Pulse (Revenge Book 5)

by Trevion Burns

  The phone beeped, indicating the voicemail had been cut off.

  Gage gasped at the intrusion—the heart churning interruption—and hung up the phone. His trembling thumb lingered over the call button, fully intending to call back and continue.

  But something stopped him.

  He had a million more things to add to the list he’d just fired off, but he decided he’d save some for tomorrow.

  And the next day.

  And the day after that.

  He’d save some for every single day of his life until Veda finally called him back.

  ——

  Strolling down the black sands of the beach, Linc’s flared nostrils drew in the subtle scent of ocean mist. The white bubbles of the waves saturated the sand under his feet, causing thick chunks to get trapped between his toes. He ignored the borderline unbearable sensation, gazing out into the starry night sky, taking in the full yellow moon that painted a line across the horizon, and the tall jagged cliffs that surrounded the beach at every angle.

  In the midst of drinking in his surroundings, his eyes came to a sudden stop when they landed on something before him. Something that caused him to hold his breath—trapping the scent of the ocean mist in his lungs, his toes digging into the sand.

  It was her shock red hair, completely straight and falling like a waterfall down her slender back. It was the white party dress, far too short for the petite, prepubescent body it was hugging. It was her fair skin. Her slim arms. Her chicken legs. It was her eyes. The big blue eyes that met his when she shot a look over her shoulder as if she could feel his gaze on her from behind.

  At the sight of him, across the beach, her blue eyes widened, and a gasp parted her full lips. The sound was carried away by the night breeze before it could reach him, but somehow, Linc still heard it.

  Then, she was running.

  He skipped a beat, and then he was running too, chasing after her as fast as his legs would allow. Her bare feet kicked up sand as she ran, some of it flying into his eyes. But it wasn’t enough to stop him. It wasn’t enough to stop the sand his own feet kicked up, faster and stronger than hers. It wasn’t enough to stop him from closing the space between them in seconds until he was so close the tips of her long hair slapped at his face as it lapped in the breeze behind her. He reached a hand out, fingers splayed, and had her arm trapped under his hold in seconds.

  “No!” she screamed, tripping over her gangly legs and collapsing to the sand.

  Her sudden fall caused Linc’s legs to get tangled in hers, and he fell too. Even as he tumbled to his knees, he kept her arm in his grasp.

  She fought his hold, turning to him with tears filling her eyes.

  “I’m not going to hurt you, Zena,” Linc promised, just as his eyes fell to the seat of her white dress, noting the large bloodstain in the middle of it. He claimed her other arm in his grasp when she continued to struggle, shaking her softly. “I’m not going to hurt you!”

  Zena thrashed, her young face filled with fear. “Let me go—he’ll kill me!”

  “Just talk to me, goddamn it!” Linc begged, clutching her arms so tightly he worried he might be hurting her, but unable to force himself to loosen his hold. “You know where she is. I saw it in your eyes! Tell me where she is, goddamn it! Where is Lisa?”

  The more his voice rose, the wider her eyes spread. Her teeth bared, chattering, and an animalistic shriek flew through them as she threw her arm out and dragged her nails across his face.

  Linc gasped at the shock of the blow, unconsciously releasing her before brushing his fingers against his left eyebrow, where the pain from her scratch was most severe. He brought his hand away from his face and saw his own blood dripping down his fingers. Lifting his eyes, he was snapped out of his haze at the sight of Zena running once more, kicking up more sand in her haste to escape as she zoomed towards the crashing ocean waves.

  “Zena!” he screamed, pushing himself back up to his feet and racing after her once more. “Stop!”

  But Zena didn’t stop, and soon she was no longer kicking up sand but instead the crashing waves of the ocean. She charged on until her calves had disappeared under the water. Her thighs. The hem of her white party dress. Her shoulders. Her head.

  Linc made it to the edge of the water just as Zena disappeared beneath the surface—his breathing labored as he began to swim after her as quickly as his arms and legs would allow. The waves fought him through every stroke. The salt water burned his eyes.

