Obsessed by Darkness

by Autumn Jordon

  “We have an issue we need to discuss,” Lector said and chuckled, thinking Einstein’s eyes searched the space for help. Then he realized, with a chill, Einstein’s eyes were cool slits, locked onto him. He automatically swallowed and then dug his fingernails into the drywall. He wouldn’t show weakness.

  Einstein settled against the wall with chin cocked forward. “What issue?”

  “Supplies,” he spat out, angry the idiot acted like a dimwit. Bending his elbows, he closed the narrow space between them. The SOB refused to flinch. He admired tough balls and obviously Einstein had them. “I let you slide last night, but tonight, we need to get to them.”

  “No, we’ll wait. The cops are still hanging around, and I have a feeling we’re being watched.”

  “Fuck the cops and fuck your feelings. Either you show up tonight with the key or I’ll get it myself.”

  “The key wouldn’t do you a bit of good without the code,” Einstein said coolly.

  “You really think I’m stupid, don’t you? I have the code,” Lector said proudly.

  “How?” Einstein’s eyes widened and Lector saw a flash of panic. He kept his lips a thin line.

  “None of your business. Get the Kentucky woman’s key again or I will.”

  “Stay away from her,” Einstein warned.

  Lector cocked a brow and drew closer. Einstein’s scent reminded him of his Granny who always wore expensive perfumes.

  “And if I don’t?” he pressed.

  “I’ll slice you open like the pig you are.”

  “You? Ha!” Lector laughed.

  “Don’t push me.” Einstein poked him hard and then slashed a finger down Lector’s midsection, mimicking the act.

  Lector sucked in his gut in response and then froze. His hands hovered over the wall, giving the illusion he was still in control, but the shiver that snaked down his spine told him there was no doubt Einstein meant every word and could deliver.

  He needed to regain his control. “You have a thing for her?”

  “I’m not going to deny I love her.”

  Footsteps sounded behind him. He looked over his shoulder and saw a tiny woman with short spiked hair standing frozen in place, watching them with wide eyes. The sun piercing through a side window reflected off her bracelet as she purposely tugged her cell phone from a pocket, pressed a button and crossed her arms, clutching her books to her chest. She looked as if she didn’t know whether she should back away slowly, run or stay put and call for help.

  He dropped his arms to his sides and said to Einstein in a harsh whisper, “Get the key.” He stalked down the hall.

  Einstein’s presumed weakness was now confirmed.

  ***

  “Are you all right?” the brunette asked.

  “Mind your own business,” Einstein said and passed by her.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chase took up a position on the bench across the street from Logan and Varklet’s dorm building. He flipped back the little plastic seal on the lid of his second cup of coffee and took a gulp of God’s gift to man. Steam mingled with the fresh, crisp air as he held the warmth. He sat on a bench, one of the many park benches scattered around campus, positioned in serene landscaped areas meant to generate feelings of spiritual and mental freedom.

  A gray squirrel clung to a tree trunk nearby and eyed him suspiciously. They were kindred spirits because they both had work to do, their nerves were on edge and something stood in their way. Seeing movement through the glass of the dorm’s door, his spine stiffened ever so slightly.

  He peeked at Varklet’s all-American-boy campus ID photo which Will had emailed to him and compared it to the sloppy kid who exited the building across the street. The info on the ID stated Mark Varklet turned twenty-one on September 4th, but this guy was hunched over like a ninety-year-old basketball player intending to scoop up a bouncing ball. And a weighty backpack hooked over his shoulder did little to rectify the slouch of the man’s shoulders.

  Regardless of the pricey, torn baggy duds meant to look worn, Chase’s quick glance noted Varklet didn’t really resemble the photo and took a second look. Closer study confirmed he was indeed the guy in the picture.

  The manner Varklet shuffled his feet, in conjunction with the way his pants hung on the slight slope of his flat ass, meant a crack in the side-walk could cause him to take a tumble and land him on his broad nose. The kid in the picture was definitely taking the fast train down the social ladder.

