by Trish Reeb
*
Cole had been in some tight situations before but never saddled with an injured civilian and on the defense against an army of kids barely old enough to drive. How well had they been trained? What had been their instructions? Bring their captives in dead or alive? Besides being outnumbered, with Jordan injured and immoveable, he couldn’t risk making them targets in a shooting gallery. On the other hand, he loathed leaving Jordan alone and defenseless. He regretted assigning him to Alex though it seemed logical at the time. In retrospect, he or Martindale should have escorted them to the exit. Once again, proving hindsight was twenty-twenty. He sighed.
Cole had neither the expertise nor equipment to do what it would take to free Jordan. He’d leave that to the professionals and Jaws of Life. At the moment, he needed a distraction, something to draw Raphael’s army away from Jordan. Cole slipped out of the car, moving to the pickup, and climbed into the cab. Thanks to the hit-and-run driver, he found the key still plugged into the ignition. He started the engine and backed away from the PT Cruiser, his headlights challenging the GMC standing by to do God only knew what.
Cole drove in reverse, away from Jordan. The pickup followed as he intended. His arm on the console, he twisted around in his seat guiding the truck down the narrow lane. When he reached the end, he braked, and turned around to look. The GMC had stopped and now idled behind the PT Cruiser. The soldiers stood in a cluster by the driver’s side of the car.
Shit. So much for his plan. The adrenaline pumping through his system, he shoved the gear into drive and accelerated. The knot of boys loosened enough to reveal one of them, the leader maybe, holding a handgun to Jordan’s head.
CHAPTER 76
Alex faced skyward, the snowflakes hitting her like ice chips. A knob of anxiety gripped her insides. Her heart racing and hands shaking, she reached for the hood of her jacket. She felt around her collar and back. Where was it? Finding it half in, half out of the neck of her coat, she tugged. Come on. Come on. Freeing the hood, she flipped it over her head. The twist-tie in her stomach loosened a bit.
The snow fell faster, in huge flakes. Frantically, her eyes darted from tree to tree. No place to get out of the snowfall, her breathing quickened to almost hyperventilating status. In an attempt to control it, she slowly inhaled and exhaled several times. It didn't help. She needed shelter.
Keeping her eyes peeled for anything she could crawl under or into, she stumbled onto a magnificent pine tree with needled limbs spilling onto the ground forming an umbrella. Sent by her guardian angel—she must have one or she never would have survived this week—she silently thanked her. Scrambling underneath the branches, she sank onto the brown needle carpet. Bending her knees, she pulled them into her chest and wrapped her arms around her shins. Gradually her breathing returned to normal, her heartbeat calmed, her hands no longer trembled. Closing her eyes to the woods and its dangers, she imagined pink satin sheets, soft down pillows, and warm heavy covers.
A nudge to her shoulder.
"Hm-m-m," she mumbled.
Another nudge.
"Go away."
"Get up, bitch."
*
Cole stared at the gun to Jordan’s head. Was he conscious? It’d be better if he didn’t know he was an inch away from dead. If something happened to him, he'd be responsible. His plan to draw them away had jeopardized Jordan's life instead of saving it. But they wanted him, not Jordan. They’d gambled that he, Cole, would not let a man die to save his own skin. Okay, so they’d won. Cause your enemy’s strengths to become his weaknesses.
Cole stopped the truck a short distance from the PT Cruiser and threw his weapon out the window. It landed with a thud, leaving an indentation in the snow. One of the boys darted over and picked it up, waving at him to dismount his steed. Cole opened the door, raised his hands, and jumped out of the truck.
"Your beef’s with me. Let him alone. He’s not going anywhere," Cole said, eyeing the guy with the gun trained on Jordan’s head.
CHAPTER 77
Alex squinted at the lantern glowing in her face. Though shadows partially concealed his face and the hoody covered his notorious hair, she recognized Redd Dog.
He deposited the lantern on the ground and ducked under the branches to drag her out from under the tree. She didn't fight back because she had no chance of winning. At the moment.
"Yo, nosy counselor. Shoulda stayed out of my bizness," he said yanking her to her feet. "You gonna pay, baby." His eyes danced.
Alex jerked away.