  He reached Zena in seconds, her tiny body floating on top of the water, face down, arms and legs spread wide.

  With a gasp, he seized her lifeless body around the waist and pulled her toward him, turning her over.

  When her body faced him, Linc froze, lungs sealing closed in shock when he wasn’t met with Zena’s porcelain face, but a deep brown, ebony face instead. His eyes shot down her body, over the white party dress with a bloodstain. Gone was Zena’s gangly body and fair skin, replaced with a chocolate complexion that made the white dress glow even brighter, and a shapely body that instantly gave him pause, for more reasons than one.

  His confused gaze flew back up her body, locking onto the shock red hair that was somehow shorter, coarser. Shock red hair that completely shielded the face of the African-American woman in his arms, the water making it stick to her skin and conceal her features.

  With a trembling hand, Linc reached out, cupped her cheek, and with unsteady fingers, went to move the red hair away from her face.

  Linc’s eyes flew open with a gasp, heart and lungs constricting so tightly he felt like he was suffocating. He pushed his hair out of his face as his blurry vision slowly cleared, his apartment came into view, and his breath relaxed once more.

  But his heartbeat didn’t slow.

  It never did when he had those dreams. Dreams of the girl he’d found face down in the ocean ten years earlier. The girl he’d given mouth to mouth until she’d thrown up an entire ocean of water before taking her first breath. The girl whose life he’d been so desperate to save that he hadn’t even bothered to move her hair out of her eyes so he could see her face. Whose face he’d never gotten a chance to see before she’d raced away from him in fear.

  He’d given that girl a lot of different faces over the years, never able to disconnect from the nagging fact that he’d never truly know what she looked like. The girl who’d inspired him to go into SVU. The girl who, for whatever reason, all those years later, never failed to enter his mind at least once a day.

  His fellow officers had warned Linc about it when he’d been nothing but a snot nosed cadet. They’d warned him that a cop’s first victim never left him. That the first victim would embed themselves into his soul, into his psyche, from the first moment he laid eyes on them, and they would remain there forever.

  That girl had proved that theory true. Every single day.

  She hadn’t left him.

  She never would.

  A shot of humiliation blasted through him, the way it always did when he allowed his thoughts to stay with her for too long. He thought of the tent that had made itself present in his pants that night. The way the bulge had made the fear in her eyes triple.

  A sickness rolled in his stomach at what an animal he’d been. Of course, it wasn’t something he’d been able to control, his visceral reaction to her, but what a terrible moment for it to have happened. He’d always wondered if she looked back on that moment and felt just as sick as he did.

  And it wasn’t the only thing he’d wondered about her. Not by a long shot.

  He often wondered where she was now? Had she taken her second chance at life and used it wisely? Had she prospered? Had she fallen?

  Realizing he’d never know, Linc sat up on the leather couch that he was far too big for and tried to center his mind. Bracing his feet on the floor, he leaned forward on his knees and buried his head in his hands, massaging his face before snatching up his cell phone to see what time it was.

  Not only was
it 6 am, but he had two missed calls from his partner, Detective Sam Gellar.

  Concluding that Sam’s calls were what had really woken him up, Linc redialed her number with a groan, massaging the inside of his eyes while trying to figure out if the dream he’d just had was actually a dream… or a nightmare.

  He spoke the moment Sam picked up the phone, not even waiting for her to speak. “Yo, I was out cold, Sam. What’s up?”

  Her voice floated through the speaker, sounding somewhat grainy since Linc was still half asleep. “We got a hit on the red cab’s registration. Belongs to a dead woman. Beatrice Sinclair. Died three months ago. Address is 5586 Row Street. Meet me there in ten.”

  That woke Linc up in an instant, tripling his heartbeat and sending a rush of adrenaline blasting through his veins. They now had the possible address of the driver who’d stuffed Veda in the trunk of his cab, which meant Linc was one step closer to having his hand around that bastard’s neck.

