Dark Horse

by Jessica Gadziala

  "You cook?" she asked, the tone almost accusatory, like she didn't like that it didn't fit the image she had in her mind about him.

  "Not every night, but yeah, I know how to cook."

  "You wanted to cook for me?" she pressed, the tone a little heavy with something he wasn't exactly sure how to interpret.

  "Honey, you had what I assumed was a pretty fucking shitty day. I wanted to try to make it marginally better by fixing you something to eat. It's not a big deal. Now come over here so I can take care of that cut, then you can eat. And tell me what happened."

  It hasn't escaped him that he hadn't asked yet. His main concern wasn't getting facts, but making sure she was okay. There would be time for questions later. Espen wasn't like some harebrained, hysterical average civilian who needed to get it all out when it was still fresh, or else the memory would start to blur around the edges, the details get lost.

  She was trained, rational, and able to compartmentalize things to keep a clear head.

  There was time.

  "I can do it," she insisted as soon as he cracked open the first aid kit and grabbed the triple antibiotic.

  "I'm sure you can," he agreed as he slathered some of the cream on a Q-tip and raised his hand toward her face. "But this time, I am doing it."

  Then he did, trying to make sure he kept his giant hands gentle, knowing that sometimes it was easy to forget how rough his hands could be.

  "I'm not made of China," she said, her lips tipping up slightly as she looked up at him with the one open eye. "You don't have to be so gentle."

  He clasped two butterfly bandages to the deepest part of the cut, wondering if she would scar. He doubted she was vain enough to care, but he didn't like the idea of the memory of whatever happened to her this night being reflected at her anytime she looked at herself.

  "Maybe I like being soft with you, sweetheart," he said, trailing his finger down the top of her nose to the tip, feeling like it was the only truly safe spot on her face.

  "Maybe I don't mind soft," she admitted, her voice a few octaves lower than it usually was.

  His chest tightened, knowing that tone, knowing the heavy look to her one good eye. It was her softening toward him, something he had been waiting for, the in he needed to show her that they weren't a terrible idea after all.

  But the timing sucked.

  He couldn't go there.

  He had to be the good guy.

  Fucking goddamn it all.

  "Alright," he said, forcing himself to take a step back. "That should do. Here," he said, reaching behind her to snag the whiskey and the Advil. "Take these with this. You should be feeling somewhat better in a couple of minutes." He watched as she dropped the pills in her mouth and chased them with the drink. "Go pick a show or something. I'll bring the food over."

  "You're used to, ah, making yourself at home, huh?"

  He knew she was trying to backpedal, to put some space in between them, to use some snark to cover the fact that she admitted she wanted him to be sweet with her, something that went against the image she tried so hard to project.

  He didn't comment on that, figuring it was a surefire way to get in a snit, and wanting to avoid that.

  So he piled food on plates, grabbed what she did have in her fridge - two beers - and made his way over to the sectional where she was situated, flicking through channels without seeming to pay much attention. Eventually, she settled on some tattoo contest show that, as someone who had an incredible tattoo artist as a brother, and as someone who had a fair amount of ink himself, made him incredibly hard to please.

  "Alright," he said halfway through her food. "Tell me," he demanded, watching her profile, noticing she had chosen to sit with her good side to him, but even at the angle, he could see the hands around her throat.

  She tried to take a deep breath, ending up having a minor coughing fit, hugging her side that must have been sending off sparks of pain.

  "I was at the site," she started as soon as she could find her voice again. "I got this angry call from the owner earlier about some threats he was getting in the mail, so I had to be there."

  He felt a pang of guilt, realizing that while he was just bullshitting with family and hitting the road, she was getting her ass kicked because he wasn't there to back her up. He bit his tongue to keep from asking why she had gone alone, knowing that it wasn't a question he would have asked Xander, Ra, or Kane, so he couldn't ask her.