  Chase stood and pocketed his cell, intending to follow Varklet, when his peripheral vision caught Bart Logan step over the building’s threshold and out into the sunshine. Unlike his bunkmate, Logan was the image of worldly success: clean shaven, tailored clothes—meant to show his fitness rather than conceal it—and with a spit-shine to his loafers. Logan probably carries a grand in his money clip as pocket change, Chase mused as he noted the scuff marks on the toes of his own boots.

  Logan pulled a packet from his coat pocket and examined it a moment before shaking a mint into his palm and popping the candy into his mouth.

  It wasn’t the fact the man was born into money that made Chase dislike him, it was Logan’s attitude toward those who hadn’t been born with a baby tux hanging in their closet that nailed his likeably coffin closed.

  He watched Bart stare after Varklet for a moment as if he considered following, then he snapped his head in the opposite direction. Bart raised his face to the sky and inhaled deeply as he jammed his hands into his coat pockets. It was obvious, he’d made a decision. The heavy, steel-blue material of his coat flapped against Bart’s thighs as he swaggered toward the parking lot.

  What had Bart just decided?

  Chase looked left and then right, staring at each man’s back. One showed signs of being a heavy user. The other, not.

  Chase mumbled the advice of a past mentor, “To fuckin’ take the mother-fuckers down you have to know them, down to the littlest detail, including which way they hang.”

  Chase’s cell beeped as he thumbed the display. The squirrel chirped in response.

  The phone rang.

  Will.

  The connection clicked.

  Chase bypassed the usual salutation and stated, “I need a rundown on a potential suspect,” while he stepped onto the sidewalk and followed his instincts.

  ***

  Nothing pissed Jolene off more than a chauvinistic son of a bitch. She knew from experience, changing water into wine would be easier than trying to talk such a man into changing his harassing ways and not using his power to intimidate.

  The only thing guys like the campus cop understood, was a swift kick to the nuts. That would get his attention. However, kicking his ass would also draw attention to her, something an undercover officer didn’t do.

  She could try to talk to the woman he’d pinned to the wall. Maybe, if the woman reported the cop to the campus authorities, he’d get canned. There could be others who’d experienced the same and women on this campus needed protecting.

  Keeping her distance, Jolene followed the coed into the The Lair, the college’s cafeteria. The woman spoke to no one as she wove through the tables and took a seat in the far corner of the room, away from everyone. She seemed to be a loner. An easy target for someone like the cop, Jolene noted. Then Mark Varklet walked up to her table.

  Upon learning about Mark’s dealings from her newfound friends, Jolene had searched him out the night before.

  Mark, in his sloppy attire, dropped onto the seat next to the young woman. It didn’t take them long to get sort of cozy. Their heads nearly touched as they conversed.

  “Jolene.” Her whispered name brushed Jolene’s ear from behind and she swung around. The motion and the aftereffects of too much Jack made her wobble. She pressed a shoulder against the wall and held her closed fist ready to do some damage, if needed.

  “Chase. Damn you.” She drew in a breath over a fuzzy tongue that tasted like hops and peanuts. She relaxed her hold.

  Chase chuckle
d, apparently pleased he’d caught her off guard. If she hadn’t spent the previous night actually drinking half her weight with her new friends, he wouldn’t have gotten within ten feet of her. She rubbed her index finger under her nose in an attempt to waken one sense, at least.

  “You nearly scared the shit out of me.”

  “What are you doing here? I thought you’d be sleeping in. You look like shit, by the way.”

  “Thanks.” She raked her hair with spread fingers, spiking tufts of them, before she pointed across the dining room. “I witnessed a campus cop sexually harassing a coed and I followed her here, thinking maybe I could talk to her. At least it looked like he was. He backed off real quick when he saw me. The coed put up a front but she was certainly flustered when I tried to talk to her afterwards.”

  “Seriously. Which woman?” His eyes followed the direction of her finger and she noted they widened ever so slightly as they landed on the target.

  “The one sitting with our new suspect. Mark Varklet.”

