33. Chase

Standing outside the strip club, Chase wondered what the hell he was doing here. Marc had sent him a message last night telling him to hop on the first flight out of Paris heading to New York. He landed two hours ago and had been instructed to come straight to this address.

The Lady's Touch. The perfect name for a sleazy strip club—not that he had been inside yet, but no doubt they were all the same. Probably filled with coked-out strippers willing to suck you off for a tenner.

He didn't like this. Being summoned to the other side of the world with no explanation other than to make sure that Levi didn't come.

Good thing he trusted Marc. Otherwise, he would have assumed that this was a trap and that he was either being set up to be arrested or lured into the open to be murdered.

Alright, time to see what the fuck is going on.

Chase pulled open the door and stepped into the club.

All around him, women danced and laughed, topless and shoving their tits into smiling guys' faces.

At least the music was pretty good.

"Hi, welcome to The Lady's Touch. Is this your first time joining us?" a pretty, young redhead greeted.

"Umm, yeah. I'm supposed to be meeting a friend of mine." He looked around the room, hoping to spot Marc somewhere in the sea of titties and lace.

"What's your friend"s name?" the woman asked, her friendly blue eyes batting a mile a minute. Her pale white skin and hint of a slight accent suggested that she hailed from Ireland.

"Marc Bodin," Chase replied, still scanning the crowd, hoping to be rescued from this gorgeous temptress.

"You're looking for Marc?" a deep voice asked behind him.

Chase turned around only to come face-to-face with the fittest man he had ever laid eyes on. His biceps bulged, and his shirt looked like it was about to separate at the seams. Chase was pretty sure that the man's muscles had muscles underneath that shirt.

The human embodiment of Hercules pulled back his red and black hair and smiled at the young woman.

"I got this, Amy," the man said, nodding for her to leave them alone.

The woman smiled before disappearing into the sea of nipples.

"I'm Mickey, owner of this establishment." He stuck out his hand and almost broke Chase's fingers while shaking his hand.

"That's some grip you got there," Chase chuckled, rubbing his sore fingers and trying to save face.

"Oh, sorry ‘bout that. My husband insists that I keep in shape. He keeps threatening to leave my ass if I ever get soft. So, I hit the gym six days a week."

"It definitely shows," Chase noted, following the man as he led him across the club and into the back.

"Marc's waiting down here," the bulging red-haired god of muscle said, nodding toward an open door and stairs leading down to the basement.

Yup, not suspicious at all.

"So, how do you know Marc again?" Chase figured he should probably ask some questions before blindly following some tattoo-covered beast into his creepy stripper club basement.

"My husband, Seth, used to work for him. I think doing what you're doing now."

He highly doubted that the man's husband was hunting bad men and giving them their just desserts.

"He's the one who gave Marc that fucked up journal you're using to hunt down fucked up assholes."

Okay… perhaps this man knew more than Chase originally suspected. Either he was friends with Marc, or he had captured Marc and was now seeking revenge against all those who worked for him.

"Chase? You up there?" Marc called from down in the basement.

"Come on. This way," Mickey said, turning and walking down the metal staircase.

Fine.Chase rolled his eyes and began his journey down into the creepy murder room. Little did he know how true those thoughts would be.

Once they reached the bottom of the stairs, Chase gasped.

Dangling in the center of the room, over a floor covered in plastic, was a man bound by his wrists.

Chase's eyes were wide as he took in the horrific scene. He was pretty sure that this was one of the opening scenes from one of the Saw movies. If a puppet on a bike appeared, he was getting the fuck out of there.

"Wh–what's going on?" Chase asked, moving closer to where Marc stood, eyes never leaving the battered body dangling from chains.

This was the sort of shit you only saw in horror movies. In all his years on the police force, he had never seen a man dangling from the ceiling still alive. Dead, yes, of course. But alive… they were still moving… and bleeding… and smelling really fucking bad.

"This here is Martin Glaslow. He is a three-time convicted rapist and murderer of at least four people," Marc announced.

He wished that Marc had warned him. Then at least he wouldn't have looked like such a pussy walking down the stairs and being caught so off guard by a dangling meat sack.

"I don't remember seeing his name in the book," Chase noted, trying to think back through all the heinous crimes and names listed in that godforsaken journal.

"He's not. This man is the monster who raped and murdered Madison."

Chase's head snapped toward Marc. "What? How do you know?"

"Alex and I have been working on this case since you first joined our team. We wanted to find the monster who took away your sister and deliver him to you so that you could finally get justice for your sister and find some peace for yourself. We finally found this piece of shit in Buffalo."

The man struggled against his chains and groaned through his gag.

Chase stared up at the beast who had haunted his nightmares for two years now. The creature who tore apart his family and left a gaping hole in his heart. He loved his sister, and to see what this animal did to her and how he just tossed her body into Lake Ontario as if she were nothing but trash…

Chase's fists tightened. He understood now why Marc told him not to bring Levi. He didn't want Levi to witness all the horrible things he was about to do to this man.

His eyes darkened as he stalked toward his prey.

Another buff man standing next to Glaslow, with blue and black hair, took a step forward.

"Just so you know, this room is soundproof, and we have everything you need to dispose of a body down here."

He motioned toward a table covered in knives and sharp instruments that looked like they would be a lot of fun to use on the monster who took away his sister.

"You can use anything you want. Might I suggest these to start?" he held up garden clippers. "They are great for removing fingers and toes. I just had them sharpened, so they'll cut like a hot knife through butter."

Chase gave the blue-haired man an evil grin. He liked how this man thought.

"I'm Chase, by the way."

"Patrick," the man said, flashing him a smile that the Devil himself would be proud of.

Perhaps there was a God, after all.

Feeling all warm and fuzzy inside, he stared at the tools spread out across the table and wondered what instrument his sister would have liked for him to use on the man who violated her, then took her from the world.

His hand fell on a scalpel. Madison always said that she wanted to be a doctor. This seemed like a poetic way to start.

"You know, I often wondered what I would do if I ever caught the man who took away my sister. Now that I finally have you dangling in my sights, it's all so clear."

Chase turned around, smiling. His eyes were black as night.

"Oh, we are going to have so much fun playing doctor."

Across the room, Marc and the blue-haired man smiled as Chase stalked toward the man who would spend the next four hours screaming.

There were monsters in this world, and the only way to take down a monster was to send another monster after them.

Some of these monsters are easy to spot, but other times, they may be more difficult, especially when dressed like the average Joe. The only way to tell these two apart, is to look deep into their eyes and try and see if you could locate a soul.