Wilding Nights

by Lee Killough

  After years of hearing that click sequence during night patrols, at first thinking it was cop radio laughter, except it rarely related to anything humorous happening, Zane realized it had to be a signal of some kind. He could never figure out who sent it, though, or what it meant. Now he suspected the who. Only the meaning eluded him.

  His cell phone chimed.

  “This is Mike Wypyski, one of the bartenders at the Armadillo Brewing Company. That blonde you’re looking for? She’s in here.”

  The icy fire of adrenaline blasted Zane. The micro-brewery sat just up the block. He started to reach for his mike button, then decided to keep the communication more private, and used his phone instead to call Allison. “Blondie might be in the Armadillo Brewing Company.”

  Golden blinked.

  Allison’s voice came back razor edged with tension. “What’s your information source?”

  “The bartender called me. To make sure it’s Blondie, I was thinking of bringing one of the Five To Midnight waitresses down to for a quiet look.”

  “No! Don’t risk that. Send Gary in. If he identifies her--”

  “How can--” He broke off. Obviously she expected Golden to know their suspect by sight. So Blondie must be a family member, and Makepeace was not the only one lying for her/him!

  “If he identifies her,” Allison repeated, “call me. Call for members of the stakeout to watch the back and everyone stay outside until I arrive.”

  Visions of armed officers trying to surround Blondie amid a bar full of customers rose in Zane’s head. He shuddered. “We need to think of a way to get her outside away from everyone else before we take her down.”

  “We will...but let’s identify her first.”

  Could Golden be relied on to do that?

  He dropped the phone in his coat pocket. “She wants the two of us to go in and confirm it’s Blondie. Interesting that she expects you to know him.”

  Golden went taut, current hissing around him.

  Caught by surprise and unable to come with an explanation? Zane eyed him in exasperation. “Why don’t you give it up, Golden! Admit you know who Blondie is. It’s obvious he’s a member of the family. I just don’t understand why you’re all trying to protect--”

  “You don’t understand jack shit!” Golden leaned down and patted his left ankle. Checking the gun in his ankle holster.

  “Suppose you explain, then.”

  Golden straightened. “Your life isn’t long enough. Let’s go see the bitch.” He strode toward the Armadillo sign.

  “Bitch?” Zane said.

  Golden glanced back. “Bitch, bastard, alien from Mars. What’s the fucking difference.” At the door of the micro brewery he stopped, closed his eyes, and took deep breaths. “If you’re going in with me, better calm yourself down. Sweating adrenaline will blow us.” His lips went on moving, but without sound.

  Zane suddenly realized Golden’s tension came not from anger but fear. He became aware of his own hammering pulse. Following Golden’s lead he breathed deep and slow, willing himself to relax. They were just going to walk in, take a look, and leave...nothing to be excited about.

  He pushed open the door and strolled in.

  When he approached the bar, one of the bartenders hurried down to him. “I’m Wypyski. I dragged my feet filling her order to keep her at the bar. There she is at the far end.”

  The individual faced the other way but the height, build, and hair color looked right. Not the clothes, however...a ponytail, t-shirt cropped off above the waist, cowboy boots, and leather pants. But with all the publicity, Blondie could have decided to change working clothes.

  Golden murmured, “I’ll walk past her. You draw her attention away from me. If I make her, I’ll keep going on out the back. You go out front and call Allison.” He ambled down the bar past the blonde.

  Zane followed, halting just behind her, as though reading the beer list. “Choices, choices. With all these beers, it’s really hard--” The rest of the words caught in his throat as a cloud of perfume he remembered from last night enveloped him.

  Rikki Goodnight looked around, grinning. “It is? Detective, you certainly know how to make a girl feel welcome.”

  Thought without definition caromed around in his brain. Rikki? Could she possibly be--

  “And Gary’s with you?” She turned and leaned her elbows back on the bar. The arch of her back emphasized that she wore nothing under her crop top. “This has to be the odd couple of the year.”

  Golden frowned. “What are you doing here, Rikki?”

  An eyebrow quirked. “Well it’s nice to see you, too.”

