Quintic

by V. P. Trick

  “Christopher. It’s OK. Really. I’m OK. Really.” He took a deep breath. “Christopher, you’re holding me too tight. Let go.” He couldn’t let her go. “Let go. Now!”

  He loosened his grip some, his hands lowering to her waist.

  “Christopher, say something. I can’t talk if you keep looking at me like that.” The shadows dancing in his dark eyes frightened her. She was not afraid of him, never had been, but she was afraid for him, of what he might do. That look convinced her she had been right to go after the dirty cop without telling Christopher. I’ll hunt the creep again, alone. I have to find him before Christopher does. She would prepare better for their next encounter, that last face-to-face.

  “Tell me what happened.” His tone sounded deceptively level and smooth.

  His voice stirred something deep inside of her. She almost fell apart again. How did she come to love him so? Unreasonably so. Wildly so.

  She cupped his cheek lightly, stood on tiptoe and brushed a kiss on his lips. “You already know what happened,” she mumbled, stepping out of his embrace. “ It’s in my J-man book. I know you’ve read that one.”

  His hands tightened around her waist, and he pulled her close once more. “Yes, I’ve read the book,” he whispered in her ear. “Yes, I know what happened in the fucking book. Tell me what happened for real.”

  “Nothing happened. For real.”

  “Patricia! I’m not going to let you walk away. I want to know.” I need to know. His hands shook as he fought to keep his anger in check.

  “Christopher. Nothing happened. Honestly. Everything happened like in the book, Big guy. All of it. It truly was all of it.”

  “Patricia.”

  “Christopher. Stop it. It’s all that went down. Yes, it was a close call. Yes, he intended to rape me, but he didn’t. Are you listening? He. Did. Not.” By now, she was yelling. “He didn’t have time. Joshua saved me.”

  His nostrils flared, like a bull ready to charge, and he threw his arms in the air.

  “Christopher, he did. Joshua tripped the alarm; he must have done it directly through the computer system right after the creep dragged me into the office because I heard sirens less than ten minutes after being locked up.”

  She was still fucking excusing that asshole Joshua even after all the jerk had done! “Joshua left you alone with that fucker for ten minutes?”

  “Nothing happened.”

  “The guy ripped your shirt, stripped your pants off, hit you, threatened you, and what else?” She had written that much in the book and yet, not the truth. The events of that night had tormented the J-character; they must have tormented Joshua too. “What else, Patricia? What the fuck else?” He was screaming too now.

  “Nothing. Damn it, Christopher. Nothing!”

  “Nothing! Joshua left you alone with the motherfucker for ten minutes. Ten minutes! That’s a fucking long time. We had fucks that didn’t last that long!” He took a sharp breath and rubbed his hair with both hands, growling between clenched teeth, “Hell, I could get off with you right now in less than one. Can always in less one with you.” He glared angrily at her. “What else happened?”

  “Nothing. Nothing else. How many times do I have to repeat it? Nothing. Happened.” His fists clenched tighter at her third fucking ‘nothing’. “Compared to what he could have done, to what he wanted to do, it was nothing. Nothing I couldn’t get over.”

  Damn woman! That was NOT nothing?! “‘Nothing you couldn’t get over’? That’s why you kicked him repeatedly? Because you were over it?”

  “Ah. Hum. I might have had a small relapse. But I’m fine now. Truly, I am.”

  “You are? Really? Why the fuck don’t I believe you?” He took a deep breath. Kicked, and broke, one of the stall doors, and then punched the wall before closing his eyes for a beat. Two beats. “That doesn’t explain about the scar, Princess.”

  Damn. She had forgotten about the cicatrix. When Hamilton had described Lemieux’s opponent, subconsciously she must have known who it was. Consciously, though, she had not made the connection. A mind block perhaps? She had gone hunting for the salopard at the strip clubs secretly hoping the creep would turn up eventually, be it in a month or a year. And Christopher knew it too, had known right away. ‘Coincidence my ass,’ to quote the Big guy. A couple of days was too fast, though; she hadn’t been ready.

