by Ronnie Allen
“We have jurisdiction over this case since we’ve been on it six months. Is there a possible weapons match?”
“Don’t think so,” Sam said. “And bullshit. Where’s Dunnar Vike in this? He’s NYPD.”
“His division is investigating and turning over everything to the Staten Island District Attorney’s office. Intra-agency cooperation, which I see we’re not going to get from you. But I’m sure Lieutenant Rojas will have the final word.”
“Too late. We arrested AriellaRose Larcon on murder charges last night. She’s lawyered up. We’re turning everything over to the Manhattan District Attorney’s office. And we have an ID on Parvos. Teams are out looking for him and the other two women,” Sam retorted.
“Two women? What happened to the third?”
“Parvos executed Emma Sanders last night. The one in the driver’s seat. That’s how we got the ID. Prints on a baggie of Oxycodone he had brought her,” Sam said, one-upping him.
“Where’s the Larcon woman?”
“In a psych ward. In Manhattan,” Frank said matter-of-factly.
“How long have you been in rank, Detective?” Willtower asked.
“A little over a week. Why?”
“A week? Okay, that explains it.”
“Explains what?” Sam made sure her inflection spewed defiance.
“Your outburst to a federal agent. You didn’t know any better. Okay, I’m prepared to make you a deal.”
“A deal? With the DEA? Fat chance,” Nick said.
“No, seriously. We don’t want the hassle with the guy, but the feds do. So it’ll be up to you to fight them. I’d like to watch you mouth off to a fed, Detective Wright, and you’ll see where it gets you. In cuffs.”
“What’s the deal?” Withers asked.
“You find, apprehend, or eliminate Jesus Parvos, and you can have the women, including AriellaRose Larcon. We want them on drug trafficking. Murder tops us. So our charges will be added consecutively.”
“Deal,” Sam said without missing a beat. “I have a feeling there’s going to be another murder, but we don’t know who the vic will be.”
“Okay, then we’re done.” Willtower got up and left the room without acknowledging them.
Frank looked at Sam. “You did good. Proud of you.”
Nick and Dingo nodded in agreement.
Sam pulled the laptop over and Googled Timothy Larcon. “Oh, great. One million, three hundred forty seven thousand. How could he just disappear? I’m giving Jaye Manning a call.” She checked the file, made the call from the phone on the desk.
“Hello.”
“Mr. Manning, it’s Detective Wright. I have some questions to ask you.”
“I know you arrested AriellaRose. Her lawyer is seeing her today. And he advised me against speaking with you.”
“Mr. Manning, Doctor Khaos here. We believe there’s going to be another murder. We want to prevent that at all costs.”
“Oh God. Well, it isn’t me or Adam. He’s safe here with us.”
“Okay, good. Very good. Could you put him on the phone, too? We have it on speaker.”
Adam’s arrogance hadn’t changed. “What do you want?”
“Adam, know where your Uncle Timothy is?”
“Why?”
“We were looking through the files and learned from interviews with your Uncle Mitchell that he had broken off ties with your family almost ten years ago. Mitchell didn’t know why. Do you know?”
“Yeah. I know why.”
“Tell them,” Mr. Manning urged. “They’ll find out soon.”
“He raped AriellaRose. He forced roofies with liquor down her throat. She didn’t know what hit her.”
We were right.
Frank and Sam exchanged looks.
“What happened?” Frank asked.
“I found him doing it and pulled him off her. He had already jerked off. I told my dad, uh, Steve, but he didn’t want to report it to the police. Said it would look bad for the family business. My mom and he pretended it never happened.”
“When did it happen?” Sam asked, thinking about the ten year statute of limitations on statutory rape.
“We were almost sixteen, two months before our birthdays.”
“Know where he lives?”
“Somewhere in Queens. I saw him at a tennis club a few weeks ago. Before all this happened. The big one up there. I ignored him and he pretended not to see me.”
“Okay, thanks.” Frank disconnected the call. “So much for the Aries myth.
