Chapter 6
His headache had disappeared by the time he turned his car into the downtown parking lot. He parked just across the street from the heart of campus and killed the engine. The headaches always leveled off when he decided to hunt.
He was still reeling from his earlier phone conversation. Carter had promised him many things this night. He'd been promising him many things over the years. That was Carter's job though, to follow through on his desires. His family had given him Carter when he was a young man. Every powerful man needed a Carter in their life. A fixer, someone who fine-tuned the world to their liking for them.
He was hungry, but not for food, and campus was always a good hunting ground for his appetite. He crossed the street, watching the blissfully ignorant students as they stumbled in and out of the assortment of bars and restaurants.
He only needed one, a lookalike until the real prize was hand delivered to his doorstep. It would be the last time, he promised himself, licking his lips.
When most of the college-aged girls looked at him they saw dollar signs in his tailored suit and expensive car. Their instincts as much as his Latin features told them he was a dangerous man, but they ignored that because he was also handsome and charming when he wanted to be.
They were hungry for him, because despite their youth, they were whores—but weren't all women, really? Whether they admitted it or not, all women traded sex for money. From a nice dinner at a restaurant to a wedding band, women took some form of payment to spread their legs. For him, it was usually cold hard cash these days, but there were times when he just took what he wanted anyway. That was before he became a key player in the Riaz Cartel, before he had a real family.
He only needed to make a little banal conversation with his prey. He picked up a bar tab or two to find what he desired. Money made hunting easier. He walked them across the street to the hotel, where he had a standing suite. The staff was paid to ignore any noise that emanated from the room. Money. It solved almost every problem he'd ever had. Kathryn Rollins was the only exception to his money rule. After tonight, money would take care of her too.
As he closed the hotel room door, tonight's entree stared at him, giggling and hiccupping at the same time. She looked enough like his ideal feast that she would do. After tonight he wouldn't need to substitute again.
"What should I call you?" She stumbled across the floor and dropped on the white couch. A long strand of brown hair stuck to her glossy lips.
"Call me Commandant," he said as he removed his belt and snapped it against his open palm.
