convince the other woman. “The money… millions… it was all tied up in Kitt…” Her eyes narrowed on Corinne, wondering if she was being perceptive, or if the story she’d heard had something to do with the advice she was giving. “How much do you know about the Rogans?” “Nothing, really. Only what I’ve read in the papers.” “Have you kept up with the story?” “Oh, you bet. I mean, I don’t know much. Only what everybody else knows. Kitt’s arrest… being killed… mistaken identity.” Pari’s haunted eyes shifted from Corinne, and as she spoke she gazed at some point that could only be seen in her mind. “Well, you were right about Boris. He wouldn’t hesitate to do anything, even kill, to get what he wanted. In my line of work I’ve known some crazies before, but Boris tops them all. When he found out Kitt had been arrested he tried to make a deal to have him killed.”

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“I knew it, Pari.” Corinne rasped, a sound of urgency in her voice. “I discern such a sense of danger surrounding you.” Her gaze turned to Corinne. “But Boris is dead. He can’t hurt...” “No, not by himself... but through other people... through Kitt.” Horror clouded Pari’s eyes as she remembered the voice of Boris, coming out of Kitt’s mouth. “What are you thinking?” “It’s absurd. It can’t be.” “Pari, I want you to tell me everything you know about Kitt and his father’s relationship.” “That’s kind of foolish, isn’t it? You’re a psychic, you should be telling me.” “Pari, let me explain something. A psychic senses things and puts these feelings into words. The customer then fills in the details, and the psychic can pinpoint the reason for this feeling. This is the way she helps her customer. You can laugh, scoff if you want, but I feel danger radiating all around you from this whole situation, and if something isn’t done, someone is going to die. Take a chance, tell me what I need to know. I want to help you.” Pari rubbed her forehead and gave a slight shrug. “Nothing to lose, I guess.” With hesitation and halting words, she began. “Kitt... Kitt is illegitimate. It’s a fact that’s been grinding away at Boris all of Kitt’s life. The cancer in his throat was beginning to spread.” Pari’s eyes shifted toward Corinne. “Kitt only found that out when Boris was on his death bed. That’s why he was so intent on getting Kitt out of the way. He didn’t want the controlling interest of his estate to fall into the hands of a bastard son, and was willing to do anything to keep that from happening. “Anyway, when the big news went out that Kitt was dead, Boris thought it was all taken care of. He didn’t count on Kitt showing up at the mansion alive and healthy. When he learned the truth we expected him to immediately go on a killing rampage, but instead he came after me, hatching up some kind of diabolical plan in that demented mind of his. The next thing I knew I was agreeing to bear him a child for a portion of the estate… and his silence,” she added timidly. “His silence?”

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“You may as well know. I’m a nymphomaniac. I worked my way through college…” She couldn’t go on, but she didn’t have to. The truth was written in her eyes as she looked at Corinne. “If you expect me to turn away in disgust, forget it.” “Kitt found out. It’s the reason he hates me. I’m not pure enough for him.” “Men. They want you hot and ready, but when you are, they call you a tramp.” “Boris was used to getting anything he wanted with money, and well, he got me, just like he got everything else. He also used me as a way of getting back at Kitt.” She sobbed, emotion choking her. “Sometimes he made Kitt watch us.” She looked down, her fingers picking at her tissue. “Not the heavy stuff, you understand, but... almost.” “You should have said something.” “No, I couldn’t. It might have been low and depraved, but it was better than Kitt getting shot in the head. That’s the way Boris was. He used people, then threw them away. He would have never let Kitt leave that mansion alive. I have no doubt about that.” “There’s one thing I’m still a little confused about. I don’t understand why you don’t just up and leave. Why is it so necessary to stay at the mansion a year?” “The year is to give me time to make sure I’m not pregnant.” “But a year? You would know in a few weeks. Even sooner.” “You don’t understand. On the off chance that I did find myself pregnant, the year is to cover the length of my pregnancy, the birth, and so on. You know, get the proper care, have the best, and since the child would be a Rogan, it would be necessary for it to be born there.” Pari frowned, looking down at the shredded tissue in her hand. “The only problem is he failed to put a clause in the will stating that I could leave if I found I wasn’t pregnant. Because of that he’s—” Pari felt an onrush of tears choking her. “—made…made me a prisoner.” She looked at Corinne. “I’m stuck. I have to abide by his insane decision, or give up my inheritance.” “Why do you have such an obsession for this money? I mean, at least if you leave you’ll have your life. If you stay… who knows?” “The money’s for my family. It…” She flushed with the ugly memories. “It’s a long story. They’re not well off, and the money would help them

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out… a lot.” She said the last two words with her flushed face lowered in embarrassment. “Hey, don’t be embarrassed just because your family isn’t well off.” She lifted her eyes, taking in her surroundings. “Hell, look around you. You think I’m some princess or something?” Pari smiled weakly. “Actually there’s more to it than that. Maybe some day I’ll tell you.” “All right,” Corinne said, leaning toward her. “But let’s continue with the matter at hand. You will admit that Boris is—” “Was,” Pari corrected. “Is—” Corinne insisted, “—dangerous. Anyway, it just brings us back to what we were talking about in the beginning.” She sat up in her chair. "Pari, for God's sake, Kitt is raping you every night. If you can’t leave, flatten the bastard!" "It's not rape. I want him. Any way I can get him." Pari saw a look of disappointment in Corinne's eyes and jumped up and began pacing. "My God, I can't help it. He brings feelings out of me I never knew were there. It’s not the money. I love Kitt. And this…this business about Boris… it just doesn’t make sense. Things like that don’t happen.” “Pari, whatever you do, don’t lie to yourself. You’ve admitted that it’s getting worse. Don’t you see? He’s killing you, Pari, and he won’t be through with you until you’re dead." "All I know is, it’s impossible to leave," Pari said lifting her chin. "How long have you known Kitt?" "Not very long. Only a few weeks actually." “But long enough,” Corinne said. “Pari, think now. Have you, up to now, ever noticed a violent streak in Kitt?” Pari stared past Corinne thoughtfully. "No. But now... sometimes when everything's okay and he's acting normal, he’ll suddenly change.” “Don’t you see? That’s when Boris takes over. Pari, watch his eyes. They’ll be the first thing to change. What have you noticed so far?” Pari felt a chill and physically shook. “I… I don’t know… they… I guess… they become evil." Suddenly a chill sliced through her when she remembered. “So evil… so very…” "Pari, for God's sake get out of that house!" "But I told you, I can't."

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"Pari, you have to leave. Don’t you realize your life is at stake?” “But, Corinne, it’s so hard to believe…” Pari shook her head. “It can’t be that. Something else is wrong with Kitt. He’s…I don’t know… stressed, or whatever. Having to handle his father’s estate and all, it’s tough. It would be for anyone.” Corinne quickly rose from her chair, crossed to Pari, knelt down before her and grabbed her hands. “Pari, please listen to me, I know what I’m talking about. If the spirit of Boris Rogan can make Kitt attack you, it can make him kill you." “Kitt wouldn’t...he...” “For God’s sake, Pari, wake up. The man you just described to me is capable of anything to get what he wants, and right now what he wants is to kill you. What would be more perfect than to wait until Kitt falls in love with you then make him kill you with his own hands? Kitt would be tormented for the rest of his life while rotting away in some prison asylum. No wonder Boris doesn’t want you to leave. The man is no fool, Pari. He left that clause out on purpose. He wants you there, not for any of the reasons he said, but to get back at Kitt for something else. My guess is, Kitt’s mere existence is a black smudge…an ink stain…a ‘dirty’ mark on an otherwise unspoiled garment. He wants to somehow eradicate that black spot, and he’s using you to do it. He knows how Kitt feels about you, and is using you as a way to make Kitt suffer. He’s got you both tied up in a tight little web, and doesn’t intend to let either of you go until you’re just like him…dead!” Shock filled Pari. She thought back to all the times she’d noticed a change in Kitt, but passed it off as her imagination. But the truth was, Kitt's mannerisms did change right before her eyes. "Oh my God, you're right. It's not Kitt that's making love to me, it's Boris. That explains the violence, the obscenities, the…the way Kitt can't look at me afterwards because he's so ashamed. He's being controlled and can't help himself." Pari lowered her head and cried into her hands. “God, how can that happen? It’s… it’s completely crazy.” Corinne rose from her crouch and turned to get her some water. "Here, drink this, and try to calm down. It might not be as bad as we think. I've been doing some research on possession and I think I might be able to help him."

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Corinne kept the shop closed the rest of the day and drug out every book she had on possession. They sent out for pizza and laid plans late into the night. At one point Pari looked at her watch and almost choked on her coke. "My God, I've got to get back. I didn't realize it was so late." "I'm sorry, I should have kept an eye on the clock." "It's okay. Maybe I can sneak in. With any luck Boris won't be active tonight." The girls had formed a close kinship, and before Pari left she thanked Corinne, and hugged her. Pari raced through the streets of Bayonne and eventually drove up into the wide, tree-lined drive. She inched around to the back slowly and into the long garage, trying to make as little noise as possible. Not knowing where Kitt would be, she didn’t know where to enter the mansion. She walked carefully around, looking in windows and climbed up the porch's side steps so she could sneak a look into the study. She didn't see Kitt, and thought surely she had made it without being seen. She crept quietly up to the door, gently laid her hand on the doorknob and turned it very slowly. As she pushed the door wide, fear ran through her when she saw Kitt looking at her, big as life and full of anger. His arms were folded across his chest, and his eyes were blazing. He was leaning back against the table in the center of the foyer with his feet crossed, waiting for her. She knew it wasn't Kitt, but Boris. “Where in hell have you been, you little slut?” "Just… out," she said nervously “Out? Out where?” Anger prickled up her spine, and she lashed out at him. "It's none of your freakin' business. I stay cooped up in this God forsaken place day in and day out. I don't think it's asking too much to be able to go out once in a while to breathe a little fresh air." Kitt pushed himself away from the table, and reached out and caught her as she tried to pass him. He took her arm and twisted it back behind her. “You dare talk to me like that? You'll do as I say, you little bitch, and nothing else, understand? If I say jump, you jump. If I say lie down, you lie down. Do you understand?” "You’re hurting me!" she cried.

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With clenched teeth, he wrenched her arm. “Answer me. I asked if you understood.” "Bo… Kitt, please… don't." “I asked you a question, bitch, now answer me.” "All right, I hear you." “You won't leave this mansion again, is that understood? Not for anything. Because if you do—” He wrenched her arm again. “—I'll kill you.” "Kitt please, you’re breaking my arm." “Then answer me.” "All right, I won't leave." When he released her arm, she cradled it in front of her, rubbing it and frowning with pain. “Now go upstairs and get undressed. Nothing on, understand? Nothing. I'll be up later.” "Kitt, I can't. I've got a headache." Kitt's hand reached out and backhanded her across the face. She fell, almost blacking out. She shook her head for a moment, and then looked up at him as a trickle of blood fell down her chin. Kitt stood over her, yelling. “When I give you an order, I expect it to be carried out, do you understand? Now get upstairs and do what I told you!” Tears flooded Pari’s eyes and sheer desperation clutched at her insides as she stared up at him. "Kitt! Are you in there? Please come out Kitt, come out and help me." He reached down and jerked her up by the arm and pushed her toward the stairway. “I am here, you bitch, in fuckin' person, and before long you're gonna feel me right down to your itsy bitsy toes.” He pushed his face close to hers, and spoke with his teeth clenched. “Now get upstairs before I decide to take you right here.” Pari turned quickly and ran up the stairs. As soon as she got into her room, she slammed the door closed and locked it. She cried as she began to undress, leaving her bra and panties on. Later she slipped into bed, and cringed against the headboard, longing for Kitt as he used to be. "Kitt, where are you?" she sobbed. "Come back to me, Kitt, I love you." She kept her eyes on the door and recoiled when she saw the doorknob turning. She heard obscenities when he couldn't get it open. She stared at it intently and jumped

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when he brutally kicked it in. With a loud bang the door slammed open, and on the threshold he loomed tall and dangerous with murder in his eyes. He stalked in and slammed the door behind him. His eyes narrowed as he began walking toward her, the evil spirit of Boris all over him. “You're going to pay for that, you cheap little tramp.” "Kitt… Boris… please don't… please!" “Oh, so you know who I am. Well, you're much smarter than I thought.” He looked down at her and grabbed at the covers and yanked them back. When he saw her lingerie, he growled, “I thought I told you to undress, bitch.” He leaned forward, and with a hellish look on his face, he tore at the lacy undergarments, his movements a frenzy of madness. “Kitt, don’t…” she sobbed, trying to fight him while fear for her life coursed through her. When she at last stood before him naked, he began loosening his pants before he sat down and grabbed her. He pulled her legs up around his waist and brutally pushed his sturdy erection into her while sitting up. Breathing a mouthful of obscenities, he ordered her to fuck him and moaned loudly as she began to shift, revolve, and grind her hips. Pari looked down at the face she loved and couldn't help feeling the pangs of arousal. She loved the feeling of his shaft pushing up inside her and abandoned all fear as she cried out with passion. **** Kitt felt Boris’s lewd appetite grow along with the crude, offensive words that spilled from his lips. He watched the suggestive way Pari’s breasts bounced as she moved above him. With his hands, he reached up and grasped the full curve of her hips and moved with her in rhythm while riding the wild waves of ecstasy. Her hair fell loosely into her face, causing her to toss her head back, her wild mane flying through the air. She rode with wild abandon while she arched her back sharply, looking like a blond hellion riding a bucking stallion. Finally he reached up and grabbed her, pulling her down. Her breasts covered his face, smothering him as his mouth drew on them hungrily. Slowly his excitement grew, his hips rising higher, becoming

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loose, and more reckless as he met her thrusts. All at once he embraced her and rolled over on top, a moan turning to a low growl. As they both surged into the hottest fires of desire they had ever known, his plunges suddenly got harder and her legs moved higher, wrapping themselves tightly around him. Finally they both careened into orgasms that jerked wildly, sending spasms of heat through them that settled into a deep warmth of glorious satisfaction. **** As Kitt lay beside her, she looked at his relaxed face, and knew that Boris had left. She reached over and caressed his cheek and his eyes opened. She saw tears immediately fill his eyes, and she leaned over and kissed him. All at once he took her in his arms, burying his face in the soft curve of her neck. "God, Pari, can you ever forgive me?" "It's okay. I know everything." He withdrew his face and looked at her. "You couldn't." "I went to The Crystal Ball in town. Corinne told me everything." "Then you know you have to leave." "I can't. Boris told me he'd kill me if I left." "We've got to figure something out. There’s no way you can keep going through this." "Can't you resist him?" "I've tried, but he's so damned strong." Her hand came up and lovingly caressed his face as she whispered, "He's not here now." He leaned down and kissed her, his hands gently stroking her soft body. "Oh God, Pari—" he mumbled against her neck, "—Oh God, I want you so much." “It seems to me you’ve been having me.” “That’s Boris, not me. You know that.” “I know it now,” Pari said, closing her eyes and enjoying the gentle urgency of his hands on her body. She could feel his arousal begin to grow, and loved the softness of his lips as his groping hands pushed her breasts deeper into his hungry mouth.

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And then all at once his head rose up and his eyes glinted with evil as they glared down at her. “So, you want some more, do you?” The gentle hands turned rough, and the gentle pressure of Kitt’s body became heavy and threatening. She lay there, her fear mounting until a voice cried out. "Run, Pari, run!" They were Kitt's words. He had broken through the spirit and was struggling to stay in control. He had loosed his rough, crude hands from her, pulled himself back, and allowed her to get away. She jumped up, hesitating only long enough to grab her robe. She ran out the door, not knowing where to hide. While she jerked her head around looking, she noticed a narrow, dusty staircase that rose into the rafters. She’d never used them, and didn't know where they led, but she ran over and began climbing. She came to a dark, dusty passage that led to a door. She opened it and saw a dark room that she thought must be the attic. She crept in, but couldn't see anything. She felt around in the darkness and found a bed in a corner. She lay down, hugging herself in the darkness until she fell asleep. The next morning she woke to find herself huddled on a double bed made of dull brass. She looked around at the dingy little room with dim shafts of light coming through a small window. There were boxes scattered about, a seamstress dummy, and an ancient sewing machine. She slowly got up, lifting her eyes to where the light was coming from. She saw a high, round window and began stacking boxes. The climb was precarious, but she finally made it to the top. The window was dirty, but when she looked out, she could see a smudged image of the lawn, the trees, and the driveway. She stood there for a moment wondering what she should do, and decided she needed to get to a phone. Since she didn’t hear anything, she was hoping Kitt was still asleep. It would be the perfect time to try and get down to her room, pack a bag and get out as quickly as possible. With this in mind, she climbed down from the boxes and slowly crept toward the door, nervously looking around at the shadowy corners as if she expected Boris to jump out at her. Facing the door, she lifted her trembling hand and laid it gently on the doorknob. Not knowing what to expect on the other side, she nervously grasped it and applied pressure, but it wouldn't turn.

Sweet Hell It was locked!

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Chapter 17 Later on that morning Kitt was rudely awakened by someone pounding on the front door. He jumped up, quickly stumbled into his pants, grabbed up his shirt and ran out onto the landing with it flapping open. He saw Weems at the door talking to someone, turned and started down the stairs. "Who is it, Weems?" Kitt shouted. Weems looked up at him. "It's Ms. Pentrose, sir. She insists on coming in. I tried to tell her that no one was up yet, but she won't go away." "It's okay, Weems, I'll talk to her." Weems widened the door, and Corinne flew in. Kitt ran down the steps while pushing his open shirt into his pants until he realized he was barefoot. He paused, embarrassed, and looked down at his feet. "Sorry. I forgot my shoes." "It's okay,” Corinne said, her gaze darting around. “I just came by to see Pari. Is she all right?" Not making any immediate reply, Kitt slowed his hurried movements until he felt himself presentable. When he stood before her, he widened his stance and crossed his arms over his chest. “I understand she came to see you yesterday.” “Yes,” Corinne said hesitantly, watching him intently. “Is that a problem?” “I don’t suppose it matters now,” Kitt replied. “What did she tell you?” “Enough.” “Enough—” Kitt repeated, “—as in everything?” Without answering, Corinne looked around. “Is she here?” "Actually, I don't know. I haven't seen her yet this morning. We all must have had a pretty rough night last night. It seems everyone is sleeping in." “Everyone? That would include Boris?” “Ms. Pentrose, don’t concern yourself with my dead father.”

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"Well, I am concerned. In fact, it concerns the hell out of me. When she left last night, she was terrified of coming back here. I begged her not to, but I couldn’t stop her.” She looked up at him with a defiant glare. “Now, where is she?" "As I said, I don't know where she is. She wasn't in her bed." Corinne looked at him suspiciously. "Oh? How do you know?" "Well… because…" "You were there?" "I…uh… might have been," he said, looking down at his exposed chest. He moved quickly trying to close his shirt as if he was embarrassed. "She must have had another session with Boris last night." Kitt was left speechless at first, but quickly regained his voice. "Ms. Pentrose, how is this any of your business?” Corinne’s eyes narrowed on him. “She made it my business when she came to me and told me her story. You made it my business when you came into my shop for help and was too stupid or pigheaded to ask for it.” She ran around Kitt. "You can do what you want, but I'm getting her out of here now." He grabbed her arm as she passed him. “How do you know she'll go?" She shrugged. "I don't know… not really. I'll talk to her… convince her somehow. I’ll need your help. Are you willing to let her go to save her life?" Kitt’s emotions whirled wildly. "Save her life? What the hell do you mean?" “You know, of course, that his plans for her are death… by your hand.” “You’re not making much sense, Ms. Pentrose.” “His plans for you are not much better. You see, you two fall in love and he forces you to kill her. This drives you over the edge and you rot away in a prison asylum for the rest of your life for killing the woman you love. Nice guy, huh?” “How the hell do you know all this? Do you have a pipeline to the afterworld?” “Don’t make fun of me!” she snapped, “I tried to convince you one day in your study that I knew what was going on, but you wouldn’t believe me. If you had only listened to me, Pari wouldn’t be in the danger she’s in now.” Jerking her arm out of his hold, she continued up the stairs. Kitt ran up, following her. “So now it’s my fault?”