  “Damn,” he swore.

  She looked up at him. “You know her?”

  He nodded, but didn’t say a word. She could see he pushed pieces of a puzzle around in his head.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “That’s Nanette Yves.”

  “Our main suspect’s roommate?”

  She knew by his frown Chase didn’t like her reference to Emma as the main suspect. She hoped, for Chase’s sake, Emma Lewis was not part of the drug ring. The guy seemed taken with Emma Lewis and Chase deserved to be happy.

  “Emma’s roommate. Yes.”

  As they watched, Mark turned away from Nanette. She grabbed his chin between her hands and forced him to face her. Worry lines crisscrossed her pretty face. She dipped her head and peered at Mark through dark lashes, taking on a more demure, pleading look.

  “It looks like she’s trying to convince him of something, Jolene said. “Do you know if they’re involved?”

  “I think a better question would be, how are they involved?” He nodded toward the couple. “Whatever is going on, he doesn’t look too happy.”

  Unhappy was being kind. Mark furiously shook his head and attempted to stand up, but Nanette grabbed his arm and anchored him to her side. Her fingers dug so deeply into his dark skin they caused the area to lighten under the pressure. The woman scanned the tables close to them before she continued to reason with him.

  “She could’ve told him about the cop who harassed her and he wants to kick the man’s ass,” Jolene said. “But it looks like she doesn’t want Mark to get into trouble.”

  “Maybe.” Then Chase’s eyes shifted. “Well, well. Look who rolled out of the limo.”

  Jolene followed his gaze. “The golden boy himself.”

  Bart stalked across the dining room like Arnold, the Terminator, all steely eyed with jaw set to take a punch. As he approached, people scooted their chairs in or if they walked toward him, they changed direction, like the parting of the sea and Nanette and Mark were the targets that sat, oblivious, on the opposite shore.

  Nanette and Mark both looked up just as Bart clasped the chair opposite them. He didn’t wait for an invitation to sit, but instead yanked the chair out and dropped onto it. By the look on Nanette’s and Mark’s faces Bart could’ve been a dirty bomb. Armed and ready to explode.

  After a short minute, where Bart unquestionably delivered his message, Mark’s hands flew into the air like he fended off the words Bart issued. His face turned a deep red. Nanette’s façade, on the other hand, changed. She seemed cooler than a popsicle on a January morning. She simply rose and left the room through the side entrance.

  Mark jumped to his feet, apparently following her, but Bart also rose and blocked his exit.

  Bart then stuck his finger so close to Mark’s nose, Mark winced. Between clamped teeth, Bart said something before he marched out of the room, going in the opposite direction Nanette had.

  Mark bit his bottom lip as his gaze jumped from Bart’s back to Nan’s diminishing form.

  “What the fuck just happened?” Chase’s intrigued gaze mirrored Jolene’s. She knew by the slight upward curve of his lips his heart also pumped faster. They smelled blood. The hunt was on.

  “The hell if I know.” Jolene pushed by Chase.

  His fingers touched her arm. “Where are you going?”

  “The only way to find out is to ask.”

  “Don’t push. You don’t want to blow your cover.”

  Jolene tweaked his cheek. “I’ve got this, big brother.”

  ***

  Nanette knew she walked like she was on the verge of running, one step normal followed by a hop, followed by a near leap into a sprint, followed by a forced slow down. And repeat.

  She needed to be alone, to think and come up with a plan. Her life here was unraveling, so she had to decide what to do. Just leave, she mused, while chewing on her lip; go someplace other than home. She had money in the bank. She could take time to rethink her dreams. Her steps slowed.

  She could leave, but for the first time in her life she was in love. The heart wanted what the heart wanted.

  If it weren’t for that stupid bastard…

  “Hey. Wait up!”

  Nanette peeked over her shoulder. The woman from the liberal arts atrium called after her.

  Nanette’s molars clashed. The woman had seen her with the creep, Packard. Not a good thing.

  What the hell did she want?

