Dirty Deeds

by AJ Nuest

  She neared her old room, the door adjacent to Malcolm’s bedroom, and stopped as the sickly sweet stench of wet copper permeated the air. Oh God, no. No, no, not that smell.

  Lowering the candlestick, she hurried forward. She knew that odor. Had been around it enough in the past, it had forever been ingrained on her senses.

  Tossing open the door to her old bedroom, she choked and then shoved the back of her hand under her nose. The heavy bank of musty blood washing past her face made her eyes water, and everywhere…everywhere she saw red.

  * * * *

  Kelly raced down the sidewalk, his cell phone plastered to his ear. The heavy thud of his boots pounded the concrete. His jacket slid back on his shoulders; his silver St. Michael’s medallion bounced against his chest.

  Goddamn it, the last name Smith was no coincidence. With the recent trouble trailing Eden like her personal thundercloud, he’d bet his last thin dime Malcolm Smith and Eden’s adoptive father were one and the same. “What’s the guy’s last known address?”

  That’s where Eden had gone. Kelly knew it. Felt it with the same certainty as recognizing his own name.

  His stomach twisted as he rounded the corner and sprinted for his car. God only knew what she might find once she got there. Based on the way Ruby had been tortured, the blunt force trauma surrounding around each stab wound covering her body…

  For Christ’s sake, the killer could still be inside the house! “The address, Archer! What is it?”

  “Unless you’re planning to hop the next plane to Heathrow, I can’t help you,” Archer ground out his answer. “Last known address for Malcolm Smith is in London, but that’s beside the point. The captain is requesting you bring in your witness, Kelly. She wants us ahead of this thing before the press starts screaming we’ve got a serial killer on our hands.”

  He wrenched open the car door and slid onto the seat, docked his cell on the dash and hit the speaker. Shit, that could only mean one thing. The details of Malcolm Smith’s murder were an exact match to the way Ruby had been found.

  Jamming his key into the ignition, he glanced over his shoulder for oncoming traffic and squealed away from the curb. “What are the stats?”

  Archer sighed so loud, the speaker on Kelly’s phone buzzed. “Man, you know DeFranco. He refuses to give up anything until he’s had a chance to examine the body. All I can tell you is the vic washed up two miles of north of Ruby’s location. He’d been stabbed and tossed in the drink. Only personal affects were his wallet and a few bills, and a single business card stuffed in his left front breast pocket.”

  Kelly white-knuckled the wheel with the same force he clenched his jaw. “Let me guess. Dirty Deeds.”

  “There’s no arguing with right.”

  Fuck. He pounded his fist against the wheel, checked his side mirror and swerved into the left-hand lane. D’Avella was gonna have his ass in a sling once she learned Eden was missing. “I don’t have my witness. Not anymore. She slipped past me this morning.”

  The resulting dead air from that bomb was so long, for a second, Kelly thought maybe the call had dropped.

  “Shit,” Archer whispered. “I’m not telling her. If you think that’s gonna happen, you can think again.”

  The back tires shimmied over the asphalt as Kelly took a hard left. Not that he blamed Archer for dodging that bullet. Meredith D’Avella was one hell of a ball buster, but she was also fair and had earned her position within the predominately male environment of the Chicago PD.

  Kelly owed her the truth, as much out of respect for the captain as his duty to Eden. He’d be as forthcoming as he could when D’Avella asked after the details, but he’d damn sure keep his mouth shut about that kiss. He wasn’t about to give anyone cause to remove him from the case. “I’ll be there in fifteen. In the meantime, get Molly working on locating Malcolm Smith’s address here in Chicago. If she gets a hit before I get back, call me right away.”

  He quit the call and scrubbed a hand over his face. Christ, what a mess. This very second, Eden could be walking into a trap. Tapping his thumbs on the wheel, he eased up on the gas to coast through a red light. He should be there, dammit. He should’ve tried harder to stick with her. If she just would’ve trusted him, they wouldn’t be in this fix.

