Ashes - Book 2 (New Adult Romantic Suspense)

by Johnson, Leslie

  “This may be bigger than the news knows about,” Grimes takes over. “We’ve been following this group called Santa Rio for about a year now. In fact, we thought that guy you shot last year was part of it.”

  Memories swirl of that day when I’d been forced to kill a man to save mine and Ken’s lives. My teeth grind together. I have no regrets. I would do it again.

  Captain Frank breaks in. “So you no longer believe the men involved in the drive-by were part of this, uh, cult or gang … whatever you call it?”

  Ramsen lifts a shoulder. “Still don’t know. We do know that members of cults such as this are for hire; it’s one of the ways they produce income to seed their other endeavors. But it’s impossible to know for certain; these guys don’t exactly go around with a social security card in their wallet.”

  I look from one agent to the next. “I told the detectives everything I know about finding those women, but I can go back over the details if you need me to.”

  Grimes waves me off. “No, we’ve read the report. You did a good job. Saved a kid. Walked into a shit hole. Imagine our surprise when we got the call and learned a firefighter discovered a hidden burial ground. Then we saw your name. Miss Richards’ too.”

  “Yeah,” I scoff. “Our lucky day.”

  “But Gage…” Agent Grimes’ face grows serious. “That’s not why we wanted to talk to you today.”

  Shit. That doesn’t sound good.

  “Brent Collins, the SAR volunteer who was first on scene…”

  I nod, remembering him well.

  “…he’s missing. He didn’t report to his appointment with us this morning, which wasn’t unusual. You all had a late night last night, so we thought he might have overslept. But then his girlfriend called the Red Rock office, looking for him this morning. Apparently he didn’t make it home last night.”

  I stare at her, trying to connect the dots that seem to keep moving. “Do you think…?”

  “We don’t know what to think at this point, Gage. He could have been involved in the killing and then ran when the bodies were found…”

  I’m shaking my head. “I have trouble believing that.” I remember the look of dedication in Brent’s eyes, his attention to detail. I shake my head again. “No. It couldn’t be him.”

  Ramsen cut in. “We can’t rule anything out at this point. There’s another theory. We know we’re dealing with a nasty group of people who, if they are involved with these murders, won’t be pleased that their offering was disturbed.”

  What the fuck? “Offering?”

  Grimes presses her lips together and nods. “Yes. Offering.”

  “This particular cult makes sacrifices to the Saint of Death, one of their gods.”

  “One of them?” Captain Frank asks.

  Ramsen nods. “Yes. According to a contact familiar with this cult, the Saint of Death must be fed in order to protect them and … “

  “And … and … this cult just lives in our desert? Right here in Nevada?” I can’t keep my mouth closed. I’m stunned. This is crazy ass movie shit.

  “Yes, they seek out isolated locations.”

  “How have they gotten away with this? It’s inhuman. Crazy.”

  “Agreed. But we can’t make an arrest if there isn’t a crime and, until now, we’ve found no crime. Only rumors.”

  “Why are you telling me this?”

  Grimes exhales. “Because of Brent Collins being missing and even that might be nothing. He could have simply needed to get away for a while, clear his head after seeing those women.”

  I shake my head.

  “We don’t think so either,” she went on. “So, we wanted to share what we know and tell you to watch your back. You have not been threatened and probably won’t be. But, we owe you the heads up. This is it.”

  “And if you see, hear, think anything … you let us know.”

  The agents stand and I do too, both of them handing me their cards. We shake and said our goodbyes. On their way out, Grimes turns back to me. “You still carry that gun?”

  I look her in the eye and nod.

  “Good.”

  Chapter 12 — Beth

  “Who’s the good girl?”

  Onyx’s long tongue licks my hand as I pat her black head and scratch behind her ears. Steph and I have brought her into HEAL to keep an eye on her. The bright pink of her cast is a stark contrast to the black of her fur and she looks very hip lying in the turquoise dog bed in my office, her purple dog collar wrapped around her neck.

