Page 53 of Sinister Games

CHAPTER16

RICHARD

Reaching into my desk drawer, I pulled out a pair of gloves and slipped them on. While crossing the room, I selected the small brass key from my keyring as I approached the door. The well-oiled lock gave easily. Stepping inside, I surveyed the rows of tall mahogany, glass-fronted cases. Inside, nestled on racks of green velvet, rested over one hundred rare antique firearms.

Approaching the rifle case, I removed the center-displayed gun and returned to my office.

Sitting once more, I laid the gun across the large, leather-covered expanse of my desk and thought of Elizabeth.

While my white-hot rage may have cooled over the last several hours, my anger still smoldered. She had tried to leave me, to end our little game. That was unacceptable. Apparently, it was past time I made the permanency of our relationship plain to her.

There was no escape.

Her fate was now inextricably entwined with mine.

I honestly didn’t even remember what I’d done from the moment I read her text last night till the moment she was once more in my arms and under my control. My vision went black. My one single thought, my one single-minded purpose, was to get my hands on her and to never let go.

Closing my eyes, I relived the feel of her naked in my arms, the scent of her still lingering on my skin. The moment my body fused with hers will remain the most remarkable moment of my life.

It felt as if I had finally taken my first full breath after being underwater. As if I hadn’t been alive until that very moment. She was the lightning bringing Frankenstein’s monster to life.

Exhausted, she had quickly fallen to sleep after our lovemaking. Could you call the violent meeting of our bodies lovemaking?

After tucking her in, I waited for the handyman I employed at my own home to arrive to fix her door, knowing he would be discreet and not ask any unfortunate questions. Surveying the small, cluttered flat she shared with a roommate, I knew I needed to move her to my quarters soon. This building had only the rudimentary elements of security—a doorman and locks. If it weren’t for the doubling of the guards I had watching her, I would have never let her stay as long as this, but enough was enough. I needed her under my roof, and my control, away from all of these modern interferences.

She had me; she no longer needed a mobile phone, school, friends, or a job.

I would take care of her every need, her every want.

The modern world and all its dangers would cease to exist for her.

I would become her everything, as she was mine.

I should have forced her home with me last night but there were arrangements that needed to be made that I couldn’t have her witnessing. Let her enjoy her last few days of freedom.

Soon the cage door would close.

Reaching for the gun, I dipped a rag into the small, open bottle of Renaissance wax and began to methodically rub the solvent onto the gun, watching as the walnut stock began to glisten and gleam. The sporting rifle belonging to Queen Victoria’s Prince Albert was the highlight of my collection. I had fought long and hard to locate it, then outbid the vultures who descended as soon as word got out that Caspar Georg Koenig’s gun with its silver and mother-of-pearl scene of a hound chasing a fox had come up for auction. It used to be one of my most treasured possessions, until Elizabeth.

Polishing the browned steel barrel with its gold-overlaid trigger and lock, I went over my plans once more.

A low tone sounded before my assistant’s voice broke my reverie. “Your Grace, Dr. Leilend from Shelton Pharmaceuticals is here to see you.”

“Send him in.”

Staying seated and at my task, I greeted the doctor. “Thank you for traveling to London on such short notice. Please have a seat.”

The doctor fidgeted with his briefcase before nodding several times and taking a seat. His nervousness did not affect me. I was used to people being nervous in my presence. If they were smart, they would be.

“Of course, Your Grace. After all, you’re the new boss.”

I smiled. Yes, I was, after successfully buying the majority of stock shares in the company earlier this week.

Leaning back, I still held the rifle aloft. “Tell me about Blebbistatin, Doctor.”

Leaning forward, the doctor’s demeanor became animated. “It is pretty exciting stuff. Your memories are connected to neurons in the brain, which are supported by a molecule called myosin. We’ve figured out that you can disrupt certain memories if you disrupt this molecule, which is what Blebbistatin does.”

“So, you basically erase the memory before the brain puts it on the hard drive.”

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