“Well, it led us in the direction of who to call. So, okay. Timothy Larcon is our fifth vic,” Sam said as the rest of them looked worried.
***
Nick exited the Belt Parkway at Cross Bay Boulevard into Howard Beach, Queens. Frank and Sam followed in his SUV, and patrol officers from the local precinct tailed. The tennis club wasn’t far from the exit. A couple of blocks and they’d be there. The club had confirmed Timothy Larcon was there, right on schedule. Sam was excited she’d be making her second arrest. They had two more months till the statute of limitations ran out, and Nick had deferred the honor to her. Nick pulled into the parking lot, pulled a ticket from the dispenser and drove into a spot. Frank followed, but the local cops in their cruiser parked outside.
They walked into the main lobby, where the sounds of balls smacking onto rackets ricocheted through the building. They headed down the halls with glass-enclosed courts that were occupied with two or four players. The players dressed in the white and blue uniform of the club--men, shorts, and women, short pleated skirts that hit their upper thighs. The remnants of an ammonia based detergent accosted Sam’s nose as she passed the men’s room. She ignored it as soon as she spotted Timothy playing in a foursome. Yay! She could embarrass him in front of more people.
Sam opened the door mid-game, lifted, and flashed her badge that hung around her neck. “Police! Hold the serve!”
A cranky woman yelled at her. “What the heck, lady?”
“It’s Detective Wright, and I suggest you close your mouth, ma’am. I need to speak to Mr. Larcon.”
“Well, I’m his wife,” the woman retorted.
“Oh, sorry to hear that,” Sam muttered to herself. “Mr. Larcon, please come over to the side.”
“Sure. Detective. Hey, I know what happened to my brother and his family,” he said as he strutted over. He and Sam walked to the bleachers. “We were never close, so--”
Sam cut him off. “Mr. Larcon, I don’t know if you know this.”
He frowned.
Sam made sure she spoke loud enough so his tennis partners would hear. Unprofessional, but so what? “When this crime was committed, in New York City, there was a ten-year statute of limitations on the rape of a minor, as in a niece, which is incest. So, Mr. Larcon--”
Sam didn’t get a chance to finish. Timothy bolted to the door, opened it, ran, and was met with a clothes-line-to-his-Adam’s-Apple by Frank’s rigid forearm. Timothy tumbled backward. His sneakered feet swung out from under him, landing him on the ground, flat on his back. Nick jumped him and flipped him over. Timothy tried to fight as his feet pummeled the wood floor. Nick brought his hands behind his back and cuffed him. He and Frank lifted him up under his arms. Timothy stood trembling.
Sam approached and continued. “Mr. Timothy Larcon, you are under arrest for the drugging and rape of your niece, AriellaRose Larcon, nine years and ten months ago, when she was fifteen and ten months old. Officers, read him his rights and book him.”
Two patrol officers read him his Miranda rights and took him outside to their patrol car. Sam, Frank, and Nick left the building as they heard his wife’s hysterics inside the court area.
“Wait till he finds out we just saved his life.” Frank stretched out his shoulders and twisted his neck from side to side. “Oh, man, do I need a workout.”
“Why don’t you go, then? We have units out for Hawthorne and Cummings,” Nick said.
“Thanks. Hey, Sam, want to go?”
“I don’t have my gym gear. It’s in my car.”
“I have uniforms at the gym. They’ll fit.”
“Yes. I’d love to. Thanks, Nick.”
“I’m going home, too. Don’t thank me.”
Sam’s lips transformed into a sexy smirk. “Finally, I’ll have the chance to whip your ass in the cage,” she told Frank.
CHAPTER 29
Frank used the electronic key fob to open the ten-foot gate to the parking lot of his gym in central Harlem. The doors swung open and he parked closest to the entrance door. The gate closed behind them. Security lights went on, forming a two foot radius around his Explorer. His was the only car in the forty-space parking lot.
“Where is everyone?”
He grinned and hiked his eyebrows. “Just you and me, princess. Gym closes at six on Wednesday. No one here until six a.m. tomorrow.”
