Fueled by Lust: Cato (Siren Publishing Classic)

by Celeste Prater

  Cato felt the back of his neck light up with fury. He surprised himself with the roar that unleashed from his throat. He’d kill him. The son of a bitch deserved to die.

  Julie gasped in shock. “He handcuffed you? That’s kidnapping. You have to call the police and report him.”

  A snort came over the line. “Julie. Think about it for a minute.”

  Julie’s voice was apologetic. “Oh. I forgot. He’s a cop. So, what are your plans now? You need a place to stay. Let me help you.”

  “I want to be long gone before he gets off his shift tonight. That’s the first thing he’ll think about when he sees that I got away. What shelter is going to keep the cops from searching for me? He could make up any type of story. No. The further away, the better off I’ll be.”

  Julie sighed heavily. “You’re probably right. One favor, okay? Will you call me when you get settled? I won’t be able to rest until I know you’re okay. Will you do that for me?”

  “Of course. You have no idea how much you helped me, Julie. Take care.”

  “You, too. Be safe.”

  Cato felt a heaviness press against his chest as the call ended. He wasn’t going to make it there in time. He’d forever wonder what might have been. Even if she was a midget with a club foot, he would always be grateful for the small amount of comfort her voice had provided. Despite his mind telling him to slow the truck and head toward his house, he continued without hesitation. He had to check or lose his sanity. He jumped when the handheld chirped.

  “Lone Star Cab.”

  “Yeah. I need a cab at the corner of Johns Avenue and I-35. Small convenience store on the right. It’s closed, so I’ll stay by the pay phone. I’m wearing a dark blue T-shirt and jeans.”

  “Okay. Where’s your drop off?”

  “Greyhound bus station. Hey. Are there hotels close to it?”

  “I believe there’s two. We’ll be there in twenty minutes.”

  “Thank fuck!” Cato shouted. He might make it in time if the cab held true to the time they quoted. If not, he’d head for the bus station. Fear inundated his senses as a bloodcurdling scream filled the interior of his truck.

  “Stop! Stop! Let me go! Help me! Oh God, someone help me!”

  Her pleading words horrified him and he pressed heavily against the accelerator. He barely missed slamming into cross traffic as he ran through a red light. He vaguely registered the cab dispatcher yelling on the line.

  “Give me a description! Hurry. I’ll call the police!”

  The only response the cab company got was the sound of breaking glass and screams of pain. Cato shouted in agony as he listened helplessly to the vicious struggle and her weak pleadings. Her attacker showed no mercy. Choking gasps and the unmistakable sounds of fists punishing tender flesh rendered him almost mindless with fury. Sudden silence shocked him back to reality. Shouts of a shaken dispatcher and desperate gulps for air no longer swirled within the confines of his truck. He was cut off from knowing her fate.

  * * * *

  Cato flipped his lights off and entered the alley opposite Johns Avenue. He pulled his truck close to the brick wall of the hotel and killed the engine. It had taken everything in him to keep from driving directly into the melee surrounding the phone booth. She needed help and his presence would only confuse those trying to help. He’d never felt such gut-burning relief when he’d seen the flashing emergency vehicle lights around the parking lot.

  He got out of his truck and made several attempts to mist so he could get closer. What if she’s dead? Please don’t let her be dead. He leaned back against the brick wall and willed himself to calm down. Finally, his body melted into pure energy and he practically flew to the booth. If he’d been in solid form, he’d be on his knees at the sight that confronted him.

  A woman lay prone on a stretcher as paramedics worked furiously over her. Her face was bloody and swollen. She had a deep laceration across her cheek and her lip was split. He couldn’t make out any features. All he could tell of her visage was the jet-black hair swept back into a thick braid. It hung over the side of the stretcher and almost touched the ground. As he moved closer, he saw dark red welts on her throat where her attacker had tried to choke the life from her. The rise and fall of her chest sent skitters of relief across his senses. It was shallow, but at least it was there. Her T-shirt was torn at the collar and the knees of her jeans were scuffed with dirt. A paramedic picked her hand up and spoke to the police officer hovering next to the scene.

