Broken Wings

by Sandra Edwards

  What? This wasn’t a good time? Looked like illegal guns weren’t the only thing Bellmore was supplying to the dark side of Vegas.

  One of the hookers, the vocal one, shifted her gaze between Eddie and Rio. Eddie’s instincts magnified and he inspected the perimeter, looking for accomplices.

  “Cop.” The hooker breathed the word, barely audible, yet Eddie heard it.

  Uh-oh.

  A distorted version of Bellmore’s movements stirred in Eddie’s peripheral vision. The guy was like a well-oiled machine dipping into the trunk and back out again. Eddie had no time to react and knew when he looked back at Bellmore, he’d see a gun pointed at his head.

  Along the opposite corner of Eddie’s sight, Rio sailed toward them and dropkicked Bellmore to his knees, knocking the gun from his hand.

  The weapon hit the pavement and discharged. The sound of the bullet ricocheting off the car resonated in Eddie’s ears. Instinct drove him to the ground.

  Pain, sharp and stinging, blasted his left temple. Eddie slammed against the sidewalk. The space around him started spinning and his senses buckled.

  The next couple of minutes played out as if he’d been trapped inside a haze. Undercover cops emerged from seemingly invisible places, swarming Bellmore and his hooker friends. Rio ignored the girls’ denials of wrongdoing and Bellmore’s unwavering insistence that he’d been framed.

  Eddie’s headache intensified, swelling against his skull. His cognizance threatened desertion. He closed his eyes and remained still, willing away the stinging sensation.

  “LaCall?” Rio shook him with a gentle nudge. “LaCall, can you hear me?” Her words breathed out with a forlorned sigh.

  Mischievousness curled Eddie’s mouth into a playful grin. He opened one eye. “What? No mouth-to-mouth?”

  “Damn it, LaCall.” She dropped to the pavement, as if he’d called her a speck of nothing. A used spec of nothing. “I thought you were dead.”

  Not exactly the response or reaction he’d expect from an ice queen, the label she’d acquired from their coworkers. Perhaps unfairly.

  “Dead? Not quite. Thanks to you.”

  Still immersed in a hazy state of cobwebbed consciousness, getting up was harder than Eddie expected. A sitting position was as far as he got before the pain thumping against his skull yanked his concentration elsewhere.

  He rubbed his forehead and closed his eyes, as if skewing his mouth could stop the agony from escaping. His fingers slid through the sticky, wet substance trickling along the side of his head and he knew he’d been hit.

  Rio’s fingertips skimmed over his injury. “You okay?” she asked. “Maybe you should go to the hospital.”

  Hospital? Was it that bad? No, it couldn’t be. He was conscious and he was sitting up. Not well, but he was sitting.

  Eddie rejected the idea with a dismissive nod. To prove himself, he pushed up from the ground. His mind wavered and his body followed. He settled back onto the sidewalk and cradled his head in one hand.

  “That’s it.” She reached inside her tank top and pulled a cell phone from her cleavage. “You’re going to the hospital.”

  “Come on, Laraquette, I’m telling you...all I need is a little mouth-to-mouth.” He let his quarrelsome laughter work its magic. With any luck, he’d ensnare her easily. It would make his job so much easier in the long run. So long as he remembered it was all for the sake of his mission.

  * * *

  Eddie awakened in a hospital room that looked like it’d been decorated to resemble a hotel room. Spring green walls, flowery paintings and matching curtains failed to live up to the disguise’s potential. Machines and hospital gadgets still stuck out like a penny waiting for change.

  Why am I still here? Wrapping his head around that was like trying to grab hold of a butterfly. Every time he got close, it flew away.

  He let the thought go, in favor of, why was Rio camped out at his bedside. Her feet were propped up on the bed, and she was fully engrossed in a crosswords magazine. The puzzle on the page facing him was finished.

  Finished. That meant she’d been at his side a long time. But why? Why was she playing the role of the dutiful partner? They’d only known each other a week. Everybody had an angle. He doubted Rio Laraquette was an exception.

