No Chance in Hell

by Jerrie Alexander

  “You should have stopped me.” Panic had moved into the driver’s seat, allowing his imagination to run wild.

  “Stop you? I wasn’t about to interrupt you. I thought we’d do her together, but you were out of control. My biggest disappointment was I didn’t get to fuck her.”

  “What? We never sexually touched any of those whores.”

  “People change. I discovered many ways to use sex as a punishment. You should try it.”

  “The very idea is repulsive.”

  “You don’t know what you’re missing. Taking them by force is almost as much fun as killing them. I never thought of you as gay, but if you are, you should have said something. I don’t care one way or the other.”

  Darkness circled DaVinci. He gripped the top of the breakfast bar as his vision faded until he saw only a faint light. Memories of his youth pulled him toward madness. Images of being held down and violated flipped through his brain in slide-show fashion. The pain of being beaten into submission and forced to do unspeakable things sent scalding hot tears flowing down his cheeks. He stopped himself right before he slipped into the abyss.

  “Hello? Did we get disconnected?”

  “I’m here.” He found it difficult to speak. The question had almost silenced him. In all their time together, sexual orientation had never come up. In fact, he’d been leery of Michelangelo when they’d first met. More men than women had hit on him when he’d lived on the streets. That he’d had to submit to them to have money to eat still made him sick to his stomach. “No. I’m not gay. But never in a million years would I have sex with one of those filthy creatures.”

  “Well,” Michelangelo said with a chuckle. “That explains why you flipped out on me when I suggested we get naked and have a three-way. You kicked her to the floor and started pounding with your fists. If I hadn’t given you my knife, you’d have beaten her to death.”

  “You should have stopped me.” DaVinci stared at the proof. His knuckles, part of his most-precious hands, looked as if he’d put them through a meat grinder.

  “I see no need for you to be upset.” Michelangelo hissed out the words. “I guess you don’t want to hear that you referred to the whore as Christine while you were pummeling her face.”

  “No,” he moaned.

  “Oh, yes. Her mother wouldn’t recognize her.”

  “We are so fucked. My DNA is everywhere on her. What if somebody spotted me walking into this building with bloody hands?” He was screeching, out of control, and completely unable to calm himself.

  “Now you’re insulting me. I took care of everything before we left. Unfortunately, I didn’t think to take a picture before I put her on the bed and set fire to the mattress. And it was late when we got to your place. Nobody saw you.”

  “What about the security cameras?”

  “I’ve taken care of that. They were out of commission for a few hours last night.”

  “You paid somebody, but that person saw the tapes.”

  “And he’s dead.”

  A chill raced across DaVinci’s back. Just how many people did Michelangelo have on his payroll? “This could ruin everything.” He shouldn’t have called Christine yesterday. Shouldn’t have let that private detective get under his skin. Shouldn’t have made the second call... DaVinci dropped his head in his hands. Had he? Or had he dreamed it?

  “I just told you, we have nothing to worry about. I have an appointment in Fort Worth, but we’ll meet later today. Over coffee,” he said, with an emphasis on the word coffee.

  “Fine.” DaVinci had no argument left in him. All he wanted to do was crawl back to bed and forget how stupid he’d been last night.

  “I have people on my payroll who, for a price, will do anything I ask. You and I will work out an acceptable plan that allows you to deal with your Christine. Whatever you have planned, forget it. I have the perfect place for you to take her.”

  “Fine. But first I’ve got to destroy these clothes.”

  “Cut them to shreds, soak them in bleach, and then pack them in small trash bags. Casually toss them in dozens of dumpsters. Hit the far corners of the city. Oh, remove the buttons.”

  “Dallas is a big town. Maybe I’ll burn them.”

  Michelangelo’s sigh was audible even over the phone. “And where will you do that without drawing attention? Pull yourself together. More than your feelings are at stake here. You fuck up, and we’ll be on death row together.”

  “I need sleep. Food and water. Maybe then I can think better.”

  “Then go to bed. I’ll call you when I get back from Fort Worth.”