  It’s Tuesday and things have settled down since the hectic weekend. I’ve given my statement to the FBI agents and listened to their warning about some cult. I told them about the guy who was by my pool and Onyx chased. They seemed concerned and warned me to avoid being alone, just in case.

  I called my dad to let him know what was going on and he had a taser gun messengered to me with a note that said, “You can always come home, baby girl, if you need to. I love you and want you to be safe.”

  “Who needs a taser when I’ve got Onyx to protect me?” I baby-voice the dog and she stands up, dragging her heavy cast behind her, her brown eyes filled with pain. “No, no. You need to stay down, silly dog.” I get her back into her doggy bed, then give her a bone to keep her entertained.

  My office phone beeps. “Beth, we have a visitor,” Hannah says over the intercom.

  I touch a button and tell her I’ll be right there.

  “You gonna be okay,” I sing song to the dog. She gives me puppy dog eyes that clearly say, ‘don’t leave me’. I pat her head again and promise I’ll be right back.

  After a quick stop into the bathroom to wash my hands, I step into the lobby to find a girl sitting in the waiting room. Hannah is sitting next to her, speaking to her in a gentle voice.

  They both look up as I approach. “Beth, this is Madeline West. She needs someone to talk to.”

  I reach out a hand and am glad when the girl reaches back. She doesn’t appear to be physically hurt and she’s not crying. In fact, she looks kinda mad. Actually, she looks deeply pissed off.

  Thanking Hannah, I walk the girl back to my office and offer her water and a seat. She sees Onyx and is immediately on the floor, petting and rubbing the sweet dog. I let her sit there, thinking we might want to bring the pup in more often. A lot can be said for pet therapy.

  After a few minutes, I ask her how I can help her and the girl’s eyes harden as she looks at me. “I was pulled over for speeding a few weeks ago. It was late and I was trying to get home. I was on Volunteer, so it was pretty isolated.”

  Onyx stood from her dog bed and limped closer to the girl, laying her head on Madeline’s lap. The tension in the girl’s jaw relaxed a bit as she continued to pet the dog.

  “Long story short, the bastard told me to get out of the car and he frisked me. When I resisted, he put me in handcuffs, then he raped me. He didn’t use a condom and now I’m afraid I could be pregnant or have some weird disease.”

  The way she told the story was surreal. Just stating the facts. No emotion at all.

  “Did you report the rape?” I ask gently. “Tell anyone?”

  She laughs, a little sound that is full of anger. “What good would that do? Everybody knows you can’t fight dirty cops. And everybody knows their time will come.”

  I stare at her. “How old are you?”

  “Seventeen.” I’m surprised. She looks much younger.

  “What do you mean by ‘everybody knows their time will come’?”

  She lifts her hands and waves them around, like she’s indicating the center. “You know. Everybody gets raped. I was just lucky it didn’t happen sooner. My older sister got it when she was twelve.”

  Is this what our world has come to? When seventeen year old girls are so casual about rape, even expect it to happen? Anger builds and I feel a pulse pound at my temple. I take a deep breath, realizing I can’t assume anything. Just because the girl is hard and detached on the outside, doesn’t mean she
isn’t hurting on the inside.

  I know.

  I’ve worn that mask for years.

  “How are you, Madeline?”

  Her blue eyes flick up to mine and she lifts a shoulder. “I’ll be better when I know I’m not pregnant or have some VD.”

  “I mean, how are you feeling inside? Emotionally.”

  She wrinkles her forehead. “I’m cool. Shit happens. Gotta wipe it off your shoes. I’m not gonna let that fucker leave his stink on me for life.”

  Wow. Kinda poetic.

  I clear my throat, giving myself time to think. Two things are happening here: the girl is in complete denial, or she truly is okay. I’m seeing more of the ‘okay’ in the younger girls, like her. It’s as if they’ve become immune to the horror of victimization. Kind of like kids who play graphic video games become immune to the horror of death.

  “We have a wonderful psychologist—“

  “Thanks, don’t need him,” she interrupts before I can even finish the sentence. “I’m cool. Just need some tests to make sure I’m clean. My new boyfriend won’t have sex with me without a condom until he’s sure. I’ll get a piece of paper, right?”

