Explicit Detail

by Scarlett Finn

  He made it sound like an arts and crafts workshop. ‘They were all involved?’

  ‘Yes,’ Davis said. ‘Whyte was allowed to freely indulge, they all were... One of the girls had drugs, she brought drugs, I don’t know... Rosa and Joey were having sex with this woman, and Rosa had her by the throat... next thing, the woman was dead.’

  ‘Strangled?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ Davis said.

  ‘You were there?’

  He straightened again. ‘I was there talking to Galante, we weren’t taking part in... point is, a woman was dead, possibly murdered.’

  ‘They were all in it, all present, all responsible.’

  ‘Galante and Joey were never going to implicate Rosa, they love her,’ he said. ‘Whyte wasn’t free and clear either, he was watching, and turns out the death only enhanced his pleasure. I was paid to keep quiet, and that was the last of it. I wasn’t going to take on the King Club. Both Whyte and Galante are valued members, and murder is the least of the crimes that group cover up.’

  ‘The last? It wasn’t the last, women are still dying! The man I love is dead!’

  The office door opened again, breaking the seal of pressure, though Flick could still feel her hammering heart pulsing in her eardrums.

  ‘Am I interrupting?’

  The new voice drew Flick’s attention, and Eleanor stood inside the room, the door already closed behind her. ‘Actually, yes,’ Flick said.

  ‘No,’ Davis said. ‘No, you’re not. I think I’ve said all I have to.’

  ‘I think there’s a lot you still have to say,’ Flick said, trailing her focus back to Davis. He met her eye and they stared, neither willing to blink.

  ‘What is going on?’ Eleanor asked. ‘I heard about Joseph, this is terrible. I was in the city, and I came straight here.’

  ‘I’d be more worried about yourself, Mrs. Davis,’ Flick said. ‘And the things your husband is mixed up in.’

  ‘I’ve said enough. If I was you I would keep running, or they will catch up with you.’

  ‘What is going on here, Richard?’ Eleanor demanded. ‘Why are you threatening each other?’

  ‘My lover was murdered last night by your husband’s friends, Eleanor,’ Flick said. There was no reason not to talk to Eleanor; it was possible she could help. ‘I want to know exactly what happened to him, about what they did with him. I came here to ask Mr. Davis for help.’

  ‘This is about Evan Whyte and Joseph, isn’t it? Is this why they were taken?’ Eleanor asked. ‘Richard, call the police.’

  ‘He won’t do that,’ Flick smiled. ‘He’s in up to his neck. To implicate them, or to implicate me, he has to first implicate himself, because he knows all the details and he’s kept quiet... that decision has cost lives.’

  ‘Is it true?’ Eleanor asked. ‘What do you know?’

  ‘Nothing,’ Davis said. ‘This is an ex-girlfriend of Evan Whyte’s.’

  ‘I know who she is, we met. Are you saying she’s orchestrating this out of some kind of revenge?’

  ‘I broke up with Evan Whyte,’ Flick said. ‘I wasn’t interested in playing his debauched games.’

  ‘I would assume that Joey made a sexual advance, or perhaps his father, Galante?’

  Flick was intrigued by Eleanor’s assumption. ‘Why would you think that?’

  ‘Those two men would do anything to protect Rosa; they are both very much in love with her. Whyte has foul sexual tastes – he likes to witness the act, not to take part himself.’

  Flick began to wonder if there was anyone in their group who didn’t know. ‘What has that got to do with Rosa?’

  ‘Rosa has been conning the men who come into the Lounge for years. Tainting drinks and emptying wallets. The next day everyone denies all knowledge.’

  ‘Right,’ Davis asserted. ‘Eleanor, don’t say anything else.’

  ‘Why is Kimberly different,’ Flick asked. ‘Other women come and go, but not her.’

  ‘She is the mother of Joey’s only child,’ Eleanor said. ‘She had the boy two years ago and she’s paid well to keep quiet about the fact, but Rosa likes to keep her close to prevent the secret from leaking.’

  ‘Joey got her pregnant,’ Flick murmured.

