by Danika Stone
“You’re beautiful,” he murmured.
Jude grabbed a condom from his sock drawer and lay down alongside her. He kissed her hard, his tongue exploring her mouth while his hands traced over her body, memorizing her curves by feel. His fingers teased, drifting lazily over some spots, pinching others, her gasps and sighs guiding his exploration. When Indigo’s pants had become moans, Jude broke the kiss to suck and nip his way to her breasts.
His tongue swirled over one peak, before taking it into his mouth and suckling hard. Indigo gasped and he moved to the other. As her pants grew impatient, his tongue slid along her ribs, then moved lower. He nestled between her thighs, hitching one leg over his shoulder to give himself room. Indigo was squirming underneath him, her fingers tight in his hair. He tasted her, salt-sweet and warm, his tongue lapping in gentle circles, paced by her cries. He could feel her tensing under him, hips bucking. When Jude glanced up, she had one hand fisted in the sheets, the other painfully tight where she held his hair.
“Please,” she gasped, her mouth a pink ‘o’ of desire.
Jude moved up on top of her, feeling her slide her legs around his hips, urging him nearer. He gasped as he bumped up against her wet heat, his body jumping from readiness to a sudden, desperate need for release, in a single heartbeat. Indigo wrapped her hands over his shoulders, her mouth moving against his neck, nails scoring the skin of his back. She began to rock and move underneath him, desire making her caresses rough and reckless. He groaned as her hips shifted and he slid barely inside. Jude lifted his head, holding her gaze as he leaned forward, burying himself fully in her.
She gasped, lashes fluttering closed as he began to move. Groaning with the onslaught of sensation, Jude fought for control. He could feel her tightening around him with each thrust, small pants rising to moans as he set a gruelling pace. He dropped his hand down, pushing between their bodies until he could touch her. Her breath hitched as he hit the right spot, the sound of her cries almost pushing him over the edge. Indigo’s legs jerked where they wrapped him, her body seeming to tighten down even further.
“Oh God, Jude!” she panted. “Please!”
He pushed harder, determined to please her. Suddenly Indigo cried out, her back arching, a series of internal shudders marking her climax. Jude’s breath caught in his throat, the sensation gripping him and throwing him over the abyss with her. He thrust a few last times, ecstasy spiralling down into a moment so bright he couldn’t think. With a final groan, he collapsed on top of her, panting against her neck. Indigo was soft and liquid in his arms, their bodies tangled together. There was no beginning and end to each other, just one.
With a sigh, Jude slid away, pulling her into the circle of his arms. There was an endless list of things he should be doing, but right now, he just wanted to let this moment last a little longer. He reached out, brushing a spray of hair off her cheek, and she moved into the motion, rather than away.
“I love you, Indigo,” Jude sighed.
“Love you too.”
Jude smiled, pressing a kiss to her forehead. Indigo’s eyes drooped slowly, breath slowing. When she seemed almost asleep, Jude rolled over, meaning to get up and double check that he’d locked the front door, but Indigo jerked awake. She grabbed his hand as he sat up.
“Stay,” she whispered.
Jude lay back down, pulling her into his arms, his chest tight with emotion.
“Go back to sleep,” he whispered. “I’m not going anywhere.”
: : : : : : : : : :
Jude was sound asleep when Marq texted again. Jude lifted his head, squinting bleary-eyed, at the phone’s display.
Jude, where are you? I need to talk!
Jude fumbled his way to the side of the bed, concern rising. Marq hardly ever called him by his first name, except if he was worried or in trouble. Junior year of college, Marq had texted ‘Jude’ from the back of a police cruiser. A three a.m. text on a Sunday morning, after a day of panicked messages did not reassure him. He slid away from Indigo’s side, careful not to waken her. He slipped on his pants and a shirt, tiptoeing out of the bedroom, before tapping out a reply.
Got your texts today, but I couldn’t answer them. Sorry, man. You okay?
Marq’s reply was impossibly fast.
