STEALING POWER: A powerful psychological crime thriller (A Detective India Kane & AJ Colt Crime Thriller)

by Bo Brennan

  And then he was there.

  She felt his strong safe arms around her, supporting her, guiding her. “Gray, I don't feel very well,” she said.

  “Then let's get you home, India.”

  Chapter 45

  The lure the seedy little club held was impossible to resist. She was impossible. He couldn't even eat properly. Bollocks to Lacey and her spiteful self-opinionated bullshit, Colt was on a roll. He was fully prepared for another scene tonight, this time with a much bigger audience. As soon as India Kane had done her thing, he’d be waiting.

  Spotting his new found friend on the balcony, Colt shouted the barman for two bottles of crap Continental lager and shook his head when he got a straight five in change from his twenty.

  “What happened to you?” Colt said, seeing the black eye in all its glory as he handed Dave the beer.

  “The hen’s fiancé turned up right after you left.” Dave stuck his tongue through the new gap in his teeth. “Luckily I was so pissed I didn't feel a thing.” Frowning, he pointed at Colt’s almost healed lip. “You didn't get off with her as well, did you?”

  Colt wearily shook his head. “Walked into a door, mate.”

  His eyes roamed the club, paying particular attention to the seedier dark corners, while Dave rambled on about picking his girl up from work later. He laughed out loud when Dave said it was too soon to establish her as ‘the one' just yet, but she was certainly 'the one right now.' Colt had had his fair share of those over the years, but now he wanted more.

  “I never got to thank you for the introduction,” Dave said, handing Colt his business card. Dave Prentice, Quality New & Used Motors. “If you ever need a new motor, I'm your man. I'll do you a fantastic deal. Mates rates an’ all that.”

  “Cheers.” Colt slipped it in his wallet and returned his attention to the dance floor. His eyes narrowed when he spotted Gray Davies surrounded by women in the far corner. No sign of India yet.

  “She looks great tonight,” Dave hollered above the banging music. “I’d have a front row seat if I wasn’t avoiding Mr Saturday Night Fever down there.”

  “What you avoiding him for?” Colt said, giving him his full and undivided attention.

  Dave grinned, flashing his gappy teeth. “I can’t afford the dental bills.”

  Colt frowned, glanced over his shoulder at Gray Davies and then back to Dave. “He was the fiancé?” he said. “The dancer dude?”

  Dave slowly nodded and rolled his eyes. “She’s in a slinky little black number tonight too, hot as hell.”

  “I thought she was at work,” Colt said.

  Dave snorted a laugh. “Not my girl. She'll be wearing her frumpy Co-Op overall till I rip it off when we get back to my place. The dancer.”

  “She's here already?”

  “Uh-huh. She was at the bar just before you arrived. Got her glass of wine and went to the Ladies.” He patted Colt’s shoulder. “As much as I'd like to stay and perv, I gotta go pick up the missus. Enjoy the show.”

  Colt looked at his watch; he'd been here maybe ten minutes. 'Just before you arrived.' How long is that? He turned to ask. Too late, he'd gone. The pit of his stomach told him something was wrong. Feelings of dread washed over him as he took the stairs two at a time, drinks spilling and splashing all around him as he barged a route through the revellers. Yards from the ladies’ toilets he froze, sure he heard India screaming his name.

  The air outside was cold; an arctic wind blew in from the sea. A violent shiver chattered her teeth so hard it felt like they would shatter. “C-cold,” she stuttered.

  “Don't worry about a thing, I'll keep you warm,” he said.

  Her breath swirled into shapes that danced in the air above her, glazed eyes unable to focus on them, hands too weighty to reach for them. She heard the distorted wail of a siren a million miles away. The sound bent through her body like a rhythm she needed to dance to, but her feet were just too heavy to lift.

  The heels of her shoes dragged and snagged on tarmac as they crossed the road, icy numbness set in as her toe nails dug into asphalt. “Shoe,” she slurred.

  Her mouth was so dry she could barely swallow, powerless to rid the bitterness that clung to her tongue making it feel fat and bloated.