  "I was about ready to pack it in. I was soaked and miserable enough for one night. But then I saw someone. I followed, not realizing he wasn't alone, and the second guy got me."

  He took a breath, nodding, trying to choke down his anger. "Did you get a shot in?" he asked, knowing it was the same thing he would ask one of the others, even if they looked as busted as she did right then.

  "I think I busted a rib, but then he had my throat. He," she swallowed hard, wincing as she did, and he figured the numbness was wearing off, "had me off my feet by my throat," she admitted, making him realize how lucky she was to not have a crushed larynx, especially with how small she was. "He would have killed me," she went on, a calm certainty in her voice about it. "Even with my training, I wouldn't have been able to stop it. But then the first guy I followed in showed up, and told him it was time to go. He dropped me, and they ran off. That's it."

  Oh, that wasn't fucking it.

  That was far from fucking it.

  He was going to make sure this wasn't it, that the bastard responsible for hurting her paid, but she didn't need to know that. At least not until he made it happen. Because if she knew beforehand, she would want in. And in her current condition, that was not an option.

  "Did you catch enough for a sketch, or was it too dark?"

  "I definitely have enough for the big guy. The one who did this," she said, waving at her face. "The smaller one, I dunno. He was mostly in profile to me."

  "Well, when we get into work in the morning, we'll have Xander bring in his sketch guy. Maybe you can look through some mugshots of guys who match the description."

  "Busy work," she grumbled, handing Enzo her half-eaten plate to put on the table.

  "Important work, if we want to find them. And you need to keep planted on your ass for at least a day or two if you want those ribs to feel better sooner rather than later."

  "I can still get around," she objected, though there wasn't much conviction in her tone.

  "And that's good to get up and move to keep the lungs working right, but I am going to sic Kane on your ass to make sure you don't overdo it. You won't be earning any brownie points by trying to come out swinging, and dropping your stubborn ass in the hospital, Espen."

  Knowing she really didn't have a leg to stand on there, she took a swig of beer, repositioning a little lower on the cushions to ease the ache in her side.

  It was barely twenty minutes later when he felt her head press into his arm. He didn't have to look to know she was asleep. There was no way she would do something that unguarded if she were awake.

  He reached out, arm going around her slightly, fingers sifting through her hair for the better part of half an hour before he snapped out of his daze, and carefully shifted away, reaching for his phone in his pocket, and shooting out a text.

  Before he left, he cleaned up and put away the Chinese, washed the dishes, and, well, he totally fucking folded the clothes on the dining room table when he found drier sheets in the mix, indicating they were for sure clean. What could he say, he couldn't seem to help himself. Then he left her a note claiming he had to check to make sure his place hadn't been ransacked. Technically, that was true. He did need to check it, but he was leaving out the fact that he wasn't doing that.

  No.

  He was meeting up with the guys.

  And they were going to figure out how to handle shit.

  TEN

  Enzo

  It was barely five AM when they all shuffled inside Rhodes Investigations like a bunch of criminals.

&nbs
p; And, to be fair, most of them were criminals in one way or another.

  "I knew I should have pushed her to take Kane or Ra," Xander said, blaming himself even though they both knew that Espen would have thrown an epic shitfit if he really tried to push it.

  "From the sound of things, she has just as much training as the rest of your team, X," K said, shrugging his shoulders in his expensive, perfectly tailored suit. K was a lot of things. K was an ex-boxer who owned a boxing emporium. But that emporium was really just a source of income to do his real work in life; which was to help extricate, train, and disappear women in need. He was a worthy opponent in a fight. He was a fearsome protector of his women. He was a meticulous stickler for details. He was a good looking black man with a bald head, dark eyes, boxer build, and an impeccable dresser.