  “Look at her nails. She put up one hell of a fight. Despite what you see, she’s one lucky girl. We probably scared off her attacker. We’ve got to get her loaded. She’s displaying signs of a severe concussion and possible internal injuries. We won’t know until we get her in. Do you have ID on her yet?”

  The cop shook his head. “We can’t find a purse on scene. Possible robbery. Let me know when you’re ready and we’ll follow you in.”

  The paramedic nodded to his partner. Quickly, they loaded her into the ambulance while Cato drifted inside and hovered close to the back doors. He was having great difficulty staying in mist form, but there was no way he was leaving her. When the paramedics had done as much as they could, Cato drifted down beside her and pushed his energy toward her hand. He wanted to touch her in corporeal form, but this would have to do for now. As soon as he wrapped around her fingers, her energy leapt forward and tangled with his. Shocked, he pulled away and stared at her hand. It was twitching and her fingers were contracting as if trying to latch onto something solid. A paramedic reached down and clasped her hand. He smiled at his partner.

  “Hey. This is a good sign. She’s moving voluntarily.”

  Chapter 5

  “Hello? Sharon? Get room two ready, would you? Call Dr. Sparkman. We’ve got internal hemorrhaging. Initial scans showed slight brain swelling, however, that’s decreased since last check. Appears to be a severe concussion. Not looking good. She’s seized twice, but looking stable enough for us to get inside. Someone tried to beat the poor thing to death and they may get their wish. Jane Doe. That’s right. Mid- to late-twenties. Five feet, eight inches. Around 180 pounds.”

  Cato felt his stomach drop as he listened to the doctor’s instructions. He leaned heavily against the wall and took several deep breaths to get his bearings. He’d hovered around the corner for the past hour while the hospital staff worked furiously to stabilize her. He couldn’t bring himself to call her Jane as they were doing. It just wasn’t right. Angeli. That’s what he’d call her. It meant angel in his language, and that seemed appropriate to describe the ethereal beauty of her voice. He could smell her lavender and citrus scent drifting around the corner and teasing his nose. He’d be able to find her anywhere in the hospital. Turning, he moved further down the darkened hallway and pulled his phone from his pocket.

  “Trejani. Yes. I’m well. I need your help. No. It’s okay. I just need your understanding. I have to help someone and it’s very important. I can’t go back home with you. No. It’s not a warrior. It’s an Earth friend. Yes. Very serious. Thank you. Severus can find the report on the desk at Seekers. He’s well-versed on the content. Yes. I’ll let you know if I need anything. Okay, you, too. Be safe.”

  * * * *

  No! No! No! tore through Cato’s mind as he watched the doctor performing CPR on his Angeli. They’d already removed her spleen and he’d felt weak with relief that they hadn’t found more injuries. When she began to seize on the table, he struggled to understand what had happened. Terrified, he watched as they placed small paddles on her chest in hopes of restarting her heart. Again, and again they worked to engage the dying organ. Cato cried out in silent agony as they stepped back to call time of death.

  Mindless, Cato shoved his energy into her still form and encased her heart. He couldn’t let her die. He had to try. He may not have been trained in the field of medicine, but he was observant enough to know they attempted to push electrical currents into her heart to reengage the rhythm. He vibra
ted his energy against the muscle in the same pattern he’d heard on the monitoring devices.

  Come on, my Angeli. Come back to me. A peacefulness descended across his essence as her retreating feminine energy reached out and brushed against his. Ahhh…so beautiful. Their energy swirled as one for many moments. He didn’t want to go. He belonged here, yet he knew he had to leave. Stay, my lovely. He backed away when her energy infused the abandoned tissue and resumed life. The room filled with gasps of surprise and barked orders when the electronic monitors loudly registered a steady heart rate. Cato reluctantly pulled away from her body, drifted down the hallway, and reformed in a utility closet. He slid down to the floor, buried his head in his hands, and cried.

  * * * *

  “Thanks for the lift, amici. I’ll see you at the shop in a few.”

  “Anytime, my friend. Did you lock up last night?

