OUTCAST: Trust, Friendship, And Injustice (Beauty 0f Life Book 9)

by Laura Acton

  Slumping in a semi-pouting posture, Jon crossed his arm. “Yeah, well. He’s still going to pay. I mean, look at me. I’m fucking blue!”

  Still chuckling Nick teased, “Fits you. You’re a blue-blooded, blue-skinned cop. And besides, it accents your eyes so well.” Jon’s offended expression was priceless, but Nick settled down and decided to quit razzing him. “Did you try Dan’s number again?”

  “Right before we left. Still rings and rings only to end up with his voicemail,” Jon replied.

  Dan’s Apartment Complex – 8:20 a.m.

  After Nick parked, they headed to the entrance. “Jon, he must be here, his bike is in the rack, and both his truck and motorcycle are in the lot.”

  “Unless he left for a vacation and took a cab to the airport. Perhaps he followed your suggestion to book a relaxing cruise or spend time at a beach. That might explain why he’s not answering.”

  Shaking his head, Nick said, “His phone would go straight to voicemail if it were off, not ring multiple times.”

  Eschewing the building’s ancient elevator which broke down more than it ran, Jon automatically headed for the stairs. “True. Maybe he’s out for a run or something and left it here.”

  Nick shook his head again. “No again. I recall him telling me he always takes his cell and knife with him. Dan’s a creature of habit … remnants of soldiering, always prepared to defend himself.”

  “But he’s likely not thinking clearly. We did … I mean I ruthlessly reamed him last night. That on top of ending things with Lexa would be enough to throw him off his game.”

  “No, I don’t think so. Dan’s hurt for sure by all this, but none of this would change his ingrained behaviors.” Upon reaching the apartment, Nick rapped twice and stepped back a little to be visible in the peep-hole.

  They waited, and when he didn’t answer, Jon knocked loudly. Again, they got no response. Jon banged hard with a fist six times. “Dan, open up. I need to talk to you.” When the portal stayed closed, Jon yelled, “Dammit, Dano, open the damned door or answer your goddamned phone. I must speak with you.”

  The door across the hall opened. An elderly woman peered at them sternly. “Young man, please quiet down and clean up your language.”

  Jon appeared abashed by the quiet scolding, but Nick smiled kindly at the woman. “I’m Sergeant Nick Pastore with TRF.”

  She took note they wore the same uniform as Dan. “I’m Mrs. Stark.”

  “Ma’am, do you know the man who lives in this apartment?”

  “Yes. Dan Broderick. Sweet boy, always so helpful and kind to me. He works for TRF too.”

  “Dan is a member of my team. This is Jon Hardy another team member. We are trying to locate Dan. Have you seen him today?” Nick asked calmly.

  Eleanor attempted to conceal her mirth over the blue-hued officer. “He left for a run quite early this morning. He isn’t back yet.”

  Jon calmed and stepped closer. As the lady stared at him, he noted the play of an amused smile she tried to hide. Damned blue tinge. “How do you know he has not returned?”

  “Because Dan said he would stop and pick up puppy chow for me on his way home. The packages are too cumbersome for me to carry. Dan hasn’t dropped the bag off, and it would be the first thing he would do when he returned because he is aware Mr. Waggles ran out of food last night.”

  At the sound of his name a beautiful, tri-colored border collie puppy appeared and sat at Eleanor’s command, but his tail continued to waggle back and forth happily.

  Nick and Jon glanced at the dog before Nick addressed Eleanor. “Thank you for the information.”

  “I’ll tell him you stopped by when he delivers Mr. Waggles’ food.” When they nodded, Eleanor shut her door.

  “What are you doing, Jonny?” Nick queried when Jon pulled out his lock picking tools.

  “Going in. My gut tells me I might’ve pushed him to F.I.N.E.” Bile rose in his throat. Would he give up and end his life after yesterday’s reaming and Lexa dumping him? I hope not, but Blaze said he tried once before. If he did …

  Nick noted the panic in Jon’s actions and recalled what Jon shared with him last year when he took Dan’s vintage gun from his bedside table. Dan’s attempted suicide, as he recovered from being tortured by terrorists, was information they kept to themselves. The others did not need to be aware of something so private. Nick watched anxiously as Jon worked the lock. “I don’t believe he would … someone would’ve reported a gunshot.”