  "Yeah, I mean if she is Atien's daughter, she definitely can take care of herself," Gabe chimed in. Gabe had the rare distinction in the group of not being a criminal in any way shape or form. This was mostly due to the fact that as a bondsman and skip chaser; he had to stay on the right side of the law if he wanted to keep in good with the courts and law enforcement. Gabe was easy to dismiss if you went off looks alone. He was tall, but lean, with pretty boy good looks, and blond hair. He, like K, dressed well in charcoal slacks, and a black tailored button-up. Even at this ungodly hour of the morning.

  Gabe had been a street kid with Xander when they were younger, getting into a scuffle that somehow allowed them to form a seemingly lifelong friendship. And while Xander operated mostly in the gray or black areas of life, and Gabe stayed more toward the white and cream sections, they somehow made it work.

  Gabe, aside from Xander, was the only one of the guys who had had contact with Atien personally.

  Enzo had to force himself to keep his questions about him inside. Was he like Espen? Was he hard to warm up? Was he distant and guarded? Had he perhaps been too stern, making it hard for Espen to grow up and learn that men could do soft, that they could be a safe place to land, a solid shoulder to lean on?

  But those were not things he could ask them.

  Not only because it was the wrong time, but also because he had been warned off Espen by Xander from the jump, and he didn't need that drama right then.

  They had all just shuffled in, Xander's once stray employee slash sort of adoptive adult kid, now Gabe's protege, Brian, moved right to the coffee pot, seeming to understand the need to have it brewing.

  And it was all of one minute later when the door flew open, and in walked a woman.

  Well, no, walked wouldn't be correct.

  This woman carried herself with the same purposeful confidence as Espen, her near-black hair flowing around her shoulders. She was dressed simply in black jeans, a dark gray wifebeater, and black combat boots, somehow making the entire casual outfit undeniably sexy thanks to ample roundness to her hips, thighs, ass, and breasts. Her face was soft, yet angular, with a slightly pointed chin, high cheekbones, and almond-shaped dark eyes.

  "Really?" she asked, looking at the lot of them with raised brows. "Did you really think you would get away with doing some kind of job without me?" she asked, rolling her eyes. "After having nothing exciting happen for months? So, you're new," she observed, looking over Enzo in a way that said she could appreciate a good male specimen, but wasn't interested in the least.

  "Faith, Enzo. Enzo, Faith."

  He had done enough digging around, even asking Kenzi's new man Tig for details on the NYC crew so he could feel like part of the team, to know who Faith was.

  On the surface, she was a bartender at Lam, which was a known mafia front. But there were many deeper layers than that. For one, she was some badass Krav Maga instructor who volunteered her time at shelters for women and even after school programs for at-risk youths - mainly young women, or even gay or transgendered kids who were frequently targets of attacks.

  On top of all of that, however, there was also the other shit she did. The illegal shit. The shit that involved bones breaking and blood. See, Faith had a real problem with men who hurt women. And Faith was in the unique position where she had the abilities to do something about it. It wasn't often, but in select cases, she took justice into her own hands.

  It was, all said and done, a ragtag group of do-gooders who maybe had to bend and break the law to get justice for those who needed it.

  And this time, who needed it was unwittingly laying asleep on her couch while they plotted it for her.

  "Well, where is she?" Faith asked, chin lifting. Like she knew. Like she was aware that they weren't involving her. And, what's more, she wasn't happy about it.

  "Asleep, nursing her bruised ribs, bruised throat, and swollen eye," Enzo supplied, not bothering to try to hide the truth. He had a feeling she was the kind of woman who would find it out anyway. And then throw that truth in his face.

  "Let me guess, she doesn't know you're assembling a makeshift superhero squad to solve her problems."

  "When you go bust some fucker's kneecaps in with a tire iron, sweetheart," Xander started, lips curving up when she small-eyed him at the endearment, "do you bring the women he battered along as well?"

  "Fair point," she conceded, shrugging. "So I heard this was in that new skyscraper monstrosity they are building."

  "Yeah," Xander agreed. "I punted a seemingly petty vandalism case happening there to E and Espen to cut their teeth on."

