Explicit Detail

by Scarlett Finn

  Scott’s fidgeting increased until he cursed under his breath. Eric moved to appease, but Rushe stood, causing Flick to find her feet.

  ‘Ok,’ Rushe said, crossing to turn off the television.

  ‘Now?’

  Rushe nodded to Eric once. ‘I’ll get the story straight.’

  ‘Who gives a fuck about the story?’ Scott barked.

  Eric glanced at Flick, and she felt Rushe’s eyes on her, too. ‘Do you boys need me to leave the room?’ Flick asked, without any intention of going anywhere.

  ‘You’re the reason,’ Scott sneered, and started toward her, but Rushe swooped in silently to intercept him.

  ‘Where the fuck do you think you’re going?’ Rushe snarled.

  Flick only had a view of Rushe’s back, but she knew the glare he wore now. Him standing between her and trouble reminded her of that room in the X-Lounge, and it wasn’t a pleasant recollection.

  ‘We had a deal,’ Scott said.

  ‘I gave you the tools, I told you how to do it,’ Rushe said. ‘I held up my end.’

  ‘You have more experience. I wanna cause them pain.’

  Shorter and skinnier than both Rushe and Eric, Scott didn’t have the bulk to take on the other men, but the venom he had could drive him toward such a foolish attempt.

  ‘You’ll get your pound of flesh,’ Rushe grumbled. ‘You do it like I showed you.’

  ‘Everybody chill out,’ Eric said, though Flick’s view was still blocked by Rushe. ‘You wanna know what happened to Susie, you do, Scott. Let Rushe work.’

  In the instant Rushe was about to move, Flick tucked her hand into his back pocket, which caused him to stop. It wasn’t like Rushe to hesitate, and though it was barely perceptible he did before he turned to her and removed her hand from his pocket.

  ‘No,’ he said, still with a hold of her hand. ‘Stay.’

  ‘We’re partners.’

  ‘Not for the thug stuff, Kitten.’

  She wanted to argue, because she’d just got him back and that made her reluctant to take the risk of letting him go again. But she wasn’t menacing and mean. Whatever was about to happen, Flick needed to let him go, because a part of Rushe would always work alone.

  With his eyes fixated on her mouth, he stroked her hair. Then Rushe raised the shutters and stormed straight past, snatching up a tool bag from the corner, and striding on out to their trio of captives.

  ‘You thought you lost him, huh?’ Eric asked, after Scott had crossed to the door and opened it a crack, presumably to listen in.

  ‘He let them...’ Flick said. ‘They could have killed him.’

  ‘It’s not the first time Rushe has come back from the dead.’

  ‘That doesn’t make me feel better.’

  ‘Which is worse,’ Eric asked. ‘That you thought he was dead, or that you were the one who caused it?’

  Flick wrapped her arms around herself and skirted the couch to lean against the back.

  ‘I don’t know,’ she whispered, when Eric took up a perch beside her.

  ‘We always knew it would come to this. We brought in the furniture and the supplies, hooked up the TV; we did this two weeks ago.’

  ‘What does that have to do with—‘

  ‘We all knew it would come to this. We were prepared... Rushe was prepared.’

  For death, Flick understood, but it didn’t make her feel better. ‘Do you think Scott was prepared for what happened to Susan?’

  ‘Guys like us know the risks, but Susan didn’t. She saw only what Whyte wanted her to see.’

  ‘So Scott wants to take revenge, why? Because those three people contributed to Susan’s death, or because Whyte seduced his girlfriend?’

  ‘Scott loved Susan, always did, but she was... she saw the best in everyone. I guess he felt he should protect her, like Rushe wants to protect you.’

  ‘You say that as though it’s so straightforward. Like it’s a given, it’s so obvious. But you don’t know what the view’s like from the other side.’

  Scott stumbled back when the door flew open and Rushe stormed in, sending the door ricocheting back into its frame. Rushe stalked an invisible infuriation around the room, which made it impossible for Scott or Eric to approach him, as they wanted to.

  ‘What?’ Eric asked. ‘What happened?’

  Eric’s confusion and Scott’s wide eyes betrayed to Flick that this wasn’t standard operating procedure.

  ‘Lover?’ Flick asked, crossing toward Rushe.

