Nurture

by Sarah Masters

  While sipping his coffee, he thought about Kevin. That man would be left there for days, he reckoned, body fluids seeping out of every orifice, dripping onto the floor, the stench putrid and too disgusting to breathe in for those who found him. No less than he deserved. And Greg. What about him? Carl guessed he’d be found quickly. A guy like that would have friends, family, people who’d miss him if he didn’t show up for work or to a lunch appointment.

  Carl switched on the radio.

  Might even be on the news right now. Guy slain in kinky sex game.

  Laughter huffed out of him, the bray of it quickly doused as Carl caught sight of a car drawing up to the curb. A cop car. He lowered in his seat, heart rate picking up, the coffee churning in his belly. Two officers got out then entered the building. If they’d gone to Paul’s apartment they were pretty damn lax. Carl had made that call hours ago.

  A few minutes later, they emerged, climbed into their car then drove away. Carl released a sigh, a stuttered exhalation that bothered him, made him wonder if he was scared without realizing it. Was he? He examined his emotions and came up with the answer that him not knowing what was going on had unsettled him. Just a bit.

  Okay, more than a bit, but I’ve got this shit covered.

  He shrugged, telling himself those cops had been there on another call, for some other reason, and he sat on, waiting, knowing Paul or Brian or Lil would arrive soon. If not today then tonight, and if not tonight, then some damn time. Coke and snacks finished throughout the course of the morning, Carl noticed the first signs of fatigue. His body ached, its heaviness preventing him from doing anything but keeping still. He moved only his eyes with each passing car and every person leaving or entering the building. Several minutes passed with him fighting to keep his eyes open, and eventually he gave in and allowed them to close, his body twitching as sleep claimed him, the last sound he registered his own breathy snore.

  * * * *

  A plain-clothed policeman returned with Lil less than an hour after Vic had shut the door, locking me in with an admonition to “Stay the fuck put.” Even had I been inclined, I had no wheels. I was bone tired. I could barely think, let alone traipse about the city.

  The cop who brought Lil back was a short, burly man with a pleasant face and a ready smile. It seemed like thick black curls covered just about every visible inch of exposed skin.

  He held out one olive-skinned hand in greeting as I let them in. “Mr. Murdoch, I’m David Danforth. I’m sorry about…what happened.”

  “Do you believe that name?” Lil swept into the apartment loaded down with duffel bags and dragging a suitcase. “I brought your bag too, sug.” He dropped my duffel at my feet and clapped his hands. “Come on, Davey Dan. Let’s get this show on the road.”

  Lil at his finest.

  “Show?” I glanced between them.

  Danforth was openly gawking at Lil, who bustled about the apartment tucking his bags into a corner then examined himself in the mirror over the hearth.

  “You get used to it,” I assured David.

  Danforth sighed. “Quite a she-devil, that one.”

  “You have no idea.” I wondered what kind of ordeal Lil might have put the poor man through on the ride over, but he seemed solid enough. Likely, he could withstand the fire and brimstone that was Lil at the top of his game.

  He shook himself slightly and pulled his attention away from the drama queen. “I have orders, Mr. Murdoch, to bring the two of you back to the station with me.”

  “You what? The station?” My feet moved, independently of my will, backing me farther into the flat, away from him, the door, putting Lil between us. So much for not hiding behind his petticoats.

  “Relax, honey.” Lil patted my shoulder, gave it a little squeeze. “They only need us to answer a few questions about that piece of filth you’ve been sleeping with.”

  Ouch.

  “That’s all, sir,” Danforth hastily agreed.

  “Um…yeah.” I glanced at Lil. “Yeah. Okay. Of course.” I shrugged, realized I was hugging myself so let my arms fall to my sides. “I don’t really know what I can tell them they don’t already know.”

  “Even what seems insignificant to you now might be enough to help us find him,” Danforth explained.

