by Mac Flynn
"Yes! Yes! Yes!" I yelled. "More! Oh god, more!"
He grunted and thrust harder into me. My muscles quivered with my coming orgasm. I leaned my head back and reveled in the feel of that beautiful pleasure as it washed over me. He jerked into me and froze as he spilled into me.
I was exhausted. It wasn't easy losing a tailing car and getting my mind and body fucked like never before. I slumped against his shoulder and sighed. My heavy eyes closed and I basked in the warmth of our sweat-soaked bodies.
"Sleep," he whispered.
And damn it, I did.
CHAPTER 14
Ring. Ring.
I groaned and buried my head deeper into the cushions. "Go away. . ." I mumbled.
Ring. Ring.
I growled and lifted my head. I found myself naked on my couch with only a blanket to cover me. The god damn ringing came from in back of the furniture. I sat up and glanced over the back of the couch. My clothes, or what was left of them, lay in a rough pile on the floor. The ringing came from them.
I leaned over the back of the couch and tossed the clothes to the side. My jeans went with my shirt, and the ringing went with them. It was my phone in my jeans pocket. The jeans hit the wall hard, but the rings just kept coming. I rolled off the couch, snatched the phone from its pocket and held it to my ear.
"What?" I growled.
"Don't give me a 'what,'" came the loud voice of the Chief. "You know damn-fucking-well why I'm calling."
I leaned my back against the wall and slid down it. "I'm getting a raise?" I quipped.
"You think it's funny to be bothering your doc?" he countered.
I ran a hand through my mussed hair and frowned. "What?"
"A Doctor Thomas Lowell called me twenty minutes ago to complain about you. He said you were bothering him with questions about the case," the Chief told me.
"That's because he's involved in the case," I replied.
"Not according to our records. The only way he's involved is because of you," he snapped.
"Not according to my sources," I argued.
"I don't care. Whatever trail you're sniffing it isn't official so we can't follow it. You know that," he growled.
"But-"
"Just drop it, detective. We've got Harold working on it, and there's a few of their buddies he's looking into," he assured me.
I stood and slammed my fist against the wall. "Chief, I'm telling you there's something else going on here. I don't know what, but my gut feeling is telling me this is more than just a double-homicide," I insisted.
"Tell your gut to stop doing the thinking for you and take a vacation because I'm putting you on two-week's leave," he told me.
I jumped to my feet and glared at the floor. "What? Two weeks? What for?"
"For meddling in a case you're not assigned to and not taking it easy," he replied.
"But-"
"And any more arguments will get you another two weeks. You understand?" I ground my teeth together. "Detective, answer me," he demanded.
"Yeah, I get ya," I answered.
"Good, now get some rest. You sound awful." Click.
My arm to my side and my phone clattered to the floor. I leaned the back of my head against the wall and closed my eyes.
"Damn it. . ." I muttered. I ran a hand through my wild hair and a chill over my body reminded me that I was still naked. "What the hell is that guy doing to me?"
Drugs was my mind's answer. There was no other logical explanation for these sexual romps. Maybe an aphrodisiac or something similar.
"Don't find me. . ." I whispered. I snorted and dropped my hand. A sly grin slipped onto my face. "Yeah, right. Tag, I'm it."
There was something going on with this case, and I sure as hell wasn't going to let a whiny doc and some protocol get in the way. I glanced at the alley window. It was open now and I could see it was about ten in the morning. Nearly half the day was gone, but I'd try to make good on the other half. I tried to step away from the wall, but something held my right hand back. I glanced behind me and my eyes widened.
My fist was embedded three inches into the wall. The sheet rock had a nice hole where my fist was and little bits of it lay on the floor. The missing chunk was on the floor in the wall between the studs. I yanked hard and freed my fist. I raised it to my face. Nothing unusual about the fingers except for the dusting of sheet rock. I glanced between my hand and the wall. That was some solid sheet rock, probably because of the dozen coats of paint on it. I'd kicked the stuff before without making a dent. Now here I was throwing fists through it without trying.