  ‘I believe murder is a step beyond even their loose morals. If you are in anyway involved with what has happened to Joseph and—‘

  ‘Me,’ Flick said. ‘I was with your husband the whole time, Mrs. Davis, and I have at least a dozen witnesses to that fact.’ Flick wanted to make a casual exit, but glancing at the clock she knew she needed to make one last request. ‘Give me some money.’

  ‘What? Why?’

  ‘I need to get a cab. If I don’t make my rendezvous, then my associate will presume foul-play and come after you himself, is that what you want?’

  Davis fumbled for his wallet and pulled out a stack of bills, which Flick snatched before he could count.

  ‘You’ve been helpful, but keep checking over your shoulder, you never know when I might pop up again.’

  Flick didn’t know if she was trying to be profound, or to scare Davis. Right now, she had no time to analyse it. Flick had to get out of this building, into a cab, and back to meet Liam in the alley. She moved as fast as she could while praying that Liam had the details she needed.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Entering the alley right on time, Flick noted Liam’s absence. Back up options were minimal, and as the minutes passed her anxiety level increased. It would be bad enough if Liam bailed on her without having the guts to refuse her request to her face. That, however, was still the preferable option.

  The other was that he’d been intercepted. If members of the King Club had spotted their meeting today and united that with the details of what had happened last night, it was possible they’d identified him as a threat. Would they eliminate that threat? Flick didn’t want to be responsible for a death, or rather for another death.

  Leaning back against the coarse surface of the wall, she felt the concrete close in around her. During the last few hours, Flick had been working on the assumption that Rushe was alive, that she was still part of their duo.

  But relying on that was ignoring one pertinent fact: if Rushe was alive, and they were both in trouble, he would do anything to get to her and keep her safe. In short, Rushe would’ve found her by now.

  Avoiding the obvious was becoming more difficult. Rushe had made a commitment to saving her life. The contents of that syringe had gone into his body; she’d witnessed the injection. Denying the truth any longer was impossible.

  Her ribs constricted so suddenly that her voice gasped for air. Clamping both hands over her mouth, she tried to steady her breathing, but she failed. Each inhale was quicker than the previous; the short, stabbing breaths caused a sharp spear of pain to impale her each time she wheezed in.

  Her windpipe convulsed and Flick tried to gulp for oxygen, but it was useless. When her hands fell from her face, her body followed, until she collapsed onto the dirty asphalt beneath her. The thick soup of humid air closed in, and spots whirled across her vision. Flick curled onto her side, gagging on the truth. Rushe was dead. The only man to see her, the man she loved. He had been cruelly snatched away too soon.

  The scratching noose around her neck was welcome. Flick didn’t want to fight for breath; she didn’t deserve the oxygen meant for him. She was the one they wanted to kill, but he took her place.

  ‘Oh my god, Flick!’

  Though she was conscious of being moved, Flick had difficulty swallowing and couldn’t focus. She was helped to a seated position and though she recognised Liam, she was unable to regulate her breathing.

  ‘He—he—‘

  ‘It’s ok, ok? Just try and take deep breaths,’ Liam said, inhaling deeply and blowing out the air. ‘Like this see, copy me.’

  Flick did her best, and although she babbled through her quivering lungs, she did eventually begin to breathe more regularly.

  ‘You scared me,’ Li
am said, stroking her hair back from her face.

  ‘Don’t do that!’

  Flick recoiled from his touch. It was on the tip of her tongue to warn him about how Rushe felt about other men touching his woman. But the reminder had her head growing heavy again.

  ‘Sorry,’ Liam said, still crouched in front of her. ‘What happened? What upset you?’

  ‘They killed him.’ Flick muttered.

  ‘You’re worried about Rushe?’

  ‘They killed him! Rushe saved my life! The idiot! He always does this!’ Turning her distress into anger, Flick pounced to her feet. ‘He does what’s best! He takes over! He makes the decisions!’

  ‘What happened?’ he asked.

  ‘He’s dead! He’s dead, and I want to yell at him. What the hell am I supposed to do without him? Asshole!’