  "I had to head out of town for a family emergency," Enzo went on. "And Espen got a call from the CEO bitching about threats he got. She refused backup, and went in alone. She thought there was only one guy, so was caught off-guard from behind by another. She said she got a good look at the one who attacked her, but not the one she originally followed in. She's expecting to come in to have someone do a sketch tomorrow."

  "Alright," K said, dropping down at Espen's desk. "What have you guys dug up so far on this case?"

  "Honestly, not much," Enzo explained, shrugging. "I don't know if she has found out more since I was out of town, but so far, it seems like an environmental group has it out for the company building this monstrosity. Why, I don't know, since the city is already full of them. But I haven't gotten a chance to dig yet. Maybe they use shit that isn't sustainably sourced or some crap like that. Or they have the chance to use solar and don't. Or who the fuck knows what."

  "So we need to look into them to see if they have a violent history or not," Xander said as he sat down at his desk. "Plenty of environmental groups threaten shit, but couldn't kill a fruit fly in case of the impact on the world."

  "Has she told Atien yet?" Gabe asked, looking at Enzo.

  "I doubt that," he replied, shaking his head. "I think they aren't on speaking terms right now over her quitting and working here."

  "Big step down for daddy's girl," Xander agreed, voice matter of fact, devoid of any malice whatsoever at being seen as less than other agencies. He figured it was easy not to be offended when you had spent the majority of your career working out of a half-dilapidated building as your only employee, doing illegal shit left and right in the name of getting the job done.

  "Anyone know her password on this thing?" K asked, motioning to her computer.

  And he would swear that every set of eyes went to him right that second. Expectant.

  Like they figured he knew her better than anyone. Which was, well, an overestimation. If he were to choose someone in the office who likely knew her best, he would likely say Kane, who she was much more easy and open around. But Kane wasn't around, and he had been the one, after all, to drag them all out of bed because of her getting hurt, which meant he was with her at an indecent hour of the morning. Which meant they figured shit was going down. Even though he did explain in the call to Xander that he had just shown up because it was when he got in, and he wanted to see about the case.

  A lie?

  Yes.

  A necessary one?

  He thought so.

  "Fuck if I know."

  "Not her or her fat
her's name. Any other close relatives?"

  "Biyen?" Enzo suggested, that being the extent of his knowledge of her life, something he realized he needed to remedy as soon as possible.

  "Nope," K said, shrugging. "Glad she's too smart for that shit. Pets? Mother's maiden name? Interests? Anything?"

  "Dunno. She's got all this Native shit at her place. Rain dance pictures, headdresses, dreamcatchers..."

  "Hah," K said a minute later after his tapping stopped. A small smile pulled at his lips. "Interesting."

  "What is?" Gabe asked, flipping through the papers in a folder on her desk.

  "Her password. Very telling. And no," he said, giving the room a raised brow look, "I am not telling you fucks what it is. Though, I suspect you'll find out on your own eventually," he went on, looking at Enzo with a glance that seemed to relay a lot of depth, seemed to cover a lot of ground. He had an odd feeling that he and K were going to have words about it eventually, though whether that was pure paranoia or something else entirely was up for debate.

  "Alright, well what was she looking at all day yesterday?" Xander asked. "She barely got up from that desk."

  K clicked around for a second, brows somewhat knitted in concentration, and maybe a little confusion. "Construction materials?" he asked, looking between Enzo and Xander for an explanation.

  And Xander, in turn, looked at Enzo.

  "Fuck if I know. She didn't say shit to me about construction materials. Maybe she was just curious."

  She seemed like someone who did that kinda thing, got her interest piqued, then looked into shit. She struck him as someone who liked to know things, who liked being ahead of the game. Because, quite frankly, one of her biggest driving forces seemed to be the desire to come up on top, to win, to prove herself.

  Why? He wasn't sure.

  But it was yet another thing he planned to figure out about her.

  You know, as soon as they figured out who almost killed her.