  Suddenly she was on her back, floating in cramped darkness. The slam of a car door reverberated in her head, followed by the sturdy clunk of central locking. She struggled to turn her head towards the driver. Her cheek pressed against soft warm fabric, not the cool leather of Gray’s Audi that shocked in winter and refreshed in summer. Her thoughts jumbled and confused, the world grew more distant by the second. The aroma of Jack Daniels engulfed her as his hot breath warmed her face.

  “No Salsa music I'm afraid,” the disembodied voice said. “We'll have to listen to the radio instead.”

  Dribble ran down her cheek as her slack mouth fought to form words. “Why . . .”

  “AJ Colt, sugar, that’s why.” She heard laughter in the distance and the far away echo of his voice . . . and then felt fingers caressing her face. “Don’t fight it, India. Relax. You'll enjoy it more, have tons more fun. I promise one night with me and you'll realise exactly how overrated AJ Colt really is.”

  Colt. Her mind silently screamed his name before the music got louder and the world went black.

  “Oi, this is the ladies!” a woman screeched as he pushed past the long queue snaking back towards the bar.

  Ignoring their drunken protests, Colt banged on the closed cubicle doors shouting her name. Lots of raised voices came back, but none of them India’s. He dropped to all fours, peering underneath the gaps in the doors, and was still calling out her name when the bouncers rough handled him from the toilet floor, the pissed up mob jeers of 'perv' ringing in his ears.

  “I'm police, my ID’s in my pocket,” he yelled, as more bouncers waded in. “Fucking listen to me! The dancer, he’s going to kill her!”

  Ten of them had carried him half way to the exit before he was returned to his feet, surrounded, and pinned against the wall. “Stop fighting us,” the bald bouncer with an arm across his throat said calmly, checking his ID. “We’re listening.”

  Thank fuck.

  Colt’s eyes followed one of the bouncers as he went to speak to the barman who’d served her, and fell on Mr Saturday Night Fever getting fresh with a busty blonde at the bar. He must know where she is. His feet moved fast, he was sprinting across the club and on him before the bouncers had time to react. Fists gripping his shirt, he slammed him against the wall. “Where the fuck is she? Tell me where she is!” In seconds, they were brawling on the club floor, trading blows until the bouncers dragged them apart.

  “I don’t know what the fuck she sees in you, you fucking psycho,” Gray shouted, struggling to get free, ripe for round two.

  “Let's keep it calm fellas,” baldy shouted, as he and his team of heavies regained control. “If she’s missing, this ain't gonna find her.”

  Minutes later, Colt and Gray stood shoulder to shoulder in a cramped room with the nightclub’s head of security, scanning the CCTV footage from the camera above the entrance door. Both were already painfully aware her drink had sat on the bar, unattended, for several crucial minutes when she’d first arrived.

  “That's her,” Gray said, recoiling from the screen.

  Colt’s heart pounded in his chest. The back view of the man he’d seen so many times before, had an arm around her waist, holding her up as he dragged her out of the door, into the night and out of the cameras view. His hands visibly shook as he hit the speed dial on his phone. “Len, he's got India.”

  Chapter 46

  “You'll have the time of your life, and you'll owe it all to me,” he sang tunelessly, turning up the stereo.

  He drove through the dark deserted back streets and lanes on his carefully plotted route to her place, observing every speed limit, avoiding every camera. Adjusting the rear view mirror he admired his date, sprawled unconscious across the back seats, and licked his l
ips at the glimpse of black silk panties where her dress had risen up.

  “You are one horny little bitch, India Kane. I know how much you want me, but you're gonna have to wait. You won't get a thirty second bang on the bonnet from me, honey. Tonight is all about you.”

  He shifted uncomfortably in his seat as he felt the twitch in his trousers. Startled, he looked down and saw the growing bulge in his lap. That had never happened before, well, not on the way back to their place anyway. It warranted an incident of significance, perhaps the ultimate prize. But wasn't fucking his wife the ultimate prize? He'd always regarded that to be the case.

  Lisa hadn't been anything special. She thought she was all that and a cream bun. And the stupid bitch talked too much – whined on and on and on with that fucking grating voice of hers. How the meathead put up with her for so long was beyond him.