  “Patricia. The scar. You said you’d given it to him. How?”

  “The scar? Ah yes. During the fight. At one point, I clawed at his throat. I tried to choke him, but he defended himself, and all I managed to do was cut his neck. Badly. He bled a lot. That’s what left the scar.” A shaky explanation, even to her ears.

  She answered straightforwardly enough, but a question had preceded her response. The damn fucking question indicated she was lying. She frowned at him, chin up and arms crossed. Defiant.

  “And that was it?”

  “Yes, Big guy. Yes, that was it.”

  “And you haven’t seen the jerk since?”

  “No. I have not.”

  The assertive tone was her way of spoon-feeding him her lie. He didn’t swallow it. “How can you possibly know you made the scar?”

  “Well, it has to be me. I mean, I really went for him, you know.”

  “But you didn’t see him after?”

  “No.”

  “So you can’t be sure, can you, Princess?”

  “What are you trying to say? I know the scar is there!”

  “He could only have had a scratch on his neck. He could have nothing at all, couldn’t he? Could be he’s not Lemieux’s fighter after all. Hell, could be he’s not your dirty cop either.”

  Nothing to Say

  Should she let Christopher think the fat fellow from the club was indeed the creep? Or was it better if the Big guy believed the fatso wasn’t the creep, and thus, she had completely lost her marbles at the club? Which was safer? Number two was the definite winner because then he would stay away from the creep. Number two meant he wouldn’t get hurt.

  “Ah. Hum. Yes, I suppose I could have made a mistake. I assumed he had a scar but yes, like you said, maybe he doesn’t have but just a cut.” After all, the shot had made more a gap than a bullet hole. Between point-blanked range and contact shot, the blow had burned off a lot of skin, but she could pretend it was a scratch. She damn excelled at pretending. “And people do change a lot as they grow old, don’t they?” Although, as they aged, dirty creeps only became older dirty cops.

  She had admitted to her mistake and agreed with him way too fast, way too much hence was still lying, Chris realised. “Princess, fuck. After all this time?” He shook his head at her. “Why?”

  “I guess I lost it. I’m sorry. I’ll talk and apologise to the guy.” And then I’ll kick him again and again. Then shoot him.

  “No. An apology won’t do it.”

  What more did the impossible man want? “What more can I do? I’ll apologise. I apologise to you. I’ll apologise to Charles. What else do you want? It was a mistake; the entire thing was a mistake. There, I’ve admitted it. Are you happy?”

  “No. Apologies won’t do it.”

  Qu’il est enrageant ce soir ! Most infuriating! “Christopher, what else can I do! Damn it, I am not going to beg for your forgiveness!”

  “No. Begging won’t do either. Telling the truth’s enough, so start with that.”

  “What?”

  “Princess, after all this time, why? Why would you think you can lie to me? You may believe you have a valid reason, but, Angel of mine, whatever your excuse, this time, it’s bullshit, so stop and talk to me. Now.”

  Hum, sticky tricky. Since for now, she had no clue as to what part exactly he didn’t believe, she didn’t want to tell him more than she had to.

  “Tell me again, Patricia. How did he get the scar?”

  Damn, she had to find a way to enhance her scar story enough to make it sound right.

  If Chris hadn’t been so worried, if the details w
eren’t so ghastly, if he hadn’t been so pissed, he might have enjoyed toying with her. She did have a fascinating mind. And she was good at acting. At lying. He could almost see the wheels of her imagination spinning the story in her head. She chewed on her bottom lip as she concentrated, trying to figure out how to make him believe. Fuck, he wanted to bite that lip for her. Nibble quite a few things on her. He could make her talk with the nipping and tasting.

  Her story was going to be bad, but he needed to know. “So. Let’s recap. You gave him the scar during the only ten minutes you were with him. Is that right?” He played out the scene. “One minute to lock you up. Two to three minutes of him groping you, you pushing him away. Two to pin you down to the floor. Then a good three of you arguing. Followed by another two to three to get you out of some clothes. I assume the asshole wasn’t taking his time, not if he wanted you bad.”