  “Not if he took the pistol with him and did it someplace else. There are also silent ways to …” Jon didn’t finish his thought as he strode inside.

  Jon noted Dan’s place remained military neat, but one incongruent item on the coffee table caught his eye. “Damn, Lexa can be cruel.” He pointed to the pink kid’s slippers before he hurried to Dan’s room to search for the gun safe he gave Dan last May.

  Following Jon’s finger, Nick’s heart broke for both Lexa and Dan. Damned protocol! I wish it didn’t exist, but it does and for sound reason … for the majority of officers. But Dan and Lexa aren’t typical officers. He tore his gaze from the slippers Dan bought for Lexa, which she wore for weeks. Turning to the kitchen, he scanned, and nothing appeared out of place to him. The fridge was stocked, minimally, not unheard of for a guy who ate a lot of take-out.

  “Found it. His gun is still here,” Jon called out from the bedroom as he put the case back on the closet shelf before returning to the other room.

  Noting the relief on Jon’s face, Nick said, “Good. So, we know he went for a run and isn’t back. Perhaps he is taking a long one to clear his head. Loki said Dan’s short routes are considered marathons by most people. If he decided to take an extended one, he might be gone for hours.”

  “You’re probably right. And if Dan is listening to loud music like he does when he works out on the heavy bag, it is unlikely he is paying attention or simply ignoring my calls. I’ll try again later this afternoon.” Jon locked the door as they exited. Approaching the stairs, he asked, “When are you going to speak with Lexa?”

  “Unsure. I don’t want to cause her more angst while she recovers. I’ll hold off for now, but I will address things before she returns to duty.” Nick sighed. Not a conversation I’m looking forward to having.

  Lexa’s Home – Living Room – 11:30 a.m.

  Amy strolled in and handed her distraught friend another pint of double chocolate fudge ice cream, her second since coming downstairs forty minutes ago. She attempted to assuage Lexa’s tormented spirit with chocolate, but the go-to remedy didn’t reduce her distress. Though relieved Lexa’s tears abated about two hours ago, Amy remained worried, especially after the trance-like state which overcame Lexa shortly after calling her teammates. Luckily, the episode only lasted a few minutes, but it was scary all the same.

  Spooning up a bite, Lexa let the frozen treat melt in her mouth. Her chilly feet missed the comfy, warm slippers, so she tucked a blanket around them. Startled when her home phone rang, Lexa only stared at her wall, recalling the impromptu dancing lesson she gave Dan when they painted this room.

  Rising, Amy said, “I’ll get it.” She went to the kitchen again to grab the cordless handset from the counter. After a short conversation, she returned to Lexa. “That was the PT office. You missed your therapy appointment today. I told them you would call tomorrow to reschedule.”

  Lexa nodded and lowered her spoon. She gazed at Amy, her long-time confidant. Amy knew things about her no one else did. Their friendship helped sustain her during one of the darkest periods of her life … when her father and brothers abandoned her because she pursued her dream of being a cop. She was aware of all the horrid details.

  “I’m my father’s daughter. I never thought I would be like him, but I am.” Lexa swiped at tear which leaked out.

  “Why do you believe you are anything like him?” Amy wanted to deny Lexa’s statement vehemently but realized if she did, Lexa might shut down and not talk to her.


  “I cruelly hurt someone I love.”

  “Dan?”

  Lexa bit her bottom lip and nodded as more tears fell.

  Amy moved to sit beside Lexa, handed her a tissue, and lightly rubbed little circles on her back. “Tell me what happened.”

  “I didn’t mean to fall in love with him. His eyes … those sapphire orbs. They drew me to him before I discovered we would be teammates.”

  “The bank robbery, right?” Amy recalled Lexa telling them about a blond, blue-eyed man blinking Morse code trying to alert them what the felons planned to do.

  “Yeah, but what I never told anyone is that we slept together the night before we found out we were teammates. I went to the Grand Citadel to meet Sven for drinks … and he was there. He stared at me with those eyes. The waitress teased him that I was not on the menu.