  She nibbled the pen’s cap, her green-eyed gaze glued to the magazine. Her face brightened with a smile. She tapped the pen against the page twice and propped the magazine on her thigh and began filling in the puzzle boxes.

  He should let her know he’d awakened, but he didn’t want to startle her. Charming the girl was more conducive than frightening her. He could always clear his throat, but where was the fun in that? Teasing her seemed like a lot more fun. And it drove her nuts.

  “I don’t trust anyone who does crosswords in ink.” He tried to pump humor into his voice.

  She peered over the top of the magazine. “What’s your trouble with inkers?”

  “They’re too sure of themselves.”

  Rio’s feet slammed against the floor. “Well, it’s about time, LaCall.” An arched eyebrow indicated her amusement. “If you think you’re pawning off those Bellmore reports on me, you’ve got another thing coming.”

  Eddie chuckled. “This is definitely where I pretend I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “Seriously, how’s your head?” Her words changed with her tone, growing softer. Consoling. “Not too much pain, I hope. Doc says you’re going to be fine.”

  Again, not the actions of an ice queen. Eddie was nearing to the conclusion his colleagues were wrong about his new partner.

  “It’s just a flesh wound,” he said. “Of course I’m going to be okay.” Obliging gratitude sedated his mood. “Thanks.”

  “For...?”

  “For kicking Bellmore’s ass.” He gave her props for single-handedly bringing the guy to his knees. And just in time, too. Otherwise, Eddie could be having a conversation with a totally different kind of being.

  She tilted her head, as if shrugging off the importance of her actions. “All in a day’s work.”

  “Well, if that’s routine, I definitely want us to remain partners.” He settled his gaze on her. “You know Dalton better than I do. Any chance he’ll make our assignment permanent?” A continued partnership with Rio couldn’t be as bad as everybody was saying.

  “I’d say there’s a fair chance of that happening.” She leaned back in the chair and laid the crosswords magazine across her chest, folding her arms over it. She was good at evasiveness. “How do you like Vegas so far?” Her soft voice held all the innuendo he imagined.

  He couldn’t resist. “Oh, I like Vegas a lot.”

  A faint, sensual light passed between them. He felt it. By the look on her face, awkward reticence, she had too. She glanced away shyly, dragging her fingers through her hair. He wouldn’t mind tangling those red curls—

  Eddie evicted that notion right away. Flirting with her, charming her into divulging information was one thing. But getting involved with her was not smart. Not even on a lustful level. Thinking about it probably wouldn’t hurt, but he couldn’t afford the distraction.

  “What made you decide to leave Phoenix, anyway?” she asked, dragging his mind in another direction.

  She’s good at diversion. A fine quality for a cop. Now, if he could only direct her away from her present line of questioning.

  “I just needed a change of scenery.” He spoke the words, vague and illusive. He didn’t know any other way to explain his presence in Vegas. Somehow, he’d always known he wasn’t going to find what he was looking for in Phoenix.

  “Well, I’ve got to run.” She stood and draped her hand over his in a wistful gesture. “I’ve got to get our reports done.” She backed away with a devastating, irresistible grin and moved toward the door.

  He wished she wouldn’t tease him but since she had, two could play this game. “Mouth to mouth, Laraquette.” He pointed an accusatory finger at her. “If you look on the chart,
I’m sure it’s there.”

  “You’re so bad.” She giggled and pushed the door open with her backside. Tilting her head, she glanced at him with dreamy eyes.

  “Yes, but you like it.”

  She disappeared into the hallway and he continued to stare at the door. Thoughts of Rio Laraquette, his undisclosed mission, and how close he’d come to dying swirled together, tangling inside his head. Damned if it wasn’t enough to give a guy a headache.

  He pushed the near-death experience out of his mind, preferring the other two, more pleasant, musings remain front and center.

  Rio had earned her place, fondly and rightfully so, in his book of respect. After what she’d done for him, he hoped she wasn’t his target.

  The door opened, pulling his ramblings away from the mission. Temporarily.

  His coworker Chris Bradley stepped inside the room, and Eddie checked his surprise before it had the chance to crease his brow.