  “Besides”—Lil picked up my bag and handed it to me—“if I know Vic, and I do, he’s going nuts about not having you safe and sound where he can see you and know that scumbag isn’t about to jump your ass.”

  “Stop calling him names, Lil, please.”

  Lil lifted one eyebrow, studying me like he might something scraped off the bottom of one of his oh-so-fashionable pumps. He stood there a long time, arms crossed loosely over his abdomen. Finally, he tilted his head, letting out a loud sigh. “Yes, Paul, because I can definitely see your dilemma.” He flipped one hand out, palm up in front of himself. “Carl.” He flipped the other hand out. “Vic.” He waggled them both up and down. “Vic, Carl. Carl, Vic.”

  “Lil—”

  He took a step toward me, and for the first time ever, I felt actually threatened.

  “Grow a set, Paul. For your own good.” He shoved the bag into my arms then pointed one finger over my shoulder toward the bathroom. “March in there and put on your big-boy long pants. It’s time to end this.”

  It was hard to get mad at him for being right. It was hard to get my head around Carl being what he was too. I didn’t want to believe it and couldn’t deny it. And I didn’t want Lil to see how much that hurt.

  I took the bag and retreated into the haven of Vic’s bathroom, where I cowered for a good ten minutes before pulling out jeans still damp from the dryer and struggling into them. Perfect. Clammy denim. Just the thing for the day that had started a decade ago and didn’t look to be over any time soon.

  Chapter Twelve

  Danforth took a convoluted route back to the station, approaching the building from the back, then spirited us inside through a dingy back hallway. There wasn’t a whole lot more action in the main room when we arrived than there had been when I’d left. Thankfully, Simpson was nowhere in sight, but the way Vic squared off opposite his own partner stopped me barely inside the room. He seemed frantic.

  “Please tell me you don’t actually expect me to consider this,” Vic spat.

  Connelly shrugged. “You know it will work.”

  “He’s a civilian.”

  “He’s also the only one Carl will approach.”

  “It’s dangerous. Idiotic.” Vic shook his head.

  “It’ll work,” Connelly insisted.

  Vic glared him down. “No.”

  “The asshole stuck a knife in your partner, Vic. Watched him bleed out in a filthy alley.”

  Tension tightened Vic’s muscles, lining his expression with steel. He just kept shaking his head.

  “You know it’s only a matter of time,” Connelly went on. “Right now, Carl still thinks there’s something there. When he finds out Paul even glanced in your general direction, how long do you think that will last? You saw what he did to his own father. What do you think he’ll do—?”

  “I won’t let him risk his life over this!” Vic slammed a hand down on his desk.

  I jumped.

  “Find another way, Jim.” Vic’s voice went from shouting to eerily calm. “There’s always another way.”

  Connelly shook his head. “And how many more bodies do you want to pull out of alleys while we figure out a safer way to flush him out?”

  Vic shook his head too. “It’s too dangerous.”

  I had a sinking sensation I knew what they were discussing. I took a deep breath and stepped forward. Connelly saw me first, nodded, and sank into his chair. As soon as Vic turned around, my reluctance to insert myself into his space vanished.

  “Hey.” I tried a tiny smile. It bounced off his stony demeanor, and I tried a little harder. “You okay?” I gave in to the desire to touch him, to try to sooth away a wisp of the frantic energy emanating from him.
r />   “Paul.”

  He reached out, and I did the only thing I could. I let him pull me over into his arms. It was just the five of us in the room, and it was nice having Vic’s protectiveness covering me. He relaxed his tight hold after a few seconds. The hardness around his mouth and eyes eased.

  I looked up at him and tried my best to project calm. “You want to use me as bait for Carl.”

  “No.” His grip clamped down hard again.

  “It’ll work.”

  “You don’t know that.”

  What was he trying to protect me from? Rejection by a psychopath?

  “I know him. Whatever he’s done, he’s different with me,” I said.

  “If you say he won’t hurt you, Paul, forget it. I’ve seen the bruises.” His voice was as tight as his grip.