No. We need to talk NOW!
Jude’s eyes widened. He glanced at the closed door of the bedroom, then back at his phone.
Where are you?
He was almost certain that the police would be involved. His mind was shuffling through details – how fast he could access money for bail on a Sunday, and if the lawyer who defended Marq in college would be available – when the next text appeared.
My car’s waiting on the street. Hurry up!
Jude stood for a moment, undecided. Whatever it was, it had to be important, but something about it was niggling at the back of Jude’s mind, telling him to wake Indigo. Problem was, this was Marq. He and Indigo didn’t get along at the best of times.
Jude lifted up his phone, answering.
Hold on. I’ll be down in a sec.
Jude turned to look around the kitchen. Marq had a yellow sticky note pad by the phone with “call Keith back” scribbled on the top. Jude pulled it off, throwing it into the garbage, before grabbing a pen.
Indigo,
Something’s up with Marq. Had to run out for a sec.
Sorry! Back as soon as I can.
Jude
He had made it to the foyer when he suddenly turned back around. He walked back to the counter, adding one last item to the bottom of the note.
P.S. I love you.
He stuck the yellow sticky on the apartment door and closed it quietly behind him. In less than five minutes he was standing outside the building, looking up and down the snow-covered road, searching for Marq’s car. At the far end of the street a vehicle was idling, a pair of headlights blinding Jude with their intensity. He walked away from the entrance of the apartment, squinting into the light. It might be Marq’s car, but Jude couldn’t tell.
“C’mon, Marq,” Jude muttered, his teeth beginning to chatter. “Where are you?”
He took a few steps more, his feet leading him toward the gaping mouth of an alley. From inside the darkness, the sound of a single footstep broke the silence.
Jude spun around, heart pounding. His eyes widened in horror at what he saw. A few feet away from him stood Patel, his gun trained on Jude’s chest. His mind began to scramble, and then completely went silent.
There was nowhere to run.
Patel smiled, his teeth a white gleam in the shadows.
“Game’s over, Mr. Alden.”
Chapter 22: Taking Position
Indigo walked down the hallway of the Rehabilitation Center, icy fingers buried deep in her pockets. It was two days before Christmas, and the ward, a transitional care ward attached to the hospital, was practically bare. She glanced at the drooping ornaments, salvaged from holiday cast-offs, decorating the occasional door; their colors obscene against the dull beige of the rest of the building. Indigo peeked down one hallway – a dead end, blocked by a bucket and a mop – and then the other. Her nose flared at the antiseptic smell, stomach turning, and she began to walk again.
She didn’t like hospitals; they reminded her too much of her grandfather’s last days. She’d been ten when he’d had his second, and last, stroke. Sherry and Indigo had come home in time to visit him. The smells and sounds took her back to that day: his face grey-tinged on the pillow.
“There’s nothing they can do now, Indie Baby. It’s only a matter of time.”
She walked faster, forcing her mind to the present. Up ahead was the nurses’ station, a heavy-set woman with glasses behind the desk. She glanced up at the sound of Indigo’s footsteps. She had the pug-faced look of a bully, her arms moving to her hips as Indigo arrived.
“It’s a holiday,” the woman said sharply. “Visiting hours ended at four instead of at seven.”
Indigo forced a bright smile – t
hat’s what people like this wanted: for the world to be something it wasn’t – and walked up to the counter.
“I’m so sorry for being late,” she said. “I was volunteering at the homeless shelter, and I couldn’t get out until now.”
It was a lie, of course. The real reason was that Indigo had delayed coming until the last second, but the woman’s face softened all the same.
“I knew the visiting hours had changed,” Indigo said bashfully, noting the holly wreath pin on the nurse’s scrubs, “but seeing how it was Christmas and all, I didn’t think I should leave them short-handed.”
“Oh my!” the nurse murmured. “Now that’s real good of you, honey.”
Indigo nodded, dropping her gaze in mock humility. She was almost in.