  He grabbed her lower jaw and impelled her back against the wall. In a crouch, his whole body cloaked her and he laid siege to her mouth, probing his tongue in around hers, and with a feral grunt he pried them apart and forced her chin up, planting his eyes on hers.

  ‘My woman.’

  ‘Yes, Lover, I’m here,’ she inhaled, grasping his shoulders.

  ‘He hurt you, now, now is the time.’

  To punish the man complicit in murder. ‘Yes.’

  Astounded that Rushe would take the time to seek her permission for anything, Flick remained flat on the wall when he strode from the room as intently as he’d entered it.

  ‘Maybe you’re an asset after all,’ Eric said. ‘What else can you make him do?’

  A souring masculine shriek pierced the air, and Flick couldn’t imagine what would cause such a sound. A female scream followed, and when Eric and Scott huddled near the door Flick was right there with them.

  ‘No, no! Stop, please!’ The hurried speech was that of Joseph Galante. ‘Stop whatever you’re doing to Evan!’

  Flick edged closer to the door and peered through the gap. The three chairs were arranged in a triangle with their backs to each other so the detainees couldn’t see one another. The captives couldn’t see in this direction either, so Flick was free to observe. A slumped Whyte whimpered. Underneath his chair was a wet puddle and though the colour was difficult to distinguish on the mildew-stained floor, Flick assumed the liquid was blood.

  ‘You don’t give a fuck about him,’ Rushe’s voice rumbled through, that savage snarl plumbed from his dusky soul. ‘He hurt my woman.’

  ‘She is mine,’ Galante said. ‘Rosa is mine, and you’re going to—‘

  ‘She’s not your woman,’ Rushe said, strolling to a chair situated to be visible from Galante and Rosa’s positions. ‘She’ll take any cock that tips her way.’ He opened the bag on the floor at his side and produced a coiled length of rope. ‘How many guys did she fuck in that lounge while you were paying her?’

  ‘You shut up,’ Rosa yelled.

  Rushe began to very deliberately uncoil the rope, letting the length spread on the floor around him. ‘You wanted it, Sweetheart,’ Rushe drawled. ‘You were begging me for it, handing it out for free with coupons for a lifetime supply.’

  ‘You wanted it,’ Rosa sniped.

  He leaned forward to take a knife from the bag. ‘My girl would slice you open.’

  Rosa didn’t respond to Rushe’s smug retort. Whyte still whimpered and gurgled, but didn’t speak. Rushe bowed the rope over the knife and sawed it apart.

  ‘What is that for?’ Galante asked.

  They were already attached to the chairs, and Flick wondered about the rope herself. But Rushe cast the length he’d cut aside and began to loosen another strip.

  ‘We know about the racquet you were running, Rosa. We know you were blackmailing Evan Whyte, you kept quiet and he kept you around. When did the murders start?’

  ‘What do you care?’ Rosa asked.

  ‘I wanna know what happened to Susan. Why was she different?’

  A few seconds of silence became a minute. Rushe tossed the rope aside and was on his feet with the knife.

  ‘No, no!’ Galante called out before Rushe reached him. ‘We didn’t kill Susan!’

  ‘Don’t believe you,’ Rushe said, admiring the blade of his knife, then pointing it toward Rosa.

  ‘Believe what you want,’ Galante said. ‘It’s true. The first girl died two years
ago, but that was an accident. Please, you have to believe us!’

  ‘I don’t gotta believe shit,’ Rushe said, returning to his chair and picking up the first length of rope. Two years ago was when Kimberly gave birth to Joey’s baby, that event had to have been the catalyst, or rather Rosa’s breaking point. ‘So your woman got a taste for the snuff?’

  ‘It was interesting,’ Rosa said. ‘I’m not a psycho. As long as the boys didn’t get attached I let them screw whoever they wanted to.’

  ‘It was just an accident,’ Galante said. Flick heard the quiver in his voice, and her fascination with Rushe’s actions yielded results. He was twining the rope into a noose.

  ‘But it wasn’t just her.’

  ‘No,’ Galante admitted. ‘Rosa... Evan enjoyed it.’ Galante was trying to protect the woman he loved by transferring the evil doing onto Whyte. ‘We did it again, we used the drugs, it’s clean.’

  ‘Then you did it again,’ Rushe said, finishing with one noose he threw it toward Galante, and it landed on the floor a few inches from his feet.

  ‘Once, a couple of months later, and then a few months after that...’

