Exit Wounds

by V. K. Powell

  Unfazed, the beefy bouncer reached out and grabbed Kinsey’s breasts in his huge hands, turned back to the patron, and grinned. Abby moved closer and heard him say, “This is what you’re getting paid for. Got it?” Kinsey shoved his hands away, slapped his face, and bolted toward the back door.

  Abby left her drink on the bar and started toward Ray, her feet stomping the floor like a raging stallion’s. She didn’t care if this was a topless bar; nobody disrespected her employees. Halfway across the floor her anger cooled. If she allowed her caretaking gene to emerge, she’d certainly blow her cover. She forced herself to back away and instead went after Kinsey.

  She found her sitting on the back steps and joined her. “You okay?”

  “Sure.”

  “I tried to warn you.”

  “I can handle it. Set boundaries at the start.”

  Abby admired her strength. She’d put Ray in his place but was still willing to work somewhere she didn’t like. “The point is that you shouldn’t have to, especially not with fellow employees.” She didn’t want to say what came next. “Kinsey, I think maybe this job isn’t—”

  The young woman turned to her, reaching for her hands. “Please, M, don’t fire me. I need this job. I’ll be all right.”

  “It doesn’t seem to suit you. Can you do anything else?”

  “What do you need?” Her eyes burned with desperation and Abby felt compelled.

  “Do you know anything about bookkeeping, records, stuff like that?”

  “Isn’t it all a bunch of numbers?”

  “More or less.” Oh, the innocence of youth. How simple they made things sound. “Come back tomorrow around noon and we’ll look at the accounting software. If you can help with that, we might be able to work something out. But please, no more waiting tables.” She smiled and gently squeezed Kinsey’s arm.

  “What about Ray?”

  “He’s about to feel the wrath of the new boss.”

  Kinsey started to get up but put her hand over Abby’s where it rested on her arm. “You got a boyfriend? I know that’s a personal question, but I like you.”

  Abby didn’t usually get into personal discussions with anyone, especially not employees, but Kinsey was different—innocent and unthreatening in a way that reminded her of a teenager before know-it-all-itis set in. Maybe it was her large inquisitive eyes that begged for trust. “I’m not into men.”

  “A girlfriend, then?”

  The question was a painful reminder that she had no idea where she and Loane stood. Should she answer based on her desires, Loane’s perspective, or current circumstances? “Yes, no, I’m not sure.”

  “Well…I don’t know much about you, but you seem like an awesome woman. When you figure out where you are, give me a shout. I know people—”

  “Thanks, Kinsey, but I’m not in the market. I appreciate it.”

  “Okay, see you tomorrow.” Kinsey smiled and strolled toward the front of the building.

  When she was gone, Abby walked through the parking lot toward where she’d left the moving van. With everybody busy inside, this was a good time to check out the cargo. She’d be in and out in minutes. As she rounded the corner of the building, she stared at the vacant space in the lot. The truck was gone and with it her chance to inspect its contents. For the second time today she felt totally unproductive—no closer to Loane and no closer to finishing this seemingly endless case.

  Chapter Ten

  Standing in line at the Sky Bar, Loane felt like she was trapped in a glass bubble, able to see and hear, but not truly connect—totally out of context. She was shoved along with the crowd pushing its way toward the door. People talked but their voices didn’t register, like wind through trees, saying nothing of significance.

  As a cop she would’ve observed from a distance, listened for information, and been unaffected. After Vi’s makeover, she wanted to test her new look, not be a cop, and see if she could fit in. But the whispered words around her—words of want, need, desire—only made her feel more separate and isolated. As young, hard bodies rubbed against her and pushed closer to the door, she ached to be touched, but her heart and mind railed against it.

  She hadn’t thought about love or sex for months. Gorgeous, dark-haired women were easy enough to find, but she couldn’t delete one, insert another, and carry on like she had in the past. Abby had triggered something in her that defied logic and transcended sex. But those once-tender feelings had started to harden and corrupt everything she encountered. The sweetness now tasted bitter. Passion morphed into anger. And hope too closely resembled revenge. That was, after all, why she stood at this moment at the enemy’s door.

  “What the fuck do we have here?”

