FullDisclosure

by Soarde, Nikki

  Jake stopped, and when Evan turned to look at him his gaze was far away. “Actually, that does sound like someone.”

  “Who?”

  “That cop.”

  “Huh? What cop? What the hell are you talking about?”

  “That first day, at the diner. Before you came in, there was this cop. He seemed to have something on Sadie. He roughed her up a bit, and it took all my self-control to not plow him one.” Jake’s gaze riveted on Evan. “And he had a mustache. I remember really taking note of it, because who on Earth still has thick mustaches like that?”

  “Well, there’s Tom Selleck—”

  “Tom Selleck this guy ain’t.”

  “And the neighbor? She mentioned a mustache?”

  “Yeah. Just as I was leaving she mentioned it. She said it as an afterthought. Said it made him look mean. I was so focused on the ‘mean’ part that the mustache didn’t really register until now.”

  “Okay, that’s great. But what do we do with this information?”

  “We could go back to the diner. See if the owner knows who that cop might be.”

  “What about Cyril?”

  “He’s not going anywhere. This seems more…pressing to me.”

  Evan had to consider for only a moment. “Agreed. Let’s go.”

  Incredibly, the car came to a stop—and turned off. Dazed and disbelieving, Sadie heard a garage door grind closed and a brief, glorious moment later, the trunk popped open.

  Even as she worried what this might mean for her future, her body demanded oxygen and her lungs gulped it in greedily. Blinking the sweat from her eyes, Sadie gazed up at her abductor. He was frowning.

  “Jesus. You’re a mess.”

  For just a moment outrage displaced fear. Ya think? What do you expect, you stupid moron? But the words could only form in her mind. The duct tape prevented her from hurling the insults and epithets that exploded through her head like shrapnel from a hand grenade.

  She merely pulled her eyebrows together and groaned.

  “Yeah, yeah.” He reached in as if to lift her out but then thought better of it. “You’re too heavy to carry. You’re going to have to walk.”

  Hope bloomed.

  Then he pulled out his gun and pressed it to her temple. “So I’m going to take the tape off your ankles, but don’t be getting any ideas. One wrong move and I’ll pull the trigger.” He moved the muzzle to her knee. “I’ll just choose my targets carefully. Maiming can be much more effective.” He cocked the weapon. “Do I make myself clear?”

  She nodded vigorously.

  He smiled. “Good.”

  A moment later she was standing, albeit shakily beside the car gazing around the chaos that he called a garage. It reeked of motor oil, fly spray and garbage. Stacks of boxes, rusted tools and bags of garbage lined the wall. She was surprised he’d managed to squeeze in his car. She had a feeling it didn’t rest here with any regularity.

  “Come on.” He was behind her, shoving her toward the door to the house. “Move!”

  Her feet and legs were uncertain at first, but it took only a few steps for the blood to get pumping and the muscles to remember themselves. Her feet prickled with a thousand needles, but at least they did what she told them to.

  Rufus herded her into the house. Through the kitchen and into the living room. He pushed her down onto a couch that looked as though it had been birthed in the vibrant colors and crazy hippy days of the s—but like a former flower child, had been used and abused—hard. She looked around. The rest of the house hadn’t fared much better. His décor was consistent. She’d give him that.

  He pulled out a pair of handcuffs and snapped them around her ankles like shackles. “There. You can move but you won’t be going anywhere fast.”

  She mumbled through the tape, trying to convey a sense of urgency.

  “What? What the fuck is it?”

  She tried again, raising her voice as much as she could despite the muffling effect of the tape.

  “Jesus. All right.” He tore the tape from her face in one quick, heartless motion. But she was too relieved to have the use of her mouth back to notice the discomfort.

  “I have to use the bathroom.”

  He growled. “You can wait.”

  “I can go where I sit now, if you like. But I’d prefer a toilet.” Not that it would make much difference to the condition of the couch, she mused. But the threat had the desired effect.