I stumbled back until I hit the back of the couch. "Holy shit. . ." I mumbled. "What the hell is going on?"
I couldn't answer my own question, but I hoped Quinn had some answers for me. I threw on some clothes and broke all the speed limits getting down to the old bar. The place was empty except for the bartender behind the bar cleaning a glass. That didn't bother me. Sometimes the place was dead, but Quinn was always there at his table waiting for info to walk through the doors.
I strode over to Quinn's table, but stopped halfway across the bar floor. His table was empty. The chair lay on its back on the floor and a half-filled mug sat in front of it. Something wasn't right. I spun around, but a shadow slipped out from near the front door. It was Mr. Sedan himself.
I reached for my gun, but the bartender threw the glass he was holding like an expert pitcher. My arm was half raised with my gun when the mug collided with my knuckles. The glass cut deep into my hand and forced me to drop my gun. It clattered to the ground and I dove for it, but Mr. Sedan dove for me. He was quick like a cat and pounced one me. His hand grabbed my arm and he spun me around so I faced away from him.
A rag was shoved into my face and a foul smell slunk into my nose and mouth. Chloroform. I had only a minute, maybe two, before I was overcome. Fortunately, Mr. Sedan was a mister and not a ma'am. I kicked my leg back and my foot collided with his family jewels. He wouldn't be trying to extend his lineage any time soon.
Mr. Sedan crumpled like a wad of paper in a kid's mouth. I pushed away his hands and broke for the door. The second guy dove at me and caught me around the legs. We both fell onto the hard ground. I twisted around and tried to rearrange his face with my foot, but he caught my shoe and pinned my legs to the floor.
Mr. Sedan stumbled over to us and grabbed my neck. He pulled my upper body off the floor and practically shoved the wad of chloroform-scented rag into my mouth and nose. I gagged and twisted my head, but he kept the rag tight against my face. The world grew out of focus and I felt the second guy let go of my legs. The next moment I lost consciousness.
Next thing I knew I was waking up from one hell of a chloroform hangover. The first thing I noticed was the heat. It was hotter than my apartment on a mid-August day, minus all the traffic honking and people yelling.
I forced opened my eyes and found myself in a hot tin can of a building. The walls were metal, and so was the arched roof over me. From the post-apocalyptic atmosphere I guessed I was somewhere in the old industrial district. I was roped to a wooden chair that was bolted to the cement ground. A single light bulb was over my head and I expected it to swing at any moment. The only other bit of furniture was a wooden table to my right. On its top was a wish list for psycho murders. Knives, pliers, gloves, face masks. You name a creepy implement and it was there.
There was a metal door in front of me, but no windows. The door swung open and the odor that wafted into the sardine can of a building confirmed my suspicions about the industrial district. The air stank like the river. Mr. Sedan stood in the doorway. The weak light behind him told me the sun would set in less than an hour. He stepped inside and shut the door. It closed with a loud clang. The man walked around me while at the same time pulling the gloves off his hands and studying me.
"Take a picture, it'll last longer," I quipped.
He stopped by the table and gave a dry chuckle. The gloves were set on the top. "I'm not stupid enough to
make evidence."
"You're stupid enough to get caught following me," I countered.
I saw the corners of his mouth turn down. "Merely a minor oversight, but it's been amended with your capture, Miss-" He picked up a small scrap of paper and I recognized it as my driver's license. "-Maria Selena. That has a nice ring to it, and very fitting for your life as it stands."
I frowned and strained against my bonds. "Let me go and I'll give you a good ringing."
"You'd try, but I'm afraid you wouldn't have as good a luck as last time. I underestimated your transformation progression before, but I won't make the same mistake twice," he commented.
"No, you just keep making different mistakes," I retorted.
The man picked up a long knife from the table. The weak light above me shone off the sharp blade as he studied its cutting edge. "Perhaps, but you'd better hope I don't make a mistake and let my hand slip." He turned to me with the knife still in his hand and walked over so he stood beside me. "You see, you have some information I want."