  She recognized the ponytail-wearing bouncer as one of the employees who had accosted her across the street. Time to test her new role. “A paying customer.”

  “We don’t let pigs into our establishment. It’s a respectable place.”

  The crowd moved back, probably anticipating an altercation or perhaps an opportunity to slip past the preoccupied bouncer. “I’m not a cop anymore. Just looking for a good time.”

  Ponytail gave her a sideways evaluation. “You might look different but you still smell like pork.”

  “Fuck you, man. I don’t need this shit. I can spend my money somewhere else.” She bluffed and turned to leave but got help from an unexpected source.

  A guy in the crowd said, “Come on, Tiny. What’s the holdup? Move along.”

  Another yelled, “Yeah, what the fuck?” The crowd joined in, chanting, “Let us in.”

  Tiny buckled under the pressure. “What the hell. Give me your damn money…and you better not cause any trouble. Got it?”

  She handed him the cover charge and waltzed inside. Tonight wasn’t about being on alert or reconnaissance. It was about inserting herself into this scene. She’d never been in the club out of uniform and felt a bit naked. At the same time, her body hummed with excitement. Being in a target-rich environment of recklessness and temptation was quite an aphrodisiac. The emotions she’d suppressed for months surged to the surface, seeking a means of escape.

  A curvy brunette brushed up against her. “Buy you a drink, lover? I’m Rachel.” She was definitely Loane’s type—long, dark hair, nice breasts, and a sexy voice.

  “Why don’t I buy you one? Find us a quiet spot.” Loane took her order and came back to the table with four shots of tequila and two beer chasers. If she wanted to fit in, she had to play the part. Nothing like alcoholic lubrication to loosen up her behavioral monitor.

  Loane wasn’t a big drinker, so the first shot of tequila flooded her system with heat. She welcomed the immediate buzz, happy to relinquish any portion of the sadness that clung to her like black to a widow. Refusing to think about the past, she downed a second shot and rested her head against the cushioned booth.

  Rachel scooted closer and Loane felt the heat of her body. She remembered a time that would’ve been enough of an invitation, but she wasn’t into subtlety these days. Rachel pressed her lips to Loane’s neck, kissed her lightly, and licked a trail to her ear. No doubt what Rachel wanted now, if her body would cooperate.

  She took in Rachel’s tight skirt and low-cut blouse. They cradled her shapely ass and generous breasts to perfect advantage. Normally she would’ve been wet already from looking at Rachel’s assets, but she felt nothing. She closed her eyes and imagined Abby instead—long, wavy hair sifting through her fingers, full lips sucking on hers, curvy body sliding hot and wet against her. Instantly aroused, she opened her eyes, trying to hold the image, and ordered another shot of tequila. It would take more than two to pull this off.

  “Would you like a lap dance?” Rachel asked.

  “From you or one of the dancers?” At this point she didn’t care, as long as someone touched her before the inspiration passed. She didn’t want to want it, but she had denied herself any emotional outlet for so long that her body seemed constantly on edge. She’d even lashe
d out at Vi a couple of times. Sex was a safer and less complicated outlet than the depression and volatility she’d been experiencing. She chugged the third shot, praying for mental numbness and sexual abandon.

  “Whatever you want, lover. But the dancers aren’t allowed to do much and you can’t touch them.” Rachel inched closer and rubbed her breasts against Loane’s arm. “I don’t have those limitations.”

  “Why not both?” The alcohol had definitely sunk in. Loane hardly recognized her own voice. “Her.” She pointed to a topless dancer with long chestnut hair that fell in curls past her shoulders.

  Rachel approached the young woman, slipped several bills into her bikini bottom, and pointed toward Loane. The two women walked toward her and she thought how alike they looked, both short, brunette, and curvy—how similar to Abby.

  Rachel nodded toward the dancer. “This is Erin. Erin, meet…oops, I don’t even know your name, lover.”

  “Loane.”

  “I like that,” Rachel said as she slid a chair away from the table and indicated that Loane should relocate. “It’ll be easier.”