  Stumbling forward a step, Flick found herself in Liam’s arms. ‘You’ve always been strong. I don’t understand why—’

  Flick shoved out of Liam’s embrace and let herself breathe. ‘Did you get it?’ Flick asked, trying to screw her head back on. Rushe’s number one rule was to keep her guard up; she had no intention of letting him down now.

  Liam may have sensed her shutters going up, or maybe he knew there wasn’t time to waste. He handed her an envelope. ‘Only two Erics listed as a father on birth certificates of Gracies within the last two years. One African American, one Caucasian, I cross-referenced. The first is forty-three has six kids, is happily married, and makes his living in real estate, with no hospital admissions since his appendix burst ten years ago.’

  ‘And this is the other one?’ she asked ripping open the envelope. ‘Thanks.’

  Flick was about to walk away when Liam seized her arm. ‘This is dangerous. You could get hurt. If you need me—‘

  ‘I work alone,’ Flick said, yanking her arm free and going back out the way she entered. Eric was her last and only hope – Rushe’s time might have run out, but that didn’t mean those who hurt him would get away with it.

  Revenge had never been a life goal... until now.

  Going back up to their apartment was not viable, but at the pedestrian access to the parking garage of their complex, she keyed in their private code and gained access. After retrieving the car key from Rushe’s hidey-hole, Flick got inside, activated the engine, and exhaled a sigh of relief. Rushe’s forethought had rescued her again.

  With a shaky breath, Flick put the car in gear and got moving. Advising herself that this wasn’t the time to think of what she had lost, she resolved her determination with the reminder that she had nothing left to lose and only one goal. She would complete this next task and then use Liam’s research to locate Eric and finish the job.

  Finding out what happened to Rushe wouldn’t be easy if someone was clearing the players from the board. The carjacking was an occurrence she hadn’t accounted for, and not knowing who was responsible cranked up the pressure.

  Galante and Whyte were not viable targets for her, since tracing them would be next to impossible unless Eric or Scott could aid her in the pursuit, and she didn’t have the time now to locate Eric and convince him of that undertaking. It wouldn’t be as easy as strolling up to the address Liam had found and knocking on Eric’s door. At least Flick couldn’t take the risk of assuming that it would be. So she would get around to that later, after she had secured a source of information, a token of barter, for herself first.

  Flick drove a few blocks before pulling over to stop and retrieve what she needed. In the trunk was a backpack that Rushe had told her was filled with essentials. She upended the sack and swept aside the survival gear. Rushe’s pocketknife was always useful, so she picked it out, along with the jeans he’d stashed for her and his dark blue flannel shirt.

  Slipping out of her heels, Flick stepped into the jeans and tucked in her dress, then buttoned up the shirt over the top. She shouldn’t be surprised that Rushe had gone so far as to pack boots for her; he thought of everything. Wrapping herself in his scent, she was consoled to know that he was looking after her from beyond this mortal coil.

  Fresh moisture hovered in her eyes. After this, if she was still alive, she would have time to grieve, but she could not leave this job unfinished.

  In her clothes and boots, Flick slid the knife into her pocket, retrieved the cuffs and duct tape, and then stared down at the last item she needed. Picking up the gun, Flick recalled the first time she had shot a man. Back then, she’d never have imagined herself being in this predicament now.

  Her first thought wasn’t for her safety or for her freedom. If she lost her life or went to jail for this, so be it. Flick’s only remaining concern was her aim. She had no trouble pulling the trigger, she just had to ensure that she hit what she pointed the weapon at.

  Hiding the firearm under her shirt, she slammed the trunk and went back to the driving seat. The natural light had faded, only to be replaced by the artificial. Flick’s world felt surreal, the overdose of adrenaline making her light headed but fuelling her determination. By the time tonight was over she would have her answers, but not her love. She would never have him again.

  As soon as Flick reversed into the alley to lie in wait, the rain began to cascade down. The shift was due to start, but no one paid attention to this dank back alley because the fun was happening on the boardwalk at the other side of the structure.

  She didn’t kill the engine, but she did kill the lights. Activity from the city masked the noise of the car, and without streetlights she could rely on the shroud of black that held her tonight.