  “After I sent Sven packing, Dan smiled at me, and I went to him. I’m to blame for all this. I’m the one who told him I’d rather have a bite of him than another one of his burger. I thought, what harm can come from a single night with a handsome man?”

  Lexa’s chuckle came out with a sob. “A lot is my answer now. I tried to hate him … but I am drawn to him. He … he … something about him is irresistible, and I fought against the pull and endeavored to ignore it for a long time. After the gang war … when I found him in the ravine, he captured my heart. Though at the time, I was not ready to recognize it.

  “When he lay in a coma after being shot, and I spent time with his cousins and learned more about a fantastic man … one who endured unspeakable tragedies only to come out the other side stronger while keeping his humanity and humor. Though to be honest, his spirit is like mine, walking-wounded.

  “I gaze into his eyes, and it is like peering into a bottomless well sometimes. He can be so emotionless on the exterior, but inside … in those exquisite eyes, I can perceive all he feels and tries to keep hidden from the world. They are a portal to his fragile soul and wounded heart.

  “A heart and soul I ripped out and stomped on with my careless and cruel words.” Lexa stared straight at Amy to confess. “I told him I loved him and in the same breath, I implied he is worthless and my job is more important than him. I’m heartless …”

  Amy gathered Lexa into her arms. “You’re not heartless. You’re only scared. Love frightens you. It is why you never dated men more than twice. When you love, you give your whole being, and you are afraid of losing yourself.”

  She pushed Lexa back and made eye contact. “Somewhere inside, you recognize the power love wields. It can build beautiful things and destroy the whole shebang too. Everything you told me about your past, when your mom died and how your dad reacted, tells me you have witnessed both sides of love, and it scares the bejeezus out of you.

  “You only need time to process your emotions. Whether you’re attracted to Dan because of the built-in failsafe, the rule which halts you from giving yourself wholeheartedly to him, or because he is your soulmate, you will figure out in time, when you are prepared to commit.

  “Until then … you can be Dan’s friend and colleague. You don’t have to give him up completely. If this is true love, the two of you will find a way to be together. If only infatuation, you will still possess a beautiful friendship.”

  Lexa nodded and wiped her eyes. “You sound a lot like my mom.”

  “Well, I do have practice with my four kids.” Amy took the ice cream away. “Time for something healthier. You need your strength if you are going to make it back to your team in record time.”

  Somewhere on the Outskirts of Toronto

  Heavy footsteps descending creaking stairs alerted Dan to the presence of someone. His body initially tensed not knowing what to expect, but by force, he managed to relax his muscles and concentrate on the approaching person. Dan sensed the individual, likely a man by the sound of the footfalls, moving behind him. He controlled his breathing as he waited for him to speak.

  The kick to his mid-back was not wholly unexpected, but it still hurt like hell. He instinctively rolled to his side, curled in a ball to protect his stomach, and tucked his face down as much as possible. Wish my hands were unbound so I could shield my head from further blows.

  Thankfully, the man only concentrated on his back and did not strike him in the head. The kicks, though painful, did not do much damage as far as Dan could tell … nothing felt broken. After a few more strikes, the man relented, and Dan remained still, listening for anything of use.

  Metal scraped on the ground, coming closer to him. He worried it might be a pipe, which would do more damage than feet. A wave of relief washed through him when he detected what sounded like the whine of stressed metal under a substantial weight. His attacker panted, out of breath. Appears the exertion winded him … he must be in poor physical condition. After several minutes the labored breathing evened out, and the man spoke.

  “Danny boy, you didn’t think I would forget about you, did you? I promised one day you and the old biddy would pay,” the man sneered.

  Instant recognition flooded Dan. He would never forget the intonation of Constable Brogan Snow. Actually, former Constable Snow. The other voice clicked now too. Ex-officer Alfred Riqueti. Brogan and Al, which means the other two are in all probability Robert Bozonnet and Charley Turner.

  All dirty cops. When did they get out of prison? I’m supposed to be notified if they are released. They all received twenty-five-year sentences. Did they break out? If so, it happened after shift last night because TRF is alerted when prisoners escape and we received no such notifications.

