SOLD TO A KILLER

by Evelyn Glass

  “What do you mean?”

  “We could just leave,” she replied. “We could get out of here, leave everything we’ve got with the police…they could figure out plenty from what we’ve already got, I promise you.”

  I stared at her. I knew she was right, all the way down. If we went now, no–one would come looking for us. We were at that sweet spot where we knew enough for everyone to want to keep us happy, but not so much that they wanted to keep us dead. I eyed her for a moment. Was she really suggesting leaving all this behind, after everything that we’d found out? She met my gaze, and I could see them glazed over slightly, and at once knew where this was coming from. She’d seen enough. She’d been through enough. She didn’t know who she could trust or what she could do with them. This had started out a fight for her life and her body, and had turned into an investigation that had been all muddled up with whatever was happening between the two of us. She knew we could never fully trust each other as long as that club was around. After all, she was a cop and I was a criminal, and nothing we could do or say to each other was going to change that, no matter how hard we tried, no matter how much we wanted it to.

  “I don’t think I can do it anymore,” she admitted, her voice small against the enormity of the forest behind her. It seemed to almost vanish on the sound of the wind, but I made out the words, and knew at once how hard they must have been to say. I doubt Angel had said anything even close to that before in her entire life.

  “You can, if you want to,” I assured her. “I know this…fuck, I know I haven’t exactly been carrying out a standard investigation. But we’ve already found out so much. About the club, about Thad, about your father…”

  I brought him up before I had a chance to think about what a stupid thing it was to say. Her face tightened at once, and she leaned up against a tree for support. Her fingers splayed against the rough bark, and I wanted to cover them with my own, but I knew that it would do no good. Right now, Angel needed to stand on her own two feet, and my intervention wasn’t going to make her feel any better about proceedings. She stared at the ground just in front of my feet, and I followed her gaze, trying to figure out if she was seeing something there that I wasn’t. After a moment, she spoke, and it was though she was in some kind of hypnotic trance, the words falling from between her lips without her face changing expression at all.

  “He was involved in all of this, wasn’t he?” She asked softly, and I wrinkled up my face in confusion.

  “Huh?”

  “They never told me what he was involved in, but I know…” She trailed off, as though silently putting the pieces together in her head. “I know this is what he wanted to spend his life doing.”

  “What are you talking about?” I shook my head in confusion, and she took her hand off the tree, forcing herself upright once again.

  “I remember, he would talk about auctions on the phone…and I never saw him go down to the station, not once, not for months before he died,” she continued, as if only putting the pieces together in her head now. “He was trying to take them down, Breaker. That’s why he died. He must have known too much or gotten too close or…something.”

  She stood there in silence for a few moments longer, as though the enormity of what she’d just realized had rendered her temporarily dumb. I found that I was holding my breath, as if even one errant word would have thrown the whole thing off balance.

  “I need to do this,” she confirmed, all of the distraction gone from her voice at once. “I need to do this, for him.”

  “Do what?”

  “Take down the club.” She narrowed her eyes, and standing in front of me was the woman who’d arrested me three times. The cop who didn’t take any shit, the formidable chick who struck fear into the hearts of every criminal around her. And now, she had her sights set of taking down Thaddeus Bane. He didn’t stand a fucking chance.

  “No time to waste,” I said, and gestured to the bike. She nodded almost absently as she approached. Her hand brushed against mine as she leaned on the bike for a second, and a spark of the heat that had been between us lit up and travelled all the way down my arm, a sharp shock that threw me off guard for a moment. But in a second, it was gone, and I knew that we had to get out of here.

  What had occurred here would stay out in the forest where it belonged. I swung my leg over the bike, and she did the same, wrapping her arms around my waist and pressing her head into my back. For safety, of course. And only safety. I squeezed my eyes shut and did my best to pretend that none of this had ever happened, before I pulled off on to the road once again and started the drive back towards the city. I had no idea what I’d be coming back to, but I knew that it was only going to be another layer of mess to add to the shit I was already dealing with.

  Chapter Twenty

  As I gripped him tight, my arms wrapped around his waist and my fingers dug into his leather jacket, my mind was racing with all the pieces that had just fallen into place. I mean, could I be right? And how could I be wrong?

  Of course they never would have told me any of this. They’d have known as well as my father did that if I got one single solitary hint that anything like this was going on in my city, I’ve have taken it down so fast that their heads would have hurt trying to keep up. My father must have felt the same way, disgusting by the existence of these trafficking rings and more determined than ever to make sure that they didn’t exist. I remembered covert phone calls, wondering why he didn’t wear his uniform as much anymore, my mother’s strained face when I walked in on the two of them having hushed conversations. I’d guessed a long time ago that he’d been undercover before he died, but I’d assumed that the police would have continued whatever he was working on and taken it down by now.