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She stopped abruptly and turned to face him. “You bet your sweet ass it is. Think about it for a moment. No more cat and mouse games. He’s gone from bad to worse, right? A few more nights like last night and you’ll be a nutcase and Pari will be dead. Don’t you see? His hold on you is getting stronger, and Pari will pay the price. Hasn’t she already? Haven’t you raped her over and over, not realizing it until the next morning? So far it’s only been sex. Tomorrow it may be her life. You’ve already been eaten up with shame so bad you can’t look her in the eye the morning after. If you kill her it’ll be just enough to drive you over the edge and you’ll end up a babbling idiot unfit, as well as unable, to manage the estate.” “Sorry, but this is so… I don’t know. Preposterous.” Corinne stopped, turned, and looked at him with amazement. "You live with this man inside you on a daily basis. He talks to you, makes you move at his command, and you think it’s preposterous? Look, Einstein,” she said, pointing at his head. “Use that thing for something other than to hang a pretty face on. Don’t you get it? He’s using her as a love slave as well as a weapon against you. The longer it goes on, the worse he'll get, and she’s the one that’ll pay the price. With her gone, you'll have a better chance at overcoming him. It'll be hard, but he won't stop until you force him to.” "You mean like I did last night?" Her eyes widened. "What?" "Yeah. Pari and I were in bed after he left, and then he came back. I couldn't let him hurt her again, so I fought as hard as I could and forced him off her." "Great,” she said. “If you did it last night, you can do it again. Kitt, all you have to do is fight, and whatever you do, don't give in to him." Kitt raked his hand through his disheveled hair. "But it's so damned hard. He's a Goddamned raging bull, and I don't know if I have that much stamina." "When he was alive, did you ever defy him?" "Sure, lot's of times. That was part of our problem. I was too much like him, and wouldn't back down. You should have seen us. We went at it day and night sometimes.” "Kitt, I believe you can defeat Boris. Stay strong like you were then. Giving in to him now will mean your life… yours and Pari’s."

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“You’re right, Corinne. He doesn’t know it, but that bastard’s got one hell of a fight on his hands.” “I knew I could count on you." She turned, her intense stare probing into the shadowy corridors where the bedrooms were. "Now, where should we look first?" **** Pari tried the door over and over again, but it wouldn't budge. She scrambled around in old dresser drawers, trunks, even dug through rotten, crumbling boxes, but she couldn't find a key. Finally, desperation and fear overwhelmed her and she banged on the door, her fists aching from the blows. "Help! Is somebody out there? Help me, please help me!" She couldn't get a response, so she climbed up to the window to look for a way to open it. Looking out, she saw gardeners in the yard, and knew she was saved if she could somehow get the window open. She looked for some kind of latch, but found the window sealed, realizing it was meant for nothing more than decoration. Her hopes plummeted. What would she do now? While climbing down she spied a chair, and then glanced up at the window and prayed that the glass was breakable. She could do it, she thought and grabbed it when she reached the floor. She was just about to throw it through the window when she heard something. She quickly dropped the chair and whirled around. She ran back to the door and pounded on it again. "Hello! Is there anyone out there? Please help me, I'm locked in!" **** Kitt stopped in his tracks, cocked his head and turned to Corinne. "Did you hear something?" "No." Still listening, he put a finger up to his lips. "Just be quiet for a minute and listen." While he stood waiting, again he heard a tiny voice and his head jerked around, looking upward at where the voice had come from. “This way!” he shouted, running toward the hidden stairway and leaping up two steps at a time. He found the short passageway, hurried through it

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and saw the door leading to the attic. He started to call out, but caught himself. If Pari was in there, he knew she would probably be afraid of him, so he leaned his head close, listening. Hearing her moving around, he looked down, furtively tried the knob, but it wouldn't give. Reaching up he felt along the doorframe, found the key, and grabbed it. So as not to frighten her, he very gently put it in the lock, and turned it slowly. **** Pari looked down at the doorknob as it turned. As much as she wanted out, she knew that anyone could be behind that door… even Boris. Frightened and holding her breath, she backed away, stumbling over boxes, broken furniture, and the edge of the bed. She watched in horror as the knob turned... and swung open. Kitt filled the doorway. She felt trapped. There was no way out of the room. He could kill her. "Pari, it's me, Kitt." She stood frozen for a moment, wondering if it really was Kitt, and not Boris trying to trick her. He walked slowly toward her. “Pari, it’s me, I swear.” “Stay away,” she sobbed, and picked up an old pair of scissors to use as a weapon. An then she saw Corinne step up to the door. “Pari, it’s okay. It’s Kitt.” She looked at each one for a moment, threw the scissors down and ran into his arms. "Oh Kitt! Oh, thank God!" He looked around. “What the hell are you doing in here?” “Last night when I got away this is the only place I could find to hide. This morning I found the door locked. Could Boris have locked it sometime in the night?” “If he did, it seems to me I’d have known about it.” “Not necessarily,” Corinne said. “Just as you can walk around, while he’s asleep, so can he when you’re asleep.” “My God,” Kitt said when he looked down at Pari. “He could kill her while I was sleeping.”

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“Your fingerprints on the weapon. Her blood all over you. Now do you understand why I have to get her out of here?” “God, I never realized… I… I’m sorry.” Turning her toward him, he said, “Pari, you have to go. There’s just no other way.” “But Boris will kill you.” “Pari…” He couldn’t lie to her. If he couldn’t convince himself that everything would be all right, how was he going to convince her? Instead he looked over at Corinne. “Get her out of here, and hurry.” Corinne stretched out her hand. “Come on, Pari.” “Kitt, I…” "I think you should go,” he said, impatiently. “I have a battle to fight here, and I can't do it if I'm always worrying about you." Her eyes filled with hurt, and she lowered her head, tears creeping down her cheeks. He took her hands. "I guess I said that badly, I'm sorry." "When will I see you again?" He struggled, but told her the truth. "I don't know, Pari. There's every chance that you may never see me again. It all depends on what happens here." She buried her face in his chest and clutched at his shirt while she cried. Finally, she looked up at him. "Oh Kitt, I can't say goodbye to you, I just can't." Tears glinted in his eyes as he spoke firmly, but softly. “Pari, you have to… it has to be this way.” She was silent for a moment as she looked up at him. "If you say so, Kitt. I'll be waiting," she whispered. "No matter how long it takes." **** He gathered her to him and their lips met in a deep, sensuous kiss. Pari savored the spicy taste of him while the gentle urgency of his hands moved along the curves of her body as if he were trying to press them into his memory. And then before she knew what was happening, his gentle hands became demanding and brutal. He had turned violent and began tearing at her robe. "Kitt. What are you doing?"

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When he saw her body exposed, his eyes filled with lust and he grabbed her, his hungry mouth open and seeking for her breasts. “Oh, God, it’s Boris!” Corinne shouted from the doorway. “Noooooo!” Pari screamed as she struggled with the strong arms that held her. “Hurry, Pari!” Corinne yelled, while reaching toward her. “Go away, bitch, and don’t bother us if you know what’s good for you.” Boris said, then with one swoop, Kitt’s leg shot out and he banged the door closed in her face. An evil smile stretched across his mouth as he slowly turned toward Pari. “Did you miss me, my love?” She looked at the wickedness in his glittering eyes and began backing up, bumping against boxes, trunks, and the low hanging eaves of the ceiling. "Kitt!" Pari cried out. "Kitt, if you can hear me, please help me!" “Surely you're not afraid, my little love. I thought you liked it, you brazen little bitch!” He lunged for her several times, knocking boxes, lamps and furniture over, his hands reaching, his husky body desperately crawling over mountains of obstacles she hid behind. Each time he leaped and missed, he muttered an obscenity until he at last had her cornered. He crouched before her, his smile evil and leering. Just as he was about to leap out and grab her, his face began to contort as if he was trying hard to move his legs and arms. All at once he dropped to the floor with a strange look on his face and his body began to flail like a fish out of water. She stood frozen, watching the battle between Boris and Kitt. She looked around when she heard the door bang open and Corinne yelling. "Pari, run. Hurry!" Forcing herself out of her lethargy, Pari ran past the struggling body and out the door. But before she knew what was happening, she saw Corinne move around her with the key, and lock the door. "That should keep him for a while," she muttered, leaving the key in the lock. Taking Pari’s hand, she pulled gently, urging her to follow her down the narrow passage. Once downstairs they hurried into Pari's room, grabbed a suitcase, filled it and slammed out the front door. Pari’s steps began to slow as she looked up at the attic window where she had left Kitt in his struggle. Corinne

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tugged at her while Pari fought, not knowing if she was doing the right thing in leaving. Urging her onward, Corinne gently forced her into the car, but Pari kept looking back. All at once she grabbed the car door. "I can't leave him there to die, I just can't. If I do, I know I'll never see him again." Corinne had just climbed in on her side, when she had to lean over and pull Pari back in. "It has to be done, Pari," she scolded. "He can't live like this, and neither can you. Don't you see that he has to confront Boris, or he'll never be free?" Knowing Corinne was right, she reluctantly ceased her struggle and closed the door. As the car burned rubber along the drive she looked back, and through painful tears, she saw the mansion, cold and bare, being swallowed up by the misty morning. **** I'll kill you for resisting me. Do you hear me, you filthy mongrel? I'll kill you. Kitt's body was beginning to ache as he felt himself being furiously thrown against the walls. He tried to duck away from falling boxes, and put his hands up to his ears to keep from hearing the maniacal obscenities that echoed through his head. "So kill me, you crazy bastard, but you won't hurt Pari…" Before the words were out of his mouth Kitt looked up and saw the seamstress mannequin being hurled across the room toward him. He lunged, ducking under some old clothes before everything went quiet. He lay there for a moment, waiting. When he thought it might be safe, he slowly fought his way out of the mound of material. He looked around, expecting to see something come flying through the air, but there was nothing. He wasn’t fooled. He knew Boris by now, and knew he was biding his time. He was waiting for something… an opportunity to come up on Kitt from the back, when he wasn’t expecting him. He played dirty, but Kitt had no choice but to wait. Kitt rose to his feet defensively. He brushed himself off, slowly walked to the door and found it locked. He looked around for something to force the lock and spied a rusty old letter opener. He leaned down and grabbed it, and

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pushed the blunt end between the doorframe and the lock. His hand moved swiftly, and with a few skillful nudges, it was open. He was about to drop it when his hand, with a life of its own, came up and swiftly rammed the sharp pointed instrument into his stomach. "Oh, God!" he cried, pulling his hand back and seeing blood staining his shirt and his hand. He tried to drop the thin, silver pointed weapon but the evil force made him continue the stabbing action over and over again. Kitt's face contorted, and with every bit of strength he could manage, he slowly began to pull his hand back away from himself. He finally managed to release the letter opener and it fell to the floor with a muffled metal clunk. He pulled his shirt back to look at his wounds. They weren't fatal, but he knew he needed to treat them. Opening the door, he quickly ran down the stairs and into the bathroom. He was sitting on the counter cleaning his wounds, and putting antiseptic on them when his head began banging against the bathroom mirror over and over again. The glass shattered, falling down on his head, his back, the counter, and the floor. The action stopped as quickly as it started, and Kitt heard a whispery, wheezing voice speaking to him. You can't win, Kitt. Don't you see that? I can come to you anytime and do anything I want to you. I can even kill you in your sleep. Kitt's anger flared, and he jumped off the counter, his bare feet feeling the sting of the glass. "Then do it, you old bastard, I dare you!" Kitt's body was immediately lifted up and propelled through the air. He yelled as he soared around the bathroom and landed hard against a wall. When he got up, he looked around, and began yelling. "Why the hell don't you face me like a man? You always have been one to sneak around, Father. Sneaking, hiding, and attacking from the back. That's the way you lived your life, and apparently that's the way you exist in death. You've been an unfair man all your life. To your clients, your friends, your family, and even to Pari. I dare you to come out and fight me on my terms." When he heard nothing but silence, Kitt’s voice softened to a challenge. "I don't think you will, Father. I don't think you have it in you." Again Kitt was slammed against the wall and kept there by an invisible force. Icy fingers of fear clenched his spine when he looked up and saw a shard of glass floating in the air dangerously close to his throat. As he

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watched it, Boris slowly materialized before him, holding the shard of glass in his hand as if he were going to stab him. “Get Pari back here, or I'll kill you. Do you understand?” "She's gone. And she's safe." “I said get her back!” "No, you bastard. I won't!" He drew the shard of glass back, and with his face contorted, he plunged it forward, stopping just short of Kitt's throat. "You won't kill me, father. If you did, you wouldn't have a body to live in." “I'll find another body. I can use Jaric's. He'll do what I say.” "And that's exactly what you've always had against him all these years, isn't it? He always tried to please you, but you didn't appreciate it. You thought he was weak, and you hated him because of it. You hated his weakness, and yet you hated my strength. For God's sake, father, what did you want from us?" “I wanted a son.” "You had two of them, old man, and you weren't happy. You weren't happy because we had youth. You wanted to be young again, but every time you looked in the mirror you saw gray hair and wrinkles. Your answer to getting old was having and conquering every female you saw. And then Ms. Gilda came along. She was different. The only woman who ever screwed with Boris Rogan and won. You didn’t count on her getting pregnant, did you? With me running around the house you were reminded of not only your indiscretion, but your failure. You tried to deny me, but it didn’t work, did it? I was too much like you, so you tried to bury me away in corners and never included me in anything. You thought—" “Shut up, you fool!” "—you thought if you ignored me I would go away, but I didn't, did I, father? I was there day in and day out. Who knows, you might have even forgave where I came from if I'd had just a little of your evil, but I didn't, and Jaric didn't. But we did inherit something from you, though, didn't we, father? Your god-awful love for whores. Jaric's mother couldn't satisfy you, could she, father? She wouldn't let you do all the despicable things to her you wanted, and that's why you were attracted to my mother, and that's why

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you were attracted to Pari, isn't it? Especially after you learned about her problem." The foreboding presence that loomed up before Kitt was silent. Finally, with a whispery voice, he said, “You'll pay for this.” Kitt glared at the evil presence of his father. "You have no place here anymore, you miserable old ghost, so why don't you go back to hell where you belong. Satan is waiting!"

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Chapter 18 Kitt stood frozen against the wall, feeling the evil slowly receding. When it was fully gone, the glass shard that hung in the air before him fell at his feet, shattering. Kitt relaxed at last, emitting a breath that was trapped in his throat by fear. He looked down at the bruises and cuts on his body, feeling the pain from each one radiating. His battle with his father had only started, and already he looked like he’d been attacked by a street gang. He moved slowly away from the wall and made his way over to the sink. After taking care of the damage done to him by his father’s ghost, he left his bathroom to go down to the study. His steps came to an abrupt halt in front of Pari's bedroom. He looked toward the door, wishing he could open it and see her there. He slowly turned and pushed the door forward slightly, closed his eyes, and breathed in. She was gone, but her fragrance was still there. Walking in, he looked around, feeling the coldness of her absence. If a room could be lonely, this one was. There was no jewelry strewn around on the dresser, no makeup, no brush. He turned to the closet that was bare of her clothes and reached up and made a quick swipe at his nose, feeling a surge of unmanly tears edging his eyes. Through his smeary vision, he looked around at the chest, pulled a drawer open and saw a flimsy little nightie she must have dropped in her haste to pack. He touched it, feeling its silky texture just before he brought it up and buried his face in it. He remembered once telling her that she smelled like the perfume counter of a cheap department store, but now he couldn't get enough of her scent. He carefully folded the nightie and laid it gently back in the drawer, thinking what an arrogant, conceited ass he'd been. Instead of enfolding the woman he wanted in his arms and making mad, passionate love to her, he’d put up walls, laid out terms and conditions to their relationship. Now it might be too late. Not knowing if he’d still be alive in the morning, he

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walked the halls, lingered on the staircase, went into the library, kitchen, pool. No matter where he found himself, he was reminded of Pari. She was wedged deeply in his mind, his thoughts, and, it was true, his heart. She was all around him. Her lingering fragrance, memories she had left him with, and his own hellish fantasies of her beneath him, writhing and moaning until she screamed out his name. Not Jaric’s name, and not her father’s name, but his. He had tried to push her away, bury his fantasies beneath the swirl of the investigator’s words, names, dates—all of it shocking—and all of it true. But still she was there. It no longer mattered what she’d been, or even what she was now. God help him, he loved her. Now, when it was too late. He had little doubt that by the time his father got through with him he would be dead. Right now he had no idea who to go to, or what to do to solve this problem, so he decided to take one step at a time. Taking advantage of Boris’s absence, he went into the study to get some work done. Looking down at the papers spread out before him, he had trouble concentrating, feeling like everything was on hold until the battle with his father was over. He found himself wondering how long he would have to wait before Boris made another appearance. There was no doubt that he would want to continue to punish him for sending Pari away, and shuddered when he considered the kind of violence he might have to endure to keep her safe. Hours passed. He jumped at every sound he heard until the facts and figures he tried to make sense of swam before his eyes. His mind wandered for a while before it came back to rest on the typewritten lines, pen and ink notations, and sums and totals. Finally, the pen fell from his hand and he looked up to see the day slowly slipping away into twilight. He rose, walked to the window and stretched. Feeling tight, he rolled his shoulders, trying to rub the tension out of his neck. He turned, looking at the phone several times before he decided to call her. If he couldn't be with her, he wanted to hear her voice. He sat down at the desk, punched in the number and leaned forward waiting expectantly for an answer. "The Crystal Ball." Kitt put his lips close to the mouthpiece and spoke softly. "Hi, babe, miss me?"

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"Oh, Kitt,” Pari sobbed into the mouthpiece. “You know I do." "Yeah, I know. I miss you too, but we can't be together just yet." "When, Kitt?" she moaned, sounding desperate to see him. "I haven't quite got that figured out." "What about Boris?" "He's giving me hell, that's what." "Oh, Kitt, I can’t stand thinking about what you must be going through. How bad is it?" "He's been knocking me around a little." Kitt looked down, turning his hands and arms over, examining his scars. "By the time he gets through, I'll have more scars than he did." "Kitt, my God. Why can't you just leave?" "Pari, it just doesn't work that way. I'm stuck here. Stuck with all of Rogan Enterprises, father, everything." Kitt's hand slowly rubbed over his face with a tired sigh. "Besides, where I go, he goes. Hell, I'll probably die here." "Kitt, don't say that." "Pari,” Kitt said, his lips close to the mouthpiece. “I can’t seem to stop thinking about you. Knowing you’re waiting is the only thing that keeps me going." "Are you sure, Kitt? I seem to remember when you could hardly stand to look at me.” “I was a fool, a stupid, dumb-assed fool. Can you forgive me?” “Forgive you? Oh, Kitt, I love you—” She grew silent for just a moment, then teased, “—scars and all." "Hey, better not say that until you see me. Before this is over I may look like Frankenstein." "I don't care," she whispered, a sensuous tone playing at his ear. "You'll be my Frankenstein. At least that way no other woman will want you." "Yeah,” Kitt chuckled, “not even you." "Kitt, come to see me, will you? I'm going crazy." "My God, Pari. Lead Boris right to you? No way." "But Kitt, I'm dying." With a teasing tone to his voice, he said, "You haven't been fooling around on me have you? I'll know as soon as I see you if you have. I'm good at that you know."

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"Kitt, it’s only been a day. Besides, I don't even want another man. I think you've ruined me." He couldn’t help the wide smile and adolescent bubble of pleasure that welled up inside him. "Good. My intentions exactly." "By the way, where's Jaric these days?" "He's still in Paris. Doesn't even have an inkling of what's going on." "Kitt." Pari's voice purred, her lips close to the mouthpiece. "I'm lying here naked, waiting for you. Picture it, Kitt. I’m spread eagle, my dripping pussy open and waiting." "Pari, if I were to come to you, there's a good chance you'd get both me and Boris. No way." "My nipples are hard, my breasts firm." My God, he thought as he sat there listening to her low, whispery voice, slowly becoming aroused. "Cut it out, Pari, you're burning up the damn phone lines." "You’re kissing me Kitt. Now you've started licking my cunt. Your tongue is tasting me... licking... sucking up my hot, scorching juices. Ohhh, Kitt, now it’s twitching my bud. Rubbing, pushing up inside my canal so far it’s pushing me close the edge. More, Kitt, I have to have more!" Kitt heard her rasping breath blowing on the mouth of the receiver, and it was driving him wild. Her blatant, sweetly whispered scandalous words had caused a thin sheen of sweat to appear along his forehead. "Pari, you’re behaving badly, so for God's sake stop. Now." “You’re right, Kitt,” she said, her voice deepening into a raspy softness. “I’m a bad girl. Have been all my life. The men I’ve known, some have tried to punish me, like Boris. But, the harder, uglier and more savage it was, the better I liked it. So, punish me, Kitt. Tie me down. Spank me. Tear at my breasts with your teeth, but don’t stop until you’re inside me plunging deeper and deeper. Oh, God, Kitt, your cock is so big and hard it almost hurts." By now the thin sheen on Kitt’s forehead had turned to sweat. He choked on his swelling desire, and his hand, with a mind of its own, pressed against his hardening manhood. His intention was to push it down to keep it from rising, but the instant he touched it, the fire that had already begun to grow flamed into a hellish inferno, sending his desire whirling. He continued to press and push, and stroke himself forbiddingly. His eyes

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fluttered to a close, a picture of them together on the dark screen of his mind. "My God, Pari…" "Ohhh God, Kitt! You're pushing in, out, in, out. You're going wild, Kitt, and the bed, ohhhh, God, Kitt, the wood is cracking, it's going to fall." Kitt’s hand pressed harder, his cock growing so large that he was forced to unzip his pants for relief. With his engorged rod at last stiff and free, he circled it with his palm, feeling the highly sensitive touch of flesh on flesh. With a moan and a loss of control, his hips moved, becoming loose and daring. "Pari, Goddammit, you don't know what you're doing to me!" "Can't you feel it, Kitt? The glorious rising of the tide, higher and higher. Oh Kitt, I’m coming. I’m coming, my darling. Come with me, Kitt, come with me!" Suddenly she screamed, and then it quickly died with her hot breath blowing into the phone in short, raspy jerks. When Kitt heard her rapturous scream and her jerking breaths, his desire exploded and the movement of his hands along his cock turned hot and feverish. He wanted to stop, knew he should stop, but he couldn’t. Not until his release was complete, and he erupted like an erotic volcano. Each of them breathed heavily into the phone, their lips as close as they could get to each other. Pari whispered, "Was it good, Kitt? If only you had been here, we could have prolonged it." Kitt spoke through his heavy breathing. "You just wait until I get my hands on you, you little witch. You won't see daylight for a month." "Only a month?" she chuckled softly. "I'm disappointed. I was hoping for six months at least." "We've got to eat, you little vixen." He smiled, cradling the phone in his hand, wanting to crawl through it. "We'll eat each other," she whispered erotically. "I can just see us now." His mouth was moving against the mouthpiece intimately. "Two skinny lovers lying in bed." "Before we die, we'll write a note. It'll say, We died making love." "You Jezebel." She laughed suggestively. "And don't you love it?" Suddenly Kitt heard a loud banging on the front door and looked up. "I'd better hang up, someone's about to break the front door down.” His face darkened, his voice became strained with thoughts of what might be coming. “Want to make a little bet on who it is?"

