Deviated

by Schmidt, Esther E.

  I reach for my phone and tell him, “I found a woman who claimed someone tried to kill her during a hookup, but she managed to get away. Jen Fornsy popped up when I widened my missing persons search, she’s an artist. Her friend reported her missing last week but she showed up two days later with a story about a sex date gone wrong. She didn’t have a name, house, nothing to tie a name to who did this to her. But she did give a good description and the marks on her were visible, indicating something did happen to her. The police—” I sigh and shrug. “She turned up alive, no leads, nothing. They filed a report and that’s it. Anyway, I contacted her because I would like to have a talk with her in person to see if it’s nothing or maybe connected to what I’m working on. Sounds like a one in a million shot if it’s connected, but I have a gut feeling. And I always follow my gut.”

  He gives me a tight nod. “Good instincts, one should always follow a gut feeling.”

  I glance at the reply the woman just gave me. “She wants me to come to her house either two hours from now or tomorrow afternoon. She also mentioned she’s working on a sketch to show me the man who took her.”

  “We better go today. It will save us time and either rule it out or maybe give us a new lead,” Cullen says. “Are you ready to go? We’ll swing by the clubhouse first to drop off the stuff you wanted Ganza to handle.”

  “Sounds like a plan.” I type the woman a reply to let her know I’m coming over now and shove the phone into my pocket when I’m done.

  I take a few minutes to make sure everything is locked up before we head out. When I stroll past Sona’s door I knock and open the door with my key, yelling her name to let her know I’m coming in.

  “In here,” she replies but comes storming down the hall herself instead. “What’s up? I was doing laundry.”

  I tilt my head to the side and take in her appearance. Flushed cheeks, PJs, and her hair is a mess.

  “Right. Laundry. Is that what you call testing those sex toys? Nice. Or were you live streaming the testing…Oh. My. God. Sona!” I growl. “I could hit you on the back of your head. You do know he can make pictures or save a video and put that shit online where it will stay forever, right? Dammit. You’re like a teenager with a brain the size of a peanut that just got swallowed by an elephant. Ugh.”

  She just shrugs and says, “I could do the same to him. Besides, he started it by sending me a video first.”

  I slide my fingers into my hair, ready to pull it out. “Sona, dammit. That’s how it always starts; fake dick pics. It’s a freaking scam to get you to show them your body. Go meet the guy in a bar or some other public place and have a one-night stand the normal way. I can’t believe we’re having this discussion. You know what? It’s all on you. But don’t come crying to me when your pussy, along with your freaking face, is all over the damn internet.”

  Sona crossed her arms in front of her chest. “Excuse me for taking a risk and for doing something extravagant for a change. We don’t all follow stupid protocols or safety shit set by your dad or his MC for that matter.”

  I should add most of the things my dad taught me are freaking normal for any parent, but she’s right to mention I was raised by slightly overprotective parents. Though, it’s easy to explain when you think of all the bad stuff they’ve seen in their life.

  Cullen steps closer to me and wraps his arm around my waist and tucks me against his side. “They’re not stupid protocols, Sona. She’s your friend and is worried about you.”

  Her face falls slightly and her shoulders sag. “I know, but we all know life sucks at times and when finally something good is thrown on your path, there’s always someone nagging about every pesky little detail. Details I know but choose to ignore. I guess I’m just a little pissed at myself about it, and at you for interrupting my almost orgasm. Not nice by the way. So, you two got cozy? You took him up on his offer? Got some realistic stuff instead of the rubber ones?” She raises her eyebrow and adds, “Hear that? Not one judgy remark from me. Besides, I can’t do snarky when you two look so freaking cute together.”

  I’m suddenly very much aware I’m leaning against Cullen and I’ve never been the clingy type. I’m about to pull away but Cullen kisses the top of my head and steps away to give me some space. Great. Now I’m annoyed because he probably felt me tense up and freaked out about what she just mentioned about the two of us looking cute together.