Drawing a gun from his waistband, Redd Dog waggled it at her. He grabbed an arm, yanking her to him, and stroked the side of her face with the nose of the firearm. She tried to stifle the tremor starting at the base of her spine before it rocked her body. She couldn't. He pulled her close, his breath smelling faintly of mint.
"Gotta secret," Redd Dog whispered in her ear. "I killed your girl."
Alex’s shoulders hardened. The ball of anger burst, sending hot flashes through her body, melting the fear. She jerked to free herself. He tightened his grip.
"You filthy scumbag!" she shouted, kicking him in the shin. Pain shot up her leg.
Redd Dog massaged the shin with his other foot. "Quite the wildcat, ain’t ya." He laughed. Alex shoved him off balance, but he recovered without losing his grip.
"You forget about this?" He waved the gun.
She glared at him.
"Never killed anyone before, but I been dreaming about it for years." He leered at her. "Actually, it was quite disappointing. I blame Morgan. If she hadn't shot her full of Phenobarbital . . . ."
His voice had taken on a new lilt, the tone changing, the diction perfect. He straightened, squaring his shoulders. Yanking his hood off, he lifted his chin and threw out his chest. Though his clothes and features remained the same, he evinced a flourish and flair almost as if from another era.
Alex stared, trying to assimilate what happened.
He smiled. "Allow me to introduce myself. I am Raphael Douglas La Fontaine," he said, bowing and pocketing his gun.
Redd Dog had been swallowed up by Raphael. La Fontaine? She recognized the name. Pops had known his dad, Chaz. This guy killed Taryn? Why would a kid who had everything do that?
"As I was saying, your friend’s death was unfulfilling." He leered at her. "But yours will more than make restitution."
He’s going to kill me. Hands in her pockets, Alex’s fingers closed around the one thing that could save her. Waiting for the right time, she backed away.
Raphael grabbed her arm. "We have a lot to discuss. Like Sami for instance."
Alex’s body went rigid. Of course he killed Sami. And knocked her unconscious at Taryn’s, stole the journal. He wrote the Shakespearian-like note. He’d done it all.
"I regret I couldn’t stay to watch Sami implode. And to see your reaction."
Alex clenched her fists. "What kind of monster are you?" she screamed, pounding his chest, the blows losing their impact on his bulky coat.
He grabbed her fists. "You’re the monster. If not for you, Sami would still be alive." His eyes bore into hers. "You need to be punished."
Alex primed her foot for another attack. Raphael pulled the gun from his pocket and pressed it to her temple. She stopped short of kicking him and set her foot on the ground.
"Don’t push it unless you’re in a hurry to die," Raphael said, his cornrows and clothes turning white.
She hadn't noticed until then that it was snowing again. Alex’s breathing quickened. The panic growing, she longed to crawl back under the pine tree but didn’t dare. If Raphael sensed her fear, he’d taunt her with it. Maybe if she reconnected with the anger. He murdered Taryn. He killed Sami. It didn’t help. Reflexively, she raised a hand to her head. Her hood. It had fallen off when they scuffled. She flipped it up over the top of her head.
Raphael stared at her.
She sensed the wheels whirling in his head, as if he could see into her mind.
"You’re s
cared. But not of me," he said, a furrow between his brows. "What is it, love? Something’s got you freaked." The tips of his fingers to his lips, he studied her. Without warning, he snatched the hood off her head and held onto it.
Alex tried to grab it from him. "Let go," she whimpered. Alex, you’re not nine any more. The snow can’t hurt you. The words didn’t reach her banging heart.
CHAPTER 78
Three soldiers, one holding a handgun to Cole’s ribs, escorted him up an exterior staircase leading to the second level of the warehouse. Music throbbed beyond the partition. The teens steered him into an office with blank white walls and a linoleum floor. Mary Winter, sitting behind the desk, gloated when they barged in. She opened the middle drawer, withdrew a gun, and pointed it at Cole. She nodded to the troopers.
"Your coat," a boy said, holding out his hand.