  “Christopher, stop.”

  “Probably he didn’t undress you completely, too eager to see some skin, your skin, fast. Desperately. That’s ten minutes, Pussycat.”

  “Christopher, please don’t.”

  “Don’t what? You’re over it, right?” He brushed a crazy curl away from her cheek. “Remember our first fight? The first time you thought you could physically take me down? Fuck, I was so turned on.” From the first moment they met, they liked each other. “I was so fucking hard I wanted to both take the night to toy with you and sink into you in one thrust. How long did we fight?”

  “Christopher, that wasn’t the same, and you know it.”

  “Yah, I know. I kissed you so hard, you tried to kick me after. One fucking girlie kick I stopped with my thighs. My balls and cock hurt, same as now. From the start, rolling around with you’s been foreplay.” He didn’t want to imagine what the jerk had fucking felt. “We’re good at fighting together, Angel, but on your own you suck. Why’d you think I’m pushing so hard for you to carry a gun?”

  “I’m not carrying a gun!”

  “Damn it, Patricia, don’t try to veer this conversation away from the jerk and his scar. Ten fucking minutes! You didn’t have time to hurt the creep, at least not badly enough to leave a scar, so either it lasted more than ten minutes, or he didn’t get the scar that time. Which one is it?”

  “What? Which one is what?”

  “Were you with him more than ten minutes or did you see him again? Fight with him again and made the scar then?” From the way she jerked at his words, the second scenario was the winner. “OK. A first ten minutes with the asshole, and then he ran off. I’ll believe that.” Part of it at least. “You left with Joshua, and then what? The copper had an off-the-books source of income. You hadn’t gone to report him, you couldn’t, not without incriminating Joshua, so he figured he was clear. Then what?”

  “What on earth are you talking about, Big guy?”

  That line was her classic attack line. One in a the million variations of her ‘what the heck can I say without getting into trouble?’ retort. Anything she said after that was going to be a lie. Furthermore, she would put herself into a state in reaction and bitch at him defensively. I know your tricks, Dollface, I won’t let you distract me. He waited.

  Damn him! From the looks of him, Christopher wouldn’t let it go. She didn’t want to fight with him. I should have killed the bastard when I had the chance; he’s probably long gone now. “Fine! After that night, Joshua stopped paying for, hum, protection. Nothing happened for a while, but then one day the creep showed up at a club where the hackers used to hang out, the arcade place in the report? Anyway. The jerk turned up late one afternoon, saying that since Joshua was late in his payments, he had to pay interest. I wasn’t seeing Joshua at the time, it was during our first break-up, so I wasn’t there, but Joshua told me he told the guy off. The salopard tried to push Joshua around that time but must have realised he was in the wrong place. Even if the hackers were afraid of him, they were still witnesses. And they had surveillance cameras. So he left, saying he was going to be back.”

  “Then what? How do you fit in?”

  “I got back with Joshua a week or two after that, but he didn’t tell me about that little scuffle until later. One night we were coming back from the movies, and the cop was waiting for us with his partner. We often took a shortcut through the park; that’s where they showed up. The first thing we know, we have one in front and one in our back. Payback time.”

  “And you were the interest on the back fees.” Of course. Knot and Fists hurt at the thought.

  “Something like that.” Her teeth sank into her bottom lip once again. “But nothing happened,” she added in a small voice.

  His fist hit the wall. Reflex again. Already bruised when he had punched the wall earlier, and the elevator door the night before, his hand started blending. He looked at her with something close to rage in his eyes. “Don’t say nothing happened, Patricia! Don’t EVER fucking tell me nothing happened!”

  “What I meant to say was he didn’t rape me. He hit me. Yes. He even touched me. A little. But he was, ah, a little excited, and his buddy was watching, and, well, hum, helping. Or he wanted to go at it first while the creep watched, I’m not sure, but the buddy was holding me around the neck and trying to put his gun in the front of my pants and well, hum. I don’t remember everything clearly but at some point, I must have grabbed the gun because a shot went off. The creep was standing against me, so it blasted at him, burned his neck, not missing by much. Sadly.”