  “Fine.” He leaned in, cupping her chin tightly in his fingers. “I need to change, and when I come back I’ll take you to the can. But I get to watch.” He wiggled his eyebrows. “Get it? I get to watch you drop your drawers and see that pretty little pussy of yours as you sit down and do it. Can’t have you looking for weapons in there, now can we?”

  He sneered. “So you still gotta go?”

  Although her stomach churned at the thought she didn’t have much choice. For as much as she would love to soil his couch, it would also leave her with soiled clothes, and no doubt earn her a beating. “Yes,” she whispered. “I do.”

  “All right. I’ll be right back. Don’t go anywhere.” His grin was smarmy and lascivious, but at last he was gone, leaving her alone to take stock of her surroundings fully.

  She looked frantically for a weapon or more importantly something that she could use to cut the tape that still bound her wrists. But there was nothing of use in her immediate vicinity. And then she realized she could lower her hands and step through so that, at the very least, she’d have her hands in front of her. But then she’d lose access to the screwdriver.

  Not if she grabbed it first, brought it along with her hands and then quickly hid it in the front of her jeans. Her shirt was loose enough—and maybe she could bite through the tape!

  She managed to step through the loop of her arms, and was just about to stuff the screwdriver into her waistband again when she had a horrible realization. If he watched her in the bathroom, he’d see the screwdriver. It would fall from her waistband. She needed another hiding place!

  She barely had a moment to think and was stifling panic when Rufus returned. He was wearing his police uniform and was, predictably, furious.

  His eyes cold with fury, he hauled her off the couch. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”

  He was so close, she could smell the garlic that he apparently used to brush his teeth. “I’m sorry, but I’m going to need my hands in the bathroom,” she gulped, “aren’t I?”

  He smiled slowly. “Not necessarily. I thought I could handle the…details.”

  She shuddered. “Please. I really need to go.”

  “All right. Let’s do this.” He pointed to a door just off the kitchen and shoved her in that direction. “There. Go.”

  She shuffled as quickly as she could to the washroom, feeling his presence like a greasy shadow all the way. She stopped in front of the commode and turned around to find him standing in the doorway watching her. “Okay, then. You’ve got your hands. You do it.”

  She focused on what she needed to do, trying to block out the fact that he was watching her. It was difficult enough with her hands bound so tightly together. She thought she’d never manage to get her jeans down over her hips, and was suddenly grateful that she had lost so much weight. She ignored the lewd comments and whistles that came from the doorway as she settled on the commode and relieved herself.

  Using toilet paper in this position was another challenge that made her feel incredibly inept and vulnerable. Not to mention the fact that she had no doubt given Rufus a nice view of her pussy.

  When she stood and reached down to pull up her panties and jeans, however, he stopped her. His hands were on hers and he stood inches from her. She was naked from the waist down—and she was terrified.

  “You worried?” he asked, his breath thick and hot. “Worried that I’m gonna touch you here?” And then he did the unthinkable and brushed his fingers across her vulva.

  “Please,” she whimpered. “Please
don’t.”

  “So smooth,” he said. “Who you shaving for, anyway?” His fingers probed deeper and she had to stifle a cry.

  Instead she said, “Aren’t you supposed to save me for your boss? Isn’t that part of the deal?”

  The words must have struck a nerve because suddenly he stopped, withdrew his hand and glared at her. “Not that you’re worth saving for anybody. Fuckin’ whore.”

  But rather than molest her further, he grabbed her panties and jeans and tugged them up to her waist.

  She had a renewed moment of panic—what if he felt the screwdriver hidden in her boot? But his movements were too quick. He didn’t have time to notice.

  She had finally done up her jeans and was just trying to figure out how she’d find a way to actually use her weapon when he surprised her yet again. “Now. On your knees.”

  Startled, she glared at him. “What? What do you mean?”

  He unzipped his fly. “You know what I mean. This is thanks for my not taking what was my due.” He cupped her chin again. “One last BJ for old times, okay?”

  She wanted to fight him, to scream and protest and try to run, but the shackles on her feet made that impossible. And then she realized, this might be exactly the opportunity she was waiting for.