  DaVinci stayed on the floor, propped against the wall. He hadn’t told his mentor about the call to the detective agency. Had he dreamed leaving Christine a message? Had he revealed too much?

  Chapter 17

  During the drive back to the office, Marcus fished around in his head for something to say to Chris. She was confused. Hell, he was confused as to where their relationship was going or if it would go anywhere. Regardless, he felt compelled to salvage the situation. Try as he might, the right words just would not come. Crap, he hadn’t been this tongue-tied in grade school.

  Truth was, he’d taken advantage of her at a vulnerable point in her life. For the life of him, he couldn’t make himself feel bad about it. She’d felt right in his arms, and he’d felt right inside her body. That in itself was a miracle. It had been years since sex had meant more than just release.

  None of those thoughts could be shared with her.

  So he refocused on her stalker. He asked for more information about her past, and she answered questions without hesitation. She’d lived a fairly reserved life. No bad or nasty breakups that might have left some guy wanting revenge. That fact didn’t surprise him. Chris had been through hell, yet she was a warm, caring person. Being abandoned by her birth mother must have really hurt.

  Someday she’d find a nice guy, marry, and devote her life to making sure her kids felt loved. For some reason, that thought was unsettling.

  So far, she hadn’t remembered anything that established a link to her stalker or her sister’s killer. They’d keep digging. The reason was there. He just had to find it. Soon.

  He drove into the parking lot at Lost and Found, stopping a few slots behind the charred area on the concrete that showed where his car had burned.

  “I’m sorry.” Chris sighed and shook her head. “I’ve told you that a lot in the past few days.”

  “The car can be replaced. I don’t want you to worry about it.” He did his best to sound reassuring, although he didn’t think she’d buy in. “Stop saying it. Okay?”

  “But you’ve lost so much because of me. Someday you’ll resent me for it.”

  “Never happen.”

  “I hope not but wouldn’t blame you.”

  He linked her fingers with his. The warmth of her touch and the cold, barren parking spot where his car had been parked sent a revelation to his heart that stunned him. Now if he could verbalize his feelings without sounding like a fool.

  “You made me realize that things mean nothing. It’s the people in your life, the ones you truly care about, they’re what’s important.” A small smile and a sparkle in her eyes said she understood. He’d hung on to the past way too long.

  “Thank you for telling me.”

  A hand pecked on the windshield, drawing his attention, and Kay’s face appeared. Chris laughed a tight, nervous chuckle. “We have company.”

  “You guys coming in?” Kay asked. “I have a surprise.”

  Chris released his hand so fast his skin chilled without her touch. He’d probably said too much, which, until he’d met her, was out of character for him. He’d just have to ride this out with her and see where it went. If after the case ended, she returned to her old life, so be it. For now, he’d concentrate on keeping that sparkle in her eyes.

  Marcus and Chris joined Kay, whose face was glowing like a kid with a gift card in a toy store. She linked her arms w
ith theirs, wedging herself between them.

  “You gonna tell us?” Marcus asked.

  “Not yet.” Kay smiled up at him. “I’m going next door to pick up sandwiches. Be right back.”

  Nate waited at the door. Marcus met him with an arched eyebrow. “Thanks for coming back last night and dealing with the cops and firefighters.”

  “I like having you owe me.” Nate clapped his hand on Marcus’s back. “You still have to call your insurance agent and go by the police station to fill out some paperwork.”

  Marcus looked around for Diablo. He was usually the first to greet him. “I’ll do that later. Where’s my dog?”

  “Come on. My surprise is playing with him,” Kay said, motioning for them to follow. Chris and Marcus followed.

  The hair on the back of Marcus’s neck stood up. The words sientate and perro bueno sent him barreling around the corner.

  “Stop speaking Spanish to him,” Marcus snapped.

  Holly turned her head to face him.

  “Diablo. Come. Heel,” Marcus commanded, standing rigid until the dog obeyed. He leaned down and ruffled the animal’s scruff. “Good boy.”

  “What did I do wrong?” Holly’s mouth hung open, her eyes wide as she sat on the floor. “I told him to sit and then said good boy.”