“And I know it’s past hours, but I was hoping I could just come in for a few minutes. I have a…” She paused, wondering what lie would cause the least amount of trouble. “… a friend here and I thought he could use a visit.” Her lashes fluttered downward in the perfect pretence of embarrassment. “It’s sort of a surprise, you know.”
The nurse’s face brightened and she reached out, patting Indigo’s arm.
“Of course you can go on in,” she clucked. “But is your friend an outpatient, or in the ward? Outpatients have all gone home by now.”
“He hasn’t been released yet,” Indigo answered, hoping she was right. “He’s full time, as far as I know.”
“Well, that’s easy enough to find out,” the nurse answered brightly. “Now, what’s this friend’s name?”
Indigo smiled.
“Elliot Baird.”
: : : : : : : : : :
Fran waited for the last of Sanger’s team to leave before she let her temper come to the surface. She strode forward, slapping the notes on the desk and spinning back around.
“You pull him now,” Fran sneered. “You’re going to lose your hold on King!”
Agent Sanger sighed, running a hand over the back of his neck. They’d found another body in the river this morning: a male, badly burned, missing all his teeth and both hands. They DNA evidence had come back from the lab, but the only thing they knew for certain was that it wasn’t Marq Lopez.
“Commissioner,” Sanger said tiredly, “while I understand your focus on taking Fischer and his empire down, I need to remind you that every day we delay, more people are in danger.”
Her jaw clenched, lips pursing into a narrow line of red. She began pacing the office, her hands slashing through the air as she talked.
“And what would you have me do?” she snapped. “Have my agent break cover?”
“Given the body count,” he said, frowning, “we at least need to discuss it. The intel’s improving, but every day that we delay, the risk to our men in the field rises.”
“King’s worried,” Fran hissed. “He’s attacking at will.” She turned around, her fingers jabbing at Sanger in accusation. “He hacked into my house! Got into my life!”
Sanger’s expression shifted, the dogged patience replaced by worry.
“He’s trying to get to you, Fran. It’s too close to home, and with all due respect, Commissioner, I think you’re letting this become personal.” Fran began walking again, the circles growing tighter and tighter as she paced. “Now I don’t want to go over your head,” Sanger said, “but I have the authority to do it if I need to.”
She stopped next to him, eyes bright.
“Don’t!” she snarled. “That’d be a deadly mistake!”
“We need to pull our agents in,” Sanger insisted. “We have enough evidence to bring down ‘King’ Fischer.”
“Maybe,” Fran snarled, “but not to put him away forever.” She crossed her arms on her chest, her eyes narrowing. “Let me tell you this, Agent Sanger. If you start this fight, you’ve got to be ready to end it.”
“People are dying, Commissioner.”
“Because King is killing them!” she barked. “What we’re doing, right now, is the only way to stop it, and that means holding our course!”
She turned away, walking again, hands in fists. Sanger sighed.
“You’ve got three more days to get the evidence you want,” he said. “Then I take King in, whether I have to pull rank to do it or not.”
: : : : : : : : : :
Elliot heard the door to his room open softly, and he jumped. Panic – a close companion these last weeks – had his heart thudding painfully hard. His eyes widened at what he saw. A woman in her mid-twenties, stood next to the bed. She had long dark hair spilling out from under a red knit cap, her nose pink from cold.
“Hey,” she said. “Are you Elliot? I’m Indigo.”
Elliot nodded nervously. He didn’t trust anyone anymore. Not after what’d happened.
Indigo pulled a chair out from the wall, bringing it up next to the bed.
“Can I?” she asked.
Elliot shrugged and she sat down.
“You used to live with Jude Alden,” she said. “He was a friend of yours, right?”
Elliot glared at her. So it was this again. He’d been visited by at least five different people the last weeks in the hospital; even more since he’d been transferred to this floor. Some he actually thought might be trustworthy. Others, he didn’t have any doubt in his mind were the mob. His muteness, once a curse, was now a blessing. He never had to speak, and so he didn’t.