  A dozen questions swirl through my head, but I don’t open my mouth to ask them. This girl could be here to only obtain free sexually transmitted infection testing and to get the ‘piece of paper’ she so clearly is wanting. The thing is, I don’t want to accuse her or make an assumption that she is lying about the rape.

  “Alright, Madeline. We need to complete some paperwork.”

  I stand up and grab a packet of paper that details her HIPPA rights, a consent to treat and test as well as general patient information. I hand her the clipboard and an ink pen and step out to give her a few minutes to complete them. I walk back to the lobby to talk to Hannah.

  “You’ve got to assume she’s telling the truth,” Hannah tells me after I told her the story. “I’ve known dozens and dozens of girls who think that rape is just a part of life. Something everybody goes through once in a while.”

  Hannah’s eyes are green today and her hair is an almost white blond with purple tinging the edges.

  “And not just girls in the scene either,” Hannah adds, meaning prostitutes and other sex workers. “Life is rough out there, Beth. And it’s getting rougher. My opinion is don’t question her, offer her the counseling again and give her the testing. If she’s pregnant, I’m 99.999% sure she’ll abort, so offer her birth control, so that maybe that part will be taken care of in the future.”

  “But—“

  “But what, Beth?” Hannah says, her face gentle and a million years of wisdom glowing in her eyes. “It’s not fair? Things should be different? Yeah, you’re right, it’s not and it should. But it is what it is until it’s not anymore. You have to focus on the girls who come in here hurting and wanting your help. You can’t save the ones who don’t want it.”

  “But—“

  “You’re worried that that girl is going to run out and tell all her friends that they can come in here and get free testing? That they’ll abuse the system?”

  I shake my head, but inwardly agree that I am a little worried about that. Stephanie had been left enough money to start the center and keep us running for two years without the need to make a profit, but I want to see us in the black by the end of this year.

  “How about we set up a policy where everyone has to schedule a meeting with our shrink before they get their results?” She rolls her eyes. “I know one session won’t be life changing, but it could give some type of impact.”

  “Oh my god, Hannah, that’s brilliant. Why didn’t we think of that before?”

  She smiles and the beautiful woman underneath the gaudy make-up mask she wears appears. “Because we’ll need to adapt our policies as new situations present themselves. It didn’t even occur to me, and probably not Steph either, that we’d be used as a ‘get out of STD hell free’ card.”

  I laugh and think again how lucky we are to have this wonderful woman with us. I remember Stephanie talking about forgiveness and how she’d even thanked that bastard, Jerome, for putting her through hell because it allowed Hannah to break free from the sex trade.

  I give her a quick hug, and she returns it a little stiffly as usual. But she’s getting to be more open about affection. She smiles at me again.

  “I better get back to Madeline,” I say. “You’re still coming to the club tonight, right?”

  Hannah bites her lip and seems to hesitate. I don’t let her. “Come on, it will be fun. You can meet some of my other friends and I hear that the visiting DJ — some guy from New York — is really awesome.”

  Chapter 13 — Gage

  The music is thumping as I step from my truck. I lock the door and say “You better damn well start when I get back” to the hunk of metal. Then I pat the hood. The old girl’s been nothing but trouble the past several months, but I’m going to miss her when I trade later this week. The big Ford and I have had many good adventures together.

  Turning to the club, I look for Amber, then check my watch. It’s a few minutes till eleven; I’m a little early. The line is long … damn long. I look for the gate keeper. Fuck yeah. It’s Reggie. I won’t have trouble getting straight in.

  “Hi handsome.” The words are whispered in my ear as two arms come around me from behind. I look down and smile at the bright silver polish covering her long nails. Amber is always perfectly made up, always sexy as hell. I turn. I can’t wait to see what she’s wearing.

  She does not disappoint. The silver dress is practically painted onto her skin.

  “Hi Amber, you look beautiful.” I lean in to kiss her cheek, but she turns and I find myself locked to her glossy mouth. She presses against me and my cock twitches. In the heels she’s wearing, she’s close to my height. I curse as her pubic bone rubs circles against my cock. She’s horny, as usual.