  Instantly, Marcus felt like a dick for snapping at her. “I’m sorry. Just do me a favor. Only speak English to him. Forgive me?” He opened his arms, and she hurried into a hug.

  “Always.” As always, Holly was quick to forgive.

  Chris caught his gaze then shifted from him to Holly. “You must be Holly Hoffman.”

  “And you’re Chris Holland.” Holly disengaged from him and shook Chris’s hand.

  “I’ve heard good things about you,” Chris said.

  “You can’t believe everything Marcus tells you.” Holly looked up at him. “Why is he an English-only dog? If he grew up in Colombia, it stands to reason he’d know the language.”

  “He was trained to respond to Spanish commands. The problem is that his specialty was to attack and kill. I’ve worked hard to make him forget those lessons.”

  “I’m sorry. I only said a couple of words to him.” Holly held her hand out and let Diablo lick her fingers. “He’s a beautiful dog.”

  “He really loves you women.” Diablo wasn’t a natural-born killer. He’d been trained to react to a command. Marcus would not let him down. He’d work until the last remnant of Colombia was gone from his memory. Diablo could never be allowed to revert.

  Marcus wanted to hear the phone message from the killer before they played it for Chris. Instead, to keep from hurting Holly’s feelings again, he stayed for a while. Not that anyone would’ve noticed him leaving. She chatted easily with Chris, telling her how Kay referred to Nate, Ty, Marcus, and Jake as her men or the Wolfe’s Pack.

  As Holly talked, Marcus caught a glimpse of the quick-witted and sharp-tongued woman who never used to let her diminutive stature slow her down. He was seeing signs that the old Holly was returning. One day soon, maybe, she’d shed the short brown pixie hairstyle and revert to her more flamboyant look of the past. She’d been such an original, always coordinating her outfit with a matching streak of color.

  “Let’s talk,” he said to Nate, giving Diablo the hand signal to follow. Marcus stopped at his desk, grabbed the briefcase with the FBI files, and joined Nate in the conference room.

  Nate closed the door behind them, turned a chair around backward, and then sat. Marcus walked to the opposite side of the table, motioning for the dog to follow.

  “Down.” When his command was followed, he added, “Stay.” He patted Diablo on the head. “Good dog.” Marcus pulled the desk phone to the center of the table. “You listened to the entire message last night?”

  “Yeah. The bastard rambled on about how important promises were no matter how old you were. He repeated himself. Emphasizing that even if you were a kid you never broke your word.”

  “I have no doubt the son of a bitch is crazy. He’s talking about kid promises. He proved my theory. He’s someone from Chris’s past.”

  “A vendetta or payback.”

  “Yeah,” Marcus said. “If you’re like me, you’re thinking the fact her entire family is dead is worth looking at. We should look at the cause of death for her birth mother and her adopted parents’ deaths. Were they accidents or natural causes? What if the killer has been working his way through relatives on his way to Chris for years?”

  Nate’s expression gave nothing away. Whether he agreed or not Marcus had to press forward. He opened the case and removed the files. “Dalton offered to help,” Marcus said. “With his connections, he can get details on Chris’s family.”

  Nate nodded. “We can’t forget the other victims.”

  “I want to pursue my two-killer theory. Chris walked in during our phone call, and I couldn’t continue.”

  “I figured,” Nate said.

  “We can start with the medical examiners’ reports. Some of the women had been raped. But not the blondes.”

  Nate scanned the files for a few minutes. “You’re right so far. None of the blondes showed signs of penetration, while the other women had evidence of violent vaginal abuse.”

  “More reason to think I’m right about two different killers.”

  Nate nodded. “I don’t disagree. In fact, you may have hit on something big.”

  “We’ll have to convince Dalton.”

  “I don’t think that will be hard to do.” Nate leaned back in his chair. “Two men working together but separate.”

  “We’ll have the answer when we figure out why the killer didn’t have sex with the blondes before he killed them.” Marcus kept an eye out for Chris. All he had was speculation. For now, he’d wait until he had better news to tell her.