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"Kitt, before you go, kiss me." "Kiss you? "Please.” Her voice was breathy, urgent. "I'd be kissing the phone, you little idiot." "It doesn't matter,” she whispered. “Press your lips to the mouthpiece and think about me, and I'll do the same." "Pari, I can't do that, I'd feel silly." "Kitt,” she pleaded with a tear in her voice. “Please do it for me. After all, I don't know when I'll see you again." He relented. "Okay, babe, whatever makes you happy." They both pressed their lips to the mouthpiece for a few seconds. "I love you," she said, her trembling voice sounding faint and far away. "Me, too. And don't worry, I'll be all right. Boris might torture me, but he won't kill me." "Call me back later, okay?" "If I can," he answered quickly and put the phone down. After replacing the receiver, Kitt looked down at his ruined pants. Not having time to change them, he zipped up quickly then ran to the front door and swung it open. He jumped back when he saw a dangling skeleton staring at him along with an angry, booming voice. “This is what you'll look like when you're lying in that bed of lust.” Realizing it was one of Boris' tricks, he yelled out. "You're a fine one to be talking about lust, you old bastard. Leave me alone, I'm busy." Kitt slammed the door and went upstairs. He stripped off his clothes and got into the shower. After he had soaped himself up and was rinsing off, he looked down at his arms and hands and saw blood instead of water. It startled him at first, but he knew that Boris was at it again. "Surely you can do better than this, you burned out old man. How many old movies have had this scene in them? I've seen at least a dozen." When the water was clear again, he continued showering, but the room temperature had dropped so low, he felt like he was ice fishing in Alaska. Hugging himself, he shook with the cold and stayed under the water only long enough to rinse himself off before stepping out. Shivering, he quickly grabbed a towel and ran into the warm bedroom. "I've got to hand it to you, Father. That's one I've never seen before." After drying himself off, Kitt put on his robe.

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“I don’t need your criticisms or your compliments,” the wheezing voice complained, “but if you’re anxious to give an opinion, maybe you should go out on the balcony and tell me what you think of that.” While brushing his hair, Kitt’s hands stopped and his eyes shifted, looking worriedly toward the balcony. Throwing the brush down with a clatter, he rushed out, grasped the balustrade, and looked down. His eyes widened and his heart pounded wildly when he saw a spear sticking up out of the ground. Pari's body was pierced and she was dangling lifelessly. "Oh my God!" he shouted, whirling around and hiding his eyes in his hands. "Get rid of it! Do you hear me, get rid of it!" Boris’s laugh was evil and wild as it reverberated around the room. “Not so funny now, is it, you miserable mongrel? So you want to be with Pari, huh? Well, if I were you, I'd hurry. She's outside in the hot tub waiting for you.” "Dear God,” he mumbled to himself, not knowing what to expect. He quickly ran downstairs, and out to the pool. There he saw an inviting picture of Pari in the hot tub with her arms stretched out to him invitingly. He strode toward her, but stopped abruptly when he saw the floor of the tub covered with snakes. As if on cue, he saw one of the snakes stealthily crawl over all the others to sensuously slither up her body, between her legs, over her soft skin and ample breasts until it wrapped himself around her neck in a deadly embrace. While it strangled her to death, Kitt saw her wilt as she choked out a plea for help. He sobbed, turning his head away, hiding his eyes, and covering his ears while the insane cackle of Boris’s laughter echoed around him once more. “I don't think you've ever seen that one on the screen either. One thing you have to remember, Kitt, is that in the movies they use special effects. With me it's real.” Boris laughed. “Get it? Real versus reel?” Kitt covered his ears, trying to endure the sound of Boris’s loud, insane, wheezing laughter until it finally faded into nothing more than the wind rustling through the trees. He waited a moment, thinking his father would greet him with another one of his hellish tricks, but nothing came. He was relieved, yet it was unsettling. He felt a chill, knowing Boris was only quiet now because he was gearing up for something worse later. Leaving the horrible scene, he hurried back into the house, knowing that his punishment for letting Pari go had only begun. He felt he could

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withstand anything, knowing Pari was safe. The only problem was Boris knew how to get to Kitt. He knew he could use Pari’s image to drive him insane. Even if Kitt knew it was a trick, it was tormenting to see her impaled, or strangling, or dying, or any of the other million things his father could dream up in his unhinged mind. For his own mental health he had to figure this out, and quick, but he didn't even know where to begin. He went into the study, mixed himself a drink and slumped down on the couch in a reclining position, too tired to even think. After a few minutes his eyes caught the corner of a paper sticking out from under the cushion of a chair. He reached over and pulled it out, noticing it was a little paper called Light and Shadow. Since Jaric was a fan of the supernatural, he subscribed to the paper and read it from cover to cover. It was full of articles on supernatural occurrences, interesting articles on hauntings, possessions, what makes benevolent ghosts, and why many are vindictive. The paper had an article right on the front page with an interesting title. Kitt’s eyes scanned through it, skipping down until it told him what he needed to know… SPIRIT WITH A MISSION …if the body the spirit possesses dies, or, for some reason, becomes incapable of housing it any longer, the spirit is forced to depart and find another home, or return to the netherworld from which it came. The spirit will always try to re-enter its previous home if it can, so the door must be “locked.” This cannot be done by the possessed, but by the target. Since the target is his reason for being there, it is by the target's so-called authority that the spirit must leave. Only then will the captive gain freedom for all eternity. Kitt put the paper aside and stared down at the floor for a moment, thinking. According to that article, there was absolutely nothing he could do. It had to be Pari. He rose from his chair and paced, nervously raking his fingers through his damp hair. He turned around and looked back down at the paper, and the words… “if the body… dies, or…becomes incapable…” jumped out at him. But how? How could it become incapable? All at once his memory was triggered, and he seemed to remember something. He turned and looked at the desk, and then crossed the room until he was standing over it. He reached down and carefully pulled the desk drawer open, revealing a shiny little revolver, and bullets. He remembered

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now that Boris had kept it there for protection. He looked at it for a moment, sweat breaking out on his forehead as a frightening idea began forming in his mind. He knew it was dangerous, but there was no other way. Nervous fear filled him as he moved his hand in hesitant jerking motions toward the phone. With his hand caressing the receiver, he closed his eyes, said a short prayer and grabbed the phone up and punched in the number of The Crystal Ball. As soon as Corinne answered, he spoke. "Get over here as fast as you can, and bring Pari." "Why?" "I don't have time to explain, just get over here." He banged the phone down and picked up the revolver and loaded it. He heard a voice. “She won't do it. Do you hear me? She won't do it.” Kitt’s glance darted around the room, looking for Boris. “I knew it, you old bastard. You can’t kill me, can you? All your threats, your bullying, and you can’t do a fucking thing. If you did, you wouldn’t have a place to live.” Anger filled the room in the form of a wild wind, and he glimpsed the ghost of Boris standing in the center of the small gale. They glared at each other, staring each other down. Pictures were wrenched from the walls, knick-knacks fell from the shelves, and books flew through the air. "Your little game is over, Father. If you won't go back to hell of your own accord, then I'm going to send you." “You sniveling little crossbreed. I should have cut your heart out when you were a child.” "Too late, Father, too damned late." “Not necessarily.” The ominous words seemed to be a cue for a roomful of knives and axes to go whirling around the room. Kitt ducked behind the desk, watching as they whizzed over his head. In only moments they disappeared as quickly as they came. He rose slowly, watching carefully, not knowing what Boris would do next. While standing in a defensive crouch, he turned his head and looked toward the back of the mansion. "I smell smoke." He immediately ran out and when he got to the pool he saw a sulfur pit filled with red smoke and fire. “Just a vague idea of what hell looks like, my boy.”

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While Kitt stood there, a horned creature rose up from the middle holding Pari in his arms while she struggled and screamed for help. His scaly hands began to paw at her, and Kitt had to hold himself back to keep from losing his head and jumping into that flaming pit to save her. He tried to keep in mind that it was just another fantasy born in the demented mind of his father, and forced himself to turn away. When he could no longer stand to hear her crying, and begging for help, he covered his head with his arms, fell to his knees and screamed, "Stop, you bastard! Stop!” After what seemed like forever, the smoking red glow turned dark, and there was nothing but silence. He turned and the pool looked calm and undisturbed. Just then a loud banging sounded at the door. He whirled around, ran toward the front, and stopped, wondering if it was his father's sick imagination again. He jerked the door open, and saw Pari and Corinne. His first reaction was relief, and then he became suspicious. “My God, I just called you,” he rasped. "Are you real?" Pari ran into his arms. "You bet we're real." When Kitt knew it was really Pari, he muttered, "Thank God." Gathering her in his arms he kissed her passionately, never wanting to let her go. When they finally parted, Kitt led her into the study with Corinne following. "Pari, you’re not going to like this, but it’s crucial that you do exactly as I tell you." Pari looked down and saw the gun. "What is this?" He grabbed her hand and slapped the gun against her palm. "You know what it is, now take it." "But what's it doing here?" she asked, and looked up at him with concern in her eyes. "Oh, Kitt… darling. You can't shoot a ghost." Reaching up, she felt his forehead. "Are you all right?" "Pari, I'm not crazy… or sick if that's what you think. I know I can't shoot a ghost, but you can shoot the house he lives in. Do you understand?" Pari’s eyes widened. “Oh no, Kitt. No way in hell.” "Of course,” Corinne cried, a glimmer of excitement sparkling in her eyes. “Why didn't I think of that?" “You two are talking crazy,” Pari said, her stare shifting between Corinne and Kitt. “What is this, anyway? What… what’s going on?"

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"Pari, it’s simple,” Corinne began. “Kill the house, which is Kitt, and the spirit has to find another home, or go back to wherever he came from." Corinne looked at Kitt. "Are you sure you want to do this? If you'll—” Pari whirled back toward Kitt. "Kill you? You want me to kill you?" "Well, in a manner of speaking." "Kitt, are you crazy? I can't do that to you for God's sake. I love you." "It has to be you, Pari. It has to be the target." "Forget it." "Pari," Corinne said, "you don't have to kill him, just…uh—" She glanced over at Kitt. "—just… almost kill him." "You're both crazy," she said, looking down at the formidable weapon, and shoving it toward Kitt as if it was burning her hand. "Pari,” Kitt said, shoving the gun back at her. “All you have to do is injure me. You know, just bad enough that the spirit has to move on." He nodded toward the gun. "Go ahead." Low laughter rumbled from every corner of the room. “I told you, Kitt. She’ll never do it. What a show. This is better than television.” “Oh, God, he’s active,” Corinne mumbled. Looking at Pari, she said, “We have to hurry.” "I can’t, Corinne. What if I kill him by accident? You know, point at his shoulder and hit his neck, or head, or something?" “I'd be surprised if she could hit the broad side of a barn,” Boris said, his rumbling voice echoing around the room. “Shut up, you bastard!” Pari yelled to the air around her. Whirling back around, her pleading gaze darted first to Corinne, and then to Kitt. “I can’t, Kitt, I just can’t. Not because I don’t want to, but I can’t shoot, for God's sake. I don’t even know how to handle a gun." "Pari, if you don’t, Boris wins." "But… Kitt… I’ll…" Corinne jerked Pari around and stared intently into her eyes. "Pari, you've got to, it's the only way." "Please don’t ask me to do this,” Pari begged. “I can’t, I just can’t.” Kitt watched Pari for a moment, and then slid his gaze toward the gun that she was flailing about in her hand. She wouldn’t do it on her own, he realized that now. But if he forced her... if he... An idea formed in his mind,

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and his face became cruel. "You damned slut.” he said, hissing out his anger. “Do you think I could ever love you?" “What?” Pari said, whirling around, the gun wobbling about in her hand. "Kitt, what are you saying?" He ambled over to the center of the room to make himself a good target and whirled around, beginning his act. "I think I spoke loud and clear, you nasty little Jazz Queen. Why the hell would I want to get myself mixed up with a little slut like you, huh?” **** "Shut up!" Pari yelled, long ago memories piling up in her mind. "Shut up? Oh, quick come back. You know, Barbie, the first time I saw you, I knew you were nothing but a dumb little bimbo, and I was right, wasn't I? Dumb, stupid, and an easy lay for any man with all the right equipment." "Kitt," Pari sobbed, her eyes filling with tears. "How can you say these things to me if you love me?" "Love you?" Kitt chuckled with ridicule. "Don’t be stupid, Pari. Any man would say he loved you if all he wanted was a nice little piece of ass. I used you, sweetheart. Like countless others. My God, surely you don’t think all the men in your past had any real feelings for you?" The words she constantly pushed out of her mind came rushing at her from out of her past. Trash! Whore! Slut! They struck her like stones, making her feel like the scarlet woman from out of the Bible. Like the harlot, she’d been caught in sin and never been able to rise above it. The stones were heavy and bruising. Blood, wet and sticky, fell into her eyes. The words echoed through her mind making her feel trapped in her past, like she was slogging through quicksand. The gun in her hand trembled while the other hand wiped at the gushing tears. "Don’t do this to me, Kitt,” she begged. “Stop it. Please, stop it.” "It’s hard to believe that someone so stupid could be a lawyer. Never opened a book, I’ll bet. You’re a cock-happy little slut, Pari who didn’t need money, just a bed. I can see your graduation day now. The long line of contented professors that hated to see you go."

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Pain leaped through her, the words still coming, tearing her heart to shreds. “Maybe I was stupid!” she cried. “But not anymore!” She sobbed loudly as the tears streamed down her face. "I hate you, you bastard! I hate you more than…" Kitt leaned toward her. "Do you, babe? Do you really? You know, you're nothing but an empty-headed, trashy little nympho that doesn't know how to do anything but lay on her back." The words, cruel and heartless, continued to pummel her. She sobbed. She trembled. And then she lifted the hand that held the gun. "You damned bastard, it would serve you right if I did kill you." "You might as well put that thing down, sweetheart, you don’t have the guts. No, your thing is peeling a man’s banana. You know, like you did for me earlier tonight? For your information, I was thinking of someone else." The cruel words coming out of his mouth grated on her, causing her to roar out her anger. “Kitt, I’m warning you!” Pushing her hand forward, the gun began to shake violently as it pointed toward his heart. "God, it was good. Let’s try once more. Come on, babe, talk dirty to me again. Remember, your bell went off a few times too." Something red hot blazed through her, making her think longingly of murder. "If you don't shut up, Kitt, I'm going to shut you up." "Oh, really? I dare you. You couldn't hit an elephant if he were sitting on your lap, you little bitch.” Corinne sidled up to Pari. "What the hell are you waiting for, Pari? Shoot the bastard, he deserves it." “The little bimbo doesn't have the guts,” Kitt said arrogantly. “All she is is boobs and butt." A smile broke out on Kitt’s face. "Hey that rhymes." Still keeping his eyes narrowed on the gun, he continued, "Pari, Pari, quite contrary, how does your garden grow? With boobs and butt, cookies and nuts and pretty cherries all in a row." Hearing Kitt’s taunts, Pari could hardly stand it. Every part of her body trembled as she stood pointing the gun at him. Finally using both hands, she steadied the gun, and aimed it carefully. "If you don't want a hole through your miserable head,” she sobbed, while pain continued to dig into her, “you'd better shut your mouth." "Hey, Pari, Lynette Silvers and I are an item now. You know, the lipstick queen?"

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When Pari heard Lynette's name, something exploded inside her. "Let me tell you sweetheart, she is one hot little cunt. She's so good I don't care if she rubs lipstick all over me. Hey, come to think of it, that might be a turn-on in itself." The thought of the two of them together stabbed at Pari, causing pain and anger to run rampant through her. She felt her hand squeezing the gun... aiming at his chest. "Hey, want me to tell you what she's like in the sack? Ohhhhh man what a hot item." Slowly Pari's trigger finger began to twitch. "Kitt, I’m warning you. Don't say it. Don't!" But his voice ran on and on, the words piercing her heart. "My God, she's got a tight little pussy. We must have went at it for hours one night. Hell, I thought she was gonna wear me out." The timbre of his voice, the words. They stabbed at her over and over until she was heaving with sobs so large they felt bigger than a mountain. They were caught in her throat. She couldn’t breathe. The only relief she could get was to get rid of what was causing it. Her face crumpled in tears, and with a steel-like determination, she peered over the gun site. Her finger barely pressed the trigger. While Pari was trembling on the edge, she saw Kitt’s hand move to the front of his crotch, grab himself obscenely and begin grinding his hips. "She starts out with a slow hand and works up to a hard ride." Feeling his words cut deep, tearing her apart, her fingers slowly tightened. "Just when I think I can't stand it anymore, she climbs on top. First she’s on top, and then me." The picture he painted tormented her. Her eyes squeezed shut as if to block it out, and her trigger finger moved. "Mmmm, God, her cunt tastes go—" All at once a shot rang out and Kitt reeled backward. Opening her eyes, Pari stood frozen, shock causing her to drop the gun. She stared at him, waiting for him to move, but Kitt lay still, his life slipping away as blood pooled around him.

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Just then a distant howl echoed throughout the house, sounding like a surge of screaming wind—or a tormented soul being cast into hell.

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Chapter 19 “No!” Pari shrieked in terror. Corinne looked up from crouching over Kitt. “Pari!” she cried, “it’s okay. He’s just...” Before she could get the words out, Pari crumpled to the floor. Panic filled her. Not knowing what to do first, she quickly ran to the phone and dialed 911, trying to keep her voice steady when she told them someone had been shot. While she talked, she glanced at Pari’s still body before she shifted her eyes to Kitt. Her jerking words were filled with raspy sobs, panic and dread. After being assured that someone was on their way, she quickly banged the phone down and ran over to Pari. She leaned down over her and gently slapped her face to waken her, but with no response. A coil of fear began to rise in her and she knew she had to get her off the floor. Her eyes darted to the nearby couch. Moving quickly, she gathered Pari up as best she could and managed to pull her body along the floor. It took a series of loud grunts, and a good deal of struggling, but she finally had her on it. Without wasting a moment, she looked her over with concerned eyes, first checking her color, her breathing, and feeling the blessed coolness of her skin. When she knew Pari would be all right, she took a grateful breath and left her there. With abrupt movements she looked around again and spotted the gun. She ran over to it, picked it up and wiped Pari's prints off. Moving quickly, she pressed the gun in Kitt's hand and proceeded to lay it very carefully on the floor beside him. As soon as she finished, she looked around to see if she had missed anything when she heard a siren in the distance. She imagined the authorities breathing down her neck. When the medics got there, they rushed in, examined Kitt and told Corinne that he was still breathing, but just barely. While strapping an

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oxygen mask on him they hauled him upon a gurney and wheeled him to the ambulance. A somber-faced detective in jeans and a leather jacket began wandering around, looking in corners, closets and peering into other rooms. “You don’t mind if a few of my boys look around,” he asked Corinne, not with a question, but a statement, indicating they would whether she wanted them to or not. She shrugged. “Sure, but I don’t know what you think you’ll find.” The detective cast a distrustful eye toward her as he pulled out a pad and pencil. “How about you telling me just what happened,” he said, again with a statement instead of a question. "He was sitting here in the study cleaning his gun. Pari—" She looked over toward the couch. "—that's her there. We were upstairs when we heard this loud blast. We ran downstairs—" She indicated to the scene. "—and this is what we found." "What's wrong with her?" "She fainted when she saw what had happened." "Anybody else in the house?" He looked around. "Somebody that might have tried to kill him?" "Kill? Really, detective, aren’t you making a little too much out of this? I just told you...” “Look, just answer the questions, okay?” “But I’m just a friend. The only one I know about is Weems, the butler. I’m sure there are others. You might try questioning him.” "Where is he?” the detective said, scratching his jaw with his pencil. Just then Weems came running in, his wide eyes taking in the scene before him. “My God, what’s going on?” “Mr. Rogan shot himself… accidentally.” Corinne said. “Oh, my.” The detective walked up to him. “Who are you, and how you connected to the Rogans?” With an attitude that was stuffy and formal, he said, “My name is Weems. I’m the family butler.” The detective turned when he saw one of the men about to examine the gun. “Samuels, let me do that.” He crouched down and picked up the gun, sticking his pencil in the trigger hold so as not to disturb any prints. Being

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very careful, he lifted it to his nose to smell the barrel. Making no comment, he carefully guided it into a plastic bag that the officer was holding. "Why the hell are you doing all this?” Corinne questioned. “He's not dead. Besides, it was an accident." He looked up at her, and said, "We have to consider all possibilities. Besides, if you were upstairs, as you say you were, how the hell would you know? Anyone could have come in here and shot him.” Corinne was silent, knowing he was right. The detective continued. “Maybe it was an accident, but maybe it was attempted murder." He looked around as if he wanted to make sure he didn’t miss anything and then stood back up and faced her. "But if he dies it'll be Murder One… won't it?" **** A few days later everything was over. They conducted a brief investigation, and Pari and the servants were questioned. Corinne had briefed Pari beforehand, being sure they had the same story. Because everything checked out, the authorities ruled it an accidental shooting, and Kitt miraculously came out of surgery still alive. After they moved Kitt into a private room, the doctor led Pari into the hall and spoke to her in hushed tones. "He's going to be all right, but it was a close call.” When the doctor began mouthing his medical school language and trying to explain all of the technology to her, Pari closed her eyes and held her temples as if she had a headache. “Doctor! English, please.” The doctor smiled, embarrassed. “Sorry. I guess the best way to explain it is to say that the bullet lodged in what I call a clean area. Close enough to the heart to be serious, but it didn’t damage any valves or arteries. He's extremely lucky, because if it had hit him just a little to the left, he wouldn't have had a chance." "May I see him?" she asked, hopefully. “Just for a moment?” While the doctor was shaking his head Pari sobbed, a flood of tears threatening to fall. “Please, doctor. I promise not to stay long.” “Ms. Sisco, I’m sorry, but it’s too soon. He needs rest, and lots of it."