  She was just the same as all the rest, fawning all over the superstar, hadn't looked twice at him until he won a couple of awards and started to splash the cash. Oh yeah, then she wanted to know. He could almost see the pound signs in her eyes the day she made a play for him in a skirt the size of a belt. The woman was a fruit machine. Pop your cock in her slot, bang a few buttons and you've hit the jackpot. If you had enough money to keep feeding the thing that was.

  He couldn't even be bothered to take her clothes off. There wasn't much point when it was all hanging out anyway. She was a shit shag. He'd had to wank himself solid. Not like now when his cock was straining to get out and play. He didn't even bother shutting up shop for it either. Dragged it into the back room, ripped its skimpy knickers off, bent it over his work couch and kicked its legs apart.

  She wore so much make up, he couldn't bear to look at her. Pressed her orange face down into the vinyl and pounded her hard and fast like the dog she was from behind. By the time he'd got in there, she’d been so well used he hardly touched the sides. The bitch had put him off kebabs for life. It wasn't all her screeching that made him shoot his load, it was the three carat rock on her left hand. He was inside AJ Colt’s wife. Priceless.

  Cheeky bitch had even tried to stick her tongue down his throat after. For some strange reason the thing thought they had a future together. He couldn't get her out of the shop fast enough, bundled her out of the door and chucked her designer handbag onto the street after her. He smiled at the memory of sending her home to hubby with his cum dribbling down her legs, and his hand print emblazoned on her arse. Now that was a date he wished he'd taped. All he had was her skimpy torn knickers to remind him.

  “I've never dated a cop before,” he said to her lifeless body in the rear view mirror. “You must have handcuffs. Not to worry if we can't find them though. I brought some special leather straps from a kinky little place one of my clients put me on to. That'll be another first for me too. First cop, first date, first bondage, it's going to be a really special night, India.”

  He turned left at the junction and onto the lane where the dirt track through the trees led down to her secluded home. Switching on his full beam his eyes scanned the road ahead. He dipped his lights and drove on by when he saw a lone dog walker dragging a reluctant collie past the marker he'd set.

  He turned at the marina entrance further down the road – deliberately keeping his turning circle tight to avoid their security cameras – and headed back towards his destination ensuring they were alone. The blue and white striped carrier bag tied to the tree, signifying the dark path he'd cultivated through the dense woodland, glowed like a beacon when his headlights hit it. He smiled to himself as he pulled up alongside and cut the engine. No one would be litter picking at this time of night, especially not bags in trees that were usually full of dog shit in these sorts of rural places.

  He took a deep breath and switched the car interior light to the ‘off’ position before stepping out, it was pretty desolate around these parts, but you never knew what sorts of weirdoes were lurking around in the dead of night. Anticipation throbbed through his veins as he approached the back of the vehicle. Skipping excitedly up the kerb, he stood at the tinted back passenger window and pulled black latex gloves from his jacket pocket.

  Opening the door he felt that painful twitch again in his groin. His balls were achingly full. He'd shown the utmost restraint this week, saved everything for her. The moonlight illuminated the glint of milky white flesh between a lacy stocking top and those little black silk panties. He grimaced and thrust the gloves back in his pocket, then thrust his hand down his pants and adjusted his raging hard-on.

  He licked his lips; this was flesh he needed to feel right now. He leant in and placed his bare hands on the tops of her meaty thighs and his body quivered. Pressing his face into the soft black silk of her panties, he breathed her in and traced the narrow strip of pubic hair hiding beneath with his tongue. Groaning he rested his cheek against her thigh. “I could eat you,” he murmured, and sank his teeth into the milky flesh, shuddering when the taste of blood almost made him cum in his pants.

  “You nearly ruined everything then, you fucking prick tease,” he said, slapping her face.

  He took a step back and breathed deeply, keeping his cool in the face of extreme provocation. Smiling, he leant back into the car, grabbed her thighs, and dragged her towards him at the kerb. “Me and you are going to have so much fucking fun,” he said, as he slung her over his shoulder.