  Brogan’s malicious laugh interrupted his thoughts. “We have quite an eventful vacation planned for you. One to die for, so to speak.” Brogan stood and placed one more kick. “Enjoy your accommodations for now. We’ll begin our first scheduled activity a little later.”

  Dan fought to control his rising fear … mostly for Bella. Shit, these are the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse Nores mentioned to Ray … I am so screwed. This will be no vacation. Those four want me and Bella dead. I must find a way out of here to protect her. Please let the call have gone through.

  Reckless Behavior

  6

  May 7

  Somewhere on the Outskirts of Toronto

  His mind wandered in the hours Dan was left alone in the basement. He understood what Snow did by coming down earlier. Brogan wanted him to stew in his thoughts and wonder when the beating would begin. The ex-cop was one sick bastard.

  Dan wished he had been worldlier when he started at the Fourteenth Division. Unfortunately, he was so naïve and blinded by his need to belong and be wanted that his desperation made him a prime target for these lowlifes. Dan placed his trust in them too soon, and it nearly cost him his life. But more importantly it almost ended Bella’s, and he couldn’t have lived with himself if she died because of his gullibility.

  The door opening and four distinct sets of footsteps descending the stairs told him the party was about to begin.

  “Lookie what the roaches dragged in. A piece of shit who is going to pay for kicking me in the knee earlier. You’re going to wish you never fought us.” Al jeered as he approached.

  “Little dickless wonder boy is all alone. No one will come to save you this time. I’m going to enjoy this,” Robert’s deep voice taunted.

  Charley remained quiet but stretched his legs as he glared at Broderick, priming his body to do significant damage.

  Brogan sneered condescendingly, “Cat got your tongue, boy?”

  With duct tape over his mouth, Dan couldn’t respond how he wanted. He hated these men. Hate was a strong word but, in this case, applicable. You walking piles of excrement took an oath to serve and protect citizens, but you betrayed those entrusted to your care. You’re the dredges of society who prey on helpless seniors and almost killed Bella for money.

  Dan recalled how they operated. As a rookie officer, he witnessed their methods twice and had been their victim once. Two of them yanked him up, and Dan found i
t hard to balance with his ankles tied together and hands restrained behind him.

  He wobbled a bit, mentally preparing himself for what was about to come. Effectively rendered blind by the hood, Dan would not be able to anticipate the blows. He despised the vulnerability of his position and fought against a rising tide of anger and panic. Crap this is going to hurt.

  Dan didn’t have to wait long for the first strike. One of them kicked him solidly in the chest. He guessed it must be Charley since roundhouse kicks tended to be his preferred method. He landed flat on his back and arms, pain radiating across his chest, wrists, and shoulders as he desperately strove to intake enough breath through his nose despite the heavy cloth.

  The process of dragging him upright and setting him on his feet, before knocking him down again like a damned bowling pin repeated itself more times than Dan wanted to count. He focused solely on inhaling enough oxygen into his lungs between each assault.

  “Enough,” Brogan called out.

  Laying still, Dan inventoried himself. Yeah, that hurt like hell and they are only warming up. Don’t think anything is cracked or broken … at least not yet. Becoming lightheaded, he wished to suck in more air. His wish was granted as the thick hood lifted and one of them ripped the tape from his mouth. Shit, that stung. He greedily gulped in a lungful of air, dissipating his wooziness.

  He ventured to open his eyes, and Al spat on him. Gross! Al was always so revolting. Never met a slovenlier person. Alfred’s apartment made my skin crawl with all the trash, partially-eaten and rotten food, bugs, and dirty clothes left lying around. The disgusting place explained why Al always stank. I should’ve recognized him by his stench alone in the alley, but then again there was the dumpster, and they reek alike … hard to differentiate garbage from … well, trash.

  As Dan attempted to wipe the spit off his cheek on the ground, Robert kicked his shin with significant force. He swallowed a yelp of pain. Shit! He must be wearing steel-toed boots … so like Robert. The asshat is only comfortable attacking when someone can’t fight back. He is as stupid as the day is long. Often wondered how the hell Robert passed the academy. His IQ is as low as his voice. Weird someone as small and scrawny as Robert possesses such a deep timbre. Body and pitch don’t fit together at all.