She hesitated. “His eyes are black. Soulless, if you know what I mean.”
“You watch too many horror movies, Nola,” the bartender scoffed.
“No, Jake. I’m careful. I don’t want investigators asking questions about me one day.”
Leland looked toward the mezzanine. Predators often hunted where vulnerability gathered naturally. And places like this, where anyone could play for a price, with lax security, practically advertised it.
“Let’s go talk to Eddie,” Alec said quietly.
The upstairs lounge overlooked the main floor through smoked glass panels. Quieter. More exclusive. The crowd up here skewed older, better dressed, trading the chaos below forleather seating, expensive bourbon, and a better view of the room.
A man fitting the bartender’s description sat near the far wall with a highball glass in one hand. He wasn’t watching the floor; he was watching them as they approached.
His gaze landed on Leland first.
Assessment recognized assessment.
“Edward Mercer?” Alec asked.
“What can I do for you gentlemen?”
Alec pulled out photos of Anna Bellamy and Mara Andrews. “Recognize them?”
Mercer studied the images calmly. “I’ve seen the little blonde here, but not in a while,” he said after a moment.
“Anna?” Alec asked.
“Never caught her name. Then again, I never asked.”
Leland observed him closely. Everything about him was controlled, from the measured cadence of his breathing to his unnaturally still posture, without a hint of emotion save for the almost-imperceptible smug curve of his lips. Even before seeing his eyes—which were black like Nola described—he understood what she meant by soulless.
“Word is you spend a lot of time with new submissives,” Alec said.
Mercer didn’t move with his response. “I train occasionally.”
“People describe it differently.”
“That doesn’t surprise me.” He sipped his bourbon. “Disappointed people often rewrite experiences afterward.”
Contempt coiled through Leland, but his voice stayed even. “You like inexperience,” he said. “Any reason?”
“I like honesty,” Mercer replied smoothly. “New submissives have less performance attached to them.”
Alec folded his arms. “That doesn’t apply to you, though, does it? You like to intimidate, maybe make them afraid.”
Mercer’s black eyes twinkled in the overhead lights as he responded to Alec’s challenge. “Fear and trust aren’t mutually exclusive.”
“Cute answer,” Alec said. “Wrong audience.”
A cold glint flashed briefly in Mercer’s eyes before vanishing again.
“Three women are missing,” Leland said quietly. “Another is confirmed dead. You understand why we’re talking to you?”
“Yes.”
“How long have you lived in Miami?” Alec asked.
“About a year.”