  She was tall, and heavier than expected. He’d underestimated her weight by at least twenty kilos. He moved fast down the path between the trees, his error of judgement could have her waking too soon, ruining the moment. Pruning the path had proved time well spent, he’d only stopped once when her wild flowing mass of hair snagged on a bramble.

  He fumbled with her keys in the blackness of the deck, wishing he’d left the bulb in the outdoor lamp. How many fucking keys could one woman possibly need? Abruptly he stopped and listened, spooked by an angry growl somewhere in the darkness behind him. There'd been talk about big cats roaming free in the British countryside for years. He hated cats. His urgency to locate the door key increased, the growl grew closer and louder by the second.

  Finally the key turned, and pain ripped through his leg as the creature pounced from the darkness. Claws slashed through his jeans and tore into the flesh of his calf and thigh. As the door flew open he crashed through it, with India Kane's dead weight over his shoulder, and a mangy old feral tabby clinging to his leg.

  Gray calmly navigated him through a series of back streets and narrow country lanes, all of them looked identical in the darkness.

  “You’ve missed it,” Gray shouted, as he overshot the turning. “Back there on the right!”

  Colt screeched to a halt and slammed the car into reverse, taking out the wing mirror of a parked vehicle as he accelerated backwards to the entrance. Flicking the full beam, he slammed the car into gear and sped down the dirt track. Ghostly lit trees pointed the way as the underneath of the car banged, scraped and rattled its disapproval. The day’s heavy rainfall had created muddy dark pools which threatened to seize the slewing wheels and splattered mud across the windscreen. Half way down he heard the sirens coming. As emergency response vehicles navigated the long winding road on the opposite side of the marina, flashing blue lights filtered through the trees and across the water, electrifying the night sky. They were still minutes away.

  Colt’s stomach was in his throat when the full beam fell on the unlit houseboat in the distance. With no light guiding his way it seemed a lifetime away. No deviation, Lacey had said. India had to be here. Please god, let her be here.

  The front door opened as he sped towards it. In the full glare of the headlights a man vaulted the side of the houseboat and hit the ground running. Gray didn't wait for the car to stop before leaping out, briefly rolling in the mud before he was on his feet and sprinting into the darkness of the woodland behind the boat. Engine still running, Colt bolted from the car, clearing the entrance steps in one giant leap. Heart pounding in his ears, adrenaline pumping, he b
urst through the open front door, something crunched underfoot and he lost his traction, slipping and skidding to a halt on his backside halfway across the lounge.

  Scrambling to his feet he saw the blood on his hands, traced the dark smear to the pool he'd skidded through just inside the door. His eyes followed the blood splatter marks up the wall and across the ceiling. Momentarily he froze, paralysed by fear, panic numbing his brain and deadening his limbs, unable to breathe. The wailing sirens jolted him on, towards the gentle glow of lamplight radiating from the open bedroom door.

  He stared in horror at the scene. She was naked, tethered spread-eagle to the bed. Hands pulled taut above her head, trussed to the pine headboard rail by a leather strap. Leather straps secured each ankle to a corner of the footboard, where a tripod stood minus its camera. Blood smeared her face and the top of one thigh, congealing in a small pool on the sheets where it trickled to the bed between her legs. If there was ever a critical moment for him to be clinical in his job, it was now. He placed his fingers on her neck feeling for a pulse, faint but there.

  “India, it's Colt,” he said, releasing her bound hands. “I’m here. You're safe now,” he repeated, over and over as his trembling hands fought with the buckles of her bindings. He rolled her into the recovery position and took a sharp intake of breath when he saw the marks crisscrossing her back, distorting the Latin script that ran the length of her spine. What the fuck had the animal done to her?

  He clenched his fists, chided himself to keep it together. Any second now, they were all going to come rushing through that door; she wouldn't want them seeing her like this. Choking back tears he ran to the lounge and grabbed the faux fur throw from the settee. He wrapped her naked, limp body and hurried towards the assembling cavalry, emerging into a haunting landscape awash in brilliant blue with India Kane in his arms. As Colt sank to his knees at the base of the houseboat steps, Len Firman’s voice screamed for paramedics.