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Pari followed the doctor as he turned to walk away. "But, doctor, it’s crucial that I tell him something." He turned around, looking at her with annoyance "Ms. Sisco. You can tell him any damn thing you want, but he won't hear you. He's out like a light, and I'm going to see he stays that way." "Doctor,” Pari sobbed. “I've just got to see him. I'm leaving, and I have to tell him goodbye. He'll hear me, I know he will." Looking at her tears, the doctor hesitated a moment, and then relented. "It's against my better judgment, Ms. Sisco, but I'll give you one minute, and no longer. Sixty seconds, okay? Then I want you out of there immediately." She nodded and watched the doctor as he walked away. Taking a deep, steadying breath, she turned and walked the few steps back to his room, slowly opening the door. When she saw him lying there so helpless because of her, she stood in the darkness softly crying. God, how could I have pulled that trigger? She walked over to his bed, her tear-filled eyes gazing down at him. "Oh Kitt, I'm so sorry," she whispered. "Please forgive me." He slowly opened his heavy-lidded eyes, and a smile tugged at his lips when he saw her. "Hey there, babe, you did one hell of a job, and here I thought you couldn't hit—" He winced with pain. "Don't talk, Kitt. The doctor says you'll be all right, but you have to take it easy." "Yeah…" As his eyes closed, Pari leaned over and kissed him on the lips. "Goodbye, my darling," she whispered. "Have a happy life. Not that it matters to you, but I'll always love you." His eyes opened quickly, a stunned look reflected in them. He struggled to speak, but Pari, remembering the doctor’s orders, placed her fingers over his mouth, lowered her head, and walked… out of his life. **** Kitt slowly recovered while sitting at the window of his study. Spring slowly turned to summer and summer to fall with Pari on his mind every minute. He couldn’t escape her image, not even in his sleep. In his dreams she would make a shadowy appearance, swimming in a pool of sparkling

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water, only to swim away when he reached out to touch her. He might have been alive on the outside, but without Pari, he was dead on the inside. He lost track of time as he rattled around in the mansion, only attending to business when it was completely necessary. He let Cliff handle everything that didn't need his absolute attention, making the excuse that he was still recovering. On one of Kitt's follow-up visits, the doctor became alarmed. "Kitt, you've got to begin living again. You've been rattling around in that mansion for over a year now. You're not getting any exercise or fresh air, and you're not eating right. If you keep this up, you're going to make an invalid out of yourself." "I can’t,” he said, getting up from the chair and wandering over to the window. “Without her, nothing interests me." "Kitt, for God’s sake, she’s just a woman. It’s time you were over her!" Kitt turned and looked at him. "You’re a doctor. Can't you give me something?" "What the hell do you want me to give you? A plastic blow-up doll with her face on it?" Kitt ambled away from the window and grasped the doorknob. "Yeah, well, thanks, doc. I'll think of something." One morning after a particularly restless night, Kitt leaned over his bathroom sink and looked into the mirror. What he saw was frightening. His complexion had become pallid, and his eyes dull. He had stopped shaving, and a dark shadow covered his face. He lowered his head, feeling lost, and again saw the picture of Pari that lived in his mind. He had a headache from drinking too much the night before, so he reached up and pulled open the mirror for some aspirin. Looking for the green bottle, his eyes raked over the medications, and found a bottle of pills that the doctor had prescribed some time ago. Curious, he reached in and took the canister, turned it in his hand and noticed that there was about a half a bottle left. As he was looking at it, suddenly his mind was filled with suggestions of suicide. A tremendous desire to end it all seemed to overwhelm him. He became frightened, and trembled as he tried to turn the bottle over and spill the pills out in the sink, but instead his hand grabbed a glass and filled it full of water. He tried to fight it, but was

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powerless against it, and lifted the bottle up, emptied the pills into his mouth and swallowed them. When they were gone, he dropped the glass, shattering it on the floor while he leaned his head over. He began to feel nauseated, a whirling fog filled his mind obscuring any rational thoughts, and then dizziness overcame him. He felt himself losing consciousness. Weakness began to creep into him, making his bones feel like rubber. He lost his hold on the sink and fell. He tried to hang on, to stand again, but he couldn’t seem to grasp anything, so he crouched on the floor, shaking his head and trying to clear his mind of the darkness that was slowly creeping over him. He finally tumbled backward on the floor and laid motionless, blood from the shattered glass creeping down his limp, open palm. **** A storm had quickly swept in from the north, bringing with it plunging temperatures and low clouds that blocked out the sun like a sinister curtain. With the city sunk in the eerie darkness, headlights became ribbons of light that sped along busy streets, and programmed streetlights instantly clicked on as the blanket of darkness continued to descend. In a tall building, a dimly lit room was filled with flickering light and shadow. The thin walls of the room trembled with rumbles of thunder that sounded like distant war drums. The room was decorated in art nouveau, with dark turquoise drapes and a green and gold peacock pattern on the wallpaper. With the exception of a strong masculine-like desk, it was a feminine room with couch, chairs, and tall, brazen urns filled with fanned brown and emerald feathers. On a polished coffee table with bulky legs lay a bowl of coal blue crystal, and on one wall hung a mirror of reflecting glass rimmed by colorful glass-paste fruit and leaves. The comfortable couch was overstuffed, and had two matching chairs that were upholstered in the same color as the drapes. This elegant office was Pari’s hollow triumph. To forget Kitt, the moment she returned from Bayonne she rented a prime office location, contacted the most expensive decorators, stormed the most elegant furniture stores and purposely got herself involved in a sticky murder trial that she couldn't possibly win, but knew that the studying she would have to do to prepare for it would keep her mind occupied.

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She was up to her neck in books night after night and when the trial finally began, she demonstrated her expert tactics day after day in the courtroom as she pled for the life of her client. She put on a show of dramatics as she threw caution to the wind and pulled out her big guns. She powerfully paced the floor, using every trick she had learned in law school, and then hit the opposing team over the head with them. She knew she was putting on a show that no one would soon forget, but she didn't care. She had lost Kitt. She didn't care about anything anymore. Everywhere she went bulbs flashed, and reporters pushed microphones in her face. "Ms. Sisco, how can you sleep at night defending a man that you know is guilty?" "On my damned stomach!" she stormed, reaching out and pushing microphones out of her way as she continued walking. Pari knew everyone believed the young man she was defending was guilty. Hell, she knew he was guilty. But she didn’t care, and because of that, her cunning courtroom tactics were ruthless. She twisted everything that was said to her advantage, making her client look like a choirboy, and his testimony totally believable. She kept opinions unbalanced, causing questions to rise in everyone’s mind. A shadow of a doubt. Her crowning achievement was when her research uncovered illegal activity being conducted by the prosecution. She wasted no time in bringing it before the judge with the proof in hand. She successfully exposed them before the court and the media… and she had only just begun. **** Lynette Silvers rode up to the Rogan mansion on her horse and found an ambulance in front. Hurrying inside, she saw the hustle and bustle of the medics as they brought Kitt down on a stretcher. "Swallowed a bottle of pills," Sara whispered when Lynette asked her what happened. "Is he going to be all right?"

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Sara nodded and pressed a hanky to her mouth with tears streaming down her cheeks. "They said we found him just in time." "But why would Kitt do something like that?" "It's that woman," Sara hissed. Lynette looked around. "What woman?" Sara began crying and couldn't talk. Lynette put her arms around the older woman and took her to the kitchen for some water. "Are you going to be all right?" she said, setting the water down before her. "I'd like to go with Kitt to the hospital. I don't think he should be alone right now." Sara nodded. "That's very thoughtful of you, Ms. Silvers." She took a drink and pressed her hanky to her mouth again. "Yes, I'll be fine, but I'd just like to sit here for a while if you don’t mind." “Everything’s going to be all right,” Lynette said gently. “Don’t you worry.” The woman nodded and dabbed at the fresh tears that had begun to flow. Finally leaving her in the hands of one of the other servants, Lynette left and ran out to the ambulance. Taking a moment to explain to the medics, she crawled into the back with Kitt, and held his hand all the way to the hospital. **** Through the thick fog that surrounded him, he dreamed of Pari... but saw Lynette. He heard the close whisper of a female voice, and wanted Pari... but saw Lynette. Surrounded by a flowery fragrance, he thought of Pari... but saw Lynette. A pair of soft lips hovered close, but it wasn't Pari… it was Lynette. While in the hands of the expert hospital staff, Kitt slowly got stronger. He argued with the nurses, refused to take his meals, threw childish temper tantrums, but still he got stronger. And then one day while watching the news from his hospital bed, he lunged forward when he heard the stiff anchor tell about the sensational Atlanta trial that was being handled by defense attorney, Pari Sisco.

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All at once everything changed. His violent temper became soothed at the mere mention of her name. Every day the trial became more sensational, making headlines in every paper. Kitt searched the channels, trying to find news of the trial, and arranged to have the Atlanta paper delivered to his room. He sat on pins and needles day after day until he couldn't stand it any longer. Finally one day he threw back his covers and announced that he was out of there. Against the doctor's orders, he immediately flew down to Georgia and sat in the back of the courtroom, watching Pari do her stuff. **** Pari felt a strange prickling along her neck and turned around in her chair. Her eyes raked over the people, but saw nothing unusual until her eyes traveled all the way back to a shadowy corner where a dark man sat quietly, staring at her. He wore sunglasses, had his hair slicked back in a ponytail, and always wore a dark suit. She turned back around feeling chills on her arms. After that, she noticed he was there every day. Always watching. Always staring. Even when she didn't look for him, she could feel his piercing gaze on the back of her head, constantly observing her. He was elusive, never spoke, and always kept to the same dark corner, leaving quickly once the day was over. His very presence gave her an icy chill, so she tried to ignore him. Finally the trial was over and Pari, with her legal expertise, had dramatically won freedom for her client. When the verdict was read, there was an outburst of cries in the courtroom, some victorious, while others crumbled under the weight of defeat. The photographers wasted no time storming toward the front and surrounding Pari and her client as the smiling young man shook her hand and embraced her. "I knew I could count on you, Ms. Sisco. Thank you very much." "It's okay, Jeff, but don't go getting yourself in trouble again." "Don't worry. I've learned my lesson." Pari tried to be happy about her victory, but today, like every day since she had left Kitt in Bayonne, a dark cloud hung over her. With arms as heavy as her heart, she slowly began picking up all her strewn out documents and putting them back in her briefcase. She hadn’t noticed that

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the young man beside her was still looking at her as if he wanted to say something. He finally leaned close to her ear and spoke softly. "May I talk to you?" Pari turned to his eager face and smiled. "Jeff, I thought you were gone. Sure, what is it?" When they both took a seat, the young man struggled for a moment. "Well… I thought... I mean... since all this is over now and we're no longer client and lawyer, how about letting me call you sometime? We could grab a bite, have a drink, you name it." She looked at the young, healthy, good-looking man, and was tempted. "You're sweet, Jeff, but I can't. It hasn't been long since I came out of an unhappy relationship, and I’m—" She looked up at him and smiled thinly. "—well, I'm just not quite over it yet." As his smile slowly melted, he gave a slight shrug. “Well, it was worth a try.” “Sorry,” she mumbled, watching him as he left. Being reminded of Kitt again, her spirits had taken a nosedive. It took her a minute to put away the memories, but finally she shook herself out of it. Turning once again to her task, she cleared the table of her documents, snapped her briefcase to a close, and stepped away from the table just as the lights clicked out. She quickly turned and began an energetic stride down the aisle toward the wide double door with nothing on her mind but what she would have for dinner that night. With the room completely cleared out, and her heels making a clicking echo on the hardwood floor, she chanced to look up, seeing the shadowy figure of a dark man staring at her from the back of the courtroom. Her pace slowed a bit, but she quickly composed herself and walked on, purposely ignoring him. He kept his eyes on her as he watched her pass right in front of him. "Ms. Sisco." The whispery voice floated out of the shadow. Pari looked around at the murky figure, mindful of her erratic pulse. "Yes?" A hand with a pamphlet protruded from the darkness. "May I have your autograph?" She looked at the shadowed face and tried to see past the sunglasses he wore. "Yes, of course."

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With a large, flamboyant swirl, she signed her name and extended the pamphlet and pen back at him. She smiled a cold, quick smile as she turned and left. As she walked, she thought of Kitt, and an ache squeezed her heart, making her wish those days of clanging, locked doors were back again. **** That evening Pari flipped on the TV and happened to tune in on a special edition concerning the richest men in the world. “Let’s turn our attention to wealthy playboy, Kitt Rogan. Mr. Rogan is seen frequently on the streets of New York with one special woman on his arm. I wonder if wedding bells are in this couple’s future?” Pari jerked forward when she saw the drooling anchorwoman turn her attention to the monitor that showed Kitt getting out of a chauffeured limousine. He was dressed in evening clothes, his eyes glittering in the blinking marquee lights of a theater where the premiere of the latest blockbuster movie was being held. His movie-idol looks caused a torrent of clapping and whistles from the sidelines. With the camera still on him, he turned toward the Rogan limousine and put his hand into the darkness and withdrew a striking brunette. Kitt and his date turned toward the camera, and Pari's face crumpled when she saw that he had Lynette Silvers on his arm. While the camera stayed on them, Kitt began performing, as usual, and pulled Lynette into his arms, making a big production of leaning her over like a passionate lover and kissing her. Then turning to the camera he winked the same sexy wink she remembered so well. Pari's heart broke. She quickly turned the set off and threw herself down on her new overstuffed sofa, and cried herself to sleep.

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Chapter 20 After the dramatic victory Pari won in the Hayden trial, she turned into an overnight sensation. She couldn’t help but be proud of the fact that she’d become the most sought-after attorney on the eastern seaboard, and had clients calling her from as far west as Las Vegas, Nevada. The name she had made for herself wasn't important, but being able to throw herself into her work was. Leaping from client to client, Pari stayed busy. She could be seen going in and out of jails, courtrooms, and hailing cabs on busy streets. She busily signed autographs, and always had her bulging briefcase by her side, full of the tricks of her trade. She wouldn’t allow herself an idle moment, so she burned the midnight oil night after night until she was ready to fall into bed. Many times she woke up the next morning, her head resting on her law books and her body full of aches and pains. Over time the hot, sensuous body that was always ready for a man’s touch became numb. No waking up to midnight desires that made her body so sensitive only a touch could send her spinning off into a hellish inferno of erotic need. No more electric sparks crackling between her and men that she knew could satisfy the maddening passion inside her. No more noontime liaisons in seedy hotels, no interest in broad shoulders, tight butts, or rippling muscles. No. No other man could satisfy her but one, and he had rejected her with scathing insults. All because of a disease, an abnormality that she couldn’t help, one she’d suffered with all of her life. The only big story out there that took precedence over her court room antics was Kitt. He began to slowly climb into the stratosphere of the beautiful people. The jet set. Those that seemed to have everything dropped in their laps, or handed to them on a silver platter. Yes, Kitt was living a dream. A life of wealth, leisure and booming success. Day after day she read the blazing headlines that told her he had not only become America’s Most

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Eligible Bachelor, but had been elected the Businessman of the Year. Kitt had appeared on countless TV shows, even gave seminars telling the world how he’d had to literally tear down the badly constructed relationship his father had built and start all over again. He began by analytically examining the books, separating the thriving companies from the ones that seemed to be less profitable, and worked alongside those that had been placed at the helm to bring their capital to an acceptable level. After time it seemed obvious to him that the men and women who worked in these environments day in and day out could more readily identify the difficult areas and propose possible answers. In return, he listened to their ideas, respected their opinions and considered them, all the while gaining a clear understanding of the basics of each company. The clients began to trust Kitt, slowly bringing more and more of the difficult issues to his attention. When Kitt made his suggestions here and there, the ideas were put into practice and invariably the company would begin an upward swing, bringing long awaited success. Kitt rewarded their diligence, not with bonuses, company parties, Christmas turkeys, or a raise in pay, but by giving them valuable tips on how to personally invest in many of his enterprises, guaranteed to make them rich along with himself. Later when he came to execute business, examine books, or meet with the CEOs of his companies, he was welcomed with warmth, being urged, when time permitted, to stay for drinks and dinner. In this way he became ensconced in their private lives, getting to know them and their families. Pari, along with the whole country, hung on to his every word as his charm and good looks ushered him into the limelight. It seemed as if the cameras caught him at every turn in his life. His face was not only on every TV station, it was plastered on magazine covers and tabloids, and always with intimate pictures of him and the women he dated. Who would be the lucky woman to get him, they were always asking. It had gotten to the point that every magazine or newspaper had Kitt’s handsome image on it, always looking at the camera with his flashing blue eyes and smiling that naughty, mischievous smile. Pari was forced to watch as Kitt and Lynette were constantly seen out on the town. They were not only popular in their own circles, but received invitations from every part of the country. They were seen at the most prestigious parties, at the most elegant clubs, or caught on camera as it

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panned the audience at Hollywood’s Oscar presentations. The reporters always speculated that Kitt and Lynette would some day get married, but Kitt remained mysteriously silent on the subject. One manufacturer even made Kitt and Lynette dolls that were marketed as one day becoming collector's items. They were invited to fashion shows in London, Paris, Rome, and Hollywood. It became well known that if a function was given and Kitt and Lynette were there, it would be a success. They were considered the dream couple, and theirs seemed to be a whirlwind romance, not only on one continent, but many. One evening while struggling to resist the temptation of brutally pushing her foot into their smiling faces on the TV screen, Pari yelled at the moving images. "Don't you two ever stay at home? Let the woman rest for God's sake, she's beginning to look like an old witch." Then she would cover her face with her hand and cry into it, knowing that Lynette Silvers was one of the most beautiful women she had ever seen. Lynette’s face began to haunt her. She saw it as it flashed on the screen over and over again, smiling broadly, her shining red, bold lips reminding her of the kiss she had once given Kitt. The one he had returned willingly... and the cracking sound of a gun going off in her hand. As usual, her only recourse was work, and more work. On almost any evening that came around you could look up at one of Atlanta's tallest and most prestigious buildings and see only one window glowing in an otherwise dark, and looming structure. One evening, after hours of struggling to keep her mind on her work and off of Kitt, she happened to glance through her office door and saw magazines on the coffee table with his rascally face staring up at her. "Well, no wonder!" she cried out. Quickly getting up, she went into the reception room, grabbed up the collection of magazines and angrily threw them in the trash. The next day she confronted her assistant with specific instructions. "Karen, I don’t want to see any more magazines in this office with Kitt Rogan’s face on them.” “Then we won't have anything for people to read," the young woman said, looking at Pari with a screwed up face. "I believe you heard what I said." Pari turned to walk away. "But Ms. Sisco…"

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Pari stopped in mid stride and closed her eyes, trying to demonstrate a little patience. When she turned back around, she said, "Karen, I don't care what you get. Order the Farmer's Gazette, Hot Rod Mania, or Mad Magazine... anything! I just don't want to see Kitt Rogan’s face in this office anymore." She slid her eyes back toward her secretary. "Understood?" "Yes ma'am.” That night, Pari threw papers around, flipped through law books, and was concentrating heavily with a pencil clenched between her teeth when a loud ring echoed throughout the empty, shadowy office. Since Karen was gone for the day, she answered. "Pari Sisco," she said, grabbing the pencil from out of her mouth. "How may I help you?" "I'm looking for a woman…" the mysterious voice began. Pari frowned, slowly laying the pencil down on her desk. The voice sounded familiar, but she couldn't place it. "Sir,” she interrupted, “you’ll need a private investigator for that. However," she added while lowering her head back down to her thick volume of laws and statutes, "if you've just killed someone, I'm your gal." "Well, as a matter of face, I do need a lawyer." "Oh?” Pari’s interest returned. “Would you like to drop by my office tomorrow some time? Say around eleven?" "No, I'm full up tomorrow. How about tonight?" "Tonight?" Pari looked around at the empty office and noticed by the clock how late it was. "I'm sorry, sir, but the office is closed, and I'm involved in something right now. I couldn't possibly see anyone tonight." "It has to be tonight, or I'll have to find another lawyer." "Sorry." She hung up, but the man called back and continued talking just as if she hadn't disconnected. "How about your home?" "Sir, you're a complete stranger. If I can't receive you in the office at this hour, what makes you think I would at my home? Just call me back when you have some time, and I'll try to work you in." "I have to see you now. It's very important." Pari leaned her head down and rubbed her forehead. Exhaling loudly, she spoke into the phone. "All right, I’ll... well, I'll be at the gym in an hour. How about meeting me there? I’ll be in the tanning room."

