Page 12 of Cruel Malady: A Necrosis of the Mind

Don’t we all.

The song ends, giving way to a faster tempo, and I nod my thanks to the escort. The blonde—Lilah—narrows her gaze on me from across the table, then politely excuses herself. She grabs a silver clutch from the seat next to her and wanders out of the lounge.

She’s not part of the pack; a lone wolf. All the other escorts are from the same company, but apparently, Ericson rented his date from another—why? Did he desire a more assertive, dominating escort? No, I highly doubt that. Everything about his personality states he demands to be the one in control.

Based on what I do know, I can make a general hypothesis:

Lilah does exhibit a few of the desired characteristics, but our brief time together this evening won’t allow for a full evaluation of the Dirty Dozen scale—a psych eval of the twelve most prominent traits to determine if a person fits the dark triad.

Machiavellianism.

Narcissism.

Psychopathy.

I would imagine that all escorts demonstrate a tendency toward Machiavellianism. They need a certain level of manipulative tactics to control their clientele. It’s just plain survival instinct.

But when we account for the other two traits on the triad, how does she score?

Psych has never been my strength. Math is my comfort zone, and I tally her up pretty quickly. Machiavellianism = 8; Psychopathy = unknown; Narcissism = 7.

It’s not an accurate score, but my estimations are high enough to urge me out of my seat in pursuit of her.

“Excuse me,” I say to the girl, and she saunters off to another member of the crew as I chase after Lilah.

I take out my phone. It’s darker in this part of the club, making my display a beacon as I tap the app and hurriedly run the scanner. Now, it’s much more difficult to scan for SIM information as phones are digital and signals are encrypted. However, there is a flaw in the system, and if one knows how to exploit that flaw, it’s still very possible. In highly public places—such as a night club—analog stations are used as backup to help with overflow.

With the right software, one can target a cell phone and collect its identifying information.

The VIP lounge accommodates its exclusive patrons with private restrooms. I spot Lilah coming out of the women’s bathroom and head in that direction. The narrow hallway is set back from the main area, offering the illusion of privacy.

“Lilah—” I call out. When she doesn’t respond, I put myself right in her path. “I didn’t think that was your name.”

“You’re a clever one.” She tucks her clutch under her arm and squares her shoulders. “None of the girls go by their names.”

None of the girls.As if she’s just simply one of them. “What is your name, then?” I demand.

“Whatever you want it to be, baby,” she fires back.

My mouth slants disapprovingly. That line doesn’t work for her. My presence here is bothering her. I’m an interference for some reason.

I step closer and slip my phone into my front pocket. “I noticed you don’t seem too bothered to entertain your clients.”

“You seem to notice a lot,” she says, her gaze tracking over me deliberately. “I notice a lot, too. Like the fact your name isn’t Lawson. Not according to your credit card,Alex.”

A heated spark shoots up my back, a current of electric excitement. She just ticked up the score a notch on her assessment.

“You’re extremely observant,” I say. “Maybe I wasn’t comfortable enough to give my real name, either.”

Her gaze narrows. She doesn’t believe me. “Look. My time is better spententertainingin private. That’s what my clientele pay for. Which”—she makes it a point to look at my clothes—“I’m sorry to say, is very out of your price range.” She levels me with a severe glare. “You should leave, whoever you are.”

Those eyes…that stare… It’s unnerving.

I lean in toward her and lower my voice to an audible whisper. “You’re not a whore.”

Her blood-red lips tip upward. That smile is disarming. “Is that supposed to be a compliment?”

“You’re not an escort,” I clarify. “What are you, undercover? FBI? Trying to take down an escort ring, underground MMA fights? Or does it have to do with Ericson and his firm?”

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