by J. D. Sloane
Nolan licked his lips to hide his sneer of angry horror and shoved the picture away from him, rubbing his eyes below his glasses.
“I don’t want you near this,” he said, his voice low and rough as he reached for his glass.
“Dad, it’s not…”
“I’m serious, Jessie. Not when you’re released. Not at all. Do you understand me?”
“It’s not my call. Welsh is going to put every spare body on this. This is four murders in less than a week. If we don’t catch this guy, then you know better than anyone what that means…”
Nolan slammed his glass on the table hard enough to rattle it as his face struggled for calm.
“Goddamn it Jessie, this isn’t some random lunatic! I know this guy, all right? I know how he thinks. Now you need to tell Welsh to extend your suspension for a few days, just until he’s caught. Trust me, he’ll understand. And I want eyes on you at all times. All times. That’s not negotiable.”
Jessica blinked at him, her lips tightening with anger and then leaned over the table as she raised her brows, their expressions so similar that for a moment it was difficult to tell them apart.
“You want me to tell my boss that he needs to take two of his men off of the biggest manhunt this city has ever seen in order to babysit me? Is that it? Is that really what you’re asking me to do?”
Nolan shook his head and wiped his mouth with his napkin as his blue eyes hardened.
“I’m not asking, Jess. You either tell him to take you off this one, or I’ll do it for you. Don’t make me call in a favor here. If it were up to me you’d be in protective custody already.”
Jessica sat back against the booth as if she had been slapped and then reached into her purse, pulling out a twenty with shaking fingers as she tossed it into the center of the table.
“Thanks for lunch,” she said, snapping her purse strap over her shoulder as she slid to the edge of the booth. “I have to go. I have an appointment in the city.”
“Jess, you know I’m right about this,” Nolan said, his brow furrowing as Jessica stood up and turned to leave. “You know what this guy is capable of. You’ve heard it. All of it. And trust me if White has some kind of a grudge list then you’re on it. Because of me, you’re on it…”
“And that’s why I can’t hide,” Jessica said, her soft throaty voice so calm and reasonable that if Nolan hadn’t known her any better he would sworn it was the voice of rationality itself.
Oh, but I do know you, don’t I? Nolan thought, starting to feel the soft curl of panic sour his stomach as Jessica shifted her body impatiently. And that’s not reason I’m seeing, it’s stubbornness. No use trying to call it anything else, my dear. I know that dance too well for comfort.
“That’s why I won’t hide. You never did. Just because you retired your post, doesn’t mean that the war ended, Dad. It’s still going on. Every day. And I’m not going to let some charismatic lunatic try to take over this city because I’m too busy looking out for myself to care.”
“You are purposely not acknowledging what I’m telling you, Jessica. This isn’t a game. If you force my hand I will do anything I have to do to try and keep you safe.”
“Do what you think you have to,” Jessica said. “That’s what you always do anyway, right? But you should know better than to ask me to bow out of something this important. You should know me better than that.”
“Jessica? Jessica!”
Nolan swore under his breath as Jessica disappeared down the hall to the rear parking lot, her blond head jerking with anger as she strode across the floor without looking back. He picked up his phone, his face struggling between worry and outrage and started to dial out quickly before swearing again and hitting redial. He typed in a quick message and then set the phone down on the table, rubbing his hands together as he waited for a response.
Jessica parked her car in the lot behind the apartment building and let her eyes run up the crumbling brick façade, the hairs on the back of her neck standing up as the sound of a firecracker echoed down the street behind her. She checked the address again, glancing over her shoulder at a group of teenagers who stood in front of the city’s now infamous Club Noir and then passed a cigarette between them, daring each other to cross the police tape.
Looks a lot different in the cold light of day, she thought, heading for the farthest building on the street as she checked the address again. You’d never guess in a million years that such a common little place once housed one of the most notorious underground sex clubs in the city. Or that the owners would be kind enough to keep such long and meticulous records on all their connected clientele.
She jogged up the steps to the entrance, stepping inside as a woman with two small children exited through the double doors and then scanned the mailboxes as she glanced up the narrow staircase.
A. Bower. H. Jones. D. Hurtz. D. Gonzales.
Jessica paused as she came to a carefully labeled name in the middle of the group, the script faint and faded with age.
C. Hernandez. Number 39. And on the top floor from the looks of it.
Jessica turned, reading the numbers on the short row of apartments to her left and then headed up the stairs, continuing up to the third floor without pause when she came to the landing. She walked down the scuffed tile hall, the narrow greenish-blue walls giving her a brief bout of claustrophobia and then paused as she came up to a cheerful black door with a wooden ‘Welcome!’ sign hanging above the peephole, the old-fashioned thirty-nine partially obscured by its colorful banner of flowers.
Jessica knocked on the door, thinking of her father with a knee jerk rush of annoyance and then straightened her shoulders as the door cracked open, her face dropping into professional lines.
“Yes? Can I help you?”
Jessica held up her badge as she recognized the face of the young woman from the night before and tilted her head slightly as she glanced inside.
“Miss Hernandez? We met the other night. Is your mother at home?”