  “Yes, Sona. I took him up on his offer, had the real thing, and we are cute together. Hence me telling you to do the same instead of using the freaking digital world. Jeez, instead of an STD you’ll end up with a virus or a crapload of pain to deal with when things go south.”

  “Yeah, yeah,” Sona says and waves me off. “I heard you the first time. And we did agree to have dinner tonight. A date. Face to face. Restaurant. You know, the public, crowded type of thing.”

  “Good. Well, I’m going to stay with Cullen for a few days. I texted you the address and if something is up you can always call me.”

  “Or me,” Cullen adds and Sona flashes him a grin before her eyes land back on mine.

  “We’ll stick to our texting thing then, agreed?” I question.

  She rolls her eyes and grumbles, “Yes, Mom.”

  “Whatever,” I grumble. “Insert the pink jelly thing and be all happy go lucky. I have things to do, places to go.”

  I spin on my heels and head for the door while Cullen chuckles and falls in step behind me. It’s a half hour drive to the clubhouse and when Cullen parks his SUV, I text Ganza who strolls out of the clubhouse a few seconds later.

  “Give me a minute. I’ll be right back,” I tell Cullen and he just simply nods and grabs his phone as if he needs to check something.

  I appreciate the fact he’s not getting out of the SUV but honors my request to let me deal with this myself. It might seem weird to some but believe me, when you’ve been around annoying alpha male bikers requesting to do something alone, and them actually letting you do it, are two completely different things.

  “Hey, Ganza,” I greet the burly biker and hold out the bag. “Can you run this for prints? Though, I don’t think you’ll find anyone else’s but mine…I just like to double check.”

  “Sure thing, Princess.” He shoots me a grin and adds, “When do you need it back?”

  “As soon as possible, please. Oh, and don’t tell anyone, this is between us, okay?”

  Ganza’s eyes slide to the SUV and back to me. “Anything else I need to know? Need help with something? I know Abe was your go-to buddy, but you do know we’re all here for you if you need us, right?”

  My throat closes up and I have to swallow hard. There’s no way I can answer him so instead I nod, slap his arm and spin around so he doesn’t see my face and I can get my bearings after a breath or two.

  When I’m almost at the SUV, I yell over my shoulder, “Thanks, Ganza. Appreciate it.”

  “Always, Princess,” he bellows and disappears inside the clubhouse.

  I close the door and expect Cullen to drive off but instead he’s still furiously typing away on his phone.

  The way he’s hitting his phone with his thumbs gives me reason enough to question him as to why he seems angry. “Everything okay?”

  “Sisters,” is all he grumbles.

  I can’t help but snort, earning myself a glare.

  “What?” I snap. “I have a brother and I’ve heard the word ‘Sisters’ said the way you did just now loads of times. Needless to say, I’m the sister. Oh, I can probably help. Though, I have to warn you…I’d probably side with Makenna.”

  My grin only grows while his eyes narrow. “You’re not allowed to take sides with Makenna. She’s my sister. You’re mine and you should side with me.”

  I pat his knee. “Keep dreaming, Stud.”

  A slow grin spreads his face. “Noted. All the more reason to kick her out of my house, if needed, to keep you two separate.”

  “Kick her…you’re kicking your own sister out of your house?�
� I growl.

  He tucks away his phone. “I said if needed. Besides, she won’t budge. She’s as stubborn as you are so we’re going to my cabin after we’ve interviewed the woman you were talking about earlier. Do you have an address?”

  “Yeah.” I rattle off the address and Cullen starts the car.

  Easy banter and comfortable silence is what the drive consists of and it’s just what I need to focus back on the case I’m working on. My phone starts to ring. Pulling it from my pocket I see Ganza’s name.

  “That was fast,” I tell him, a smile in my voice in anticipation for obtaining the results.

  “No prints,” he snaps angrily. “It was a picture of Abe and one of you. Fresh lipstick pointing you out. What the fuck are you getting yourself into, Esmee? Are you working on something the club doesn’t know about?”