  “Ten minutes.” He shot up from the couch, ending the call before Sam could say another word, blazing across his living room in a pair of sweats and a t-shirt. After seizing his keys and his badge from the catchall in the foyer, just he was about to leave the apartment, he froze.

  His eyes shot towards the door of his bedroom, and his stomach tightened.

  Veda.

  Swallowing, Linc hurried into his kitchen, grabbed a Post-It pad and a pen from the drawer and scribbled a quick note. Trying to keep his breathing level so he wasn’t gasping, he crossed the living room to the bedroom door and lingered. Was she a light sleeper? A part of him wanted to stick the Post-It on the door so he wouldn’t wake her, but he worried she might miss it and panic when she realized she was there alone. She’d been putting on a brave face since her accident, but Linc knew what he saw lingering deep in Veda’s eyes.

  Heartbreak.

  Fear.

  He gave a soft knock on the door.

  No answer. Faintly, he could hear her deep breathing, signifying she was still fast asleep.

  Pushing the door open slowly, he peeked inside.

  Unable to stop himself at the sight that met him, Linc stepped into the room, lingering under the doorsill as the fruity aroma of the bubble bath and body lotion she’d used earlier in the night floated across to him. His nostrils flared for more, eyes riveted to the bed.

  Lying on her stomach, she’d kicked the silk sheets and blankets off her body sometime in the night, which surprised Linc. For reasons he hadn’t been able to understand, she’d been over the moon with excitement when she’d found the black silk sheet set he hadn’t used in years at the back of his linen closet. Something about black girls and haircare. Though he hadn’t been able to make much sense of her nonsensical natural hair ramblings, he’d been all too happy to throw the sheets in the wash for her, amused at her over the top happiness at something so inconsequential, but secretly moved by the first genuine smile he’d seen on her face all night.

  Her entire body was on top of the rumpled bedding with her cheek smashed into the pillow, her hair billowing across it like a curly black fan. Her red silk nighty was bunched around her hips, leaving her long, smooth legs completely exposed, splayed wide on top of the bed.

  Every bone in his body went tight, and Linc found himself unable to move for several moments. Some part of him wanted to call Sam and tell her to look into the driver of the cab on her own. It was the part of him that hated the idea of leaving the woman before him alone for even a second.

  But the more sensible part of him snapped back into focus. The more sensible part of him forced his eyes away from her legs before they had a chance to travel any higher up her shapely thighs than they already had. The more sensible part of him released the door and moved him inside the room as quickly and quietly as he could.

  He stuck the Post-It note onto the screen of her cell phone, which was charging on the bedside table.

  The sensible part of him told him to let that be that. He’d left her a note so she’d know he was gone, and now it was time to leave her alone.

  But his greedy eyes moved to her sleeping face anyway, ignoring orders from his brain. His heartbeat slowed at the sight of her cheeks, her lips, and her hair, all crushed out of their natural shape against the silken pillow.

  He didn’t even try to fight the smile that lifted the corner of his lips, knowing it was no use. Nor did he fight the hand that reached for her. His knuckles shook softly as he stroked them gingerly along the chocolate skin of her cheek. His eyes followed his touch as it moved slowly along her jaw. Down to her chin. The valley beneath her bottom lip…

  His eyes ran her angelic face.

  He frowned.

  He lingered.

  Then, with a soft, sharp breath, Linc stood and breezed out of the room, closing the door quietly behind him.

  12

  Ten minutes later Linc leaned out of the open window of his parked truck, brushing the pads of his fingers against his lips. Unable to sit still for more than a second, the leather jacket he’d thrown over his sweatpants and t-shirt squeaked continuously, making music in the truck as his eyes blazed toward the line of row homes across the street. Each home on the block was a different color and style. Since that neighborhood was the only one of its kind on the entire island, the street had been appropriately named Row Street.