  I wondered if that’s why Thad and his crew had gone for me in the first place. It wouldn’t be out of the question for psychos like these; maybe they saw all the work my father did and decided the ultimate insult would not be to kill him, but would be to make sure that his baby daughter wound up bundled into one of those cells with no hope of escape. If it hadn’t been for Breaker, they’d have gotten their wish. The thought was chilling, sending a frost spreading out across my chest. I couldn’t imagine anything more twisted than what they had already done to me, but there it was. Hurting me to dishonor the memory of my father. I wondered how long they had waited in the shadows, what exactly he had dug up that made him a target. Why hadn’t they gone after Mom and I as well? Or had they wanted to wait to make sure that we suffered a life without him before they delivered the final blow?

  I remembered so vividly cleaning out his desk. They got me in to do it, after I kicked and screamed and let them know for damn certain that if anyone else did it I would never forgive them. I was so sure I would find something profound in there, something that would tell me how to go on with my life, but of course, there was nothing. He’d spent so long on the undercover work that he hadn’t actually left much in his desk, just some pens and notebooks and scribbles of paper here and there. The only thing that seemed of any note to me was a torn–out page from a notebook, one that sat in the center of his desk when I arrived. It had a series of names written on it – all female, and all one–word. Felicity, Tamara, Eva, Dana…but one was circled at the top of the list. Rose. It didn’t make any sense to me then, but I handed it off to the chief anyway, who glanced at it as though it was obvious and tucked it away in a drawer to go with the rest of my father’s case file. It had seemed so bizarre back then, but they must have been the names of the girls he was trying to get out. It was the only thing that made any sense.

  The wind whipped through my hair and drew my skin taught against my face as we drove, back to that place. Part of me still wanted to tell Breaker to turn the bike around and get out of there, to leave it all behind and start again elsewhere, but I knew that I could never let that happen. I had to take them down, because if I didn’t, all my father’s work would have been in vain. Not to mention the fact that this f
elt like some way to find a connection with a man who I’d barely known before he died. He hadn’t even known that I went on to be a cop, for Christ’s sake, and maybe I could find out what drove him to this kind of work if I pursued it myself. Apart from the obvious.

  I tightened my grip around Breaker’s waist, and pressed my head into his back. And then, of course, there was the issue of us to deal with. I couldn’t believe I’d said what I had to him back there. I had no intention of coming out with any of it, no intention of telling him how I actually felt. I stretched my mind back over all the times we met before, all the arrests, and wondered if there had been something more to them. I’d known of course that he was a criminal, so I wasn’t just finding reasons to arrest him because I wanted to flirt, I could be sure of that. But I remember that odd, twisted–up feeling of triumph in the bottom of my stomach when I saw him after the first time. My brain flickered back to the first time I’d arrested him, waiting on a street corner while I waited for the squad car to arrive to take him back to the station.

  “They couldn’t get you a uniform to fit yet?” He remarked, nodding towards the clothes that hung off my form. I ignored him, and he reached out to touch a toe to my leg to get my attention.

  “Hey!” I flashed around in annoyance, and he held is cuffed hands up.

  “I wasn’t trying anything,” he promised. “I just…I have a decent tailor I know, up on the West side, who could—“

  “Of course you do,” I shot back with a roll of my eyes. “All you wannabe–Mafioso types do.”

  “Maybe I just wanna look nice,” he shrugged, eyeing me with amusement. I could tell that he was pleased to have my attention, and the fact that I’d given it to him so easily annoyed me. It was only my second week out on the job, and I was finding myself being a whole lot more compassionate than the job required me to be. Still, as I turned away, I couldn’t keep the small smile from my face. I had put it down to triumph at catching someone who I’d seen wanted around the office, but I couldn’t deny that the way his hair curled down around his ears – it was longer then, unkempt and messy – made my heart hitch up in my throat.

  And now, here I was. Clinging to him on the back of a motorcycle, my pussy still raw from the way he’d fucked me only minutes earlier. I remembered the way the words seemed to blossom up inside me and fall, half–formed, from my mouth. I didn’t even realize what I was saying till he responded, till the both of us were murmuring it frantically against each other’s mouths as we kissed, as I came, as he pushed himself inside of me. I had never in my entire life felt anything as intense as that before, and I craved it again, even now. But I knew that we couldn’t work like that. As soon as this was over, I had to go back to my life. I wasn’t walking away from that to join forces with some criminal who I knew would probably drop me as soon as he found someone else he wanted to save. And it wasn’t like he could go straight, either, with a rap sheet as long as my arm. If he came back with me, to my life, he might as well have dumped me on the spot, because we’d never see each other again once he’d served out all his combined sentences.

  That just made me want to clutch him tighter. As long as we were in this odd middle ground between crime and justice, between lawful and unlawful, we could be together. That was the only place that we made sense, the only place that we could truly exist. And, as much as I wanted to find some way to make us happen outside of that, I knew that wasn’t how this was going to work.