  “She isn’t the one. Let’s go.” He turned toward the door.

  “How do you know?” Zane said.

  Golden spun on him. “Because we’re looking for a Brit, remember? Rikki isn’t Blondie.”

  All the other officer’s tension and current had disappeared, Zane realized. But his own pulse slowed very little. It had to be that perfume though even repeated sniffs could not decide what it smelled like or what made it so incredibly alluring.

  Rikki glanced from one of them to the other. “You mean I was some kind of suspect? If I confess...” Her eyebrows wiggled. “...will you strip search me?”

  The room temperature shot up.

  Golden’s scowl deepened. “Rikki, cut that out. I thought all your family left for the ranch today.”

  She shrugged. “I had to work late. Now we’re having a drink and unwinding.” She waved toward a large table at the back of the room. “I’ll go up tomorrow.”

  Golden grimaced. “I can guess why you’re staying overnight. Someone needs to talk to Honora about your taste in men. Though I’ve heard she likes slumming, too.”

  Rikki bared her teeth. “I’d enjoy watching you discuss that with her.”

  Despite what the perfume was doing to his head--what was in it?--Zane recognized one of the faces at the table. “That’s Derek Prescott back there!” The star of the movie shooting on Lacabra. “Are you an actress?”

  “Actress!” Rikki hooted. “Why would I want to do anything so boring? I’m a stunt woman. Or I am when film crews shooting in this area need--are you catching cold?”

  Zane felt his ears heat. He thought he was being subtle about sniffing. “Ah...no. It’s just--well...your perfume.”

  They both blinked, then Rikki smiled. “You notice it? That’s interesting.”

  “We have work to do, Kerr,” Golden said. “Let’s go.”

  Annoyance broke through the effects of her perfume. “I have a few more questions for Miss Goodnight.”

  Golden hissed. “It’s a waste of time. I told you she isn’t Blondie. For starters, she’s female...or does she look like a drag queen to you?”

  Definitely not. Still...

  “Gary, he’s only doing his job,” Rikki said. “Let’s help him. Where do you want to start, Detective Kerr? With where I was Monday night? That was the first killing, right?” She looked straight into his eyes, all seductiveness gone.

  “Right.”

  “Then...follow me.” She led the way between the tables to the one she had pointed out earlier. “Guys,” she said to the group, “this is Detective Kerr and my cousin Officer Golden. Derek there will be devastated if he needs an introduction but the rest of us are some of those crucial little cogs you’ve never heard of because you probably leave the theater without reading the credits. That’s Jeremiah, Gayle, Sid, and Andy. Jeremiah is the film’s stunt coordinator. All those explosions and car chases in Derek’s movies? Jeremiah’s usually responsible and has the scars to prove it.”

  Jeremiah peered over the top of aviator glasses. “These days I let younger fools like Rikki do the driving. Glad to meet you.”

  “Zane, Gary, and I,” Rikki went on, “have a little bet about who works the longest hours, cops or film crews. Tell Zane how late we’ve been working these days. Like Monday, for instance.”

  Clever, Zane reflected.

  Gayle ro
lled her eyes. “I think it was after midnight when we finished checking the ramp for that car jump in the morning.”

  Jeremiah nodded. “Easily.”

  “And Rikki was there the whole time?” Zane asked. With the words out, he heard the cop tone.

  Eyebrows went up around the table.

  Rikki grinned. “Don’t mind him. Cops can never ask a question without sounding like an interrogation. Did I have to work as late as everyone else?”

  “You did,” Jeremiah said.

  “How about Tuesday?”

  “I was being a body double for Derek’s love interest in a bathtub scene.”

  She looked serious and Prescott nonchalant, but sly grins ran across the faces around the table.

  “That wasn’t officially on the set, I take it?” Zane said.

  A corner of her mouth quirked. “I was still working...helping Derek with his lines. One in particular was very hard...took most of the night to conquer.”

  Prescott grinned and everyone else snickered.