  Bradley greeted him with a firm handshake. “It’s good to see you awake and alert. How are you feeling?”

  “Restless,” Eddie said. Bradley backed into the same chair Rio had used. “My injury was nothing more than a flesh wound. I don’t know why I’m still here.”

  “I’m sure you’ll get released in due time.” Settling into the chair, Bradley folded his arms across his chest. “Melody was released. Want me to find her? Unofficially of course.”

  “Melody?”

  “The hooker that got you shot.”

  “Nah, let’s put Melody on the backburner for now.” Eddie could think of a hundred different reasons to let the hooker think she was safe. She might prove useful later.

  Right now, he was more troubled by Bradley’s presence at the hospital and his so-called concern. They weren’t friends. Eddie wasn’t friends with anybody here. Hell, he’d only been in town ten days. Nobody makes friends that fast.

  Nevertheless, whatever Bradley was up to, Eddie would find out. In the meantime, he’d jump on the guy’s hook and reel him in close. “Did you see what Laraquette did?”

  Bradley’s head jerked toward him. “What’d she do?” He was way too interested to suit Eddie.

  “From out of nowhere, Bellmore had a gun in my face and she kicked his ass.” He relayed what inevitably sounded like a tall-tale. “If she’d hesitated one second, he would’ve blown my head off.”

  A smile, distant and lonely, crossed Bradley’s face and he relaxed. “Well, that’s Laraquette. She thinks quick on her feet.”

  “Tell me about it.” Thoughts of what might have happened had she not reacted so swiftly knocked at Eddie’s mind. Again, he didn’t understand why nobody wanted to work with her. Hell, she was his hero. “It’s amazing how she did that. The whole thing was remarkable, surreal but remarkable.”

  “Incredibility and Laraquette seem to go hand in hand these days.”

  “How so?” Eddie gave him a lead in, always curious to know more about his new partner, the ever-elusive Rio Laraquette.

  “She’d been investigating Turner Atkins for well over two years, relentlessly. Never gave up.” Bradley’s disdain for the Las Vegas mob boss seeped out in his voice, his gaze, his demeanor. “When she finally got inside his organization, he sent her up to Carson City to be part of some con he had going on. She ended up taking a bullet for one of his marks—” Bradley’s cell phone chimed, drawing his attention away from the story. He glanced at the device, studied it, then turned back to Eddie. “Duty calls. I’ve got to run.” He rose and extended his hand to Eddie. “Let me know if you need anything.”

  Eddie didn’t pay much attention to Bradley’s departure. Instead, he let his thoughts wrap back around Rio Laraquette.

  Law enforcement officials professed to uphold the “protect and serve” motto, but how many of them really meant it? Very few, as he was coming to learn. She actually proved it, and that elevated her in his eyes.

  Every day it was something new. Either she delivered some awe-inspiring deed, or he’d hear some incredible story about her past exploits. He had to admit, he found Rio Laraquette utterly fascinating and puzzling and too good to be true.

  * * *

  Mission Impossible jingled on Eddie’s cell phone, pulling him out of a light slumber.

  He’d fallen asleep. When did that happen?

  The meds, he thought, waking. That’s why he’d fought against taking them. He didn’t like losing control to anything or anyone.

  He reached for the phone on the nearby stand. A text message. He flipped up the phone and punched a couple of buttons to bring the message up on the screen.

  That bitch is dead!

  ~~~~

  ** Thank you for taking a look at this free preview of VEGAS, BABY. If you’re interested in reading the book in its entirety it’s available at Smashwords, Amazon’s Kindle Store, BN’s Nook Store, and various other outlets.

  Please keep reading if you’d like a taste of my latest release, STAKED (Time Brokers: Book One). It’s a paranormal tale about vampires, time travel and a little romance. **