  It took us a half–hour to get back into town. The sun was setting and the traffic was thick and heavy thanks to rush hour as we made our way back down to the apartment. I was certain we were going to get pulled over by someone thanks to our complete lack of safety gear, but there wasn’t a peep our whole way back. I prayed no–one had noticed the bike crashed on the way out of town and called the cops; my prints were all over it, and I would have some explaining to do. They all still thought I was on a sick day, and I couldn’t imagine what their reactions were going to be when they found out what I had actually been up to. I would deal with that when I came to it. Right now, all I could think about was getting back to the club, and finally making some moves to take that place down. Especially now that I knew it contained the woman who had killed my father, and attempted to take down the man that I was falling for now.

  We were around five minutes away when I first smelt it. It started out as nothing more than an irritation at the back of my throat, but it soon turned into a thick fog, stinging at my eyes and making me cough with every inhale. Even before we saw it, I knew what I was going to lay eyes on.

  The club was aflame. The apartment building next door, the one that we had been staying at, was also vomiting smoke from the windows, thick and black, the entire street heavy with it. A handful of people were standing outside, and I swung my leg off the bike and hurried towards the auctioneer.

  “Where’s the fire department?” I demanded, and he replied with a worried shrug.

  “Thad won’t let us call,” he muttered. “There are girls in the cells, and—“

  “What the fuck?” I yelled back over him, the sound of the crackling fire practically drowning me out. “You have girls in there? Locked up?”

  “Yeah,” he nodded, looking down at the floor as though he was a naughty schoolchild who knew they were in the wrong.

  “Give me the keys to the fucking cells,” I snapped, grabbing what I could to protect myself from the flames. Gloves from the bike, some kneepads. The auctioneer stared at me.

  “You can’t go in there—“

  “Either you give me those fucking keys, or you come in with me. Your call,” I snarled at him, grasping him by the lapel. Breaker went through his pockets, and swiftly produced a clattering set of keys. He thrust them towards me and I stuffed them into my pocket. Breaker caught my arm, and I shot him an impatient look.

  “What is it?”

  “Get out of there in one piece,” he replied, and grabbed for his phone. He turned, walked away, and I could tell that he was calling up the fire department. I thanked God that he wasn’t going to try and stop me doing this. He must have known as well as anyone that there would be no point getting in my way right now, because I had my sights set and nothing was going to stop me.

  I took a deep breath, covered my mouth with my sleeve, and barreled into the place. The door was open, and I found myself standing in the bar area once again. I glanced around, but there was no–one still hanging out in there. I half–expected to see the bartender, still calmly washing glasses, behind the counter in a moment of unbridled madness, but I shook the thought from my head at once. The girls. The girls in the cells. They were the only ones who mattered at that moment. Everyone else could burn as far as I was concerned, as long as I could get my hands on them and make sure they made it out of here alive.

  How many of them had been in the same position as me – snatched from the streets, bundled away, given no chance to fight for themselves? They were probably already terrified beyond belief, and now they were being left to burn alive in these cells. Because not one person out there was brave enough to sacrifice their own soulless selves to save these innocent women. Though I imagined that if some of them knew what was waiting for them had the club stayed standing they would have happily waited for the flames to take them. I knew I would have, if I’d have had half a clue.

  The smoke was thick, and seemed to mostly be emanating from the back room where Breaker and I had gone to play cards that one day. There were no visible flames anywhere else, and I could see the flicking under the door as I approached. I knew I shouldn’t have, but I had to see who was inside. There had been waitresses here, after all, and they didn’t deserve to die like this. I pushed the door open, and gasped.

  Thaddeus Bane, slumped over in his seat. He was tied to a chair at one corner of the room, while the poker table had been set on fire. There was an abandoned gas canister cast aside on the floor, and it was clear that none of this had been a mistake. I took a single step towards him, rea
dy to drag him out—but if someone had started this blaze, it was going to spread fast. If I had to make a choice between him and innocent girls—I stepped away from him and ran towards the stage area. The door was locked. I cursed as I fumbled with the keys in my too–big gloves, and eventually found one that fit the lock, jammed it in, and opened the door up.

  I was met by a cacophony of coughing as soon as the door flew open, and I felt a rush of relief as I realized that at least a few of them must have been alive if they were making that kind of sound.

  “Hello?” I called into the darkness, and I heard a rustle of movement as my eyes adjusted to the light. Five women approached the bars of separate cells, and I groaned internally. I needed to act fast if I was going to get them out of here alive, and there were so many keys to get through.

  “Who—who are you?” one of them asked fearfully, and I recognized the dress she was wearing – it was the same one they had put me in when I’d first arrived here. They must have purchased them in bulk. The thought made my stomach twist up with anger, but I knew there was no point getting distracted by that now.

  “I’m a cop,” I replied quickly, trying out a key in one of the locks. Miraculously, it opened, and the woman stumbled out on to the floor in her bare feet. I heard a noise behind me, and spun around, my heart racing. But to my relief, I found myself facing Breaker, a scarf wrapped around his face as he held out his arms to the woman.