  “Want to just go back to my place?” I ask her when she pulls away and lifts a thumb to wipe the lipstick from my mouth.

  She seems to consider it, her bright blue eyes smiling into mine. She’s really beautiful. Long blond hair, huge tits, long legs. She bites her lower lip, drawing attention to her mouth.

  “As tempting as that is, let’s go check DJ Trunk out first. I’ve heard his mixes are the best.”

  She grabs my hand and pulls me behind her. I get my first look at her from the back. There’s almost nothing there; her entire back is uncovered. There’s a slash of silver material that barely covers her ass and that’s it. Tanned skin everywhere else.

  Walking past the long line of people waiting to get in, I’m soon shaking hands with Reggie, then he folds Amber in his gigantic arms. Apparently they know each other well.

  “How’s your sister?” I yell at him over the noise.

  He wrinkles his nose. “Doing better. Still going to physical therapy a couple times a week. They think they’ll have her walking again within a year or so.”

  I met Reggie when I pulled him out of a car his sister was driving. Reggie walked away with a broken collar bone and a fractured wrist. His sister wasn’t quite as lucky. But she is alive, and Reggie never quit thanking me anytime we saw each other.

  “Come right on in, my man.” He lifts the cord and we’re ushered in. The crowd behind me groans and tosses out their complaints. “Hey, quiet down!” I hear Reggie shout behind me good naturedly. “That man’s a hero. Let the man dance.”

  Amber links her arm in mine and leans close, “Save me please, Mr. Hero. I have a big, big problem and I need someone to take care of it for me.”

  I pretend to open up my Superman suit and she laughs. “What ails you, ma’am?” I yell.

  She presses closer to me and backs me up until a wall is at my back. “I have an itch, Mr. Fireman. And I need you to scratch it.”

  Damn. The woman is sexy.

  I have a flash of another type of sexy. Petite, brown hair, brown eyes, hardworking hands with clipped, short nails.

  I blink Bet
h away. I’ve got to get her out of my head. This is stupid.

  I re-focus on the woman in front of me. What were we talking about? Oh yeah, an itch. I trace my thumb down the line of her bare spine. She shivers and presses harder against me.

  The moment is interrupted when some drunk weaves against us, says a slurred ‘sorry’, then staggers the other way.

  Amber grabs my hand and pulls me onto the dance floor. Rumor was true. The DJ is fantastic. And I see where he gets his name, Trunk. The man is as big as a Redwood tree.

  Bodies are everywhere, some wiggling in place and others taking up yards of room in their crazy display of dancing. I’m facing Amber, but soon feel someone at my back, their arms stroking up and down my arms before circling around and hugging me from behind.

  Amber winks at me and yells, “Hey Sophie!” to her friend. I turn and soon have Sophie grinding against me. Much shorter than her friend, Sophie has dark hair, dark eyes and, for a moment, I see Beth again.

  Fuck.

  I turn back to Amber.

  Amber wiggles around me and speaks to her friend, her hand cupped around her ear so she can be heard. Sophie grins and digs open the tiny little purse hanging against her hip. She pulls out a key, then a condom. She hands them both to Amber.

  “My itch is getting really, really bad,” Amber says, her lower lip pouting out before she grabs my hand, pulling me from the floor. I look back at Sophie, but she’s grinding on another guy.

  Damn. Thought I’d have another tale to tell Ken tomorrow.

  Chapter 14 — Beth

  “What?” I yell at Steph, trying to hear her above the music. It’s so loud I can feel the bass pounding in my cells.

  “I need another drink!” she yells and picks up her empty glass. I nod and look around. Hannah’s glass is still full, but Jenna, Leigh and Cici all need refills.

  I give her an ‘I’m on it’ grin and she links her arm through mine and we weave our way to the bar.

  “This is so much fun!” Steph yells and pulls at the top I’d loaned her for the thousandth time. She looks gorgeous in the color; the jade silk halter compliments her green eyes and light coloring. But she’s not used to wearing anything cut that low and seems to be worried to death that she’ll flash a little boob.