The girl behind the door looked up at her and then darted her eyes down the hall before blinking at her rapidly.
“Miss Hernandez, I know you’re reluctant to speak to me,” Jessica said, dropping her arm as she followed her gaze back towards the stairwell. “And I understand that, I do. But your mother contacted me this morning. Is she here?”
The girl nodded, licking her bottom lip before shifting her hand on the lock.
“In the back,” she said, dropping the chain from the door as she opened it wider. Jessica raised her brows as the girl stepped aside and tried to give her a reassuring smile as the girl locked the door behind her.
“Well thank you for letting me in,” Jessica said, glancing around the small, cheerful looking apartment as the girl stepped back against the wall. “I’ll be honest. I was surprised to get your mother’s call. Usually all those leads are directed right to the detectives working the case…”
“Well that doesn’t seem fair, does it?” A low, gravelly voice said behind her, the edges of his sentence curling with humor as she felt her stomach drop like lead. “To do all the boring footwork of a job while someone else steals all the glory?”
Jessica turned instantly, her hand dropping to her holster and then froze as she heard Celia’s daughter scream behind her, the unmistakable chill of cool steel shoved into the side of her throat. She turned her eyes towards the gunman, trying to meet his gaze and then felt all the air leave her lungs at once as Ronan White stood up from the armchair in the corner of the room, his pale, scarred face twitching with a mix of friendly amusement and a deep cheerful rush of rage.
“Jessica, isn’t it?” He asked, moving towards her so quickly that she flinched, her teeth slamming together as the gunman shoved the muzzle of his gun deeper into her neck.
“It is,” she said, her eyes sweeping around the room carefully as Ronan stepped in front of her, his wide eyes passing over her body with a pointed kind of int
erest.
“And what’s my name?” He asked, his lips curling into a slight smile as she noticed two other men enter the room behind him.
“You’re Ronan White,” Jessica said, trying to keep her voice steady as he raised his brows at her. “My father put you away a year ago. For murdering your girlfriend. Brooke.”
Ronan froze, his face shifting with quick tide of anger and then buried it as he leaned over her, his expression once more politely disinterested. He held his finger up to her lips as he looked down at her holster and rolled his jaw slightly as he took out her hand gun.
“Allegedly,” he said, turning his head as he glanced at her out of the corner of his eye. “That’s a term you cops should learn how to use in a sentence.”
Jessica let out a ragged sigh as Ronan handed the gun to one of the men behind him and he saw that one of them was holding what looked like a set of handcuffs, spinning them around one finger slowly as Ronan followed her gaze. Her entire body stiffened as she felt the gunman behind her shove her forward and swallowed hard as Ronan pulled out a knife, snapping it open carelessly as his eyes shifted between her lips and her throat.
“Feel like telling me where the rest of them are at?” Ronan asked, his voice low and caressing as he cocked his head to one side. “Or would you rather I just go looking for them myself?”
A low noise of fear escaped her lips as Ronan passed his blade down the front of her uniform and she threw her arm up and shoved the muzzle away from her neck, her entire body coiling wildly as she turned and punched the man behind her in the throat. She heard the man scream through gritted teeth as she dove for her gun and then felt her neck snap backwards as something dropped around her throat, her fingers trying to find purchase frantically as she skidded to the rug.
“Oh, you really are Daddy’s little girl, aren’t you?” Ronan asked, his voice so low and malicious she could barely make sense of it. She heard him whistle lightly as he slammed her body to the floor like a ragdoll and then shoved her onto her back, crouching over her on all fours as he yanked the loop tighter.
Jessica’s eyes widened as she saw that it was some kind of a nylon cord he was holding and threw her arm towards the tight line of the slack as Ronan pulled away from her, jerking her body forward as she felt someone grab her wrists.
“I like that,” Ronan said, eating up the slack with a quick turn of his wrist as his long hair grazed her lips. “I do. It’s going to make this evening so much more fun.”
Jessica tried to gasp as her head swam from red to black and tried to shake her wrists loose as she felt Ronan tear his blade through the front of her shirt, the rising howls from the men around her so surreal that she had the strange, calming hope that the entire thing was just some kind of a terrible dream. One that she was going to wake up from any minute now. Any minute now. Any minute at all…
She gasped suddenly as she felt the belt leave her neck and felt her lungs burst back to life, clawing the floor behind her as she realized that her wrists were cuffed together, the short tether of chain between them held against the floor by what felt like someone’s foot. She looked up as she felt Ronan dig his fingers into her jaw and blinked up at him as ran his blade beneath her thin lace bra, cutting through the strap with a smooth tug of his wrist.
“There,” Ronan said, his dark eyes spinning above her like careening carnival lights as he reached for the zipper of her pants. “Now isn’t that more comfortable?”
Jessica started to scream as she felt Ronan unzip her pants and kicked at him wildly as his face twitched with annoyance, twisting his knee into her thigh with a sudden, brutal shove.
“No, no, no,” Ronan said leaning towards her the slack of the cord tightening around her neck with a low hiss. “They’ll be plenty of time for that later. No use wearing yourself out before the party even gets started. You may want to pace yourself, Jessie. I get the feeling it’s going to be a very long night for you. Just a hunch.”