  Her brain buzzing, she nodded and slowly sank to the floor in front of him. He pulled his cock out for her. It was already hard, and he held it out for her mouth to take.

  He tasted horrid, like sour milk and sweaty socks, but she did her duty with gusto. She glanced up and noticed that his eyes were closed. He was completely lost in the motions of her mouth and the ecstasy of having complete power over her. He didn’t notice as she shifted her feet and slipped the screwdriver from its hiding place.

  She considered her options. She didn’t have a lot of them, as her hands were still bound and she couldn’t reach very high. Her best bet was the femoral artery.

  And that’s what she aimed for. She plunged it into his inner thigh as hard as she could, ramming it up high and rejoicing in the scream of pain that followed her attack. But she couldn’t get away fast enough. His knee came up reflexively, catching her in the chin and sending her flying. Her teeth raked along his dick as her head flew back and she tasted blood, but the satisfaction was short-lived. Her head hit the vanity behind her hard enough to stun her but not knock her out. And when she came to and got her faculties about her enough to think about scurrying away, she saw that she had failed.

  He was bleeding, but not gushing like you would expect if the femoral artery had been pierced. He was holding a towel to the wound and standing over her—his face a storm of rage.

  “You fuckin’ bitch!” The first blow sent her skidding across the floor back toward the living room. “You’ll pay for that.”

  And pay she did.

  “Oh yeah. I know him. What a sleazeball.” Jenny tossed a look over her shoulder at the owner of the diner who had been watching them for the past few minutes, his glare frankly hostile.

  The owner had refused to help Jake and Evan. He’d turned antagonistic and uncooperative the moment they’d mentioned Sadie’s name. He’d started spouting off in some Eastern European dialect, and Jake had gotten the distinct impression that he hadn’t taken kindly to his best waitress’s defection.

  He’d used some sort of hand gesture that they hadn’t recognized and stormed off into the kitchen, warning them that they had better buy something if they intended to stay.

  They’d obliged when Jenny, one of the other waitresses, had approached them after overhearing some of their questions. They’d purchased coffees and two pieces of pie to soothe the owner’s ego and to buy some time to talk to Jenny.

  “Do you have a name?” asked Jake, taking his first bite of pie. It had looked questionable, but now that it was in his mouth and despite the fact that his appetite was iffy at best, it actually wasn’t too bad. Evan, however, had yet to touch his. “Any way for us to find him?”

  “Only a first name, hun.” Jenny’s gaze was frankly appraising. She was titillated either by Jake’s physique or the promise of a wallet heavy with cash. He just wasn’t sure which.

  “Would you mind sharing it with us?” prompted Evan.

  “I dunno, honey. He hasn’t come in as much since Sadie’s gone, but he could still make life miserable for me. I’m not sure I should get involved.”

  Evan was the one to reach for his wallet. He pulled out two fifties. “Would this help convince you?”

  She practically salivated at the sight. “Uh yeah.” She smiled slyly as she pocketed the cash. “By the way, you guys single or what?”

  “Wrong team, honey,” quipped Jake as he grasped Evan’s hand. “Sorry.” He was pleased both by her sigh of disappointment and by the fact that Evan didn’t pull away. In fact, a ghost of a smile haunted his lover’s lips. If not for the situation, that would have given him enormous pleasure.

  “That’s too bad.” She sighed again.

  “The name?” asked Jake.

  “Roofy. We all called him Roofy ’cause he like a bad drug. All of us but Sadie, that is. She never quite picked it up.” She shook her head sadly. “Sadie was a sweetie. She didn’t deserve that rap she got for offing her hubby. And Roofy took advantage of her something awful. I liked Sadie. I hope she’s okay.”

  Despite the sentiment, Jake was getting impatient. “But that’s just a nickname?”

  “Yeah. I’m pretty sure his real name was Rufus. That’s what she called him, anyway.”

  “Awesome.” Evan slapped the table. “That’s great. There can’t be that many cops with this beat named Rufus.” He hesitated. “Can there?”