  Shit. “Nothing I can’t handle, Ganza,” I snap right back. “I’m perfectly capable to handle things on my own. And it’s none of your damn business if the club knows about it or not. You and I both know I don’t need a reminder that no woman is a part of your precious club. Goodbye, Ganza. Thanks for your help, but I got this.” I disconnect and angrily pocket my phone. Asshole.

  “No prints, no leads?” Cullen says from beside me.

  “Yup,” I grunt in reply and let my gaze trail out of the side window.

  Cullen’s fingers wrap around my hand and my head whips his way but he’s keeping his eyes on the road while he places our joined hands on his thigh. No words, no judgement, no questions, nothing. Just…silent support.

  My throat clogs up and for the first time I want to drown in a man’s arms and cry my heart out about all the shitty things in life. But that’s not me. I can never be that kind of woman. I was raised in an MC, strong parents and people surrounding me who have faced any type of difficulties and have allowed me to grow into the strong person I am today.

  Yet, in some way, he’s offering me exactly what I need. A twist on both the strong person I am and need to be, but supporting me with the gentle and silent touch of a man’s comfort. I swallow through the wave of emotions and lace my fingers with his, giving his hand a gentle squeeze in thanks and keeping our joined hands on his thigh.

  We’re almost at the woman’s house so I decide to talk through the details to get our heads ready. “Jen Fornsy, twenty-nine years old. An artist who makes sculptures for a living. She spent the last few days at her parents’ house but decided to go home today to pick up her life so to say.”

  “Was there reason for her to assume he’d go after her again? I mean, if she’s connected to the case, wouldn’t she still be in danger?”

  I regretfully pull my hand from his and reach for my bag. “Yes, I believe so. But she didn’t think he knew where she was from or where she lived. I told you about the BDSM club I went to, right? Well, there’s another one I didn’t know about…it’s more underground and not as well known. You don’t have to register and they don’t keep watch. That’s what her statement said. Hang on.” I thumb through the file to look for the few pages I printed this morning when I found out about Jen. “Here it is, the club is called ‘Green.’ And she never used her real name either, it was…right, I should have remembered. Candy. The name she used was Candy and she said the man called himself Master D. See how the whole anonymity thing works for that club? She only stayed with her parents because she didn’t want to be alone. Though, she also felt if she didn’t return home now, she might never feel comfortable alone again.”

  “The unsub might have a wide knowledge about the BDSM scene and all the clubs, underground or not, that might be his main hunting ground. It also gives him a wide variety to prowl for his next victim,” Cullen muses.

  “This was also the reason why I went to the club—”

  “That won’t be happing again. You’ve drawn enough attention to yourself as it is. Hell, if you think he is linked with law enforcement or has knowledge, maybe he’s a cop and has the information at his fingertips and knows everything about you. Dammit. What if he is a cop? He could have seen Jen step into her car and traced the license plate.”

  Silence fills the car and I can give him a smart remark or some other words but the look on his face as realization sets in is enough. Maybe this case and him stepping in to demand we work together was indeed the best solution to open his eyes.

  This way he sees for himself what Broken Deeds MC does, and what we stumble into. Where authorities have their hands tied, we have full rein to do what needs to be done. Besides, there’s no time to discuss any of it because Cullen is parking his SUV in Jen’s driveway.

  When we stroll to the door, I get an eerie feeling. I can’t explain it but it’s a sense of awareness and it instantly puts me on edge. It could be nothing, and yet it could very well entail my next breath to be my last. And that’s exactly how I’ve learned to handle myself when I get a feeling like that. My hand slides to my Glock and I can hear Cullen whisper, “What’s wrong?”

  I keep my mouth shut and glance through the window. My heart stills while my blood heats with the shock of what I’m seeing. The door is open and I rush inside to head for the living room, quickly scanning my surroundings to make sure no danger is around me. I hear Cullen curse but I have no time, I have to try to save her. Grabbing a chair, I put it in place and jump on, shoving my Glock away and grabbing my pocketknife that’s attached to my keys.