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"Where is it?" "Four Seasons on Tyler Street." "An hour, then." Pari hung up, finished what she was doing and left the building. When she got to the gym, she began working out vigorously, another thing she did to keep her mind off Kitt. She punished her body daily, trying to smother the sound of a gun blast that exploded in her mind, constantly haunting her. As she exercised, she kept her eye on her watch. When it was finally time to go into the tanning room, she hurried, wanting to get a few minutes in before her appointment. She had been in there only a short time when the door opened slowly. It was dark except for the light that was shining down on her, so he appeared to her as a shadowy silhouette with glowing blue eyes. She gasped, being painfully aware that she had only a thin towel between her and his piercing stare. "What in hell are you doing in here?” she demanded as she lifted the top and pulled herself up into a sitting position. “Did anyone see you? You were supposed to leave a note at the desk.” “You didn’t say—” “What the hell are you, some kind of barbarian? This is the women’s—” She sighed, knowing the damage was done. “Oh hell, state your business, Mister… uh… I don't believe I got your name." He was silent as he stared down at her, then said softly, "That's because I didn't give it." “I think…” With a quick movement, Pari found the towel snatched away from her body. “Wha…?” She said and looked down, finding her nakedness exposed to him. “Oh my God,” she gasped as she quickly leaned forward and grabbed another towel from a stack on the table. Draping it across her nakedness, she looked up and found herself staring into the angry eyes of Kitt Rogan. "The same old Pari, isn't it? You don't think anything at all about inviting a strange man—” “I didn’t invite you!” she yelled. “You tricked your way in here and you know it!” “Maybe you wanted me to do exactly what I did. Late at night, an empty gym. I couldn’t have left a note at the counter if I’d wanted to, there was nobody around. But you didn’t tell me to leave a note, Pari, you said to meet

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you in the tanning room where anyone with half a brain would know you’d be lying around naked. Tell me, you little empty-headed trollop—” His next words roared from his throat. “—don’t you have any sense at all?" “You bastard! You did this on purpose. What the hell are you doing here, anyway?" "I’m the guy you ran out on, you little bimbo." While wrapping the towel securely around her, she lashed out at him. "Well, why wouldn't I, for God's sake? You made it crystal clear how you felt about me." "Words, Pari, nothing but words. I wanted to make you so mad you'd pull the trigger. I had to do it, don't you see? I didn't mean anything I said." "You didn't mean it? Just playing with me, huh? I've been hearing the blast of that friggin’ gun in my head for months, feeling guilty as hell for what I did to you, and you were just having fun?" She beat on his chest angrily, backing him up toward the door. "You bastard! Get the hell away from me and go back to that damned lipstick freak." Kitt grabbed her flailing arms and pulled her close. "I don't want any damned lipstick freak,” he said huskily, “I want you." He looked down at the thin towel that outlined every curve. "A little, hot pants lawyer that doesn't even have sense enough to keep her clothes on." His lips came down on hers in a bruising kiss. Pari struggled in his arms, but slowly began to respond, enjoying the feel of his body, and the hot pressure of his lips on hers. During her struggle, her towel came undone, slipped slowly away from her body and hung limply between them. Gradually it fell to the floor, leaving nothing between them. Pari pulled away, struggling. "Kitt, we can't… not here." Paying no attention to her denials, he leaned down, gently lifted her and carried her to the tanning bed. It was the deluxe model, but still barely big enough for them both to sink down onto. Pari knew they shouldn't, but her hands seemed to have a mind of their own as she began tearing at his tie and his shirt buttons. "Oh God, Kitt. What if someone walks in?" "They’ll have to take a number," Kitt muttered against her lips. A storm was brewing inside her, causing her hands to tremble on his belt. They fumbled and grasped, and pulled and ripped until she, finally grabbed his cock, causing him to moan loudly. A shock of pure bliss

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exploded inside her when she felt his mouth cover her nipples. His tongue teased them, bringing Pari's ecstatic moaning to an unbelievable pitch. His hungry mouth was turning her to fire. She writhed beneath him as he chewed on her breasts as if they were a succulent fruit that he couldn’t get enough of. Fine pinpoints of electric thrills sizzled through her, causing her to arch her back like a wild mare with her stallion. Her arms encircled his head, pulling him even closer, the drawing sensation of his mouth making her wilder by the minute. She buried her hands in his thick, dark waves, wanting to smother him between her breasts. She felt his tongue begin to lick the narrow valley while it made its way up over her rounded cleavage to her neck. She clung to him wantonly, his hardness electrifying her. Her legs lifted and wound themselves around him. And then when he touched her with his cock, he shattered the hard shell she had built around herself. The touch of his hard cock was first heaven, then hell. Working, pushing against her, his growing erection causing gusts of desire to flame through her cunt. Pari’s canal became hot, dripping, weeping with pleasure. She thrashed and squirmed in Kitt's arms, practically begging for the penetration that would put out the fire. She felt him reach down and barely part her cleft, bringing her to an unbelievable sensuous pitch. She eagerly responded to his every move, every stroke, and every whisper. She could feel his hand reaching down and grasping the head of his cock and pricking her bud gently, stroking it over and over. Pari almost came up off the bed in an erotic frenzy. The wild sensation of that one single act almost blew her away. Suddenly her lips opened and she began to draw and nibble on his neck, clinging to him so hard that every move he made, she went with him. His low, passionate growls excited her and she began pushing up in fevered response against his enormous cock, her cleft parting, in anticipation of receiving him. He plunged himself deep inside her, and she literally saw stars as she cried out. She arched her back when an immediate orgasm surprised her. She clung to him, her canal grasping him over and over again. Kitt had brought her to life again. The old feeling began flaming up within her. Every part of her body jumped to life, and the old untamed lust she had never been able to hold back exploded, and she wildly gave Kitt what he came for.

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Pari was alive again, her canal tight around him, sending waves of sensual shock through them both. Bright flares in erotic waves singed her cunt when he began to plunge faster and deeper, taking them both toward the summit of pure ecstasy. Her breath was short and ragged, her eyes closed with beads of sweat rolling down her face. Then his mad plunging brought her to a peak so powerful it felt as if an erotic tidal wave surged through her, taking her upward toward a mountain of bliss. As she neared the summit, she heard Kitt’s moans as her fingernails dug deeply into his hot back, making stinging, bloody paths as the blazing light burned down upon him. With one last final squeeze, Pari’s cunt erupted into spasms. Time and time again both she and Kitt exploded into orgasms that jerked them around, forcefully leaving them limp and gasping with unbelievable pleasure. Pari felt his heavy frame slump over her. She luxuriated in the warmth of their joined bodies, and even though their hot session was over, she felt his hesitation to let her go, and remained in his arms. This closeness caused tears to shimmer in her eyes until their lips gently met one more time in a sweet exploratory kiss that promised a bright future. **** The next day Kitt was lying in Pari's bed on his stomach. "Ouch! You're killing me!" he yelled as she carefully rubbed Vaseline on his painful back. "That stuff isn't doing any good!" "Well, it's all I've got. I didn't know I'd be treating someone for sunburn in October. Besides, it's not that bad, you're just being a baby." Just about that time, they both saw a flash, and turned to see a man angling a camera at them from outside the window. "What the hell...?" Kitt yelled and jumped up when he heard a loud cry. Forcing the window open, he stuck his head out just in time to see the man running out of the yard. He turned to Pari. "We're on the second floor, aren't we?" "You know we are." "Then how did that reporter…?" She got up and looked out. "He must have been hanging from that tree limb."

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"What the hell’s the matter with those creeps? They'll do anything to get a story." "Well, you're pretty hot stuff." She put her arms around his neck and quickly drew back with a frown. "You're also greasy." "I'll take a shower and get this stuff off." He looked back at her as he walked into the bathroom. "You know, you're not so bad yourself. You're a damn good lawyer." "Yeah? When have you ever seen me argue a case?" He stuck his head around the door, and whispered with a rasp. "Ms. Sisco, may I have your autograph?" Pari's eyes widened. "That was you?" "Pretty good performance, huh? I think I missed my calling. I should have been an actor." "Why didn't you?" "My father's money ruined it for me." "You mean you tried?" "Well… sort of. When you're rich you don't have the drive. You know, it's not a do or die situation. I had a generous allowance, and knew if I needed more all I had to do was call on daddy. That was one good thing about Father, he was very generous, even with me." She walked into the bathroom. "Speaking of Boris…" "He's gone, babe, long gone." "That's good," she said, stepping into the shower with him. "Now," she whispered, kissing his chest, "let's get on to bigger and better things." "Why, thank you," he smiled, taking her in his arms. They embraced and kissed passionately while the water… turned to blood.

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Chapter 21 Pari's eyes flew open to see the reddish liquid pouring down over them, her eyelashes fluttering against the dirty, erratic spray. "Damn, not again!" she cried out and quickly reached around him and turned the water off. "I'm sorry, Kitt. I've been meaning to have that fixed. The pipes are rusty and this happens once in a while." "Rusty pipes?" he whispered. "All this is from rusty pipes?" "Yes. I'm sorry, I…" Getting a look at Kitt’s pale face, she said, “Kitt... my God, what’s wrong?? “Nothing. I... I just... well, when I saw all that red stuff coming out of that shower head I thought Father was back.” Looking down around her, she said, “This mess is my fault. I’ve been meaning to call the maintenance people and have them replace the pipes. I’ve just been so busy.” Looking down at the residue from the pipes, Kitt gingerly stepped out of the shower. "Don't bother, you won't be here that long. Let the next tenant replace them." Her smile slowly faded. "I won't be here that long? Where will I be?" He gave her a surprised look. "With me, of course." "With you?" "Sure. At the mansion." "Oh no." She backed away from him and hurried into the bedroom. "I'm not going anywhere near that mansion with that crazy dead father of yours roaming the halls. We've got the whole friggin' world to choose from Kitt, why does it have to be Bayonne?" "Why not Bayonne? If I can live there, I don't see why you can't." "Kitt, I'll go anywhere with you. Just say the word and I'm there. What about Paris?" Drying himself off, he slid his gaze over and gave her a tolerant look.

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"Rome?" she continued to plead, but his eyes held their determined look then finally slid away. "Dogpatch, for God's sake. Anywhere but Bayonne." He chuckled sarcastically. "It's damned hard to pass up Dogpatch, but we can't have everything we want, now can we?" "Why the hell can't you just stay in Atlanta? If you don't want to live here, we can get something nicer." "Pari, how many times do I have to tell you that I have a responsibility in Bayonne. The Rogan Enterprises aren’t going to run themselves." She wrapped the towel around her. "What about my career? Do I just give it up in favor of yours?" "This so-called career you think I have was handed down to me by my father. I have no choice for God's sake. You, at least, do have a choice. You can practice anywhere. Bayonne, New York.” His lips tugged upward in a teasing smile. “Dogpatch.” “Very funny.” “If you have to get a license, or take a test, do it." "Oh... all right," she sputtered, lifting her hands in surrender. "So you go back to Bayonne and I'll stay here. We'll see each other whenever possible." "No way. Long distance relationships almost never work out, Pari, we'd be taking too big a chance." Sliding his glance toward her, his lids lowered, giving her a slinking look. When he spoke again, his voice dripped with insinuation. "Besides, would you trust me to be within walking distance of Lynette Silvers?" At the mention of Lynette's name, Pari whirled around and looked at him. When their eyes met, she read a threat in them. "You bastard. You'll do anything to get your own way, won't you? Even dangle Lynette Silvers in front of me." "All right, so I'm not playing fair." His voice took on a certain petulance. "But I want you with me, Pari, I love you." She chuckled. "Listen to yourself, you sound like a spoiled brat." She slid her arms around his neck and began stroking his thick hair. "I love you, too, you big baby." He pulled her to him and nibbled at her ear. "Then come with me,” he whispered. “Don't let law practices, ghosts from the past, or this manwoman thing come between us. Hell, I know you have a career, and I wouldn't dream of asking you to give it up. I just want us to be together."

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"So do I," Pari sighed and laid her head on his chest. "Hell, Pari, you don't know what I went through when I thought I had lost you. I didn't want to live.". "What do you mean?" She reached out and tugged at his arm, turning him back toward her. "It's nothing, just forget it." "Tell me, Kitt." "Nothing. I just… took some pills… or something." "Pills… or something? What the hell are you saying?" “Me and my...” he murmured. Taking a big breath, he finally turned to her, and began. His words came hard, and after periods of hesitation, several stops and starts, pacing, and driving his hands through his hair, he finally managed to get the whole story out. "Oh, my darling—" Pari frowned worriedly. "—I didn't know." She held him in her arms for a while, and then pulled her head back and smiled up at him. "Well, I guess we're going to Bayonne." They enjoyed as much time together as possible before Kitt was called away. Their nights were filled with passion, and during their days they traveled locally, shopped, had picnics, and even went to a local carnival. They laughed when a Chinese fortune teller told them they would have ten children. When the day came when Kitt had to leave, Pari wept in his arms, and they retired to their own private world and loved each other until the last possible moment. Before he left, she promised him she'd be on the first flight up just as soon as she could get all of her affairs in order. She went with him to the airport and they both ached with loneliness as soon as the other was out of sight. **** It took Pari a couple of weeks, but she managed to get everything done, and even got her assistant a job with Clate's law firm, which had grown considerably. She packed up all of her things, and what she couldn't sell, she donated to charity. Day after day she saw her valuable belongings dwindling before her eyes. Even though much of it held sentimental value, she didn't care, knowing she was that much closer to being with Kitt. Then came the day she had to make her flight arrangements. Unfortunately, the lady at the

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reservations desk told her the best she could do was to put her on a weehours-of-the-morning flight. It would have to do, Pari thought, secretly scolding herself that she hadn’t made these arrangements sooner. When she called Kitt a few hours later, she woke him up out of a deep sleep. “Hey babe, I’m glad to hear from you, but why are you calling me in the middle of the night? You’re scaring the hell out of me. Are you all right?” “It’s not the middle of the night, Kitt, it’s early morning, and I’m fine. I wanted you to know that I’m leaving for the airport.” She sighed. “I couldn’t get a flight at a decent hour. My fault, though, I waited so long to make the reservations. It’s not so bad, though. Gives me a chance to sneak up on you in the dark. I won’t find anyone there with you, will I?” “Only every girl in Bayonne,” Kitt said mischievously. “Hey, girls, keep it down, will you? I’m talking to my main squeeze here.” “You creep. If I come all the way up there and find—” “Shut up and get on that plane.” His voice softened as he whispered in a secretive tone, "Oh, counselor, I can't wait to get my hands on you." "Hey, you sound like you've already started." "Not yet, but if you don't hurry, I can't be held responsible. By the way, tell me what time you get in and I'll meet you." "No, it's way too early, Kitt. Besides," she said, purring into the mouthpiece, "you need to get your beauty sleep." "What you really want is for me to save my strength, you little vixen." "So I want a young, vigorous tiger on my hands instead of a tired old man, so shoot me." "Pari,” Kitt choked out, “please don't say shoot." "Sorry. I wasn't thinking." Pari looked down at her watch. "Hey, gotta go or the plane will leave without me." "See you soon," Kitt said. "Bye tiger… groooowwwwl." Smiling, she hung up, anxious to be on her way. Looking around to make sure she hadn't left anything, she made one last tour of the apartment. Peeking into the kitchen, she gave a mock salute and said, "Goodbye loud garbage disposal." Taking a small turn, she looked down and frowned. "Goodbye shaking dishwasher." On her way through the

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small rooms, her head turned until she reached the bathroom and peeked in. "Goodbye rusty pipes." From there she turned, looking toward the window. Sudden laughter gripped her when she remembered the day of Kitt's outrageous autumn sunburn. Thinking of the poor, bruised photographer that fell in a bush, she leaned over and looked down at the ground where both she and Kitt saw him run away with a beautiful array of autumn leaves sticking to his clothes. "Goodbye, tree," she rasped, her voice breaking with emotion. She turned quickly and left. At last she was on her way to the airport. To Bayonne. To Kitt. **** The next morning Lynette was lying out by her pool when she picked up a magazine declaring that Kitt Rogan was the sexiest man alive. She smiled when she saw hiss picture on the front, and opened the magazine. She expected to see several shots of her and Kitt around town, but what she saw made her lunge forward abruptly, wildly flipping through the magazine. As her eyes narrowed on the colorful photographs, she became furious. In one shot she saw Kitt lying on a bed, covered only by a sheet, and some blond bitch was straddling him, caressing his… Her stare slid down to read the caption and learned the woman was Pari Sisco, Atlanta's leading attorney. So, it’s that bitch of an attorney that was quickly making a name for herself, she thought. Pari’s beautiful face cut her deep. Who the hell did she think she was touching Kitt like that? Straddling him, rubbing his... Quickly flipping a few more pages she saw them at a carnival, a museum, and even skinny-dipping in a lake when they didn't know anyone was watching. She jumped up and went inside to dress. She issued orders to one of the servants to have her horse saddled and ready to go. Within minutes Lynette mounted the strong, shiny animal, and was on her way to the Rogan Mansion. The breath of the prize steed snorted wildly, his strong hooves violently kicked up the dust while galloping over the hard ground. The horse carried its rider as fast as it could go while the sky began lashing out with lightning, and rumbling with loud earth-shaking thunder. The animal’s legs

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moved quickly over the earth, and the violent wind blew his silky mane, bouncing it around as if it were alive. Lynette arrived in only minutes. Bounding up into the yard, the horse pranced around restlessly, and then reared up, causing her to lean forward as she hung on. Urging him with her whip, he galloped into the drive that led to the stables. He swung his head and snorted with unspent energy. With her expert maneuvering, she urged him around the mansion, stabled the animal and turned and ran up the steps. Not bothering to ring the bell, she slammed through the front door and bounded up the winding staircase as quickly as possible. "Kitt!" she called in a demanding tone while barging into his room. Kitt lunged forward, alarmed, but quickly relaxed when he saw it was her and raked his fingers through his disheveled hair. “My God, Lynette, you scared me half to death. What the hell are you doing here?" "This is what I’m doing here," she snapped, and threw the magazine down in front of him. "What’s that?” he asked, looking up at her as if she’d lost her mind. “Don’t ask stupid questions, Kitt, look at it.” “So, I’m looking,” he said while leafing through the pages. “The blonde. I take it you’ve been seeing her?” “Yeah? So what?” All at once his eyes widened, he jerked his head up and looked up at her. "Why? Did something happen? Did the plane crash?" He rushed up with panic in his eyes. "Lynette, what the hell is it?" "I don't know what you're talking about. What plane?" Kitt let out a rush of air. "My God, Lynette don't do that to me. I thought something had happened to her." After a brief hesitation, he frowned and said, "If it's not about the plane, what the hell is it?" Lynette began pacing, slapping her gloved hands with her horsewhip. "I want you to stop seeing her." With his eyes shooting angry sparks, Kitt grabbed the sheet from the bed, wrapped himself in it and turned toward her, his voice low and threatening. "What in hell gives you the right to burst into my bedroom and tell me who I can or cannot see?" Lynette began spitting out questions with rapid-fire precision. "Where did you meet her? Have you been seeing her long? How serious are you? Is it a fling, or—"

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"My relationship with Pari Sisco is none of your damned business." "Kitt, you can't go around doing something like this. We're the dream couple, don't you understand? The whole friggin' world expects us to get married." "Well the whole friggin' world is going to be damned disappointed, aren't they?" Kitt slid his angry gaze away from her and headed for the bathroom. Lynette felt desperation rising up in her. As she watched him cross the room, she felt her hold on him slipping, and realized it was all because of that little piece of blonde trash. "Do you mean to tell me all those nights we were together… when you told me you loved me…" Kitt turned toward her, his face granite. "Now look, Lynette, I never told you I loved you. Sure we were together a few times, but so what? I've been with a lot of women, but none of them ever expected me to marry them." "But Kitt, I love you." "Hey," he began, holding his hands up, "I'm sorry if you're hurt, but we were just having a little fun. You were with me during a hard time and I appreciate that, but it didn't mean anything. I thought you understood that." He turned and went into the bathroom. Lynette picked up the magazine and looked at Pari’s picture. "And I suppose it means something with her?" "Damn right," he said, his mouth full of toothpaste. "I'm going to marry her if I can." "Kitt, how can you?” Lynette asked. “You can tell by looking at her that she's nothing but a little golddigger. She's only after your money." "She's got money of her own," Kitt mumbled while rinsing out his mouth. "Besides, Father left her three million when he died." "Three million?" she scoffed. "That's nothing compared to what you've got." Coming back into the bedroom, he looked at her with flashing eyes. "Look, you damned bitch. I don't care if she's after my money, the family silver, or if she just wants to snatch my rubber ducky. I love her and I'm going to marry her if she'll have me." He clenched his teeth and stared at her with a dangerous look on his face. "Now, get out."