  “This is a major break,” Nate said. “Odd how the rape angle went unnoticed.”

  Marcus was pleased Nate agreed, but he wanted to hear the killer’s message before Chris joined them. “Let’s listen to last night’s voice mail.”

  Nate punched in a number. For the next few minutes, they listened to a male voice ramble. His words were slurred, and often, he couldn’t be understood. The gist of the message was clear. It was time for Chris to die. That no matter how old you were, promises had to be kept. Then a couple of words were too garbled to understand. Those two words had been followed by a maniacal laugh. Followed by a drunken belch.

  Nate played the message a couple of times. Marcus jotted down any intelligible words. Movement caught his eye a second before Chris tapped on the glass door. Her eyebrows rose, questioning if she could join them.

  He nodded but spoke to Nate. “She doesn’t need to hear this crazy motherfucker puke up his threats.”

  Nate clicked off the machine.

  Chris opened the door but didn’t enter. “Kay’s back with sandwiches. If you’re ready to eat, we’ll bring them in.”

  “Oh, hell yes,” Nate said, scooping the files up and placing them back in the briefcase. “I’m starving.”

  Diablo’s head had been resting on Marcus’s foot. The minute food was brought in, the dog lifted his head and sniffed the air. Marcus leaned down and rubbed his ears. “I’m guessing he’s not interested in a bowl of dog food.”

  “Of course he’s not.” Kay put a couple of sacks on the table. “I bought him a turkey on white bread, no lettuce or tomatoes.”

  Marcus groaned. “It’s going to take me forever to wean him off human food.”

  Chris set four bottles of water on the table, joining Kay, who’d sat opposite him.

  “Where’s Holly?” Nate asked.

  “She had to get to work by one,” Kay said. “I think she really came by to check on news about Jake.”

  Nate stopped salting his sub. “I’m not sure her getting involved with him is such a good idea.”

  “It’s not like we have a say one way or the other,” Marcus said, unwrapping Diablo’s sandwich. “Think she’s
serious about a nursing career?”

  “Yeah, I do. She sounded enthusiastic.” Kay opened her husband’s bottle of water and passed it to him.

  Marcus held the sandwich down for Diablo. “Here you go, boy.” The dog clamped down on the food without touching Marcus’s fingers. Brown eyes never left his master’s face. Marcus knew what he wanted. “It’s okay.”

  Chris smiled as the dog padded out of sight and into a corner in the back. “Is your friend Jake coming home soon?”

  “He’s scheduled to be dismissed from the hospital in a couple of weeks. He had to square things with the military and the law.” Kay went into detail for Chris, explaining the surgery had been a life-or-death event and that Jake had lost a chunk of his memory. “It’s possible he’ll regain the missing pieces. Nobody can say for sure.”

  “Otherwise, he’s back to his old self?” Chris asked.

  “He’s older than his years, battle-worn, but inside, he’s still one of us,” Kay said with a proud tinge to her tone.

  “The friend you mentioned last night?” Chris glanced at Marcus, who smiled and nodded.

  “You got Marcus to open up enough to talk about the past?” Kay’s eyes lit up.

  Marcus’s shoulder muscles tightened. He narrowed his eyes and glared at her, trying to warn her off. If she got the message not to play matchmaker, it didn’t show in her expression.

  “I wouldn’t say he opened up.” Chris shifted in her chair uncomfortably. “More like I pestered it out of him.”

  Nate cleared his throat. “Let’s work through lunch. Okay?”

  Kay grinned at her husband. “Y’all do that. I’ll take my lunch to my desk.”

  “You don’t have to leave,” Marcus said.

  “But I do. You two need a safe place to stay tonight.”

  “No more fancy hotels. Find somewhere that’s isolated and easy to defend.”

  “You got it.” Kay stopped in the doorway and gave Marcus a thumbs-up.

  “Wait,” Chris said. “How long can we keep this up?”

  “Until you’re safe,” Nate said. “Right, Marcus?”

  “Yep.” Marcus had to try to talk Chris out of listening to the recording. “Before you listen to the phone message, I think I figured out some things that were missed.”