  ‘The more you got away with, the more risks you took,’ Rushe said. ‘Your woman’s into some kinky shit.’

  ‘We gave them drugs, and we had sex, and—‘

  ‘It was a party,’ Rosa said. ‘They couldn’t keep up, that’s all.’

  ‘Susan heard us talking,’ Galante said, when Rushe picked up the next stretch of rope and began to tie it. ‘I think Evan cared for her... she might have been different.’

  ‘Bitch couldn’t handle it,’ Rosa said. ‘We tried to talk to her, lots, they wanted to bring her in, wanted her to be part of it. She didn’t get it... I knew she wouldn’t. There was no room for her in our family.’

  ‘Her death was tragic, and needless,’ Galante said. ‘But by her own hand.’

  Flick watched the intensity of Rushe’s eyes that climbed up and zeroed in on Rosa, scrutinising every detail of her countenance. Again, cruel silence reigned, but Rushe didn’t flinch for a second.

  ‘Your woman doesn’t believe it.’

  Rushe’s words were heavy but they stung in the air, drifting toward the restrained bodies.

  ‘She did it,’ Whyte croaked out when his head rose a fraction. ‘She drugged her and set her up; made it look good, she told me. Rosa killed Susan, just like she killed Jeri and Lisa, and all the others.’

  ‘Whyte!’ Galante shouted.

  ‘Rosa Vallario,’ Rushe said.

  ‘Susan knew what she did,’ Whyte said. ‘She saw Rosa for the twisted individual that she is.’

  ‘Rosa,’ Galante said. ‘Rosa didn’t, it was me—‘

  ‘When are you going to stop defending her?’ Whyte asked. ‘She’s sick.’

  ‘And what are you?’ Rosa spat.

  ‘Enough!’ Rushe silenced them all.

  ‘What are you going to do with us?’ Rosa asked.

  ‘Don’t worry,’ Galante said, when Rosa didn’t answer. ‘He said he wasn’t going to kill us.’

  ‘Hanging can be framed to look like suicide,’ Rosa said.

  ‘You would know,’ Rushe said. ‘And I said I wasn’t gonna kill you, Galante, but I made no promises about anyone else.’ He got up and moved to the edge of the room and out of Flick’s view. ‘And I’m not the only one here who can cause you harm.’

  When Rushe came back into view, he had a bottle in his pocket and a syringe in his hand. He held it up, pocketed the cap then crouched in front of Rosa.

  ‘You’re it.’

  ‘I can be of use to you,’ Rosa panicked. ‘I know where the money is. You can have it. We can have it.’

  ‘I already got me all the woman I need,’ Rushe said, and on Rosa’s struggling scream he injected her with the contents of the needle.

  Flick had always known Rushe was capable of anything, and Rosa was a murderer. Standing here now, watching her lover take a life in this way, caused a strange sensation to float through her. Seizing Rosa from the street had been only the first step of Flick’s plan, and the end result would have been the same.

  ‘What are you doing?’ Galante asked, while trying to see over his shoulder. ‘Rosa? Rosie, speak to me, are you ok?’

  Rosa slumped forward as Rushe stood up with the needle loose in his hand. When Whyte saw the instrument he jerked, and this movement drew Rushe’s attention. With his free hand, Rushe delivered a swift punch to the side of Whyte’s head, knocking him out cold.

  Galante was gibbering, but Rushe paid no heed. He strode back to their little room, sending Flick and the other men scampering backward.

  ‘We’re out of here,’ Rushe said to Eric, who gave Rushe a bag for the needle. With it wrapped up, he grabbed his jacket from the back of the couch and stuffed the evidence into it. He then took the bottle from his pocket and tossed it to Scott. ‘Be very careful with that.’

  ‘Thanks man,’ Eric said.

  ‘Whatever,’ Rushe said, taking hold of Flick’s shoulder.

  Scott didn’t say anything, but Rushe didn’t appear to expect it. He swung back the door and dragged Flick out, past the captives and back into the room with his car. He flung her into the passenger side.

  ‘Wait,’ Flick said, before he closed the door. ‘Lover...’

  Maybe she hadn’t expected him to stop, but when he did she didn’t know what to say. ‘Later,’ grumbled the burdened man when she said nothing.