  “I know.” I could barely get my words above a whisper. “I know he has to be stopped. I know he’s dangerous.” I had to step back a bit to really see Vic, but I didn’t get out of range of his touch. “I also know he loves me, however twisted he is about it. I know he’ll come back to me if he knows where to find me.”

  “No.”

  I squared my shoulders. “Don’t pull the high-handed shit with me, Vic. You want to keep me safe, figure out a way to make this work, because it’s the best chance you have to catch him. As I see it, one of two things is going to happen.” I couldn’t quite stop the shudder at what I was about to admit, but I plowed on before Vic could get a word in. “He’s going to know that I know the minute he sees me. He’s going to know things are changed between us. He’ll either try to kill me or he’ll run. If he thinks he can’t get close to me, he’ll just run. He’ll keep killing, and you will waste a very long time trying to catch him. That isn’t how I want to see you spend your life. I want this over.” I reached up to spread my hand over his chest. “I want my life back.”

  “You don’t know what you’re talking about, Paul.”

  “Yes, I do.”

  They all turned their attention to me, and I stepped away from Vic’s embrace. Much as I wanted his comfort, he had to know I was not dependent on it, or him.

  Lil eyed me down the bridge of his nose, arms crossed, diva-like, over his chest, his expression stony. If I hoped for support there, it didn’t look like I was much likely to get it.

  Connelly remained, as always, passive and difficult to read under his beard. Danforth nodded at me when I glanced at him. Strange to find support there, but welcome just the same.

  Vic’s eyes burned with frustration. “Paul.” He stepped up, quick to close the distance I’d put between us.

  “Don’t, Vic.” I put my hand out, not to feel his nearness this time, but to hold him off. “Don’t try to talk me out of this. I know you want to protect me. You can’t. It’s already done. He’s already destroyed everything I thought I knew.” I took a deep breath and let my hand fall. I needed him to understand. “If I’m going to salvage anything that’s even worth getting to know, I have to do this. I have to see it for myself. I have to see him. On his terms, and know what those terms are.”

  “That’s as insane as he is,” Vic snarled.

  My faith in his reasons for trying to keep me from helping skidded. “I need to know, Vic.”

  “What? You need to see the crazy in his eyes up close to believe it?”

  “Yes!”

  “He’s dangerous!”

  “You think?” Fuck! Of course he’s dangerous. How did Vic imagine I didn’t know this?

  He blinked big brown eyes at me, shook his head. “You don’t know. You haven’t seen… I can’t—”

  “Fuck you.”

  He swallowed whatever he was about to say in return, backing off as though I’d slapped him, and I hurried on before he could regroup.

  “You don’t know me, Vic. I’m not some virginal damsel who needs your protection. I got myself into this shit. I’ll get myself out.”

  He closed his mouth with a snap, though his nostrils flared with his sharp, uneven breaths and he clenched his hands into fists.

  “I need to get myself out. I let him…” I gulped in a deep breath, curled my lip at my own hesitation, but squared my shoulders once more. It wasn’t like this was new information for any of them. They’d all pointed it out at one time or another. “I let Carl get away with too much. Because he was stronger than me. Not just physically, but…mentally, I don’t know. I bent to what he wanted, even when I didn’t want it. I will not do that again.” I willed him to understand. “I will not bend, Vic. Not to him, or you, or anyone else. Ever again. This is my battle. You can’t fight it for me. I won’t let you.”

  “This is what I do. Let me—”

  “No!” Why wouldn’t he listen? I had a sudden flash of memory of Carl telling me what I wanted, when I knew perfectly well he was wrong, telling me he would do what he pleased to me, that I’d like it, it would be okay. It hadn’t been. Nothing anyone could do would ever change that, any more than it would bring Lil’s brother or any of the others back. But this, this had happened to me. I was still here, and I’d be damned if I would let anyone else tell me they knew what was best for me.

  “This is my life, Vic. Let me live it.”