  “Nah,” said Jenny. “Leastways, I’ve never met one.”

  Evan pulled out a twenty and threw it on the table. “Great. Now that we’ve got something, let’s get on it. We’ll have to check in at the precinct. See what they can tell us.”

  As he and Jake were squeezing out of the booth, she added, “And there’s something else. I just thought of it. Might be important. I don’t know.”

  “Yeah?” asked Jake. “Anything would be helpful.”

  But she just stood there. Waiting.

  “Oh for Chrissake.” This time Jake pulled out a couple of twenties and handed them to her.

  Her grin widened. “He used to brag a lot. Liked to think of himself as some big shot. Always said that he didn’t really need the cop shop job. He had another more lu-cra-tive sideline.” She drew out the word as if it was in a foreign tongue.

  “Oh? Like what?”

  “He never got real specific, but he talked about the guy he worked for. How he was some rich big-shot from Rosedale. Has some big estate down there, apparently. And runs a fancy shmancy company down on Bay Street. And he pays Roofy real good to look after his ‘interests’.” She shrugged. “Whatever the fuck that means.”

  Jake blinked. Looked at Evan and realized they were thinking exactly the same thing.

  Cyril’s house was in Rosedale. And his company offices were on Bay Street.

  “Shit!”

  They were out the door like a shot.

  “Hey!” Jenny called after them as the door swung closed. “You guys come back for lunch some time. You’re good tippers!”

  Chapter Nineteen

  Sadie was back in the trunk, only this time she was in no condition to look for a way out. Her lip was bleeding, one eye was swollen almost shut, and she was pretty sure she had a bruised rib or two—if not cracked. He hadn’t shot her kneecap, thank God, but she’d been terrified that he would.

  She’d made her bid for freedom and she’d failed. She barely had enough energy to breathe, let alone plot, scheme or fight her way out of a metal box.

  But at least she finally understood what this was all about. As Rufus had beaten on her he’d also ranted and raved. He’d raved about the man who was responsible for all this—the one whose interests he was serving. And that man was Cyril Ballantyne.

  Of course. She should
have known. Why hadn’t she seen it immediately? Who else had cause to harm her? No one.

  It was no doubt thanks to Karey’s sniffing into the insurance policy. Cyril had felt threatened and had sought to eliminate the threat. She should have known better. Sadie wished for the thousandth time that she had been more firm with Karey—and with Evan and Jake. She may be entitled to that money, but she didn’t want it. The price was too high.

  Philip had paid that price as well. She’d believed it the day they arrested her, and now she knew. Cyril had been behind it. He’d been behind everything. Even Rufus.

  She should have known! But then again, how could she? Rufus was the antithesis to everything Cyril stood for. Where Cyril was tall, handsome and well-groomed, Rufus was short, shabby and smelled of liquor and smoke.

  Where Cyril was smart and savvy, Rufus was dull and brutish. She would never even have guessed that Cyril could stand being in the same room with someone like Rufus, let alone do business with him. Of course that was exactly why he was perfect.

  She sighed, closed her eyes and tried to focus on not knocking her forehead against the lid of the trunk as it went over every bump and around every curve. Rufus was furious with her and anxious over his inability to contact his boss. She couldn’t share his concern. She hoped Cyril had disappeared for good. Because when they finally found him it would all be over. It was just a matter of time. She had resigned herself to that—but that didn’t make it any easier.

  The car squealed around a corner, sending her skidding inside the trunk. Her head slammed into the side of the car, there was a flash of pain—then nothing.

  Rufus couldn’t see straight. Pain and rage had settled over him like a red fog. She had stabbed him! The goddamn bitch had actually had the nerve to pull out a screwdriver and stab him! The fact that a woman had had the gumption to stand up to him was bad enough. Add to that the fact that he knew she had come damn close to shutting him down completely. She’d been aiming for a femoral artery. He was no fuckin’ medical genius but he knew that much. And he knew just how close he’d come to bleeding out all over his own bathroom floor.