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Lynette lunged forward and began slapping at him with her short rider’s whip, making small cuts in his chest to match the ones Pari had made on his back. Kitt didn't flinch, but caught the whip in his hand, brought it down over his knee and broke it. Throwing it down, his eyes flashed with anger. "Why the hell does everyone want to use me for a punching bag? I told you to leave, dammit. Pari's going to be here soon, and I don't want her to see you, especially in my bedroom." Hearing that, an idea began forming in her mind. Finally she looked over at Kitt. "All right. If that's the way it has to be." She walked away from him and went out on the balcony. "By the way, when will she be here?" "Any minute," Kitt said, standing at the bedroom mirror, brushing his hair. She turned around, resting on the balustrade. "Well, don't say I didn't warn you." As she stood there, she took veiled glances down at the driveway. After several minutes she saw a taxi pull up into the circular drive, and watched with anger as the familiar blonde emerged. She said nothing to Kitt, but kept her eyes on the progress of the little witch. Then seeing her moment, she turned and looked at Kitt. Pulling herself forward from the balustrade, she went back in, stood beside him and cocked her head to one side. "You could at least give me a goodbye kiss." He ignored her. "No way. You'd probably read something into it that wasn't there." Saying nothing, Lynette turned and walked to the bedroom door and peeked out. Her lips tugged upward in an evil smile when she saw Pari on the steps about halfway up to the room. "What are you looking for?" Suddenly Lynette ran up to Kitt, pulled the sheet from around him and pushed him back onto the bed. She quickly straddled him and furiously began pulling at her blouse and pants. She had just gotten the picture complete when Kitt came out of his shock and began fighting her. At exactly the same moment Pari walked in and saw the two of them in bed, a loud crash of earth-shattering thunder ripped through the sky and the rain began. "Oh my God!" she cried, bringing her hand up to her mouth in shock. Kitt turned and looked her way. "Oh God, no!"

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Chapter 22 Kitt bucked violently, knocking Lynette off him. "You bitch! I might have known you were up to something." When he finally managed to get up, he yelled at her as he threw his clothes on. "If I lose Pari over this, I swear to God, I'll be back to kill you with my bare hands!" Turning quickly, he ran downstairs, saw the front door open, and ran toward it. He stood for a moment clutching the doorframe. He didn’t see her. He finally pushed himself forward and jerked his head around, trying to see through the downpour that seemed to form a solid curtain of violently moving water. The rain drenched him, and he could hardly keep his eyes open. He lifted a hand and shielded his eyes, first looking toward the drive, then down the long path toward the gate. When he saw it open and moving violently in the wind, he ran as fast as the storm would allow him. At last reaching the gate, he turned and saw Pari stumbling and slipping in the mud, trying to get away from him. He ran to her as fast as he could, grabbed her with both hands and jerked her around. "Pari!" "Get away from me," she sobbed, pushing at him as the violence of the wind and rain drowned out her words. "I never want to see you again." "Pari," he bellowed, trying to be heard above the storm, "you didn't see what you think you did. That was a trick of Lynette's to break us up." The relentless rain kept coming down while she struggled to get out of his grasp. "Get away from me, Kitt. It's over, we're through." "Pari, listen to me," he yelled and looked up at the dark sky that continued to pour rain upon them unmercifully. The pounding storm was so loud; he knew she couldn't hear him. He needed someplace to talk to her, so he looked around and saw an old lean-to standing back away from the road being shaken by the wind. It looked like one of those little shacks that you always see along dirt roads in the country that serve as stopping places for

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tramps in their travels. It didn't look like it would stand up much longer, but he had to chance it. He grabbed Pari, lifted her up in his arms, carried her through the storm, and up to the door of the shack. He tried the door, but it was stuck, so he lifted his foot and kicked it in. He immediately saw an old water-stained pallet, a flat pillow, and a tattered blanket. He lunged in out of the rain, took Pari to the pallet and laid her down. He immediately began pulling at her wet clothes to remove them when she grabbed his hands. "What in the hell do you think you're doing? You stink of Lynette Silvers, you bastard, and I wouldn't touch you with a ten foot pole." He winced, knowing she was throwing his own words back in his face. "I'm just trying to get these wet things off of you, for God's sake. If you keep them on, you'll get sick.” "And what will I be if I strip? Another notch on the famous Kitt Rogan belt?" "Maybe," Kitt returned, "if you're lucky." She pushed his hands away. "Well, excuse me, if I choose not to be so lucky.” “Pari, I’m only—” “By the way,” she began, while adjusting her clothes, “did I ever tell you that you're a stinking, low-down conceited bastard?" "I believe the last time you mentioned it there were bars around me and I was sleeping on a board." "Well, I was right. You're also a lying son of a bitch, a hypocrite, a hateful beast, and—" She dissolved into tears. "—just plain mean." "Well," he began, "you certainly do have a high opinion of me, don't you?" There was silence for a moment when the only sounds heard were Pari's sobs and the rain on the roof. After several seconds of listening to the pounding rain, she pushed away from him and crawled into a corner as far away from him as she could get. Kitt’s heart lurched when he saw how vulnerable and childlike she looked as she lifted her tiny hand, covered by the long, saturated sleeve, and tried to wipe tears and rain from her face. He ached to hold her, but instead he reached over and grabbed the blanket and held it out to her. "Here's an

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old blanket to wrap up in. We'll just stay here until the storm ends, and then go back up to the mansion." "Fine,” she said snatching the blanket out of his hands. “As soon as I can get my luggage, I'll be out of your life forever." "Pari," he said, "you’ve got to listen to me. What you think you saw wasn't what was happening." "You weren't in bed with Lynette?" "Yes, we were in bed, but…" “What the hell kind of idiot do you think I am? I’m a big girl now. I know what happens in bed between a man and a woman.” She jumped up in anger, went to the open door and looked out at the rain. Without turning around, she said, "Goodbye, Kitt, have a good life." Kitt jumped up, grabbed her, and whirled her around. "It seems to me I've heard those words before." She struggled in his tight grasp. "Let me go." "Now you listen to me, you little idiot. You're not running out on me again. I found you, and by God, I'm going to keep you. No disappearing act this time." "So that's what I am to you. A possession. Something you can keep or throw away. A plaything you can put on a shelf and then take down every time you get the urge. Is that it?" "Pari, for God's sake, you know better than that. Can't you get it through your head that this was a trick of Lynette's to break us up?" "Nice try." She turned back toward the door, and just as she was about to leave again, Kitt grabbed her and roughly threw her down on the pallet. “Not so fast,” he said, while slamming the door closed against the turbulent weather. Slowly he reached up and began unbuttoning his shirt. **** She watched him as he walked toward her, a solemn, dangerous look on his face. "All right, Pari, if you insist on going, let's have one for the road, okay?" Pari slowly inched backwards. With slow movements he pulled his shirt away from his chest then unbuttoned his cuffs. "Go get Lynette, you bastard, she seems willing enough."

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"Lynette doesn't quite do it for me, Pari, but I know you can." "Kitt… no… don't do this." "Since this is the last time, let's make it good, shall we? Something really weird, kinky maybe, huh?" "Please Kitt…" His hands lowered, and he grasped his pants and slowly unbuckled them. "Don’t try and tell me kinky sex is something you're not used to. You couldn’t have gotten three million dollars out of my bastard father any other way." He kept walking toward her, his dark, glittering eyes hard as stone, but bright with desire. "What are you going to do?" she whispered, her voice trembling. "Maybe father had the right idea all along. You can't treat a tramp like other women. They’re different, but hell, it makes life interesting, right? I wonder why I've had such a hard time getting that through my head?" In the blink of an eye, he dropped down on his knees, forced her backward on the pallet and covered her with his heavy body. They struggled while he pinned her hands down. Helpless, she turned away, but his rough hand grabbed her face and turned it abruptly back. Gazing lustfully down at her mouth, he pressed his lips against it in a bruising kiss that set him on fire. After the slow, torrid kiss, he slowly moved his hungry mouth down to her breasts, hungrily chewing on her nipples. "Kitt, you've got to let me go!" Pari cried, fighting against him. "Not yet, you little bitch,” Kitt said, his breath heavy with passion. “I'm going to take a piece of Pari Sisco with me that I won't soon forget." Sobbing loudly, Pari pushed at him, trying to get out from under his heavy body. Still feeling the pain of his hands holding her wrists, she cried quietly while he lifted himself and straddled her. "I don't think I've ever told you, but your breasts are the best I've ever seen, and I've seen plenty. Their large and firm," he whispered, squeezing them, feeling the soft buds of her nipples tickling his palm. "They jut out like two mountain peaks begging to be climbed." His breath was hot against her cheek. As his husky body moved over her, she could feel his hands against her belly as he quickly unzipped his pants. His large hands moved brutally as he reached inside and brought out his fully engorged, rock-hard cock. She panicked as he moved it against her.

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“Kitt… oh, God…” she whispered as his heavy body bore down on her. She bit her lips, trying to endure the anger behind his rough movements. He continued pushing against her over and over again, his eyes closing in rapture. “I’m almost ready,” he rasped, ignoring her sobbing pleas. When she couldn't stand it anymore, Pari cried out. "Oh God, Kitt, please don't do this! I'm pregnant." Kitt stopped abruptly, looking down at her with horror on his face. "You're what?" She looked up, not being able to deny the love she felt for him. "I'm pregnant," she whispered. "Are you sure?" "Yes,” she gasped. “I went to the doctor right before I flew up here." "When is it—" He looked at her suspiciously. “—you’re not just telling me this to—” "No,” she said, her face grimacing in pain. “It’ll be here in August." With a swift movement, Kitt moved off of her, pulled her to him and buried his face in her neck. "Oh God, Pari, I'm so sorry." After a few minutes of cuddling her in his arms he looked at her with tears edging his eyes. "Are you okay?" "I think so,” she said, finally being able to breathe, “but I don't think you are." “I’ll be okay. I don’t suffer from anything but being a king-sized jerk.” He lifted himself up on his knees and looked down at her stomach. "You're sure I didn't hurt you?" "No, I don’t think so, but if you want a healthy child, you can't be knocking me around." He raked his fingers through his hair. "Yeah… well… when I thought I had lost you again, I guess I went a little…" His words faded as something occurred to him. Cocking his head, he turned and looked at her with suspicious eyes. "My God, you were just going to leave and not tell me?" "I don't know. I guess I would have told you eventually." "When, for God's sake? When he goes off to college?" She looked up at him. "He?" "Well… he… or she."

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"Don't worry," she said teasing, "I'll try and have a big healthy boy for you." He pulled her into his arms. "Hey, I don't care what it is as long as it's okay and we're all together." "All of us?” she asked, pulling herself out of his arms. “Tell me, Kitt what will we do with Lynette?" "Pari, what in hell can I say to convince you that Lynette was setting us both up? She came storming over this morning, wanting to know who you were. She’d seen a spread in a magazine. Even had the nerve to tell me not to see you again." "But Kitt, you were naked in bed." "Pari, I was naked because I had just woke up. I had a sheet wrapped around me, she tore it off, pushed me back on the bed and began tearing at her own clothes. I don't know how she knew you would walk in, but—" And then his eyes widened. “She must have seen… I'll be damned. That bitch was watching for you. She must have seen you drive up and timed it so you would find us in bed." "Kitt, my God, what in the hell do you think I am, gullible? That story's so weak, it's not even believable." She tried to push herself up. "All right, so you don’t believe me," he said, grasping the tops of her arms and looking at her with angry sparks flying from his eyes. "But you’d better believe this. If I lose you because of what she did, I'll need a lawyer because I promise you, I'm going to find that freakin’ bitch and kill her with my bare hands." She looked at him in silence for a moment. Then speaking with a deeply serious note to her voice, she said, "All right. If you're telling the truth, swear on our child's life." Kitt's eyes widened and looked down at her stomach. "You mean…" "Yes. If you can place your hand on my stomach and swear that you have told me the truth about Lynette, I'll believe you." After thinking about it for a moment, he looked at her. "I don't know, Pari, isn't that—" “I should have known,” she said, moving to get up. "Okay, okay," Kitt said quickly. After a moment of heavy silence his gaze fused with hers as he placed his hand on her stomach, “Pari,” he

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whispered, “I-I swear on the life of our child that we created... with God’s help—” “Well, I’m certainly glad you gave God a little credit,” Pari said, snickering. “—that I’m telling the truth about what you saw this morning.” Satisfied, Pari smiled and reached for his hand. She was about to put it to her lips for a kiss when he snatched it away and laid it back where it was. "I also swear,” he continued, his eyes filled with murder as they held hers captive, “that I love you more than life itself and if you leave me over this, I'll go get that bitch and I’ll strangle the life out of her." A smile tugged wickedly at Pari’s lips. "Well," she said, giving him a teasing look, “not that I have any great love for Lynette, but since I never want you to lay hands on her again, not even to strangle her, I guess I'd better believe you." Kitt’s face relaxed in a smile. He took her in his arms and was just about to kiss her when he stopped. "Hey, I just had a thought. What'll we name the little hitchhiker? How about something real macho, like—" "Macho? For a girl?" "Oh… yeah." He slid his guilty eyes over to hers and away again. "I thought if it was a boy we might name it Court—" "My God, Pari, don't hang something like that on the poor little tyke. How about something real tough like… Spike." "Spike?” she answered. “Kitt, no child of mine is going to be called…" While arguing, they slowly relaxed against each other, and their makeshift bed that consisted of a ratty old blanket, a water-stained mattress and a ragged pillow became a hot, scorching bed of love. The violent noise of the roaring storm seemed to orchestrate their lusty shouts, their moans, and their groans while it trembled the shack around them. They stayed lost in each other’s arms until the last drops of rain fell, and the wind died down around them. Somehow they knew, as they lay exhausted in each other’s arms, that nothing would ever be the same again. They walked to the mansion arm in arm oblivious to the wet clothes that chilled them to the bone. To them, everything was perfectly wonderful. When they finally stood at the foot of the wide staircase, Kitt gave Pari an affectionate squeeze. "You go on up, babe, I just want to tell Sara to bring us up some hot coffee.”

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Watching him walk away, Pari slowly turned and started up the stairs. As she neared Kitt's bedroom, instinct told her to slow down, making her almost afraid to go in. Standing on the threshold, she looked at the tumbled up bed and down at the broken horsewhip on the floor. She walked in slowly and looked around while carefully making her way into the bathroom. As soon as she turned on the delicious hot spray, all thoughts of Lynette and her convincing little act was forgotten. Happy to get her wet, muddy clothes off, she stepped under the wonderfully hot spray and smiled, glad she didn't have to worry about rusty pipes anymore. She had only been in for a moment when she heard the glass door open. Thinking it was Kitt, she turned, smiling, and gasped when she looked into the evil eyes of Lynette Silvers. Lynette's eyes widened, looking down at her muddy appearance. "My God, what have you two been doing, rutting in the mud like a couple of pigs?" "What are you still doing here?" Pari asked, trying to hide herself. Lynette eyed her coldly, her teeth clenched as she spoke. "I belong here, bitch, you don't." Lynette's lips turned up in a wicked smile. "I was sure the little scene earlier would have been enough to send you running back to Atlanta—" Her smile suddenly fell. "—honey lamb." Lynette looked down at Pari’s muddy, but curvaceous body. "I never thought Kitt would go for the sweet little Georgia peach type, but I guess I can see why he did. You're not bad looking for a li'l ol' southern gal." "You staged that scene," Pari said, frightened. "Is that what he told you?" She laughed. "Well, y'all just believe anythang y'all wannna believe, suga—" she said, miserably mocking Pari's accent while quickly whipping a knife out from behind her, "—because it'll be the last thing you ever do." Pari's eyes widened when she saw the sharp blade glinting in the light. "Kitt!" she cried out in fear as she inched backwards. Lynette came toward her, thrusting the knife, but Pari caught her hand and struggled with her. The water streamed down over the two of them, causing them to slip and fall on the wet floor of the shower. With the water still running, Lynette managed to straddle her, but Pari continued to hold her hand away from her while staring at the threatening blade. Pari bucked, knocking Lynette off her. While she was trying to get away, Lynette caught

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her by the hair and pulled her back down, holding the knife up, waving it dangerously in front of Pari’s eyes. Suddenly her head turned as if she’d heard something and then quickly turned back to Pari, her face grimaced in an evil smile. "This is goodbye… sweetie pie." Her hand quickly moved, thrusting the knife into Pari. Pari slumped and saw nothing but… darkness.

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Chapter 23 After instructing Sara to prepare a breakfast tray for him and Pari, Kitt turned to go back upstairs when he happened to glance out the kitchen window and saw Lynette mounting her horse. What the hell was Lynette still doing here, he wondered, and how did she get so wet? Had she been out in the rain? He turned quickly toward the back door and ran out yelling, but the energetic steed turned with Lynette in the saddle, reared up, and galloped away. Kitt stood still for a moment, knowing she had seen him, but watched as the horse and rider galloped into the distance. A black feeling came over him, and he knew something was wrong. Why was Lynette still here, and why had she purposely avoided him? There was only one reason that he could think of… Pari. A sudden thrust of fear overwhelmed him and he raced toward the house, leaping through the back entrance. He left doors open, sliding around corners of the back wing until he got to the front stairway. Running up the steps two at a time, he charged into the bedroom, looking around. Everything was just as he'd left it, but Pari wasn't there. He was just about to yell out when he heard shower running. He closed his eyes, leaned back against the door and released his pent-up breath, muttering, "Thank God!" While he began peeling off his own wet clothes, delicious thoughts of them in the shower together stretched his lips into a silly smile. He had thoughts of surprising her, but as his eager hands tore at his clothes, he abandoned the idea. “Hey, want some company?” he yelled. When he got no answer he looked toward the bathroom with a questioning frown. All at once the droning sound of the running water seemed sinister… somehow foreboding. It was the only sound in the room, and seemed to be bouncing off the walls with an evil cadence. Pulsing… pounding… throbbing… thumping… hard. Fear prickled his spine. He thought of the way Lynette

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had ran away… wet… Oh, God, he knew something was wrong and looked toward the ominous sound of running water. "Pari?" he called, his voice cracking with emotion. No answer. “Pari!” he yelled out. Still no answer He choked back a cry, while fear, raw and electrified, sizzled through him. He took several hesitant steps toward the bathroom trying to tell himself that Lynette wouldn’t… would she? Just how far would a scorned female go? How dangerous would she become? With those staggering thoughts in mind, Kitt slowly approached the door and leaned his head around. He gasped when he saw the glass door open, and Pari's body lying in the shower with her blood slowly draining away. "Oh God, no!" he cried. He ran over, turned off the shower while he knelt by her body and felt her vital signs. They were so faint Kitt wasn't sure he could feel them. He ran to the phone and called emergency. He was in the middle of telling the operator what was wrong when he heard a horrified scream. Kitt’s head jerked around just in time to see Sara backing up with a look of sheer terror on her face. She pointed toward the bathroom, and tried to say something, but through tears, wet gasps, and stuttering, her speech was incoherent, and she seemed frozen to the spot. He told her to get out, but she stupidly bobbed her head up and down, her eyes nervously darting toward the bathroom while Kitt slowly edged her toward the door. When she had finally left, Kitt grabbed a blanket, ran back in and covered Pari's body. In no time an ambulance was there and Kitt told them as much as he knew while they examined the body and put her on a stretcher. The medic took Kitt aside. "She's alive, but I don't know for how long." "What about the baby?" "There's a baby?" "I hope so," Kitt said, nervously raking his hand through his hair. The medic looked around, his curious eyes at last coming back to Kitt. "What the hell is this? Some kind of house of horrors? First your father gets fried in the sun, you shoot yourself, take some god-awful pills, and she's stabbed. What the hell goes on around here?"