  “Or lose it?”

  He was so close. I didn’t remember either of us moving, but he was right in my face.

  “You don’t know what he’s capable of,” he said.

  “You don’t, either—not—not how he can be. How he was once. He didn’t start out a killer!”

  “But that’s what he is, now, Paul. A killer. A rapist.”

  Blood drained out of my face to pool in a churning mess in my gut. I couldn’t move.

  Vic lifted my hand, held my bandaged wrist in front of my face and shook it. “Cold-blooded. Pitiless. Ruthless. Everything you’re not. You can’t do this.”

  I ripped myself free of his grip, ignoring the searing pain of opened scabs. “He won’t hurt me.”

  Vic drew his eyebrows together. “He already has. Why can’t you see?”

  “I know him. I know—”

  “Do you want a body count? Do you want to see the pictures? You do not know what he’s capable of!”

  “Don’t I?” Frustrated, I grabbed the hem of my T-shirt and yanked it off over my head. “Look at me!”

  He didn’t. He pinched his lips and turned to Lil, as though hoping to find support there.

  I snatched at his arm and wrenched his attention back to me. “Look at me!”

  Finally, he forced his gaze down across my torso. He was about as pale as I felt.

  “He did this to me.” I glared at him, at his beautiful eyes focused on my bruises and full of that unnamable emotion. “He did this. He—” I snarled, and my entire body clenched with fury at him for making me say it out loud. “Okay, so maybe I didn’t protest, didn’t fight him off. Maybe I hid how I really felt—that I didn’t want it that last time—” Nothing.

  Vic stared, pallid and angry, eyes like fire burning through the last shred of my dignity. I clenched my teeth and forced the hated words out.

  “He raped me. I know. This is my life. I have to take it back.”

  At last, his gaze drifted up my body, across my face, and he stared into my eyes.

  All that anger just bled out of me, like he’d lanced it away.

  “If anything were to happen to you…”

  I stepped back into his space, finding the solace I’d hoped for when I’d first come into the room. I dropped my shirt and touched his cheek. He vibrated with tension. I wished there was some way to ease his mind other than backing down.

  “Just make sure nothing does,” I said. “Be there. But don’t deny me this. I have to take my life back, Vic. Please. Tell me you understand.”

  He closed his eyes, denying me that oh-so-frustrating and confusing glimpse into his thoughts. He leaned forward, and this time I didn’t back away. His forehead touched mine.

  “I hate that you’re right,” he whispered.

  I ran my h
and along the fuzzy hair of his arm toward his chest, closed my eyes, and basked in the sizzling strength and nearness. “I’m not particularly thrilled about it, either, believe me.”

  I rested my palm on one broad pec and felt his heart beating underneath. After a stretched pause, Vic covered my hand with one of his. His breath wafted warm over my face. Now I was the one vibrating. I very much wanted him to stake a claim, even though I’d just finished telling him I was my own man, even though there were people in the room with us, watching and listening. When his lips did touch mine, they weren’t tentative. They didn’t have the hard, bitter taint of frantic possessiveness I was used to, either. I wondered if I’d ever been kissed like that before, or if I just didn’t remember.

  “All right.”

  When we broke apart to Lil’s comment, we found him waving his hand in front of his face. “Get a whiff of that testosterone. If the two of you are done with the whole horn-butting thing…?” He lifted an eyebrow at us, but the look he leveled at me was one I’d seen him give Brian when he was especially pleased with his man.

  A little smile passed over my face at the thought that Lil might actually be proud of me. I guessed Carl’s true personality wasn’t the only one I’d come to understand through all this.

  I squared my shoulders a bit and turned to Connelly. “You have a plan?”

  * * * *

  A loud bang startled Carl awake—so loud it sounded close. Too close. He jolted forward, gaze darting back and forth, behind and in front. A cab idled at the curb ahead, the occupants too far away for Carl to see them clearly, but something about the front passenger brought Carl’s mind to full attention.