  “Where was Joshua?” The lousy coward.

  “They had knocked him out.”

  Again? “Why didn’t they shoot you then?”

  “The fat cop was screaming like crazy. It looked like it hurt a lot.”

  “Must have, but still, why didn’t the other one shoot you?”

  She looked at him. He was thorough, wasn’t he? Damn, she was crazy about the man. “Lemieux punched the buddy, grabbed me, and we ran off.”

  Lemieux. That was how the creepy cop knew him. “Why was Lemieux there?”

  “He had come to the showing with us.”

  “You left Joshua there?” She didn’t answer. Yup, they had left the jerk there, alone in the park. Good girl. “Did Lemieux ever do jobs for the asshole cops?”

  “I don’t know. I don’t think they knew each other much. I only saw the creep talking to Joshua, but I don’t know. I don’t know the jobs Lemieux did. I think he was more into surveillance. Blackmail. Breaking and entering. He was Joshua’s handyman so maybe.”

  “Did you see the jerk again?”

  “No. Not until the club. With Steve. And then with Charles.”

  She wasn’t lying for that part. “Did he see you? Recognise you?”

  “No. I look quite different now. My hair’s a lot shorter, and most times I keep pulled off my face.” She pouted and tried to tuck a wayward strand behind her ears. Leave it be, Angel; your waves are sexy as hell and reflect your personality perfectly. “Moreover, back in the days, it was more blue than dark brown. Besides, I was wearing a cap at the club. And even if he had seen me, he wouldn’t have recognised me. I was very slim then; my cheeks are a lot fuller and my face rounder now.”

  Rounder might be a slight exaggeration. Her face might look healthier now, but her features were the same as back then. The guy had gone nuts over her and tried to rape her only to end up getting shot by her. Whatever her disguise, the sonofabitch was going to recognise her. Chris did not tell her that, though; he did not want to worry her. I will take care of the creep for you once and for all, Darling of mine.

  He wanted to go over what she had told him and clarify the tiny imperfections that still peppered her story, but she looked so tired, he let it go for now. The team was pacing the corridor when they came out of the toilets.

  “Go home. I’ll keep you guys posted.”

  Once he had her tucked in, he was going to send the team in pairs on a hunt. First and foremost, they would visit strip clubs in search of the fat creep with a scar. In essence, pursue what Patricia a
nd Charles had started, even if Chris doubt the asshole would be stupid enough to go back. Secondly, look for witnesses who had intel on the creep’s whereabouts. To cover all possible ends, Steve had already issued a warrant out on the creep for the fight. The chase had begun.

  “Where to, Angel?”

  “I don’t know. Your place I guess.”

  She took another excessively long shower and cried, alone in the shower. She didn’t tell him, but he knew just by looking at her. It pissed him off.

  “Nothing happened,” she kept repeating.

  He didn’t believe her. The guy had scared her; that in itself was already too much. He had hurt her. That was NOT nothing, not for Chris.

  She crawled into bed naked and stretched on top of him. “Fill me.”

  He soothed and kissed and caressed and came, his cock buried inside her to the hilt as she had requested.

  “I want to feel you come, mon chéri.”

  He came like she wanted even if she held back.

  After, cradling her tight, he asked about Lemieux. “That time you went with Lemieux when you were with Joshua. Was it that night?”

  “Yes. Joshua got himself up somehow and followed us. Perhaps he had a concussion, but he had gone down so fast, they had not beaten him severely. He looked as if he was taking a damn nap! Anyway. Later he showed up at Lemieux’s place looking for me. Lemieux was in a worse shape. The shot probably saved us both.”

  “Lemieux fought for you?”

  “Yes, he did.”

  “So you spent the night with him.”

  “Oui.” A last nick on her bottom lip. “That night and the following. I did tell Joshua. He never raised the subject again.”