  Cato furrowed his brows and dug his keys from his pocket. “Hell, Petrus. I have no idea. Here. Take the key just in case.” He looked up into concerned, golden eyes when he felt a warm touch to his outstretched arm.

  “She’ll be all right. I know you’ll see to it.”

  Cato nodded and clasped Petrus’s hand. “Thanks. I’ll be along later. I want to look around before it gets too dark. It happened so fast last night. I need to get my bearings.”

  Petrus nodded in understanding then drove away.

  Cato took a deep breath, relieved he was finally able to share what he’d gone through. He’d known Petrus long before the day of Foemina Mortem. Their mothers had been best friends. It was inevitable that they would grow up together. He could be trusted with jumbled thoughts and remain quiet when a compassionate ear was needed. After his mind call, Petrus had misted into the hospital and stayed next to him while they’d moved his Angeli into ICU. He was there when Cato learned they’d placed her in a coma to allow her brain to heal. He was also the one that finally convinced him he would do her no good if he didn’t get some rest. They were brothers, no matter their birth.

  With increasing difficulty, Cato willed himself to mist and drifted across the street. A sliver of yellow police tape clung to the booth as a tiny reminder of the violence it had witnessed. The door was off its hinges and the handset was missing. He spotted it several yards away from the booth. Why hadn’t the cops taken this as evidence? Obviously, the attacker had ripped it away from her to remove any chance to describe him. Surely, he would have left a print. Cato touched the item and incorporated it into his grid. Moving closer to the booth, renewed anger traveled like fire across his essence as he studied strands of long, black hair caught in the fractured glass of the door. Spatters of her blood had dried to a dark brown and painted a macabre picture of her treatment.

  Unable to control his rising emotions, Cato fled toward his truck. He barely managed to make it to the edge of the hotel before his body involuntarily reformed. He hadn’t realized how tired he’d gotten. He strode quickly into the alley and halted when he smelled the unique scent of lavender and citrus. Had she taken this alley each day to get to her booth? No. That couldn’t be right. The fragrance would have dissipated as soon as she’d passed through. It had to be something else.

  Slowly moving forward, Cato glanced from side to side until the aroma increased in strength and mixed with the sour odor of rotting food. He slid the rusted lid of the green dumpster aside and peered into the darkness. Several battered cartons lay open at the bottom. Nothing except decayed vegetables greeted him. Pulling back from the stench, he rounded the container and found the source of the intriguing scent. The curved edge of a dark purple suitcase stuck out several inches from behind the dumpster. Cato lifted the case and caught the side before the contents spilled to the ground. Glancing around to assure he hadn’t been seen, he placed the luggage and handset in the bed of his truck. Quickly, he left the place where hope had started, yet finished in agony.

  * * * *

  Cato slung the suitcase under his arm and gripped it tightly to his side. The clasps were broken and he didn’t want her delicate items to touch the ground. He grabbed the phone handset by the dangling cord and started up the front steps of Seekers. Petrus swung the door wide and started laughing. Cato stopped on the bottom step and stared at him.

  “What the hell’s so funny?” He frowned when Petrus shook his head and pointed to the ground.

  “Looks like you picked up a friend, amici.”

  Cato glanced down, eyes widening in surprise. “Well, I’ll be damned. Donk!”

  He received an answering meow as the black cat sat next to his boot and looked up. “Where the hell did you come from?”

  Petrus grinned and pointed to his truck. “It jumped from the bed as soon as you turned your back. You know this creature? Why did you call it a donk? I’m positive that’s a cat.”

  Nodding, Cato transferred the phone cord to his other hand and scooped the surprisingly tranquil animal up into the crook of his arm. It immediately started purring and twitching its tail from side to side.

  “Yeah. We’ve met before. His name’s Donk. Last I saw of him, he was giving a blonde a hard time and I figured he’d be behind bars by now. Guess he escaped and hitched a ride.”

  Petrus held the door open as Cato walked through and deposited the suitcase and phone on his work table. “Well, I guess you have a pet. He seems to like you.”