  “Help, dammit,” I growl at Cullen who jumps into action.

  Jen is hanging from the ceiling fan with a rope around her neck. Her body is still warm and though I know there’s no chance of saving her, I have to damn well try. The rope falls and Cullen gently guides her body to the floor. I cut away the rope around her neck but quickly assess what I already feared; there’s indeed no saving this woman.

  “The drop was too low to break her neck,” I muse and go dead silent.

  My eyes travel over the room and I still have the sensation of my skin prickling at every turn. I can’t describe what’s exactly going on but all of this seems weird and I know for damn sure Jen didn’t kill herself.

  Nothing seems out of place. There’s a cup of coffee still full on the dinner table. Her sketchbook is shoved underneath a few magazines but there are two pencils near the cup. A faint sound is coming from the back of the house but it was quick and barely noticeable. Holy shit.

  I grab Cullen and pull him close while my hand flashes back to grab my Glock. “He’s still here,” I whisper and watch Cullen’s eyes go hard.

  Chapter Eight

  CULLEN

  Adrenaline is pumping through me and it’s forcing my body to high alert. Esmee dashes up and I swear this woman has a stealth function because she glides through the room without a sound. We’re both palming our guns as she takes lead while I have her back.

  In this situation there is no time to talk about a plan of action, you thrive on instinct and fall back on training which she excels at. Some things in life you can learn, train for or work your damn ass off in an effort to control an ability. But there’s such a thing as natural instinct. Something rooted deep which you’re born with.

  Esmee has it, no question about it. I’ve seen her in action when we collided but back then she seemed reckless, whereas now I get the feeling I misjudged the whole situation because the way she assesses and is still controlling this situation we’re in shows years of practice along with a third sense for danger that puts her on high alert.

  I’ve been in situations where we’re caught by surprise by the enemy, and I’m always the one jumping into action, but she either beats me to it or I was too caught up with locating Jen that my attention was too divided. Yet she…dammit. The sound of a grunt rings clear in my ears and it seems someone just jumped out of a window.

  “I’m going around through the front,” I whisper and take off, knowing she can handle herself.

  If we split up there’s a bigger chance of us catching the person who is sneaking out of the house and getting away as we speak. Rus
hing out the door, I get a glimpse of someone dashing into the alley beside the house. Pushing my body harder, I follow him and hear footsteps behind me.

  “Don’t let him get away,” Esmee grunts.

  I shouldn’t be surprised by the way she’s almost shoulder to shoulder with me while we’re both running. I train for endurance daily but I also know this woman pushes herself on any level, including gym time.

  The asshole is about to turn the corner but the way he moves indicates he’s going for a gun. My arm comes up but Esmee is in front of me, pushing us against the wall as she fires off round after round before her curses fill the air. The asshole has disappeared around the corner.

  Esmee glances back at me. “Are you okay?” she says and frowns as her gaze goes over our heads before she runs off to the corner.

  Her head whips back and forth and a few more curses rip from her lips as she stalks back to me.

  “He’s gone, but look.” I glance back at the wall she’s pointing at. “Either his aim was off or he’s just playing with us. Why else would he shoot way over our heads? He could have easily hit one of us or at least shot at body level, it’s weird.”

  She doesn’t wait for me to reply but jogs back into the direction of the house. I follow close behind her and when she’s standing in the living room, she takes out her phone and makes a call. Well, I assume she’s making a call but she only rattles off the address we’re standing in, spills about the shooting in the alley for them to retrieve a bullet lodged in the wall, and hangs up right after.

  Her gaze slides over the room and to my surprise she heads into the kitchen and comes back with a garbage bag. She opens it and sticks her hand in to grab Jen’s sketchbook and turns the plastic inside out so it’s safely and untouched inside the bag.

  “We need to go,” she finally says and heads for the door.

  I glance back at the body. “No, we don’t. We need to stay here and report it.”