  She kept walking, hoping the woman would get the message and leave her the hell alone, but the woman didn’t stop calling after her or racing toward her. Escape was futile.

  “I want to talk to you for a minute,” the tiny brunette shouted.

  Those walking toward Nan stared at her as if there was something mentally wrong with her because she didn’t stop and respond.

  “Wait. Please.” The pixie’s short legs had to double-time it in order to catch up with Nan’s longer-legged stride.

  Nan whipped around. “What do you want?”

  “I saw what happened back in the art atrium.”

  Nanette crossed her arms over her chest. Her mind whirled, thinking of other plausible explanations for why Tony had pinned her to the wall. She looked down her nose at the bitch. “What do you think you saw?”

  “Some guy pushing himself on you. Using his uniform to get his way.”

  Nanette laughed at the women’s interpretation of their bout. If Packard ever so much as laid a finger on her, she would cut his balls off with a dull blade and stuff them down his throat. “Sorry, but you’re wrong.”

  “Really?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Because if I’m right, you know he’s probably harassing a number of women. It only takes one strong victim to speak up. To stop him.”

  “Look. I don’t know who you are—”

  “My name’s Jolene.” Hosting a smile, the woman stuck out her hand, which Nan ignored. “I know from experience—”

  “Jolene,” she broke in, “what you saw was a lovers’ quarrel.” She kept her lie simple. “It wasn’t anything more.” She grasped the woman’s hand and lifted her eyes toward heaven, if there was one, for effect. “I was stupid to hook up with him, but you know how it is when a guy really gets under your skin.”

  Jolene nodded.

  Good. She had the pixie’s alliance. She added daggers to her gaze. “But if you ever see my boyfriend putting the moves on any other woman, please find me and let me know. I’ll cut his balls off,” she said as she shared her mental image with a wicked smile. “I gotta go. Thank you for your concern, by the way.”

  Nan spun on her heel and walked away. She didn’t care if the woman believed her story or not. Soon, all the lies wouldn’t matter.

  Chapter Eighteen

  The red dawn had called the storm, gathering its gray clouds over the mountains to the east.

  Chase’s phone vibrated next to his hip. The tremor stopped him cold. He checked behind him to ensure no one approa
ched before he looked at the screen. Jolene again. She’d called him earlier, to tell him Nanette Yves confessed to being in love with Tony Packard. Interesting since Nanette had come on to him earlier in the week in the library.

  He wondered what other interesting information Jolene had uncovered. To get out of the wind whistling through the buildings and to afford him some privacy in case someone did walk by, he stepped into an emergency exit only doorway. He slid his hood back. “Hunter. Go ahead.”

  “I just witnessed the oddest thing,” Jolene said.

  “What?”

  “I followed Nanette into town.”

  “She didn’t see you, did she?” The dry leaves trapped in the alcove rustled around his feet.

  “This is me you’re speaking to, not Aiden.”

  At the mention of their teammate’s name and Jolene’s fake chuckle, a smile formed on Chase’s lips.

  “Nanette walked around campus, taking photos for about an hour,” Jolene continued. “I was about to call it quits and get a nap when she hopped the bus into town. Luckily, my car was parked nearby and I caught up with number nine before its first stop. She hung outside a department store window before she received a very short call on her cell. Then she headed up the street. At the corner, this expensive-looking Lincoln rolled up. At first, I thought the driver had stopped to let her cross the street, but then the back door swung open.”

  “Did you see who it was inside? Was it Bart Logan?” He scolded himself for sounding anxious.

  “No, I don’t think so.”

  If Jolene had noticed his dislike of Bart, she didn’t mention it. Since Bart had been part of the game earlier and had a ton of money, asking if he was the limo guy was a logical question.

  “I have a feeling Yves didn’t know the person,” Jolene said.

  “Why?”

  “They had a little chit-chat. She seemed to concede to something and then hesitated before getting inside. She looked nervous.”

  Chase wondered what Nanette was up to. Could be nothing. Could be a whole lot of something. “Did you get a plate number?”