"And some you're not going to get," I replied.
He raised the knife and glided a finger over the edge. I saw a stream of blood flow from his skin. "Are you sure your life isn't worth more than the information you want?"
I leaned away from the self-mutilating weirdo. "Are you sure you shouldn't be in an asylum?"
He chuckled. "You're not the first one to suggest that, and I'm sure you won't be the last, but this isn't about me. This is about what you know, and what I want." He knelt in front of me and ran the flat side of the blade along my thighs. His contemplative eyes looked over my broad hips and pants. "I can see why he interests you, but he can't have much to offer you. Nothing more important than your life. So why don't you just tell me where the moonstone is hidden and we can part ways?"
I snorted. "Like you'll let me go."
The man smiled and stood. "Of course I'll let you go. I'll even drop you off near the bar where I found you."
"What? In a body bag? Don't think I got out of the detective academy yesterday. I've seen enough psychopaths to know you're one of them, and they don't like to leave loose ends. It ruins their fun to leave witnesses," I returned.
The smile faded from his lips. He reached out and grabbed my hair. The man yanked my hair back and I ground my teeth together to keep from crying out. "Listen, you little bitch. I want to know where that moonstone is. Either you tell me and I give you a quick death, or-" He pressed the blade of the knife against my bared throat. I felt a thin line of my warm blood slip down my throat. "I reopen that scar."
I was in a tough spot, but Lady Luck shined on me again.
CHAPTER 15
Mr. Sedan didn't get more than a cut off me before a loud clang on the metal door caught our attention. He dropped his knife hand to his side and left me for the entrance. The man leaned forward two feet from the door and tilted his head towards the metal entrance.
"What do you want?" he called. The only reply was another hard pound. It sounded like somebody was throwing all their weight into that knock. Mr. Sedan growled, grabbed the knob and swung the door open. "If this is your idea of a-umph!"
The joke was on him when something dark and heavy was thrown into him. He fell on his back onto the ground. The knife slid across the hard ground and stopped just out of his reach. I got a good look at what held him down, and I wish I hadn't. It was the broken corpse of a man. The body was dark because it was covered in bloody, and bones stuck out at odd angles and cut through the clothes. The clothes were the only things that helped me identify the guy as the fake bartender. Somebody had used his corpse to knock on the door.
That somebody stepped into the doorway. His yellow eyes swept over the room and fell on me. Shadow. It wasn't the usual friendly wine-chugging Shadow, though. This one was half naked and covered in soft tufts of fur. His hands were long claws fitted with sharp points on the ends and he was partially hunched over. His yellow eyes blazed with a hellfire that nearly consumed the quivering mass of Mr. Sedan that lay on the floor.
Mr. Sedan threw his dead comrades body off him and crawled backwards. His back his the table. He spun around and groped for some of the tools of his sadistic trade. Shadow leapt forward and grabbed his groping arm. Mr. Sedan was lifted wholesale off the floor and came face-to-face with the full anger of my rescuer. Shadow's lips curled back in a snarl that revealed his long, sharp teeth.
Mr. Sedan shook his head. "N-no! No! Let go! Let-"
Shadow tossed Mr. Sedan aside like he was a rag doll. Mr. Sedan hit the wall behind the table and fell onto the top. The table collapsed beneath his weight and they both fell to the floor in a mess of surgical tools and limp limbs.
Shadow turned to face me. Saliva dripped from his teeth and his heated eyes looked me over like I was a tasty pork chop. This little piggy wasn't going to let the wolf get her, so I twisted and struggled in my bonds. It was a no-go. They were too tight. I tensed when Shadow slunk behind me. My ropes did the opposite. They were sliced through and fell limp onto my tied hands. I jumped to my feet, pulled my hands up and over the back of the chair and ran to the open door.
I stumbled outside into the late-evening sunlight. The metal shed was definitely by the river. The muddy waters were only twenty yards away down a gentle slope of mud and trash. The shed itself sat in a row of other metal sheds, and I recognized them as the abandoned barracks. They were used by the army during the war and left to rot when the dough-boys went home.