  Whatever hurts she carried, whatever secrets she was trying to protect, they apparently ran deep. Deep enough, she was willing to risk her life to keep them quiet.

  He blew a harsh breath. That kind of secrecy always came at a price. The path Eden had chosen and the way she lived her life were proof enough. Never trusting anyone, constantly changing her appearance and navigating the world like a ghost. How did anyone survive like that? Peeling right, he gunned the engine and left a trail of black smoke in his wake.

  According to Eden, they started a business to even the score for those who’d suffered unsatisfied abuse. And in return, the price she’d paid was to lose the one person she’d depended on to help her when the going got rough.

  He ground his molars as the acidity of that backhanded reward flooded his mouth. It was wrong. Regardless of her methods, those circumstances were damn wrong. He’d dedicated his entire life to making sure the bad guys got caught and their victims saw justice. If there was one thing he could smell a mile off, it was the stink of inequity and the bullshit of an unfair result.

  His phone chirped, and he tapped the screen without checking the caller ID. Thank God, maybe Molly had come through with an address. “Riordan.”

  “Oh my God, there’s so much blood.”

  He stomped on the brakes and the screech of his tires almost drowned out the angry blare of the cab behind him. Eden. “Are you hurt?” In the silence that stretched, Kelly fought the icy grip of full-blown panic. “Eden, are you bleeding?”

  “No, it’s not mine.” Her voice trembled. She panted like she was out of breath. “But, oh my God, Kelly, there’s so much blood.”

  The terror seeping though the phone narrowed the world outside his windows into razor-sharp focus. “Where are you? Give me the address, right now.”

  He punched the number and street into his GPS, flicked the lights on his back window cherry bar and laid on the horn, pulling a U-turn to speed off in the opposite direction. “I’m on my way, baby, but you gotta stay on the phone. Give me five minutes.” Dammit, that was too long. It was too fucking long! “Is there anyone else in the house?”

  “I don’t know. I don’t think so.” She spoke quietly, and the visual of her alone, surrounded by God only knew what kind of bloodbath, made him want to mow down every car in his way. “No one can lose that much blood and survive, Kelly. Oh my God, Malcolm. He’s really hurt. He’s really hurt, and I don’t know where he is.”

  The soft click of a door closing echoed through the line as Kelly hit the expressway. He shoved the gas pedal to the floor. Cars and buildings streaked past his windows in a distorted blur.

  She wasn’t getting it. He swerved left then right through the rush of mid-morning traffic. The shock of whatever she’d seen wasn’t allowing her to process what was right before her eyes. “Eden, I need you to listen to me. Stop looking for Malcolm. Lock yourself in a room, someplace small like a bathroom, and stay quiet. I’m almost there. Just hang on.”

  The exit came up on his right, and he repeatedly rammed the heel of his hand against the horn. His tires screamed as he palmed the wheel right and gunned the engine out of the turn. A flick of the radio, and he grabbed the mic. “This is Detective Riordan. I got a 10-31 major crime in progress. I’m in contact with the victim. Back-up requested on site.”

  “10-4, Riordan, what’s your 20?”

  He read the address off the GPS and tossed the mic aside as the radio operator dispatched all available units to the scene. Another glance at the map, and he took the next left. “Eden, are you still there?”

  “I’m here. In the bathroom under the front stairs.”

  “Okay, I’m pulling up in twenty seco
nds, but stay where you are. I’ll come get you.” One more left, and he screeched to a halt in front of the house, scrambled from the car and withdrew his sidearm. Racing for the front stoop, he scanned the neighboring yards, tossed open the door and shoved his back against the wood.

  The knob slammed the wall and the resounding bang echoed through the house. He waited until everything went silent, his arm at a ninety degree angle and gun barrel aimed at the ceiling. A lock snicked open, and he spun left.

  Eden’s face appeared through the crack in the bathroom door, her beautiful, terrified eyes taking up nearly half her face, and the only thing he knew in that moment was he wanted to hold her. To reassure her everything was going to be okay. Protocol and personal boundaries be damned.