Cole shed the black bomber jacket. With manners befitting a proper host, the kid hung it on the coat rack in the corner. The other two thugs shoved Cole into a cushioned chair in the center of the room. One soldier pulled a roll of duct tape from his pocket. He taped Cole’s limbs to the armrests and front legs of the chair. Normally, he’d flex his muscles to create a give to the binds once he relaxed. But, since they used tape he couldn't loosen or break, he needed the tight leverage. When the boy finished, Mary Winter nodded again. The soldiers exited the room, closing the door behind them.
"Detective, nice of you to join me," she said, her Southern accent strong.
He nodded. "Billy Jo. We meet again."
She tilted her head. "Ever find my sister?"
"Yeah. I found her." He smiled slowly. "Boo."
She winked. "Had you going there."
"For a minute."
She rose and struck a provocative pose. "You like?"
His eyes scanned the room. "A bit overdressed for the situation, don’t you think?"
"Not when I plan to fuck someone to death." Leaving the gun behind, Mary Winter ambled slowly around the desk, her hips swaying, large breasts jiggling under a low cut black shell. Moving toward him, she slipped off the silver sequined jacket. She circled him, sweeping the perfume laden garment over his head and shoulders.
Cole tried not to inhale the fragrance. Combining her two identities into one, he said, "Mary Jo, I know about your connection with Foxworth Apartments."
Standing in front of him, she leaned down. "Billy Jo, Detective," she whispered. She placed her foot between his legs on the chair and gently pressed on his crotch with the toe of her three inch heeled boot. "Whatcha got in there for me?"
"Mary Jo—"
Her lips pursed. "Billy Jo."
Cole sighed. "Mary Jo, I’m saving it for someone worthy."
A dark shadow crossed her face and an instant later, she smiled. "We’ll see about that."
*
Alex dug her fingernails into Raphael’s wrists. He butted her legs from behind. Buckling, she landed in the snow on her back. Raphael stood over her, his boot pinning her to the ground by the hood of the jacket. He picked up a handful of snow and sprinkled it in her face.
Alex raised her arms. Too late. The cold clumps stung her cheeks, nose, chin, and forehead. She clawed at them.
He stared at her, a smirk on his face. "It's the snow. How peculiar." Raphael laughed. "You need some serious counseling, counselor."
Tears burned her eyes. She blinked.
He picked up another handful.
"D-don't!" Alex cried. "Don't, damn you." She sensed the drawer opening a crack. Not now. Please, not now. Not in front of this monster. In her mind, she struggled to close it, but the force of emotions pushed back. Tears burgeoned in her eyes and slid down the sides of her face. Oh, Taryn. "She was my best friend," Alex cried. "How could you?" Fighting back the tears, her chest tightened, her throat contracted. Her mind couldn't sidestep the painful memories. Taryn, lying in a pool of blood, stabbed through the heart. Her parents dead—burned beyond recognition—at the hands of a drunk cabby because she hadn't wanted to be inconvenienced. Greg off in no man’s land searching for the man he was meant to be. Matt too busy with his own family to call her. Sami, Sami. I’m so sorry. My fault. My fault. Arjay and Mercedes hurt because of her, too. Guilty as charged, the gavel in her head rapped loudly. The sobs escaped through her mouth in spurts, like the memories. She rolled into a ball, the spasms wracking her body. Her shoulders shook, her stomach cramped, her heart ached.
Time had no frame of reference. She didn't know if one, five, or twenty minutes passed before the tears ebbed. Afterward, Alex lay on the ground unmoving. She didn’t want to look at him. Her teeth chattered. Wet and freezing, her body shook. She’d never been so cold in her life. The flurries had dissipated again. Thank you. With as much dignity as she could muster, she used the snow to wipe off her face and stood.
Raphael, a foot away, applauded. "Best performance I’ve seen in years."
Alex glared at him.
"I counted on breaking you. But you’re already broken." He smiled. "Your friend never knew what hit her. You will. My dear, you’ll be awake the entire time. I’ll enjoy watching every undulation of pain cross your face, behold the terror in your eyes, feel you squirm beneath me, hear your screams as you beg for mercy."
Alex’s anger rose again. All those nights she had dreamed of tearing Taryn’s killer to shreds. Now, face to face, she would enjoy taking him out of action.
Raphael's demeanor changed again. His eyes flashed fire.