My balance was impaired by my tied hands, but I still sprinted over the uneven ground. My foot caught on a sunken cinder block twenty yards down the line of building. I slid onto my side. Pieces of glass and rocks dug into my skin. I turned onto my back and saw Shadow stride towards me. He was less lumbering and more walking now. Most of his fur was gone and he didn't hunch over like before.
Shadow reached me and stood over me with an angry look on his face. He bent down and grabbed me by the neck, and lifted me off the ground like I weighed nothing. My legs flailed in the air and I leaned by head back to keep my neck far away from his hand. I'd already been knocked out once that day, I didn't want to set a record.
"What did you tell them?" he growled.
That was the final straw. Between the Chief yelling at me, the thugs kidnapping me, and now this guy accusing me of being a snitch, I'd had enough. I spat in his face. It was a bulls eye on the cheek. The spit didn't even make him flinch.
"You son of a bitch. I didn't tell them shit," I growled at him.
His eyes narrowed. "If you're lying to me then we're both dead."
I laughed in his face. "You might want to figure out a new threat. I've heard that one already today."
"Not from me," he corrected me.
"Yeah, because you holding me like this doesn't scream 'murder,'" I quipped.
Shadow lost a little bit of his nerve with that retort. He blinked and some of the deadly look in his eyes went away. He set me down on my feet and took a step back. "I'm not going to hurt you. I would never hurt you," he swore.
"You've got a funny way of showing it with looking at me like you were," I countered.
He shook his head. "The beast was only out to kill the other two. It left you unharmed."
"Well, if you're really on my side then get these off me." I half turned to show him the ropes on my hand.
He smiled and stepped forward. "Gladly." He used his long claws to slice through the thick ropes like they were my clothes.
I stepped away from him and rubbed my wrists in front of me. My eyes flitted between his face and those sharp claws. "Remind me to wear leather clothes from now on."
"I can also cut through those," he informed me.
"What about steel?"
"That would be more difficult for me," he admitted.
"And a little bit uncomfortable for me," I added. I looked over the roguish figure of my nocturnal delights. "Now mind explaining to me that trick you did back there with that fur coat and crunching a guy's body against
the door?"
He turned his head left and right. "Unfortunately, I do mind. We don't have time for explanations. Others might come looking-"
"Why the hell should I believe a guy named Shadow?" I countered.
"Perhaps you shouldn't, but you have a good head on your shoulders, and right now I ask that you use it." He nodded at the tin can I'd been stuck inside. "The men who kidnapped you questioned you, but I doubt the answers were meant for their ears alone. Whoever wanted that information may be impatient and send more of their men."
I narrowed my eyes. "And do you know who this kingpin is?"
"Fewer questions, please, and we may get out of this alive," he returned.
I crossed my arms over my chest. "What do you care about me getting out alive or not? I'm just as good to you alive as dead."
"Our enemies are counting on you being wrong, and they'd be right in that assumption," he argued. "I won't leave you here to die, even if I have to knock you out and carry you out myself. You've seen enough of my strength to know I can do that. Now which will it be? The easy or the hard way?"
"Great options. . ." I muttered.
He shrugged. "They're all I have for you."
I glanced around at our lovely surroundings. An old truck sat in front of the tin can the guys shoved me in. "If I do believe you, and I'm not saying I do, what do we do now? Steal their ride?" I asked him.
He shook his head and turned back to the tin can. "No, we'll take mine. I hid it a mile down the road. First, though, we need to acquire some information from our new 'friend.'"
I snorted and followed him. "With friends like that who needs mortal enemies?"
We stepped inside the hot oven of a building. The corpse was still on the floor in front of my chair, but Mr. Sedan at the table was waking up from his hard nap. He crawled onto his hands and knees and rubbed the back of his head. Shadow walked over to him and picked the suit up by the back of his neck. The man thrashed and squirmed in Shadow's hold, but the guy had one hell of a grip.