  The door flew back on its hinges. She ran straight past the stairs and Kelly’s chest relaxed its suffocating grip as she leapt into his arms. Thank God, she wasn’t hurt.

  “I got you.” He held on tight, one arm wrapped around her waist, his other hand buried in the soft curls of her hair. “It’s okay, I got you.”

  “You came for me.” Her body trembled, her soggy voice warming the side of his neck. “Even after I acted like such a bitch, you still came.”

  He frowned. “Of course, I came for you. Did you think I wouldn’t?”

  “No, I…” A few silky strands caught in his beard as she shook her head. “No one’s ever come for me before,” she whispered.

  Jesus. His eyes slipped closed as he slowly lowered her to her feet. A second later, anger raked the pit of his stomach, and he clamped his jaw shut before he accidently spouted something moronic.

  What the hell kinda bullshit was that, anyway? A puff of air left his lips. He knew it. No one had ever watched out for her. Not in the way she needed, and most definitely not with some crazed lunatic hot on her trail.

  “No more running.” He brought her away from him, holding her cheek so he could study her face. “Promise me, Eden. No more.”

  “Agreed.” She covered her hand with his, her gaze steady and sure. “No more running.”

  Sirens pealed in the distance, and Kelly tugged her back into his arms. He just wasn’t ready to let her go, wanted one more minute alone with her before the place was crawling with cops.

  Dipping his chin so he could breathe in the addictive scent of her hair, he turned his lips to her ear. “Stick with me, baby, and I promise I’ll do whatever it takes to keep you safe.”

  Chapter 8

  A scream of outrage pressed against her breastbone, but Eden sat quietly, fingers linked on her lap, legs crossed on the couch in Malcolm’s living room.

  Don’t feel, don’t feel…

  Numbness was better. Familiar. It was cold, peaceful. Blessedly blank. Even though she hadn’t relied on her old defense mechanisms in a long time, to find she could still hide her grief while faking an outward composure was a huge relief.

  The bang of the front door made her flinch, and she tightened her grip on her hands. Behind her, a steady stream of crime scene officials trudged up and down the stairs.

  Each knock of their equipment against the banister cranked her jaw tighter. The constant rustling plastic, the off-the-cuff greetings as if finding a room coated with blood were an everyday occurrence made her want to march over to every individual and smack them across the face.

  God, she hated these people being here, hated the way they disassembled Malcolm’s life into a bunch of numbered, cardboard boxes. The complete and total invasion of privacy went against everything he’d taught her. If her mentor were here, he would’ve been beyond pissed off they were digging through his stuff.

  Closing her eyes, she filled her lungs and slowly exhaled. Bury it. Stuff it way down deep. Don’t feel…don’t feel.

  Kelly had ushered her into the living room and sat her down with her back to the front door on purpose. She knew that now. Though the second everyone arrived, if he would’ve told her to go stand with her nose pressed in the corner, chances were good, she would have done so without muttering a peep. Too bad he also hadn’t handed her a set of earplugs. Then she could’ve really disappeared into the void.

  A steaming mug appeared in front of her, and she looked up to find Kelly standing near the end of the coffee table, blue eyes filled with doubt as if any second her gears were bound to pop and a bunch of cogs were gonna spring out of her head.

  “It’s tea.” He jerked his chin at the cup. “I found it in the kitchen and added some honey but, you know, I wasn’t sure…” He shrugged.

  “No, that’s perfect. Thank you.” She brought the mug close for a sip and the scent of Earl Grey mixed with sweet honey reminded her so much of Malcolm, she set the cup on her knee without drinking. It was too much. Any additional sensory input, and her veneer was likely to crack. She couldn’t have that. Not in a room filled with strangers.

  “Hey.” Kelly plunked her purse on the coffee table before hooking his boot on one leg and dragging the end away from the couch at an angle. Stepping into the empty space, he sat on the edge and leaned in, forearms braced on his thighs. “Only a little longer and I’ll get you out of here, okay?”

  His knees bracketed her legs. The way his hands dangled between his thighs, his fingers almost brushed her calves. Eden nodded and set the tea on the end table on her right.