  Rikki sobered. “Last night I spent the evening at home with my family.” She sighed. “I guess cops do work longer hours.” She dug into the pocket of a motorcycle jacket on a chair and brought out a billfold. Handing over a twenty from it, she said, “You win. But sometime I’d like a demonstration of a cop working harder than an actor.”

  12.

  “I don’t know how you take duty like this.” Honora yawned.

  Allison shrugged. “You’re the one who wanted clan members in Investigations.” She checked her watch. One-thirty. The drapes in the upstairs room had not moved since they closed. “We’ll have plenty of action when and if Deirdre decides to move.” Though she had better do so soon or the clubs would be closing and she would have to find someone like Surrette for her games. She clicked her radio mike. “Anything to see from the beach?”

  “Negative,” came back Del Kindly’s voice.

  She hauled out her cell phone. After Kerr reported that “Blondie” in the Armadillo turned out to be Rikki, she told him she was checking out leads her informant gave her. Time to contact him again.

  “Still checking out leads?” The blandness of his voice suggested irony.

  She gave him a gusty sigh. “I’m sorry, yes. They’re looking good but I need to clear up another couple of things. I assume it’s continued quiet there?”

  “Yes. I have a hunch he isn’t going to show. Golden certainly thinks so. He’s obviously bored out of his skull, even though he won’t go home when I suggest it.” Kerr paused. “You didn’t by any chance give him babysitting instructions, did you?”

  Allison kept her own voice expressionless. “I’m sure he’s just afraid Blondie will show up and he’ll miss the fun. If you feel nothing’s going to happen, you can pull the plug.” She would keep the clan on until after two, though.

  “Garroway isn’t going to be happy we’ve come up empty.”

  A patrol unit passed. The officer waved. A Watch Three officer had stopped for a chat when a homeowner reported suspicious activity, and been reassured by her identification, while obviously wishing she would explain which house they were watching, and why. Alerted to their presence, Watch One just cruised by periodically.

  Waving back, she told Kerr. “If these leads check out, he’s going to be very happy, I assure you.”

  “With this operation folded, I can come help you,” he said.

  She put regret in her voice. “I wish...but these people won’t talk to you.”

  “I didn’t think so.” No missing the irony that time.

  13.

  With his report on the stakeout finished, Zane leaned into Property Crimes to wave at Trembecka and Gallegos, still working on theirs. He bypassed the elevator for the stairs, taking them down three at a time. In the morning, he had to talk to Garroway. Visions of making a fat fool of himself with his suspicions swam in his head, but he shook them away. He had to take the risk. There was just too much going on that needed explaining...that Allison needed to explain.

  In the parking lot he paused to breathe deeply, wishing the gym were open. Tension had him tied in knots. A run might help. Maybe in the park. The moon hanging in the western sky shone brilliant silver, nearly full.

  He almost missed seeing the motorcycle and rider on the far side of his Wrangler.

  When he stopped short, the lithe form in black slid across the hood to lounge against the fender. “You’re off duty now, right?”

  Rikki’s perfume enveloped him, sending his tension a whole new direction. “What happened to your plans with your actor friend?”

  A wave dismissed them. “Derek is a nice guy but...he’s never noticed my perfume.” Reaching up, she laced her fingers together behind his neck. His skin burned at the touch. “Let me buy you a drink.”

  The spreading heat muffled a caution bell that rang in his head. “Where can we drink at this time of night?”

  “Where do you live?”

  The skin of his belly tightened. “A warehouse on Travis.”

  She pulled his head to hers and kissed him...a long kiss with her tongue exploring. “My place is closer and Beatrice maintains a great wine cellar.”

  Despite the flare of desire in him, Zane pulled back from her mouth. “And there’s a house full of family.”

  She laughed. “Didn’t you hear Gary?” Her arms slid around him under his suit coat, pulling his hips against hers. “They’ve all left for the weekend. We’ll have the house to ourselves.”

  His head swam from her perfume. “Lead the way.”

  Despite her assurances, he peered at the garages as they pulled into the courtyard. With the doors closed, he had no way of knowing if vehicles were inside or not, but the house was silent when they entered.