  His partner, Samantha Gellar, tapping her fingers against her long, willowy, jean-clad legs from the passenger seat, always said this street reminded her of NYC, an opinion held by many of the island’s residents. A thick spray of water blazed from a broken fire hydrant a few blocks down, the only reason the barefoot kids currently playing in it were awake at that ungodly hour when the sun had barely made its presence known.

  Linc let their laughter fill his ears, hoping it would help calm the storm in his chest as he and Sam waited for the person living in the house across the street to come home. The house registered to the cab that had taken Zena and Veda.

  Swallowing thickly, Linc’s eyes fell to the cell phone that hadn’t left his hands.

  Jerome: All clear.

  He exhaled at the text from his building’s security guard, informing him that he’d walked the 19th floor and found nothing suspicious. Though he had his own job to do, Jerome had promised to walk Linc’s floor every fifteen minutes until he returned, to ensure Veda was safe.

  But it still wasn’t enough. Linc still clutched the body of his phone so tightly he nearly cracked the plastic. His knees still bopped up and down. His eyes still spat fire across the street to that house, wondering how, once the owner returned, he was going to question him and not kill him. A neighbor had confirmed that a young man did, indeed, live in that house, which was a direct contradiction to the name on the car’s registration, which had belonged to an elderly, deceased female. Linc wanted to get his hands on this bastard so badly his palms felt like they were being stabbed with thousands of tiny needles.

  “Captain just texted,” Sam said, pattering at her own phone. “Timestamps on the trash room and streetlight footage clears Gage. Parents’ alibis check out too.”

  “ ‘Course they do,” Linc grumbled. “Can Cap see the guy’s face in the trash room footage?”

  “Nope. Apparently, he was aware of the cameras and kept his face turned away from the frame. They can’t even determine race.”

  Linc bit his bottom lip, running the pad of his thumb over the screen of his phone.

  “If you stare at that phone any harder your eyes are going to fall out of your head,” Sam teased. “Now that Gage has been cleared, I guess you can’t have her all to yourself anymore.”

  “She won’t even take his calls. Doesn’t want to see him.”

  “And you’re loving it.”

  Linc shot her a sour look, catching her amused expression before rolling his eyes and looking back toward the house.

  Sam continued. “I wouldn’t love it too much, though. Since when have the desires of other people ever stopped a Blackwater? Watch him s
how up at your place anyway, demanding to see her—just watch.”

  “Thought we agreed to keep this on the DL?”

  Keeping her attention on the house from the corner of her eye, Sam smirked, her hazel eyes lighting up. “So I can’t even talk to the person who demanded I keep it on the DL about the thing he wants to be kept on the DL?”

  “Just keep your mouth shut, a’ight?”

  “Okay. Jesus. You rocking one of Veda’s animal print G-strings under your sweatpants this morning, or what? Calm the fuck down.” Sam shifted. “Besides… When have you ever known me to be a narc?”

  “The fewer people that know she’s at my place, the better. She’s safer that way.”

  “Holy shit…”

  Sam’s sudden whispered tone caught Linc’s attention, and he looked at her just in time to see the frown line between her eyebrows deepen as her eyes searched the screen of her phone. She shoved her stick straight brown hair behind both ears with one hand, one of the many tics she had when she’d just been hit with a big break.

  Before he could ask what happened, her wide eyes rose to his. “Tests came in from the hospital. Zena Jones didn’t get knocked up by her pimp.”

  “So a john, then.”

  Sam shook her head. “She was pregnant before she went missing.”

  Linc squinted at this new piece of information, the corner of his lip lifting. “We gotta get her back down to the precinct.”

  “Her father gave me so much shit the other day that I doubt he’ll bring her back in.”

  “He’s hiding something.”

  “Or he’s scared for her life. That infected tattoo on her shoulder is the same one that’s been found on dozens of missing girls who’ve turned up dead. Whoever branded her was planning to make money off her for years to come. Best believe they’re watching, and the minute she talks, she’s dead. I can’t blame her father for being hesitant to bring her back in…”