A naked man approached the mirror and stood directly in front of the glass, distracting her. She took a step backward involuntarily and held her breath. He was in his mid-forties, tall and bony, with a matte of graying hair on his chest. He sucked in his stomach and touched himself. Serena wanted to close her eyes.
Sonia came up next to the man. Her pale skin glowed with sweat. She had been the first to have sex with Kathy Lassiter, and since then, Serena had seen Sonia take turns with two other men in the room and a husband-and-wife duo at the same time. Sonia looked breathless and exhilarated. She was drinking a lot, too. So were most of the others.
"Just imagine if someone were on the other side of the mirror, watching us," Sonia told the man.
Serena watched a smile glint on the corner of Sonia's lips.
"Hell, yes," he said.
"Let's put on a show," Sonia told him.
Sonia pushed on the man's shoulders, and he didn't need further encouragement to lie on his back on the thick carpet. Sonia straddled him in front of the mirror and leered directly at Serena as she lowered herself onto his body. She moaned loudly for effect and leaned forward so that her contorted face was nearly glazing the surface of the glass.
Serena shook her head. "What a bitch," she whispered.
She wanted to pound the wall and let them all know she was there.
She tore her eyes away from the frenzied coupling in front of her. Behind Sonia, another drama was playing out, and Serena didn't like it.
Kathy Lassiter was alone on the bed now, propped up on her elbows. Mitchell Brandt, naked and solidly built, approached and stood over her, but he made no move to climb on the bed. Lassiter turned over onto all fours, crawled across the rumpled sheets, and began performing oral sex on him. Brandt didn't react at all. His passiveness made Lassiter work harder, but she may as well have been giving her attention to a stone. He looked down at the top of her head, and the deadness in his lower face made Serena's insides lurch with unease.
What the hell was he doing?
Brandt took hold of her shoulders and separated himself from her. With both hands, he shoved Lassiter so hard that she flew upward and backward, landing on the far side of the bed with her hair mussed and her legs splayed. Her mask came askew, and Serena saw her eyes now, which were confused and afraid. Brandt climbed onto the bed and moved toward her on his knees. Lassiter scrambled away from him.
Serena took two steps toward the door, trying to decide if this was a game.
Inches away, Sonia was still having sex by the mirror. The others watched her. No one noticed Brandt and Lassiter.
Brandt leaped forward like a cat and locked Lassiter's wrists in his hands. He yanked her up, her hair twirling. He took the mask, ripped it off her face, and threw it on the floor. In a single motion, he moved his hands to her hips, lifted her bodily off the bed, and crushed her against his chest. His lips moved as he whispered in her ear. Lassiter shook her head violently and struggled to get away, but Brandt held on, trapping her arms so she couldn't wrestle free. When she tried to speak, he choked her mouth with a brutal kiss.
Serena hesitated. When she saw Lassiter wriggling in Brandt's grasp, she was convinced that this was not playacting or fantasy. She couldn't let this go on.
"Stop!" Serena shouted.
The people in the room heard the muffled voice and looked up, confused and aghast. Brandt made no move to stop.
Serena bolted out of the hideaway and took the stairs two at a time. She thundered through the house and found the main stairway leading to the basement and the oak door that led to the temple. Her shoulder collided with the door, and it flew around on its hinges. She ran into the fragrant room.
A dozen naked people screamed and covered themselves with their hands. They dove to the floor. Sonia's face was screwed up with rage.
Serena focused on Brandt, who shoved Lassiter down onto her back and threw his full weight on top of her. Breath expelled from her chest like air from a popped balloon. He kept whispering, and her eyes turned moon-white. She tried to speak again, but her pleas were smothered.
"Get off her now!" Serena screamed, running to the bed.
She clawed at Brandt's shoulder, but he was deadweight. Serena delivered a backhand fist to the side of Brandt's head, her knuckles cracking sharply on his temple. Brandt reared back in pain and toppled away from Lassiter, who squirmed from under him. He cleared his head and clutched for her again, but Serena used the palm of her hand to jab directly into his forehead. His head snapped; he groaned and fell back, sliding off the slippery silk onto the floor.
Lassiter scrambled off the bed. Brandt staggered to his feet and took a few unsteady steps. The other members of the club were paralyzed, hiding by the walls and on the floor. Serena eyed Brandt and angled her body so that Lassiter was behind her. He stared at both of them, his face screwed up with rage, and then shifted his attention to the others as if he was noticing them for the first time.
"Fuck all of you," he hissed.
Brandt ran from the room. One of the men grabbed for him, but Brandt shoved him hard, and he fell back, collapsing into one of the tables and spilling wine bottles onto the floor. Shiraz flowed like blood, and sharp triangles of glass scattered on the carpet. Brandt wrenched open the temple door and slammed it behind him. His footsteps pounded upstairs.
"Are you okay?" Serena asked Lassiter.
"I'm fine," Lassiter said, her face dark. "Who the hell are you?"
"I'm a friend of Lieutenant Stride."
"Well, you shouldn't have interfered."
Serena backed up. "What?"
"You should have stayed out of it," Lassiter repeated.
"He was assaulting you," Serena protested. "He could have killed you."
"You don't know anything."
Sonia joined them. Her pale skin was white, and her eyes were wild and on fire. "How dare you," Sonia hissed. "Get the hell out of here."
Serena ignored her. "What did he say to you?" she asked Lassiter.
"He didn't say anything."
"I saw him whispering to you."
"He didn't say anything," Lassiter insisted.
Serena put her lips close to Lassiter's ear. "I can get the police in from outside."
"No." Lassiter shook her head. "I need to get out of here. Right now."
"Let me help you," Serena said.
"I don't need any help."
"Are you sure you don't need a doctor?" Serena asked.
"I just need to get away from here."
Serena called after her as Lassiter broke from the others and made her way to the door that led out of the temple. "Wait, he could still be in the house."
"No, he's gone," Lassiter replied. "He's not coming back."
39
That's Mitchell Brandt," Stride said. He put his coffee cup on the dashboard of the Cadillac and leaned forward to watch.
"He's in a hurry," Teitscher said.
Brandt slammed the front door of Sonia Bezac's house and ran down the sidewalk toward the street. His open coat billowed behind him. He wore black jeans and an untucked, unbuttoned dress shirt. The shirt fell open, and they saw his bare chest. He took off across the street, dodging through the headlights of a car that blared its horn at him. He climbed into a dark Porsche.
"I don't like this," Stride said.
"Should we pick him up?"
"No, let's see where he goes."
Teitscher radioed Guppo in a tan Caprice around the corner. "Brandt is on his way. He's hauling ass. Stay on his tail, but don't make it obvious."
The Porsche shot off down the residential street and vanished, heading into the steep curves leading toward the lake. The Caprice accelerated onto the same street moments later.
"Do you want to go in?" Teitscher asked.
"Not yet."
They waited fifteen minutes. The other members of the club streamed out of the house in pockets of ones and twos, hiding their sullen faces from each other as they left. They formed a procession out of the neighborhood, and soon headlights swung past them one after another, driving fast.