  Shaking his head, Cato walked back to the door and set Donk outside. “Hell no! I don’t have time for a pet. He needs to find his way home.” As soon as the door closed, Donk started screeching and leaping against the door.

  “Son of a bitch! I remember that sound.” Opening the door, he and Petrus laughed when Donk immediately quieted and walked regally into the room. He held his tail high, lethargically rubbed his face against Cato’s leg, and started investigating his surroundings.

  “You damn faker. Enjoy it while you can. I won’t fall for that one again.”

  Petrus gestured to the suitcase. “What’ve you got there?”

  Cato backed out of the closet he’d been rummaging through and returned to the desk. “It’s hers. I found it by a dumpster. The clasps are broken, so I can assume her attacker went through it. I didn’t find a purse.” He held up the handset by the cord.

  “We’re going to check this and the suitcase for prints.” Cato wrapped black cords around the luggage while motioning with his chin to a wall cabinet. “Get my kit out. Start on the phone and I’ll do the case.”

  Petrus pulled his hair back and bound it with a leather tie. “I better get this out of the way. Last time I helped you, it took three washes to get that sticky shit out.”

  Cato chuckled and moved down the work table to give Petrus room to set up. “I don’t know how you tolerate hair down to your ass. I’d be sitting on it all the time or catching it in a door.”

  Petrus glanced up and grinned. “The women love my hair. I can live with the pain. At least I won’t put their eyes out.”

  “Bite me. Now get to work.” Cato gestured with his elbow. “No. Use the bigger brush. Saturate it. Yeah. That’s good. Hand me the smaller one. Thanks.”

  They worked silently for several minutes before Petrus spoke up. “Either I’m doing this wrong or the prints have degraded. There’s nothing on here.”

  Cato sighed and nodded. “No, you’re doing it right. I don’t have anything either. They’ve been wiped down. At least hers should have been on there. Damn it!” Cato slammed his palms down on the desk and lowered his head. “I don’t know who she is, no idea where she lived, so I can beat her boyfriend’s ass, and no clue who attacked her. I’ve never felt more helpless in my life, Petrus.”

  Petrus set the fingerprint brush aside and leaned back against the wall. “Look through her suitcase. Maybe there’s something there that might help.”

  Cato shook his head. “She’s already been violated enough. I just couldn’t bring myself to look inside.”

  Petrus gripped Cato’s shoulder and squeezed. “I don’t think she’d m
ind. You’re not the one that hurt her. You just want to help.”

  Cato jumped back when a streak of black zipped by his head and landed on the desk. He gaped at the incensed feline arching his back and hissing at an amused Petrus.

  Petrus’s laughter filled the room. “Look at that, will you? It acts like a damn Lemarok. He’s very protective of you. Whoa! Amici! Sit down. Your face is pale and you’re sweating.”

  Cato staggered backward and ass-planted in his chair. He closed his eyes and took several deep breaths. “Shit! Make the room stop spinning, my friend.” He felt something cold against his palm and Petrus’s concerned words.

  “It’s water. Drink. When was the last time you ate something?”

  Cato gulped the cool water then opened his eyes. Relieved at being off the Tilt-A-Whirl from hell, he blinked several times then focused on Petrus.

  “I can’t remember.” He winced at the responding snarl of disapproval.

  “I’ll be right back. Finish your water and don’t move, you damn idiot.”

  Chuckling, Cato tilted his head back against the cracked leather and saluted his friend.

  “Yes, sir. Wasn’t planning on going anywhere.”

  Cato sat forward when he felt a tight grip on his shoulder. “Wha…” The enticing aroma of food wafted past his nose and he focused on the brown bag dangling in front of his face.

  “You fell asleep. Eat this. Turkey sandwich on sourdough. Your favorite.”

  Smiling, Cato accepted the bag and ate in silence as Petrus watched in concern.

  “When was the last time you fed?”

  Cato looked up in confusion, lifted his half-eaten sandwich for inspection, and grunted. “I thought that’s what I was doing. I forgot to thank you.” He glanced down, tore off a bit of meat, and threw it to Donk. “Remind me that I need to get some food for this nut.”