  God knew, she couldn’t blame him for the whole handle-with-care vibe he had going on. Not after she’d thrown herself into his arms the second he’d got here.

  Hell, blubbering all over him, admitting something so personal like how he was the first person to ever come to her rescue. For crying out loud, the guy had only been doing his job. She’d acted like a complete idiot and now had to pay the price while he treated her with kid gloves.

  She was smarter than that. Smarter and stronger, dammit. Whatever had possessed her to act so pathetic—the shock, the sorrow or just plain old-fashioned fear—it was imperative she reinstate some distance between them, shore up the walls and batten down her defenses. Especially since the urge to fall back into his arms still lingered so close to the surface.

  The entire thing made no sense. Why the hell would she want him to hold her and tell her everything was going to be okay, when she knew damn well a very slim chance of that existed?

  He lifted his hand as if to touch her face and she froze. No. No more touching. No more insinuating comments and, most definitely, no more kissing. This wasn’t a game anymore, and if he expected her to follow him around like some trained lap dog, the man would be smart to keep his hands to himself.

  The alternative was too distressing.

  He focused over her shoulder and his fingers curled in on themselves before he dropped his fist to his knee. “I need to ask you a few questions. Do you think you might be up for that?”

  Her jaw tightened a few more degrees. It was a simple question, but the way he’d phrased it spoke volumes about the way he viewed her. As if the soft empathy in his eyes wasn’t enough.

  That hug had changed things between them. Made him see her as weak. It’d been a foolish mistake to let him get so close, but it wasn’t like she had to keep skipping down that same path. A whole closet full of women were at her disposal. Taking on someone tough…say, a Pit Bull like Jade, should do the trick.

  “Of course, Detective.” She raised a brow. “What is it you would like to know?”

  Myriad emotions passed over his face. Surprise, frustration. Maybe a little hurt. But better he get with the program now rather than later. Whatever connection had started between them was over. She’d just lost everything. Her hand to God, the last thing she refused to let go of was herself.

  His chin angled a tad to the right as he studied her eyes. His lips firmed, and he cleared his throat. “When you first got here, did you notice anything out of place? Anything that seemed unusual?”

  “The lock on the front door had been jimmied. The alarm was dead so I assumed someone had cut the power.” She crossed her ar
ms against the persistent ache in her chest. Jade didn’t sweat the small stuff like sorrow or loss. “Other than that, I really couldn’t say. I haven’t spoken with Malcolm in over ten years.”

  Kelly eased back from her, frowning. “You haven’t talked to your adoptive father in over a decade? Why not? Was your relationship strained?”

  “Not at all.” She shrugged. “Malcolm adopted me, but it was more a legal technicality than anything else. He did that sometimes to offer kids a clean slate. Sure, we were close during my time here, but I would describe us more as student and teacher, than father and daughter. Neither of us were the type to want something so traditional, and I was already fifteen.”

  Crossing his arms right back at her, Kelly squinted. “A clean slate?”

  Anger jabbed the pit of her stomach. He was pushing for details she’d tried long and hard to forget. The years prior to her moving in with Malcolm were some of the darkest in her life. The decisions she’d made were a matter of survival, but they weren’t something she was proud of, and discussing them had zero bearing on the case.

  Then again, maybe it was best Kelly hear the sordid details straight from the horse’s mouth. Once he did, the glint of arousal in his eyes would finally fade, and he’d stop looking at her with any sort of interest other than how she might be involved in his investigation.

  “I was living on the street when Malcolm found me.” She dipped her chin. “Or rather, I found him. I was searching for my next mark when I spotted him shopping and tried lifting his wallet. Didn’t work. He caught me right away but, rather than having me arrested, he apparently saw something he liked so he offered me a deal. A safe place to sleep, room and board in exchange for learning the business. I agreed on the condition I could bring a few friends with me—other kids I’d hooked up with over the years. For those of us who met his criteria and kept our noses clean, Malcolm occasionally agreed to an adoption so he could have our priors expunged.”