“Jude and I,” Indigo continued. “We um, we used to be… together.” Her voice broke on the last word. “He’s been missing for a couple weeks.”
Elliot made an inadvertent noise of surprise and Indigo moved closer.
“No one told you?”
Elliot shook his head. His mother had been inexplicably silent on the matter, and since Elliot refused to talk, there’d been no way to actually ask why Jude no longer visited. The last time he’d been at the hospital, Elliot had still been in the trauma ward.
“Look,” Indigo said. “I’m sorry to do this.” She pulled her hat off, staring at it in her hands instead of looking at him as she spoke. “I was at Jude’s apartment one night, and he got a call from Marq, and he left…” She glanced up. “And no one’s seen him since.”
“Wha…?” Elliot mumbled. He tried to form his mouth into a question, but his tongue, swollen and clumsy, wouldn’t work. He made a hissing sound, gesturing angrily to the side. Indigo stood up, peering across the cluttered cabinet.
“The iPad?” she asked.
“Unh-hunh,” Elliot mumbled.
She handed it to him, and Elliot flicked it on, fear making every second of delay feel like an hour. With the text program open, he began to type. His fingers were no longer splinted, but they were stiff, and unwieldy. Two stuck out at an odd angle. He tapped out his message, wincing as one finger began to throb.
Has anyone told the police?
He held the screen out to Indigo.
“Yes!” she said, eyes wide. “I told them last Monday. I’d texted Jude a couple times on the weekend, and never got an answer. In class on Monday, he didn’t come to hang out with me at break. After class, Lissa – his boss – stopped by to ask if I’d seen him. Jude hadn’t come to work that day either.” She chewed her lower lip. “So I popped by his apartment and it was still unlocked, the way I left it. So I went to the police.”
What did they say?
“They asked me to file a missing person’s report, and they told me they’d look into it.” Indigo frowned. “I called a couple times afterward, but no one would tell me anything other than the case was open. When I came by the apartment again, it’d been closed up. The super wouldn’t tell me anything at all.”
Elliot leaned toward Indigo, his hand gesturing in frustration. He struggled to speak, finally moving back to his tablet.
Does Marq know what happened?
“That’s the thing!” she cried. “Marq’s gone too. No one seems to know anything, and I just…” She took a ragged breath, blinking rapidly. “I need to know what’s going on!” Indigo l
eaned closer, her voice dropping. “That’s why I came here,” she said. “I… I need you to help me find him.”
Elliot nodded to the window, his words coming out in a confusing murmur. Indigo shook her head, and he typed another message, lifting it toward her. His face was white and terrified.
There’s a black car with tinted windows outside on the street. It’s been there since the day I came to the trauma ward. When I was moved to the Rehab Center, the car moved too. There are people watching me. They might be listening now.
Indigo stood up, her gaze going down to the snowy scene below. There, as Elliot had said, was the car. Indigo gasped in horror. Elliot reached out, bumping her with the tablet.
She stared at it for a moment, then reached down, and typed her question.
Who is it, Elliot?
Elliot shrugged.
I don’t know. But they’re watching me for a reason.
Indigo’s face crumpled. She reached out for the tablet again, with shaking fingers.
Jude’s dead, isn’t he?
Elliot stared at her words for a long time before answering.
I don’t know. I mean, Jude was messing around in something illegal. If he got picked up by the police, he’d get a call. He’d have a lawyer. You’d KNOW. Elliot’s fingers sat motionless on the tablet for a few seconds. With a sigh, he typed in the rest. That means he’s either dead, or someone’s got him.
He held it out to Indigo, and she surged up from the chair as if she’d been bitten. Her eyes were wild, her hand pressed up against her mouth again.
“My god, no!” she yelped, backing away.
She grabbed her hat off the chair, pulling it onto her head and sprinting toward the door. Elliot struggled to sit up, newly-knitted ribs twinging.
“Wha..?!” he shouted, the single word, almost clear.
“If that’s true,” Indigo hissed. “I know who has him!”