  Flick had expected him to get in the driver’s seat, but he didn’t. He went back through the door they’d exited by. She began to wonder how long she should wait, and what she was waiting for, then Rushe re-emerged with Rosa’s motionless body over his shoulder.

  The last time she had seen this, Rosa had kicked and screamed, and Flick’s stomach roiled at the understanding of her role in this woman’s demise. Rushe tossed the body in the trunk, adopted his place in the driver’s position, and took them out into the night.

  ‘What was in the bottle?’ Flick asked, after they’d been driving quietly for more than a few minutes.

  ‘Lye.’

  The effects that a substance like that could have in the hands of a man like Scott on men like Galante and Whyte would be devastating. ‘What do we do now?’ Flick asked. ‘I’ve never disposed of a dead body before.’

  Rushe looked from her to the road, and then took a longer look at her. ‘You think she’s dead? You think I killed her?’

  ‘The needle, I...’

  ‘Shit,’ he exhaled.

  ‘She’s not?’

  ‘Taste of her own medicine. She murdered Susan, and Scott will make me pay for this.’

  ‘He wanted her dead. I know Rosa was a bad person.’

  ‘I don’t argue with women,’ Rushe said. ‘You think I’d murder one?’

  ‘I don’t understand... she’s not dead?’

  ‘Tranquiliser,’ Rushe said. ‘We’ll toss her out somewhere she’ll be found, but we won’t be spotted.’ He reared up and put his hand in his back jeans pocket to produce Liam’s phone, which he flung to her lap. ‘Get that to your guy.’

  ‘It’s recording?’

  ‘Turned it off before I got the needle.’

  Flick played the recording to hear Whyte admit Rosa killed them. A smile formed as she looked up at a grumbling Rushe.

  ‘Should I tell him to send this and the Davis recording to the police?’

  ‘No,’ Rushe said. ‘The cops can have Rosa, but those files will reap more justice in different hands.’

  ‘I don’t understand,’ Flick said. ‘Whose?’

  His grip on the steering wheel increased. ‘We’ve found a contact... in the King Club. Have him keep hold of it, I’ll tell Eric to be in touch.’

  Flick recognised the growl and the slices of resolve that enclosed around him. With her own comprehension that tenacity seeped across to her. Whyte and Galante, Joey too, all of them had played a dangerous game, which Davis had known about as well. If the action
wasn’t sanctioned by the King Club, if they’d been oblivious to events that had transpired in the Waterside, then they could be very unhappy about what the risk of exposure would do to their own serious endeavours.

  Rushe began to grumble and she noticed how obstinate his brow was. ‘What?’ she asked.

  ‘If I’d known you were ok with murder, I’d have...’

  ‘I think Whyte was bleeding enough. What will happen to them?’

  ‘Not our business,’ Rushe said.

  ‘We get rid of Rosa, and of the evidence... then what?’

  ‘Sex.’

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  More than two hours had passed by the time Rushe drove off the interstate to a roadside motel. They had dropped Rosa off and got rid of the evidence, then Rushe just drove. Processing everything that had happened would take time for both of them, and Flick didn’t mind having this quiet period to reflect.

  ‘Get naked,’ he said, hurling the bag of their things to the floor when they entered the motel room.

  It wasn’t much, just whatever had been transferred out of the trunk of their car that Scott had got rid of, though she didn’t know what was left in the trunk of the vehicle they had downstairs.

  ‘Shouldn’t we talk? If there are still drugs in your system, or you’re not strong enough—’

  Spinning around, Rushe’s hand landed on her upper chest and she was slammed back against the wall, his power keeping her pinned in place.

  ‘My woman, my body.’

  The shade of murk in his eyes wasn’t one to be trifled with. After what they’d been through in these last few days, Flick couldn’t deny him. Rushe needed to connect with her body, and she wanted to be a part of his. So she unzipped her jeans and forced them down her hips, but while Rushe’s hand impelled her here she couldn’t bend, so she unbuttoned the shirt and parted the fabric.

  Rushe knew their sexual safe word, but he wouldn’t use it tonight. Any doubts she had about his senses, about him having his wits, were erased when she witnessed the methodical skill he displayed tonight.

  His eyes coasted downward, and she saw some of the gloom fade. She was wearing the same dress she’d worn when he died. That night, in that hotel, neither of them had expected events to transpire as they did. Rushe had died for her, and she would never be able to convey to him just what his sacrifice meant to her.