Jessica closed her eyes as she felt Ronan yank her pants off roughly, snapping his hand around her ankle as she tried to wrench away from him. He tightened his grip as one his crewmen shoved a camera in her face and then looked over her with lowered eyes as she cringed away from him, waving the camera off lightly he brushed her hair away from her face.
“You really are a beautiful girl, Jessica,” he said, something low and unhealthy pulsing through his voice as he looked her over from head to toe. “I mean that. I bet before tonight your father thought of you as the one and only truly pure thing in his life. Fathers are funny that way, aren’t they? They never get used to the idea of seeing their little girls grow up right in front of them.”
He leaned closer, his long blond hair brushing against her lips and she felt a confused rush of panic as she realized how handsome he was, the sheer pulsing madness of his hatred for her twisted in on itself so completely it almost passed for magnetism.
“What do you think that’s about, hmm? Protectiveness? Tribal instinct? Simple, selfish jealousy, maybe?”
Ronan tilted his head at her, his lips twitching with a moment of malicious amusement as he brushed his lips against her ear.
“I know what my money’s on. Especially with a daughter like you. But then again, maybe I’m wrong. First time for everything.”
Jessica gasped as she felt a dark hood come down over her head and then flinched wildly as she heard two shots ring out in the apartment, a cold line of sweat running down her back as she heard something slump to the floor.
“Take care of the other one,” Ronan said as she felt a sharp stab in the side of one arm. “But no time for the usual calling cards. We’re late already. And I really hate to keep our guest of honor waiting for his number one girl.”
Chapter Twelve
“Someone wake him up.”
Nolan heard the voice as if it was echoing down to him from the top of very deep well, the last two words dissolving into meaningless garble before they could reach him. He tried to open his eyes, his lids so heavy it was if they were covered in tree sap and felt the ground crumble beneath him as he slid lower, the random connection of trees leading him into a room filled with ivy, constricting him across the chest until he could barely take a breath.
Nolan licked his lips, looking upwards as the light from the top of the well grew dimmer and then opened his eyes as Brooke looked down at him from darkness, her naked body covered in a wild labyrinth of vines and roses.
She’s trapped, he thought, his pulse climbing higher as he saw that her wrists were bound and that the vines seem to be choking the life out of her, reaching around her body like a swarm of hungry snakes. She’s trapped down here. I have to get her out. We have to find a way out…
He opened his fist as he saw the vines carry Brooke higher and then shook his head violently as he felt a spray of cold liquid hit his face, his blue eyes snapping open with a disoriented pop.
“What?” He said, his voice coming from so far away that he tried to clear his throat, turning his head from side to side as he struggled to make sense of the room around him. “Where? Where are we?”
“Don’t recognize it? I’ll be honest, Nolan, that hurts a little. How soon we all forget.”
Nolan felt a thrill of pure animal fear course through his body and looked up quickly as his eyes went wide, the last hazy vestiges of sleep disappearing from his expression like a cloud of smoke.
Oh no, he thought, yanking his hands sharply as his face pulled into a grimace of pain. No, no, no, no, no. This isn’t happening. This can’t be happening….
Nolan grit his teeth as Ronan stared at him from the wooden chair across from him and then tapped his lips lightly for a moment, those swirling dark eyes of his leaping with such malicious good humor that he flinched.
“Hello, Chief,” Ronan said, his low, gravelly voice thick with laughter as turned his head and then looked back slowly, his handsome, ruined face splitting into a sudden, unpleasant grin. “Long time no
see. I’d ask if I’d been missed but your expression says it all.”
Nolan darted his eyes around rapidly as he saw one of Ronan’s crewmembers, a man he knew only by the name Jaxson paced around him in a wide arc, watching him curiously as he shifted his rifle across his chest.
“Oh,” Ronan said, standing up and swinging the chair behind him, his expression almost gracious as he inclined his head in Jaxson’s direction. “Where are my manners? You remember my old friend Jaxson, don’t you? He definitely remembers you. Say hello Jaxson.”
“Hello Chief,” Jaxson said, his impassive face barely shifting as he nodded in Nolan’s direction. “Long time.”
Nolan yanked his wrists again, starting to sweat as he realized that he was tied tightly to a metal chair of some sort that they seemed to be in some kind of abandoned apartment, the tastefully painted scrollwork along the ceiling leading him to believe that they were in an older part of town. He glanced over his shoulder as he felt a cold breeze whisper across his neck and narrowed his eyes as he realized that there was a panorama of windows behind them, a wide stone balcony looking out over the nighttime city below.
“Still don’t remember it?” Ronan said tilting his head down to meet him as Nolan shook his head once, his face shifting rapidly between fear and anger.
“Should I?” He asked stiffly.
Ronan’s face twitched with irritation and he walked over to Nolan’s chair, looking down at him as his dark eyes danced.
“Maybe not. I blame myself really. I was never much for company.”
Nolan blinked once and then glanced around the apartment wildly for a moment, his stomach dropping as Ronan raised his brows and shrugged.