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Kitt grabbed him by his collar and slammed him up against the wall. "I don't care what the hell you think, but if she dies, I'll sue that fuckin’ hospital for everything its worth. Get it? She lives, or else!" The medic put his hands up in surrender. "Hey man, I ain't God. It ain't in my hands." "Did you hear me, creep? She gets the best of everything understand? The best doctor, the best room… everything!" The medic smiled, his gaze looking beyond Kitt at the lush surroundings. "We'll do our best, but if this is what she’s used to, I'm afraid she's gonna be a little disappointed." He gingerly picked Kitt's fingers from off his collar. "Now, if you want the little lady to live, we'd better get her to the hospital." **** Kitt refused to leave her side. He stayed with her as much as possible, and when he couldn't be with her, he paced in the visitor's lounge. He looked up when the doctor came in, ran over to him and searched his face. "Well?" The doctor looked at him with a furrowed brow, and spoke in somber tones. "She's okay for now, Kitt, but we won't know anything for a while yet." "Why… what's wrong?" The doctor responded hesitantly. "Kitt, if I were to be honest with you, I'd tell you to prepare for—" "No… no… no!" Kitt kept saying, looking at the doctor and shaking his head adamantly. "Kitt, you must understand she's lost a lot of blood, and she's very weak." "I don't care! Do you hear me? I don't care, dammit! She has to live. She has to!" Taking Kitt by the shoulders, the doctor talked very softly. "Kitt, get hold of yourself. I'm only a doctor. You know I'll do everything I can, but some things are left in the hands of God." "What kind of chance does she have?" Kitt's voice trembled. "Well, she's young and healthy, and if she responds well to surgery we should know something within the next twenty-four hours."

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"What about the—" Kitt couldn't say it. "That was close, but the baby's still hanging on. If the stabs had been a little lower, it would have done some bad damage to the fetus, and it would have aborted." Kitt broke down and began crying. Embarrassed, he turned his back on the doctor and went to a chair and wilted down into it. The doctor walked over and sat down beside him, putting a comforting hand on his back. "There’s no reason to be embarrassed, you've had a bad time of it, and it's very healthy to let it all out." Kitt, after rubbing his wet face, looked up at the doctor. "When can I see her?" "Not until the twenty-four hours are up." Kitt groaned and lowered his head in his hands. "Why don't you go home and get some rest? You can't do any good here." "Doc, don’t you see?” Kitt said softly, tears falling down his face. “There is no rest without her." The doctor looked at Kitt knowingly. "You sound like a man in love." While nervously running his hands through his hair, he rasped, “Yes, goddammit. I didn’t ask for it… didn’t even want it, but it happened.” "So I guess the next step is marriage, huh?" "If I can keep us both healthy at the same time," Kitt responded and looked at the doctor, wanting to ask a question, but not knowing how. "Doc, I can't stand the thought of her dying, but I've been wondering—" His voice shook. "—if she does die, what about the baby?" The doctor shook his head. "In this case, I'm afraid it would be very bad news. If the young lady dies, the baby dies with her. Her body shuts down, therefore she can't nurture the child." "Oh God." Kitt bowed his head. "I'm sorry." "Doc, couldn't you take the baby out… or something?" "Not at this stage, Kitt, the pregnancy’s simply not far enough along. Depending on her health, she'd have to be more than half way to even consider it." Kitt looked defeated.

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"Say, whatever happened to that other woman you were seeing? What was her name?" "Lynette Silvers," Kitt mumbled, unshed tears wrenching his throat. "Yes, that's the one. I've been thinking. Since she's a friend, and we need blood, do you think she would donate?" Kitt jerked his head up and looked at the doctor. "Lynette Silvers may not be alive much longer." With that he bolted up and left the hospital. **** When Kitt arrived back at the mansion, he battled the media, trying to get to the front door. “Who the hell called you people?” he yelled. He noticed neighbors gathering beyond the gate, and thought back to the screaming ambulance, the flurry of men in white, and knew one of them must have called them. The publicity had been bad enough when he had stepped up into his father’s shoes and taken over Rogan Enterprises, but when he had become America’s Most Eligible Bachelor, it seemed to skyrocket. Once he had loved the limelight, but it got old after a while. He had no privacy, and everywhere he went there was a microphone, along with a reporter with a pencil poised over a pad, asking him personal questions. He’d always believed he should be indulgent. After all, they had to earn a living just like everyone else, but hell this was too much. He started toward the front door when a young cub reporter stepped up into his face, a microphone thrumming with power, ready to record his every word. “I understand you’ve just come from the hospital. How is she, Mr. Rogan? Will she live?” He pushed the microphones away from his face. “Damned vultures! No fucking comment!” When they persisted he turned, and yelled. "You're on my damned property and if you don't get off, I'll have you thrown off and sue your sorry butts for trespassing!" “Is she the one, Mr. Rogan?” He was taken off guard. “The one?” he repeated. “The one. You know, the one that you’ll walk down the aisle with.” A sharp, cutting pain sliced through his chest at the mention of Pari and himself together as man and wife. And there’s the baby. Oh, God, she had to live. The pain of losing both her and the child would be too much. “Yes,” he

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growled like an animal. “She is the one, and I’ll tell you this. If she dies, I know of a certain brunette that’s going down with her. Put that in your miserable paper and see if it doesn’t happen.” “Who are you referring to, Mr. Rogan?” a reporter yelled from the back. “Who is this mystery woman you’ve vowed to kill?” “Lynette Silvers.” Kitt mumbled incoherently. “If Pari dies—” “Lynette Silvers?” The voices buzzed. “My God, it’s the woman he was dating. The beautiful attorney must have come between them, and now he’s vowed to kill Silvers if she dies!” They looked back up at him. “Why, Mr. Rogan? What does Ms. Silvers have to do with Ms. Sisco’s accident? Was she responsible?” The question bounced off of Kitt, but he knew he’d said too much already, and turned toward the house mumbling, “No comment.” The reporters didn’t press. They knew Lady Luck had been with them today, and what he hadn’t said, they could assume. They were the press, after all. If they didn’t have the exact words, they could fill in the blank spaces, build a house of cards and hold their breath until it came tumbling down. Sometimes they were lucky, and the fall wasn’t quite as devastating as it might have been. It was a chance they took. And this was just too good to pass up. Some scribbled insanely on their pads, while others withdrew their microphones and turned, speaking into cameras. Others related the story over cell phones, all the while moving backward toward the street. But the paparazzi weren’t quite so accommodating. They managed to get a few more pictures while they inched backwards, eventually losing themselves among the rest of the crowd. When Kitt finally made it in, he heard voices coming from upstairs. He raced up and saw Detective Mike DeParro walking around the crime scene. "What the hell is this? Aren't you guys through yet?" The black detective turned around as if happy to see Kitt. "Hey, take a look guys, it's America's most eligible bachel-oooor." He dropped his smile and draped his arm around Kitt's shoulder. "So, how's Ms. Sisco?" "She's okay for the time being," he said, watching the leaning, bending, swaying officers with their little plastic bags, "but they won't know anything for twenty-four hours." His gaze turned toward the detective. "What in hell

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are you doing? I told you who did this. Stop wasting time and go and arrest the bitch for God's sake." "Hey, man," the detective said, slapping Kitt’s back affectionately, "cool it, okay?" Kitt walked over and dropped down on the bed, and lowered his head into his hands. The detective leaned against the tall chest looking down at him. "We're just doin' our job, Kitt. So far the only thing we've found is the broken horsewhip, and from what you tell me, that's got your fingerprints all over it. The bottom line is no one knows what happened here but you and the victim.” Kitt lunged forward. “How about the bitch that did this, huh? She knows what happened.” “Hey, I don't doubt that you're telling the truth, but we need proof, or your story corroborated before we can make an arrest. That could be difficult if we don't get to talk to the victim." "But I saw her right afterwards riding away on a horse. I yelled at her. She heard me, but didn’t stop. Now I know why.” “Okay, so maybe you saw her, but if you did, you’re the only one. The cook said she was here early this morning, but not later.” “She was wet… the shower.” “So what? It rained cats and dogs.” “Yes, but…" "Kitt, there’s no weapon, no clues. Give it a rest, okay? We’ve rehashed this thing over and over again, but nothing’s gonna do any good until we talk to the victim." "Stop calling her a victim for God's sake. You make it sound as if she's already dead." "Hey, man, you know what I mean." Kitt buried his face in his hands. "God, when I think of it, I could puke. That bitch was hiding out, waiting for Pari to come back, stalking her like a friggin' maniac." He lifted his head to the detective. "How could I have ever wanted to be with a woman like that?" "She didn't even know the vic… uh, Ms. Sisco. What motive could she have had?" “A woman scorned.”

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The detective snickered. "Hey—" Kitt jumped up. "—I know it sounds corny, but I don't know what else to call it.” He began pacing. “I mean, she comes bustin' in here ordering me not to see Pari anymore. She goes on about how we're some kind of friggin’ dream couple and the world expects us to get married. After that I told her we were through." Kitt turned and looked at the detective and became irritated when he saw him still smiling. "All right, Mr. Smart-ass Detective, what the hell would you call it?" "Eliminating the competition." "It all adds up to the same thing, doesn't it?" "I don't think so. The way I understand it, a woman scorned always goes after the man." The detective looked up at Kitt accusingly. "Where did Ms. Silvers get the idea that you and she were to be married? If it didn’t come from you where...?” “The press, that’s where.” “But did you ever tell her otherwise?” Kitt blew up, and pointed toward the bathroom. "This is not my fault, okay?" He pushed his hands through his hair. "Apparently some women just can't take no for an answer." "Kitt, I'm not blaming you. If what you say is true, sure, it most likely was this Silvers woman, but we have to do it by the book and that means hard evidence, and if we're lucky, maybe a confession." "A confession?" Kitt snickered. "Dream on, DeParro. This woman is smart; you're not going to get any confession out of her. Only a…" Kitt's head jerked up as a plan began taking shape in his mind. All at once his gaze shifted toward the detective. "What if I got it for you?" "What?" The detective frowned as he looked at Kitt. "The confession, for God’s sake. What if I got it for you?" "And just how would you do that?" "Detective,” Kitt teased in an arrogant, swaggering way. “I'm disappointed in you. Don't you ever watch any crime movies?" The detective walked away. "Some of us ain’t filthy rich, white boy. Some of us gotta work for a livin'." "Well, let me educate you," Kitt said as he began following the black man around the room. "I hide a little recorder on me somewhere and tape our conversation."

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"Been done to death, besides it won’t hold up in court." "Yeah, but it still works, right?" "Well, it might." He glanced at Kitt. "What's on that little rich boy's mind of yours?" "Hey, she's crazy about me, right?" "Maybe." "Well, hell, man, if she's willing to commit murder over me, I'd say the woman's been had." "You conceited bastard, it ain't gonna work." "Hey," Kitt said, raising his eyebrows, "if I can get her into some of the positions…" The detective raised his hand. "Hey, I ain’t in the mood to hear ‘bout the love life of some perverted, deranged playboy." "Too much for you, huh?" The detective snickered. "You must really want to nail this woman." "Nail?" Kitt snorted and spoke through clenched teeth, "I'd love to nail that bitch's coffin shut—" The detective’s eyes narrowed suspiciously when he saw the hate in Kitt's eyes. "—but, since I can't do that, this is the next best thing." The detective raised his voice and turned to his men. "All right boys, let's call it a day, and give this man some privacy." With a gritty look in his eyes, he turned back to Kitt. "If you do this, you do it my way, understand? Don't go off half-cocked, because I'm tellin' you, bro, that bitch comes up dead, you know who we gonna be lookin' for, right? And all your money, titles and anything else you got goin’ for you ain’t gonna help, because your white ass is goin’ down the river." As the uniforms left, he and Kitt put their heads together. "Now this is how it’s goin’ down…" The detective laid out a plan for him, and Kitt listened closely and asked, "I don’t get it. Why can't we just bug the bedroom?" "That would be invasion of privacy, but if we do it this way it’s something like a sting. Get it?” “I don’t understand.” “It’s just possible... hey, I’ve told you enough.” “I hope to hell you know what you’re doing.”

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“Just to cover all the bases, I want your permission.” When he saw Kitt’s confusion, he began explaining. “You’ll both be there together, right? Talkin’ about the murder.” He shrugged. “If we get your permission to set this up, we don’t need hers. Do we have your permission?” Kitt looked confused. “Of course, but...” “Don’t strain your brain trying to figure it out, it’s just one o’ them loophole things. Truth is, cops can move mountains when they want to, but they just can’t get caught doin’ it. It’s important we cover every rat hole, cause this might prove to be nothing. If it ain’t, and Ms. Silvers finds out, you lookin’ at a limp dick here. We’ll get our tails busted and put in a nice little sling. Now, I’ve got a few ideas up my sleeve, so just follow my lead.” “I’m with you. I just want to get this bitch.” “First thing is to get a search warrant…" "A search warrant? What do you need with a search warrant?" "We'll be on that rich lady's property without her permission. If I get caught without one, my cute little black butt will be settin' in jail for breakin' and enterin'. It’s gonna be bad enough tryin’ to convince a judge to give me a warrant to be on a lady’s property that ain’t even been informed that she’s a suspect." “This gets more and more confusing.” “Hey, don’t worry about it. I got friends in high places that can make two and two add up to five.” “So, what’s your first move?” Kitt asked, watching the detective attentively. “I’m not sure,” the detective said. “Hell, I’d sooner be able to figure out how to walk to the moon.” “You’re not instilling me with a lot of confidence here.” “Hey, I’ve tackled worse things than this. Don’t you worry, ain’t no way this cute little ass of mine is goin’ to jail.” Kitt leaned over and looked down at the detective’s ass and lifted his hand and rocked it back and forth. The detective grinned. "I can see right now that I neeeeds to put you in contact with some of my ladies." Kitt chuckled. "I really appreciate this, DeParro. I know I can make her talk."

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"Well, I just hope it don't blow up in both our faces. It'll take me most of the afternoon, so don't do anything until you hear from me, okay?" "Yeah, sure." He walked the detective to the door. Right before going out, the detective stopped in his tracks, flashed him a mischievous smile and said, "You watch me as I walk through this door. After that I wants to hear something pos-i-tive." Kitt nodded, not knowing just what the detective was up to. He crossed his arms in front of his chest, stood in a wide stance and watched as the detective turned, lifted his jacket, and with a cool strut, pranced through the door. Just before he passed out of sight, he glanced back to see Kitt’s reaction. Kitt's smiling eyes slid upward, away from the detective’s well-muscled butt, and met his questioning eyes. Without hesitation, Kitt gave him a thumbs up. "You got it, bro… you got it all!" The detective emitted a deep guttural laugh while continuing his prancing strut. Just as he passed out of sight, Kitt heard him call out in his deep Harlem twang, “Eat yo’ heart out, white boy.”

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Chapter 24 Kitt took a quick trip down to the basement for a bottle of Dom Perignon, Lynette's favorite champagne. Finding it, he hurried back up, put it on ice and hovered all afternoon over the phone. When he finally got the call he was waiting for, he went into action. It was late in the evening when he finally arrived at Lynette's place. Walking up to the door, he lingered for a moment, looking around for concealed visitors. Seeing nothing, he turned, hesitantly lifted a finger and pressed the bell. Suddenly the door opened, and Kitt saw the butler standing there with his chin raised, and a haughty sneer. Kitt stretched his neck, looking beyond him. "Where's Lynette?" Just then Lynette stepped from behind the door. "It's okay, Gerald," she said softly, dismissing the butler. Then turning to Kitt, she asked, "What the hell are you doing here?" Kitt flashed his best roguish smile. "To see my girl, of course." "What is this? After what you told me, you just show up on my doorstep? What the hell are you up to, Kitt?" "Hey, what's wrong? Can't a guy come and see his favorite girl?" "I was under the impression that I had been booted out of that spot." "Oh, come on, Lynette, you're not going to let one little argument break us up, are you?" He lifted the champagne. "I came bearing gifts." She made a move to close the door. "Sorry, Kitt, I'm not receiving visitors this evening." He lifted his arm against the door and leaned down close to her. "If you're nice to me, I might have something else for you later." Kitt noticed the way she searched his face for any deception, and worked hard to keep a disarming expression in place. "What about—" she began.

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He pretended not to notice the tremble in her voice. "Hey, she’s yesterdays news, leftovers… whatever." "Why? What happened?" "It seems our little golddigger met with an accident." "Accident?" "Yeah." Kitt furtively glanced to see Lynette's reaction. "It was the strangest thing. She was okay when she went upstairs, but when I came up later I found her in the shower. She’d been stabbed, blood all over everything." Kitt saw the fear in Lynette's eyes, and kept talking. "Kind of put a damper on any romantic notions I had." "My God, Kitt. That's terrible.” "Yeah, nothing quite like a dead body to take all the fun out of it." "Dead? She's dead?" "Well… sure. That's usually what happens when somebody gets stabbed, isn't it?" Her voice broke. "Do... do they know who did it?" "Not yet. They were over earlier conducting their stupid little investigation, but since no one saw anything, it’s hard. They tried to blame me, but when Sara verified my story of being down in the kitchen with her, they couldn’t make it stick." Lynette looked nervous, and her words sounded weak and unsure. “Did you tell them anything about… uh… me?” Kitt looked over at her. “You? Not really, what was there to tell? I told them that you had been over earlier, but by the time it happened, you had been gone a long time.” Kitt tried to keep an innocent look on his face. “So—” He shrugged. “—that puts us both in the clear.” "I guess you feel kind of bad about what happened." Her guarded glance slid over to him. "Right?" "I guess I should, but I hadn't known her that long. Besides, easy come, easy go." Her eyes widened. "I'm surprised you're not broken up over it." "Why should I be? Like I said, I hardly knew her. Besides, you know me. I don't have the time, too much livin' to do, right? So, I’m available again." He lifted the champagne. He looked at her suggestively. "How about it?"

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“Kitt, how stupid do you think I am? You were talking love, marriage, the whole bit. Now you come and tell me she meant nothing to you? You put me through hell, you know.” “Hey, I’m sorry about that. Sure, I know how I must have sounded, but well, it wasn’t as serious as I thought. Anyway, it’s over now, so how about some champagne?” "You bastard, why do I let you do these things to me?" Pushing the door open, he sauntered in, putting on a cocky and arrogant show for her. "Come on,” she said, taking his arm possessively. “Let's go out by the pool." The minute she said “pool” Kitt felt the aching memories rise up inside him, and felt his face drain of color. When she turned to him, he forced a smile and resumed his act. "Sure.” Missing the emotional break in his voice, she led him out on the patio. Suddenly she turned and lifted her arms toward the horizon. "Didn't it turn out to be a beautiful evening? With all the rain we’ve had lately, I wasn't so sure." “It wouldn’t dare be any other way. Kitt and Lynette are back, right?" He proceeded over to a nearby table, looked around and turned back to her. "Hey, we need some glasses." "I'll get them,” she said and yelled back over her shoulder as she hurried into the house, “Go ahead and open it and I'll be right back." As soon as she got out of sight, Kitt jerked his head around, looking. He ran here and there, nervously pulling back bush limbs, looking behind all kinds of lush, potted palms but didn't see anything. Suddenly he heard her, ran back, and began unwrapping the bottleneck. He forced the cork forward until it popped out and watched as the liquid bubbled upward and spewed onto the flagstones. "Hey," she called out, "this reminds me of a celebration. What are we celebrating, Kitt?" "A renewing of old friendships." Lynette held her glass out to him. "You mean we're the dream couple again?"

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"You got it.” Kitt filled her glass along with his. In the midst of bubbling, spillage and a lot of carefree laughter, he finally lifted his own and touched it to hers in a toast. "Let's drink to getting back together." "Then you're not sorry about… Pari? Is that her name?" "Was,” he said, feeling a chill at the possibility. “Was her name.” Forcing a weak smile to his face, he said, “Hell, Lynette, she was just a roll in the hay, that's all. But you and me? That’s different.” “Oh, Kitt, I’m so glad to hear you say that.” “Hell, it's better this way. You were right, you know? You have to stay with your own kind." He glanced at her. "Pari was just a cute little—" Kitt turned quickly away as he felt his eyes edge with tears. "—Barbie Doll that made me crazy for a while." He turned back, lifted his glass and tried to force a smile. "But, hey, I'm all over that now." "Kitt, you sound different tonight. I don't know, kind of callous." "Oh, don't get me wrong. I'm sorry the little bitch is dead, but hey, life goes on, right?" "Well," Lynette smiled putting her glass to her lips. "I'm glad to see that you've come to your senses." They sipped slowly while looking into each other's eyes, Kitt working hard to keep from throwing up. "Now," he began, lowering the glass from his wet, shiny lips, "how about taking me upstairs?" She smiled and took his hand. "You really are in the mood tonight, aren't you?" "It's your fault," he said, softly, taking her in his arms and nuzzling her gently. "You're too damned beautiful for your own good." “Follow me,” she whispered, seductively. While following behind her, Kitt glanced around for unseen visitors, but again, saw no one. The moment they reached Lynette's room he headed for the bed and lay down, pulling her with him. "Aren't you going to undress?" "Tonight we're going to do it like they do in the movies. You know, get so hot we tear at each other's clothes?" She chuckled. "Okay, Mr. Director, you're the boss." Kitt buried his face in Lynette’s neck, making her giggle by doing all the things he knew would excite her. When he could see she was getting hot,

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he began whispering a few choice phrases in her ear. "I should have listened to you, you know? Pari was nothing but a little golddigger." "Mnnff—" Lynette said, trying to speak while her lips were on his. "I knew you'd see it sooner or later." "What can I say? She tricked me with that cute little accent of hers." "Cute? Ohhhh," she moaned when Kitt rubbed himself against her. "There wasn't anything cute about it. She sounded like trailer park trash." Kitt stopped and looked down at her. "When have you ever talked to her?” Realizing she’d been caught, she tried to shrug it off. “Hell, Kitt, you know how it is. All those southern types are the same. Common trash. They sound like they just stepped off the plantation. If you’ve heard one, you’ve heard them all.” “I guess so, but you have to admit she was hot looking. She had boobs and butt to die for." "Yeah, I know." "Huh?" He lifted his head again. “How would you know?” "Kitt," she said, grabbing his head and bringing it back down to hers, "you talk too much." "You know," he began, forcing his head up again, "when I was a kid I thought southern blood was different than ours." "Yeah?" His mouth leaned in close to her ear and he rasped, "Well, is it?" She jerked her head around and looked up at him. Releasing herself from the tangle of his arms, she said, "How the hell would I know?" "Lynette, babe, come clean. It doesn't matter to me. Hell, you did me a favor." “I should have known,” she said and whirled on him. “You bastard, this was all a trick, wasn’t it?” When she tried to get up, he wouldn't let her and she began to struggle. "I don't know what the hell you think you're doing, but it isn't going to work." He reached down and grabbed her between the legs as he breathed in her ear. "Hey, you got me wrong, babe. All I want is a little…" He began whispering a string of obscenities in her ear. Lynette couldn’t help herself, she giggled.