She bit her lower lip and gyrated in the seat. “We’re spending the night?”
Very good. She’s enticed. “Maybe. Maybe not. Depends upon your behavior.” He jumped out of the driver’s seat and depressed another key. The steel gate to the gym rolled up. He turned around and looked at Sam, giggling in the passenger seat. “Hey, you coming?”
She jumped down from the seat and ran in with him, just as the gate descended behind them. The lights went on by quadrants. She stood still, her eyes following the lights, her mouth agape. “This is awesome!”
“Yeah, it is. Come on.”
She followed him to shelving divided into cubbies on the left side of the main room.
He pulled a Khaos Rules T-shirt from one cubby, short shorts from another. “Wearing sneakers and socks?”
She pulled up her pants leg. “Yup.”
“Okay, good. Here. A small should work. What size bra do you wear?”
“You have bras, too?”
“Yes. Women can’t wear those strapless things in here.”
“Thirty-four D.”
He handed her a nude-colored sports bra from a closed drawer.
“That’s fine. Thanks.”
“Locker room’s through there. Everything goes in. Weapon, too.”
“Got it.”
A few minutes later, Frank, already in his T-shirt and shorts, was in the workout quadrant in the gym, in the rear left of the space. He called to Sam. “Over here!”
She jogged over to him, passing the cage, her head turned toward it. She reached Frank, though her focus wasn’t on him. The ceiling lights glaring on the metal rings made her squint. “I want to go in there!”
He laughed at her enthusiasm and at the way her face scrunched from the glare. “We will. I can guarantee we will.” He turned her around, pulled her close, held her around her waist, and pecked her nose with his lips. “First you have to prove to me you’ve earned it.”
She looked up into his eyes with her arms clasped on his hard biceps. “And how may I do that?”
“Show me how you work out. Not looking for an injury or accident. Not on my watch.”
For the next hour, Frank put Sam through the ringer. Calisthenics with high reps and intensity, dumb bells, pull-up bar, boxing with the small and heavy bags, step exercises, twelve-pound kettlebell swings, a hundred reps.
After the kettlebell count Sam bent over, hands on her knees. Panting, flushed, the shorts and T-shirt saran-wrapping her body with sweat, her hair at the hairline damp, with tendrils of hair loosened from her ponytail, she looked up at Frank, who had completed each exercise with her. He probably could have gone another round, but something more fun was on his mind.
She sighed. “I’m done.”
He handed her a second bottle of water. “Drink. Then stretch out. Then you’ll be done.” He was damn serious.
She guzzled the bottle of water, stretched low and long with her legs spread out. Sitting on the floor, with her legs in a wide V, stretching her arms to grab and hold her toes, with her breathing normalized, she managed to get out the words. “In your humble opinion, King Khaos, am I ready for the cage?”
“Oh, yeah.” He extended his hand, which she grasped, and he pulled her up. in one smooth motion.” How much do you weigh?”
“One twenty-five on a good day. Maybe one twenty-seven on a bad.”
“Okay, you’re five six, one twenty-five, lightweight.”
“And you are?”
“Super heavyweight. Still think you could whip my ass?”
“Do I have to follow the rules?”
“In here, absolutely!” He was shocked she’d think otherwise.
“So that means no strikes to vital organs, no head kicks, no joint tugging, no sticking my fingers into your nose, eyes, or ears...uh...no jumping on you, think they call that stomps, no punching your nose, no elbows to your head, and no groin pulls. Right?”
“And you learned that, how?”
“In the academy we were taught to do exactly those.”
He laughed. “Oh, man, okay, so if a perp ever got a hold of you--”
“They wouldn’t stand a chance. And that would be before I pulled my weapon.” She jogged to the cage, ran up the steps, and bounced up and down on the tarp.
Good, she’s feeling the resiliency of the tarp.
She spread her legs, bent at the knees, hands fisted in front of her and prepared to attack or be attacked. “Come on, King Khaos,” she shouted from the middle of the ring.