  Rushe was in this night; he was the dark embracing her. His voice echoed in her head reminding her to stay on-guard, be aware, remember the details, filter the important, and discard the irrelevant.

  Yet, as she reminded herself of those words, the tickle of his breath in her ear prickled her neck and his whispering love fortified her. Rushe had died for her, but that wouldn’t be the end of the story. Flick would make them rue the day they crossed the obelisk of dark virtue that was Rushe, the man she loved.

  Every breath she took on every day would be dedicated to hunting down every soul that his murderers had ever cared about. She’d be bitter, but relentless; her life had a single purpose. The ambrosia of hatred poisoned her throat, and for Flick it tasted sweet.

  On lifting her focus, Flick noticed her target enter the alley. She’d give time to ensure success, no need to hurry the operation; she would take her time and get this right.

  The target was only a few feet away when she spotted the car, and Flick gave her no time to think about it, or to register its meaning. Flick bounced out and pointed the gun at Rosa.

  ‘What are you doing here?’ Rosa asked. News of the carjacking must have reached her by now, and such an act had to have shaken her up. ‘I’ll scream.’

  ‘Go ahead, no one’s listening, the sound of your club plugs their ears.’

  ‘What do you want?’ Rosa asked, taking a step backward.

  ‘Ah, ah,’ Flick said. ‘Shooting you now would deprive me of my fun, and I know you understand how disappointing that would be for me.’

  ‘He’s dead, so whatever you want from Joey or—‘

  ‘I’m not here for Joey,’ Flick said, moving closer to an ever-tensing Rosa. ‘I’m here for you.’

  Flick raised the gun and swung the butt around to Rosa’s temple, knocking the hostess to the ground. The prone woman remained motionless, but Flick kept the gun pointed at her. Nudging her body to roll it back, Flick registered the blood and Rosa’s closed eyes. Crouching, she quickly attached the cuffs and put the gun on her lap to wind Rosa’s ankles with the tape.

  Anyone could happen upon them, and Rosa could regain consciousness at any time, so Flick stuffed the gun into the back of her jeans, took Rosa’s shoes off her feet, and threw everything into the backseat. On the crest of adrenaline, she dragged Rosa around to the back of the car.

  Motivated by the honour of her purpose, Flick’s anxiety gave her the strength
to get Rosa into the trunk where she stuck a strip of tape over the hostess’ mouth. This woman had tortured and tormented innocent women for her own sick satisfaction, so Flick felt no guilt over her actions. Driving away from the water, Flick knew exactly where she was going. She needed to get answers, and she just had to hope that she had the stomach to see this all the way through. No matter what it took, she would do what was right. She would act as Rushe would in this situation, and she’d be just as thorough.

  Driving through the long abandoned streets of this unloved part of town, Flick didn’t have time to absorb the dereliction or the deprivation caused by industry up and leaving the area.

  The last sign of life she’d seen was in one of the deserted factories. From what she could gather, the graffiti-decorated hollowed out building housed the unhoused. Those souls had no more or less right to be here than she did, and neither would be divulging the other’s presence.

  Slowing the car, Flick dipped her head to squint through the lashing rain to seek her turn. The dazzle of headlights struck her suddenly, and gasping out she slammed on the brakes in an attempt to prevent her vehicle from colliding with this surprise company. In the last heartbeat, the assailant swerved to avoid impact but blocked Flick’s path, leaving her no way out.

  Her car came to a lurching halt and she forced it into reverse, except a wide metal pole prevented her from making a rear exit. The adrenaline from the near miss had her heart battering her ribs, and she took a few seconds to recalibrate her mind. No one should know she was here. The notes she’d made on this building had only been in one place, in one file...

  Thunder crashed, but her body loosened. Through the sheets of rain pounding the hood she watched the driver’s door of the other vehicle open, giving rise to a threatening silhouette... one that she had feared in the past. The glimpse of him now mirrored her first experience with that beast who occupied a doorway, blocking her exit then as he did now. Now, there was only one place to run.