Cocking her head, she ignored the numbness in her feet and hands, her soaked clothes. Did he actually have multiple personalities? Or was it a facade? Playing along, she asked, "Whom do I have the displeasure of meeting now?"
A slow smile crept onto his face. "Ares, god of war."
Oh, brother. "Ares loved war for its own sake," Alex said, having taught Greek mythology.
He nodded. "And mindless killing the best."
"This is a game to you," she said, trying to keep her anger in check.
"Life is a game."
"You could do anything you want, be anything you want."
"Precisely." He stared at her for several seconds. "Since you’ll be dead before dawn, I will share my dreams with you." He paused reflectively. "Commanding an army's been a fetish of mine for years. Thanks to Sun Tzu's Art of War, I've made it a reality."
"But they’re just kids."
"Who don’t question my authority." He thrust out his chest. "They worship me."
"Why are you doing this?"
He shrugged. "Because I can."
"Do your parents know what a monster they’ve bred?
Raphael smiled. "Too busy building my inheritance to worry about my legacy."
"What did you ask of your soldiers?"
"Ares does not ask. He demands."
"Touché."
"Frighten you away, Little Miss Muffet." He tsked, tsked. "You disappoint me. I hoped for more of a challenge. You've stripped away all the fun. For that, you’ll pay." He smiled broadly. "Want to know what’s in store for you?"
"Enlighten me."
"Ever hear of Marquis de Sade?"
She shook her head. "So now you're him? Who's next? Charles Manson?"
Ignoring her, he said, "The word sadism derived from his name. He believed people should act on their instincts." Raphael appeared contemplative. "On second thought, knowing your destiny would disrupt the natural cycle of life." He smiled. "Yes, I think you should wait to experience it in all its glory." His eyes glazed.
Alex slowly removed a hand from her pocket and pointed the taser at him.
Raphael laughed. "Better think twice about using that." He reached for his gun.
"Don't count on it." She squeezed the trigger. Two electrical barbed probes shot out of the snout and into Raphael’s ribcage. His eyes widening, he screamed. Wobbling, his right side caved first. He tumbled sideways to the ground and rolled into a fetal position, shaking.
Alex rushed over and turned him. She transferred the gun from his
jacket pocket to hers. Peripherally, she picked up a movement at her side. She shifted her head and stared into the eyes of a stranger.
CHAPTER 79
Mary Winter straddled Cole’s lap. He breathed through his mouth to avoid inhaling the familiar fragrance that seemed to emanate from her every pore. She had no right to the scent. Jasmine was Desi’s perfume. He kept his eyes on her. She’s not Desi. She’s not Desi, his head chanted. Would the words forestall his body's involuntary reaction?
She began unfastening his shirt. In between each button, she ran her finger down his chest to his abs, getting closer and closer to the finish line. His shirt loose, she ran the tips of her breasts across his bare chest. Her hard nipples started a stirring below. He groaned in annoyance.
"Lovin' it aren't you, big boy?"
He butted her head.
She seemed to anticipate the attack, backing up in time to avoid the brunt of it. "Naughty boy, that’s no way to treat a lady." She shook her finger at him.
"I don’t see a lady," he said. "All I see is a psychotic bitch."
"In your present position, you don’t want to make me angry. I can hurt you," she said, smiling. "Which I would very much enjoy." Using his shoulders, she shoved off until she stood a few feet in front of him. "Don’t go anywhere. I’ll be right back," she sang.
Mary Winter sashayed over to the desk and removed items from the drawer. Waving a vibrator and a whip of barbed strands of leather, one in each hand, she approached him. "Pain or pleasure? Which do you get off on?" She placed a long red fingernail to her lips. "You look like a pleasure kind of guy. But, if you’re bad, I’ll have to punish you." She waved the whip.
She started the vibrator and stroked her breasts, her face taking on a look of pure ecstasy. She ran her tongue over her bottom lip. Holding the vibrator between her thighs, she rubbed it back and forth, her eyes closed.
Cole didn't have time for this, he had to find Alex. He willed her to come a little closer so they could get it over with. When she stood less than a foot in front of him, he lifted the back legs of the chair and head-butted her, throwing her off balance.