He jumped up the steps, laughing. She actually thinks we’re going to spar?
That wasn’t what he had in mind. Not at all. But she’d soon find out. He positioned himself for the first confrontation. Palms out in front of him, fingers curled, he waved his fingers in a “come on” gesture and leaned over, knees bent. “Let’s go. Show me what ya got.”
“You asked for it!” She lunged forward and, with her full body, landed smack on his torso, her hands pushing on his chest.
He skidded back three steps then regained his balance. With his right arm, he pulled her into mid-air, facing the matt, away from his body. His left arm went under her and, with both arms on her underside, held her straight across him like a dad would hold a child teaching her how to swim in a pool. Sam kicked her legs, laughing. Guess she feels like a little kid, too. He curled her up and down along his forearm and up to his biceps a few times, as if she was his human barbell. She laughed the entire time. “Now what, princess?” he said as he held her across his arms, his grin permanently sealed.
She bent her elbows and, using his straight left forearm as a rack, riveted herself off him into a standing position. Without hesitation, she slid her leg in between his and tried throw him off balance to push him down onto the tarp. Her plan backfired. He braced her legs and flipped her with his arms under her rear end so that she landed on her butt. The sound of her thud, echoing through the gym, startled her. “What the--”
“Microphones under the tarp. Makes landings seem harder than they are.”
She bolted up, ran to the outer perimeter, and back again, to attack him from the longest distance. He moved out of the way, stuck out his left leg, and tripped her so she landed flat on her stomach.
“That’s not fair!”
“Sure it is. Hey, if I let you run with that momentum, you’d crash into the cage. We’ve seen enough blood this week. Don’t you think?”
She rolled over onto her back and threw her arms over her head so they rested on the mat.
He dropped to his knees, rested his palms on this thighs. “Bad move, princess.”
“Why?” Her sparkling eyes told him she knew why.
He laid down directly on top of her, with his arms covering hers and his legs concealing the rest of her. He looked her in the eyes. Their T-shirts were saturated with sweat, their shorts clung to them, and perspiration leaked out of every pore.
“Oh my God, Frank! We stink.”
He nestled his head on her neck. “Don’t care. I like the way you stink.”
She laughed and crinkled her nose. “Oooh.”
“Okay,
so how are you going to get out of this? A full body restraint.”
“I never heard of this submission hold.”
He kissed her cheek. “Made it up. So what are you going to do about it?”
“What if I don’t want to do anything?”
“Have to do something.”
They were nose to nose, lips to lips. Sam tilted her head up and kissed him. A soft, gentle kiss. He didn’t reciprocate. She kissed him, again. He just smiled. She kissed him again, longer, harder, closing her eyes.
“You’re killing me. You know that?”
“So what are you going to do about it--King Khaos?”
Without another word, their lips met, their hands tightened, interlaced above her head on the mat, and he didn’t want to come up for air. He kissed her more than he had kissed a woman in a long time. Over two years and one month. They moaned. The kisses deepened. His mouth moved to ravage her neck and he whispered in her ear that he wanted her, as he pecked his lips against her soft skin.
He could melt into her skin. “When was the last time you had a cock inside of you?” he whispered into her ear.
She paused for a moment and her breath hitched. “With a man attached?”
Her response was more clinical than sexy, though her eyes teased him. His eyes widened. Here he was trying to talk dirty to turn her on and he didn’t expect a comedic response. His mind went to Steven Larcon. “Sam! Oh, man. Yeah, with a man attached.”
He couldn’t stop laughing. Not the feeling he wanted, right now. He put his face down on the mat, next to her neck. They lay cheek to cheek.
“It’s been a long while,” she responded with a tone that made him think there was another option.
“Okay, then without a man attached?” He had no idea why he had asked that. Yeah he did. He’d always be up for a game.
“A couple of days.” She shrugged her shoulders.
“What?”
She tossed him a hesitant look and bit her lower lip. “I happen to have a pretty effective dildo. And he vibrates.”