  ~~~~

  STAKED

  Time Brokers: Book One

  By

  Sandra Edwards

  ~~~~

  Chapter One

  New York City

  Tonight

  Ava Valentine scooped up the last of the Sun Stones and closed her fist around their lingering glow. She held tight, ignoring the sting, and absorbed the pain before it sheathed her apprentice Mickey. Ava had long since developed a high tolerance to the physical suffering that came with brokering time, and that made her bounty hunting services invaluable.

  Mickey cleared his throat—his way of pretending that traveling through time didn’t hurt. He was getting stronger, but not yet capable of handling the raw side-effects alone. Someday he’d have to absorb the full impact, but not today. Today he remained under Ava’s protection.

  The stinging subsided as Ava dispensed the pea-sized gems into a pouch no bigger than a teabag. She tightened the drawstring and secured it on her belt loop before tucking the little purse into the waistband of her blue jeans.

  An uneasy silence spilled across the cool night air and swirled around Ava and Mickey. She scanned the darkened, desolate alley and eased the MPD from her back pocket. Not that the Micro Placement Device, a Blackberry-type gadget, could offer much support in the way of protection, but in these electronically-underdeveloped times it’d do three things well. One, verify when and where they were. Two, allow Mickey and her to communicate over a secured connection if they got separated. And three, confirm they’d landed in the same time period as their fugitive.

  Another glance around the alley and Ava beckoned Mickey to follow her.

  “I think the jump was easier this time.” He shivered and tucked his fingertips inside the front pockets of his jeans.

  “Soon enough it won’t bother you at all.” Okay, so that was a lie. As far as Ava knew, she was the only broker who’d ever developed a tolerance to the pain of transporting passengers through time—the only thing that kept every Karellian within traveling distance of the galaxy from swarming Earth and selling their services to the highest bidder.

  The pain—she’d heard some describe as excruciating—kept the number of Brokers to a minimum. It took a certain kind of person to step inside the bowels of hell for mere money. Some handled it better than others, but most didn’t even want to try.

  “When do you think I’ll be ready to broker?” Mickey was one of the few willing to bear the pain for justice.

  “Baby steps, my friend. Baby steps.” Ava had been sharing the pain with him lately, but at a rate of less than ten percent. It’d be awhile before he was strong enough to handle even twenty-five percent, much less broker time.

  Booze was just the medicine Mickey needed. The nagging ache often dwindled within half an hour after entry, and by her calculations they had another twenty minutes before he was one hundred percent. A stiff shot might hurry that along.

  “You want
to get a beer or something?” Truth be known, Ava could go for a drink too. Maybe it’d help settle her nerves; they hadn’t been right since the new contact entered the picture. He was someone she’d never met, and that saddled her with a whole new set of problems when it came to chasing bounty.

  “Can we?” Mickey licked his lips, anticipating a cold one, and quickened his step, skipping sideways alongside her. “Do we have time?”

  “Sure.” Besides, she’d arranged to meet the new guy at a familiar pub. She didn’t have a problem mixing business with pleasure. In fact, she combined the two whenever possible. It also helped that twenty-first century bars were a favorite pit stop for those she chased.

  They turned left at the next corner and headed for a little bar called Louie’s. Thoughts of the neon-blue sign hanging over the door and the pink and green palm tree in the window brought a smile to her lips. Louie’s was always one of her first stops when tracking bounties to the early twenty-first century.

  For some reason, twenty-ninth century criminals thought the twentieth and twenty-first centuries were grand hiding places. Why, Ava had no idea. The period’s urban life had its charms, like the music, but she wouldn’t want to live in this time. Most things had to be done manually and the technology was rudimentary.

  A chill clawed up Ava’s back as they turned another corner. Somebody was watching her. Who, she didn’t know, but she tagged a mental note to keep tabs on her shadow.

  Seeing the pub’s sign all lit up in neon-blue brought back memories, both good and bad. “Ah, Louie’s...here it is.” She paused at the door and her mood lightened a little inside.

  “You know this place?” Mickey asked. She was pretty sure he’d thrown it at her more out of curiosity than nosiness.

  “Indeed, I do. Very well.” But she didn’t want to talk about it. More to the point, she didn’t want to talk about him. And she didn’t want to give him a heads-up on their location, either.