  Rikki locked the door, reset the security code, and tossed her motorcycle jacket onto a bench in the entry hall. Then she led the way out to the verandah and around to another set of French doors opening into a kitchen.

  Zane stared. The kitchen looked like a restaurant’s, with big pots on wall racks, a big microwave and stove, and walk-in cooler and freezers. Peering through the window of the freezer he could see sides of meat hanging from hooks.

  “This is a hell of a kitchen, and one hell of a meat supply.”

  From inside a wine closet the size of the cooler, Rikki said, “We’re a big family with big appetites.”

  “That doesn’t look like just beef in the freezer, though.”

  She came out with a bottle of white wine and shoved the door closed with a foot. “No, wild game, too.” Handing him the bottle, she rubbed a hip across his belly as she passed him on the way to dig a corkscrew from a drawer and glasses from a cupboard. “We’re avid hunters.”

  Memories of the house flashed in his head. “I don’t remember seeing trophies anywhere.”

  “Because we eat what we hunt, not hang it on the walls.” She handed him the corkscrew, then caught his belt at the buckle. “My room is this way.”

  He let her lead him back out to the verandah, down to the patio and across the lawn--less a lawn, Zane discovered, than a coastal prairie pasture, the grass mixed with bluebonnets and Indian Paintbrush--and around the far end of the opposite wing. How did anyone find the way around this house, he wondered. It sprawled on forever, like a real pueblo.

  On a small terrace with a view past a stand of bamboo down to the rear wall, Rikki set the glasses on a small table. “You’re over-dressed, Detective.” She reached under his coat and tapped the grip of his gun. “Get casual. There’s only one weapon you need with me.”

  Inside her bed-sitting room he shed everything down to his trousers, and watched her open the wine outside. She made it a strip tease, simultaneously wiggling out of her clothes while she worked loose the cork, until she stood naked, her body lean and sleek, legs inhumanly long. Pouring the wine she said, “I’m showing you mine. Come show me yours.”

  Her perfume drifting into the room set his head spinning and his body on fire. He stepped
out onto the terrace.

  Rikki ticked her tongue. “You’re still not showing me yours. Here.” She handed him both glasses, and reached for his belt buckle and zipper. Slowly, she slid trousers and briefs down to his ankles, sinking toward the terrace stones with them. Then as he stepped free, she sat back on her heels, smiling. “That’s better.”

  The upward drift of her gaze felt like fingernails tickling him...turning his temperature to sizzle.

  Standing, she reclaimed a glass. “What shall we toast...working hard?”

  The moonlight turned her ethereal and unearthly, making her glow, as from some inner light. The heat inside him blazed even hotter than before and he knew he had never wanted any woman as fiercely as he desired Rikki Goodnight.

  He set down his glass. “I’m not thirsty.”

  Her eyes widened for a moment, reflecting silver, then with a grin, she set aside her glass, too, and came into his arms. Their mouths locked together hungrily, urgently. Her fingers raked down his back. Their touch made him feel like plasma globe, with lightning arcing through him from every point of contact. When she reached his buttocks and dug in her nails, the jolt of current snapped all his nerves to attention.

  But as he swept her up and her legs wrapped around him, a caution bell jangled in his head. “Wait. Let me get my billfold.”

  She laughed against his mouth, tightening her legs. “We don’t need protection. I’m baby proof against you and there’s no zoonosis here. I’m not waiting one...second...more, Detective, for you to demonstrate that long arm of the law in action.”

  14.

  A shift of light woke Zane. For a moment, groggy with sleep, he could not identify his surroundings...unfamiliar bed, French doors standing open, a moonlit pasture beyond them. Spotting the tall, slim figure loping through the grass in a sport bra and running shorts, memory returned. He grinned with remembered pleasure, even as he noted that every muscle in him ached. The term “enough” did not appear to be in Rikki’s sexual vocabulary, though plenty of commands did. The last time he received that much instruction had been during physical training at the police academy. But the electricity shooting through him from her had brought an intensity of physical sensation beyond any he experienced before and it helped him keep pace with her, until she finally let him collapse, wrung out.