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"Come on and tell me, Lynette," Kitt whispered. "It turns me on. I never told you, but violence… well, it turns me into a wild man.” Her eyes widened. "Really?" "God yes," Kitt said, breathing heavily. "Just hearing about how you did it would make me as hard as a rock. You don't mind, do you?" "Kitt, are you sure you're glad she's gone?" "Hey, babe," he said, nuzzling her neck, "we celebrated, didn't we? Besides, the cops haven’t been over here, have they?” “No,” Lynette said, glancing back at him. “Well, there you are. Believe me, sweetheart, if they thought you had anything at all to do with it, they would’ve come to see you right after they talked to me. But I steered them clear of you even though I knew the truth. Hell, let ‘em go hassle some other creep." Kitt held his breath. The room became heavy with silence, his own heartbeat thrashing in his ears. He could tell that Lynette was considering what he said, and if he knew her at all, she wouldn’t let this opportunity for a deluxe roll in the hay slip through her fingers. And then it came... Lynette’s words soft and clear. "There she was,” Lynette whispered, looking as if she were mesmerized by her own thoughts, “standing there with mud all over her. She tried to hide herself from me.” Lynette chuckled. “It was like trying to hide the Taj Mahal behind a postage stamp. She started yelling, and the next thing I knew I was letting her know she wasn't welcome." "Yeah? How did you do that?" "With my knife. You know, the one I carry around in my boot when I'm out riding? For protection, of course." "Yeah?" "I used it on her." “Oh, God,” Kitt moaned, grabbing Lynette and rubbing himself against her. “Do you feel it, babe? It’s happening. Tell me more." Her voice lowered, almost to a whisper. "Well… I didn't want anyone to know, but I felt her breasts. God, Kitt, they were…" "Get to the blood, Lynette. God, the blood. Hurry!" "It felt good, Kitt. It felt so good to do it. Almost erotic, you know? There she was lying in front of me. Blood everywhere. I almost wanted to fuck the little bitch."

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Kitt moaned again and again, pretending an ugly perversion at her lesbian description of murder. “I licked her, Kitt. I even sucked her. I wanted to tear my clothes off and do it to her, but I didn’t have time. I’d never felt anything like that before, but I couldn’t help it…” He moaned between planting wet kisses on her mouth, her neck and her cleavage. "Go on, Lynette, and don't leave anything out," he whispered, rubbing his hard cock against her. At his encouragement, she went on. With her words rasping between quick breaths, she described everything in vivid detail just to set him on fire, thinking she would reap the rewards. "By then… by then I was on top of her, Kitt. Oh, God, she felt good. Moving under me like that, I was turning to fire. I pushed myself against her." She took another deep breath. "She was struggling hard, trying to hold my hand away, but I got it loose. God, I got it loose and plunged it into the bitch as deep as it would go!" Her excitement rose. "The blood, Kitt, it spurted out on my hand. Oh God, the blood! It was beautiful!" Just then Detective DeParro stepped in from the hall, pointing his gun at Lynette while he picked up a broach that was lying on the dresser in plain sight. "Thanks, Kitt. That's all we need." Kitt jumped up, his shirt flapping open while he tried stuffing it down his pants. “What the hell…Kitt, who are… hey, what are you doing? That’s mine.” “No, Lynette,” Kitt said, “that’s not what it looks like. It’s a bug. While you were talking, that tiny little bauble was digging your grave!” Realization dawned on Lynnette’s face. She quickly looked around at the uniformed officers, and then at Kitt. "You bastard, you set me up!" "So what, you bitch? For your information, Pari is carrying my child. You almost killed both her and the baby." "But Kitt, while we were making love, you…" "Make love? Why the hell would I want to make love to you?" He lifted the hand that had been between her legs and shoved it right in front of her eyes. "It was all I could do to keep this hand off your friggin' throat. You're going down for attempted murder, you bitch, and I hope to hell you rot in prison!"

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Choking on sobs, Lynette lunged forward and began scratching at Kitt's face. The detective grabbed her quickly and slapped his cuffs on her. "You’re under arrest for attempted murder. You have the right to remain silent…” Ignoring the detective, she looked at Kitt with a mixture of love and hate. "I had to do it, Kitt. She was taking you away from me. That little piece of fluff has nothing but—" "Nothing? She has nothing?" Kitt yelled back at her. "She has everything. Everything that you don't have. Beauty, brains, soul, my child… and my heart." Just before the detective pushed her through the door she looked back when she heard Kitt say one last thing. "Goodbye, Lynette." He smiled to himself as he used Pari's famous last line, except this time the sarcasm was thick. "Have a good life." **** Pari saw herself surrounded by both light and shadow. She had on a long, white flowing robe that seemed to float around her. When everything became clear, she saw that she was walking down a long corridor, and on each side were many doors. At the very end was a large, imposing door… the one that she somehow knew she had to go through. It was huge, and glowed with a strange and powerful golden light. She seemed to be drawn toward it, and as she came closer, she read… Eternity. **** Kitt stood in the shadowed room looking down at the small, still figure of the woman he loved. Fear clutched his insides as he thought of her not returning to him. He looked around uneasily. He knew he shouldn't be here since the twenty-four hours weren't quite up, but he couldn't stay away any longer. He pulled up a chair and sat down beside her bed and looked closely at her, trying to see signs of life. When she remained still, he bowed his head and said a silent prayer. As he prayed, long pent-up tears slowly crept down his face, and he picked up her hand and held it close to his wet face.

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"God, how I love you, Pari. Please don't leave me." Clutching her hand in his, he began kissing it over and over again. **** God, how I love you, Pari, please don't leave me. The words began softly at first and gained volume, echoing over and over through the hall, following Pari as she made her way toward the door of eternity. "What?" She looked around to see who was speaking, but saw no one. Suddenly she looked down at her hand when she felt someone kissing it. Pari, please don't leave me, darling. Come back. Please come back. Pari’s head jerked up, and her gaze lifted and looked around. It was the echoing voice again, but saying something different this time. She lingered a moment, bothered by the tortured sound. But when she saw no one, she turned and kept walking toward the large, imposing door. Keeping her eyes on it, each step she took brought her closer, and closer, and closer.

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Chapter 25 Kitt raised his head when he heard something. Looking at Pari, he realized her breathing was becoming erratic. He quickly grabbed the buzzer and pressed on it over and over again. Then throwing it down, he ran out into the hall and yelled for the nurse. "Help! Please, someone help!" The nurse looked up at the buzzing board and turned abruptly when she heard Kitt yelling. She quickly got on the intercom and paged Doctor Stone, and then ran down the hall toward Kitt. "What are you doing here? You know she's not supposed to have visitors." Kitt scowled at the heavy nurse running toward him. "Yeah?" he yelled, following her into the room. "Where the hell were you? She's supposed to have round-the-clock nursing, dammit. If I hadn't been here, she might have died, so save it 'til later. Right now, she's in trouble.” Ignoring Kitt's outburst, the nurse pushed him out of the way and worked over Pari until the doctor came in. As Kitt watched them, his hands stayed in a constant fist at his mouth as he muttered prayer after prayer. Finally the doctor looked over at him. "Kitt, I'm afraid it's no use. It looks like she's not going to make it through the crisis." Kitt's eyes filled with panic, and he pushed the doctor out of the way. "No! No, dammit, no!" **** Pari looked up at the door marked Eternity, put her hand on the doorknob and a voice began coming through… She's not going to make it. She looked around for someone, but no one was there. Immediately following was another voice, louder this time.

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No! No, dammit, no! All at once there was a whispering echo. I love you, don't leave me, Pari, please don't leave me. She felt drawn to the voice, but tried to ignore it as she put her hand on the doorknob again… and turned. When it wouldn't open, she began beating on it with her fists. "Please!" Her voice sounded small in the vast corridor. "Let me in! She grabbed the knob again, turned it, and pulled relentlessly over and over again. Pari! The voice was loud, and she turned around quickly, looking up into the vast darkness above her. Our child, Pari. Think of our child! Something within Pari jumped, and she suddenly felt a deep love for the person whose voice she heard. She knew there was also someone else, but she didn't know who. Slowly her mouth formed some words. "Kitt? Is that you?" Darling, I'm waiting. Come to me! Now, Pari, come to me now! Suddenly her hand drew back from the glowing doorknob as if it burned her. She felt compelled to answer the call, so she looked around at the other doors. She knew that somehow she had to get out of this corridor and go through one of them, but she didn't know which. Pari, don't leave me, come back! Come back, Pari! "But, how?" she yelled. Suddenly everything was silent. When she felt as if something... some kind of cord, or connection to another life had snapped, she felt lost, alone. "Kitt, don't leave me here!" she screamed. "Kitt, where are you?" **** The nurse grabbed Kitt and tried to hold him while the doctor checked her vital signs one last time. When he finished, he looked at Kitt, shook his head, then slowly covered her head with the sheet. When Kitt saw that he screamed, Aaaaaaaaaarrrrggggh! He went crazy as he pulled himself out of the nurse's grasp and ran to the bed. He jerked the sheet down and pulled her limp body into his arms. “You can't leave, Pari, come back. Please come back to me!"

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**** You can't leave, Pari, come back. Please come back to me! Pari jerked around, looking up into what... infinity... the vast universe, but no one was there. "Back where? Where are you?" Suddenly everything began undulating, and she became dizzy. It was as if the long corridor was a birth canal trying to thrust her out. She began sliding against the wall, and clutched at the knob of a door to remain standing. Her weight turned the knob, and when she looked up, she saw a beautiful prism of colors, and the words on the door that read… Life. **** The fingers of the small, still figure began twitching. Then a few seconds later she took a deep breath and began coughing. Everyone turned toward her. Her eyes fluttered, blinking away death. They sluggishly came into focus and moved around the room as if she were looking for something. They stopped when they found Kitt. For a moment he seemed so stunned he couldn't move, but when he finally came out of it, he rushed to her, gathered her to him, and buried his face in the soft, curve of her neck. She smiled, and sank her fingers into his dark, thick curls, and asked, "You were calling me?" He looked down at her. "You heard me?" "Yes. You wanted me to come back. What did you want?" Kitt looked around and met the doctor’s twinkling eyes. The doctor nodded, so Kitt continued, "Well, as a matter of fact, I wanted to ask you a question." "It must be pretty important if it kept me from going away." He looked down at her and whispered softly and urgently. "Oh, Pari, darling, I don’t want you to go away. Not ever! Will you—” Kitt’s voice lowered as if he were in a sacred chapel. “—will you… marry me?" Pari's eyes filled with tears. "Yes! Oh yes!" They embraced, and everyone in the room began applauding.

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"What a touching scene. Reminds me of something out of a classic movie." He walked up to Pari and looked at her closely. “Well, at last I get to meet the woman that was successful in corralling this no good—” “What do you want?” Ignoring Kitt, he looked back at Pari and extended his hand. “My name is Mike DeParro, one of Bayonne's finest, if I may say so." "All right, you've said so. Now I want everyone out of here. I have things to discuss with my future wife." The detective opened his coat and took out a cassette. "I think you'll want to hear this." "What is it?" Kitt asked. "How soon we forget. You know, your evening with Lynette?" "Not now, DeParro. Pari’s not—" “Just be quiet and listen." He looked down at Pari, thumbing toward Kitt. "This guy should have been an actor. He had that woman snowed from the minute she saw his sexy smile." The detective pressed the button on a small device, and the sound of voices filled the room. As Pari listened, she heard Kitt's insulting words that sounded so convincing. Tears filled her eyes when Kitt told Lynette that she was dead and acted so completely indifferent to it. When they finally got to the part where they were in the bedroom, and all the moaning, wet kisses, and a recount of the actual stabbing was told, Pari had heard as much as she could stand. She turned her head away and sobbed, trying to bury her face in the pillow. "Turn it off!” Kitt yelled, “Turn it off!" He quickly turned it off and asked Kitt, "What the hell's the matter?" "Pari, you know this was a setup. I didn't mean anything I said or did on that tape. It was just to get the truth out of Lynette, I swear." Kitt desperately looked over at DeParro. "Tell her, DeParro!" “Ms. Sisco, he’s right. Hell, I—” He struggled with his stupidity. “—I guess I shouldn’t have brought it in here like this, but I figured he’d want to hear it.” He looked at her apologetically. “I didn’t even think how it might affect you. Pretty insensitive of me, huh? As it turns out, he did such a good job; we don’t even need the tape. My partner and I were just outside the door. Witnesses to the whole confession.”

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She looked into Kitt’s pleading eyes and relented with a sigh. "I know you love me, Kitt. I guess... I guess it was the shock. It's just that… well, it sounded so real. It's hard, even though I know it was all an act." Kitt turned his head toward the others, and rasped, "May we be alone?" With an embarrassed silence, everyone shuffled out slowly and Kitt turned back to her with a concerned look on his face. "Are we okay?" "Of course," she stretched her lips in an uncertain smile. He looked down at the bed. "God, I wish I could get in there with you." She laughed weakly. "I don't think we'd better try that." "What?” Kitt teased. “Pari Sisco saying no?" "Yes, but remember it took a stab wound and almost death to…" The smile fell from Kitt's face, and his eyes edged with tears. Pari looked at him. "Kitt, I'm sorry… I…" "I know, it's just that I'll never forget that I wasn't there to protect you from that crazy bitch." She cupped his face with her hand. "But you're here now, and you'll never leave my side, right?" "You couldn't pry me loose with a crowbar." "That's the way I like my man to talk." "Pari—" "Yes, my darling." "—thanks for coming when I called."

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Epilogue The day was bright and sunny, and the lawn of the mansion was a breathtaking vision of beauty. Exotic plants and flowers from all over the world had been imported, and with them a beautiful arbor built for Pari and Kitt to stand beneath as they said their vows. Among the crowd of important guests was Corinne, who was passing her cards around, and Jaric, who was checking out all the available females, and their sister Monica, complete with green and purple hair and some strange articles hanging from every part of her body. The two siblings were standing, listening to Kitt and Pari say their vows, when Jaric leaned close to his sister and whispered, "You come to Kitt's wedding, but don't come to Father's funeral?" "I'm fine, Jaric, thanks, and how are you?" she answered sarcastically while giving him a hard look. "All right, all right. So you’re okay?" "I'm fine. As if you cared." "Okay, now answer my question." "Hey, get off my back, will ya? I didn't get word soon enough. You already had him in the ground by the time I found out, okay? Sheeee!" "That's because you never stay in touch, you little bitch. We had to have a friggin' PI locate you!" She didn't reply, just looked at him and wagged her head while making a face. Jaric watched as the two lovers strolled to the center of the crowd and began dancing to the beautiful wedding music. ****

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Slowly, as other couples began filtering on to the man-made ballroom that was adorned with all kinds of exotic flowers, Pari couldn’t help but admire the magnificent artistic workmanship it must have taken to get everything so beautiful. "It's absolutely gorgeous, Kitt. I wish it could stay like this forever. It's kind of chilly though, why did you insist on having the wedding on the lawn? Why not inside?" Kitt glanced up into the sky. "I wanted the Big Guy to be here. After all, it was Him that brought you back to me." Pari grinned with amusement. "And you think He can't get inside?" "Oh no, honey, He's too big and too wonderful to get inside." She laughed. "You sentimental slob." Kitt smiled down at her with love in his eyes. "You know, I didn't think it was possible, but you look more beautiful today than I've ever seen you. Where did you find that gown?" She smiled as if she had a secret. "Well, you had your project and I had mine." While looking down at the magnificent creation, she fingered the ruffles and said, "I had it made." "Yeah? Terrific job." She looked at him inquisitively. "You’re sure you've never seen it before?" "Of course not. Why?" Deciding to let him in on it, she smiled up into his face and whispered, "Follow me." Looking around to make sure no one was watching, they both crept into the mansion, and then up to their bedroom. When they walked in, Pari turned to him. "Close your eyes." Kitt closed his eyes and waited with a silly smile on his face. "Now you can open them." When Kitt looked at Pari, she was holding out a wedding gift. “Congratulations, sir, from me to you.” “Pari,” he said, embarrassed. “Were we supposed to exchange gifts? I didn’t…” “No, this is something special. Just open it.” Kitt slowly began to tear paper and pull on ribbon until he finally had it open.The Barbie doll was dressed in the same wedding dress Pari wore. “Oh, my God,” he said, laughing. He carefully took it out of its box, looking

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first at the doll, and back to Pari, and back again. They were identical. The bridal gown, the hair… everything. "I figured if I was going to have the name, I might as well play the game." "Pari,” he said, still laughing, “what a clever idea." “Well, I may be a Barbie doll, but I’m a smart Barbie doll.” “Shhh,” he said, his fingers covering her mouth. “You’re incredible. Giving me my very own little Barbie Doll." Their lips met and opened to each other in a deep, smothering kiss that said everything they were feeling. But when she tried to pull away, he wouldn’t let her go. "Oh no, you're here to stay." "But our guests." "There's enough food for an army, and a barrel of champagne out there. They're not going to miss us. Besides, we're married, remember? We can do it anytime we want." "Kitt, you get the urge at the strangest times," she said, remembering the tanning bed. Not listening to her, he looked longingly into her eyes as he slowly removed her bridal gown, piece by piece and threw it in a heap on the floor. Floating into the open window from outside were the soft sounds of laughing voices and tinkling glasses. Finally, Kitt looked down at his beautiful wife that lay before him and began to hungrily draw on her breasts and her neck. Then settling himself between her long silky legs that still wore the sexy garter and hose, he pushed himself against her cleft, causing her to moan as she wrapped her legs around him in a tight clench. Just as he plunged himself in, and their passion flared, he whispered in her ear, breathing heavily. "I think I know what I'm going to be doing a lot of… Barbie." She closed her eyes, trying to keep from crying out with pleasure. "And just what could that be, sir?" Between the heavy breathing and erotic plunges that propelled them higher and higher into a sky filled with the sensuous lightning flashes of blissful married love, he breathed passionately into her ear. "Just what I'm doing right now…playing with dolls."

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THE END

ABOUT THE AUTHOR Audrey Godwin is quickly rising into the ranks of hottest erotica writer around today. She slowly evolved from the mundane boy meets girl plotline, to the sexy bad boys who leave a trail of erotic fire wherever they go. Her passion is the big, swarthy type that fits into the gothic scene, which she has brought into the twenty-first century. These alpha males might be vampires, werewolves spirit beings, or they may be completely normal. But one thing they all are is, sexy as hell. It all started when she began reading. She read good books, bad books, so-so books, and those that had no business being published. So deciding she could do at least as well, she put down her latest novel, and decided to write. Even though she tried to focus on her heroines, she somehow couldn’t keep from wrapping her whole story around the gorgeous guys. Finally, she gave in to it and prowled the streets of her imagination in search of her next super idea and gorgeous hunk. Somewhere along the way she was discovered on the internet by a publisher that fully embraced her style of writing, and introduced her to erotic e-publishing. What came from it was a series of books that slowly became published, giving her the feeling of at last achieving her goal. Audrey has had her days in the sun, when she was the life of the party, a laugh a minute kind of gal, and outrageously cool, but sadly, that’s all over now. Today she’s one of those boring x-civil service workers that has a penchant for bookstores and sappy love songs. She prefers quiet dinners with friends over maddening crowds. Her favorite pastime is writing a truly exciting suspense or horror novel with strong, stand-alone characters, and an exciting, anything-can-happen plotline. After several years, her love of writing hasn’t left her, so look for more of her dark romance novels that will give you a chill one minute and a hot flash the next.

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