  Loane sat down and stretched her legs, the new skinny jeans feeling a bit too snug in the crotch. Erin’s body was lean and rhythmic, swaying back and forth in a cadence that would’ve kept a hula hoop spinning for hours. She drank her beer chaser as Erin danced a slow, seductive number. “Nice.” Her breasts were perfectly palm-sized, nothing to waste. “Very nice.” She reached out but Erin spun away.

  “Not allowed, but I can touch you.” Erin straddled her lap and rubbed her breasts against Loane’s chest. “You like that?”

  Her breath caught in her throat as bare flesh teased too-sensitive skin. “Yes.” Everything aligned at once—too much alcohol too quickly, too little sex too long ago, and too many feelings too close to the surface—and her control slipped. She might’ve stood a chance against one of her flaws, but in combination they were overpowering.

  From behind, Rachel ran her fingers over Loane’s close-cropped hair, massaging her scalp. It felt intimate and sensuous, and she wondered why it felt better with less hair. Rachel kissed her earlobe and tongued the sensitive rim of her ear, releasing a flood between her legs.

  Loane wanted to grab hold of something tangible, not be tormented with one more thing she couldn’t have. Erin rocked her pelvis forward, driving the seam of Loane’s jeans into her tender clit. Driven by sheer animal need, she cupped Erin’s ass and humped against her, grinding, straining for more contact. She buried her face between Erin’s breasts and breathed the scent of arousal rising from her crotch. God, she needed to come. It had been so long and she physically ached. A few strokes would be enough. She held Erin against her, pumping faster. A few more—

  “What the fuck? Get your damn hands off her.”

  Loane opened her eyes and saw the two bouncers she’d encountered before looming over her like a couple of tanks. She was so close to orgasm her legs trembled. For an instant she considered finishing. Erin didn’t seem in a hurry to move.

  “I told you not to cause any trouble,” one bouncer said as he pulled Erin off her lap.

  “You’re the one causing trouble. I’m trying to have a good time.”

  “There’s no touching the girls. You know the rules.” The other guy nodded toward the front door. “Don’t come back until you can follow them.”

  Loane didn’t move. She couldn’t. Every nerve in her body was firing toward her crotch. If she moved she’d have a screaming orgasm or rip something apart with her bare hands. Humping a stranger in a public place had nothing to do with intimacy or even sex. She needed a release…any release. Right now Mutt and Jeff looked like good targets for her aggression since they’d interrupted her method of choice. She balled her hands into gloved fists, rose from the chair, and started toward them.

  “Hey, lover, why don’t we finish this elsewhere? This place has become unfriendly all of a sudden.” Rachel tugged on her arm, urging her in the opposite direction. “Come with me.”

  She looked from the two bouncers to Rachel—fight or fuck. Easy decision. “Yeah, sure.” By the time they worked their way through the throngs of people and got outside, she’d sobered up a bit. “Maybe some other time?”

  Rachel slid a hand down her chest toward the zipper of her jeans. “I could take care of this little problem pretty quick. I’m very handy.”

  “Those guys killed the mood. Rain check?”

  Rachel backed away, obviously disappointed at the abrupt end of her sure-thing evening. “Okay, I’m here most nights. Come find me.”

  As Loane watched Rachel reenter the club, she doubted she ever would.

  *

  “Yo, wait up,” Vi called from across the street.

  Loane kept walking. “I’m not in the mood.”

  “Know what you’re in the mood for. Can’t help with that.” She caught up, looking like the same lost, bedraggled kid she always did. “Bad scene back there. You could get cooties from that one.”

  “Piss off, Vi.”

  “Look, dude, I know you’re hurt, horny, and probably headed for a hangover, but don’t take it out on me.”

  Her body quivered with the sexual energy she’d tamped down. Without thinking, she grabbed Vi’s sweatshirt and shoved her against a building. “Leave me the fuck alone.” She stared into Vi’s startled green eyes, trying to decide if she wanted to hit her, kiss her, or beg her for a hug. As the adrenaline oozed from her body, leaving her weak and ashamed, she slumped to the pavement and buried her face in her hands. “I’m so sorry.”

  “Can’t blame you. Everybody wants to touch me tonight.”

  Loane looked up at Vi’s grinning face and laughed…and kept laughing.

  “It wasn’t that funny.”

  “How do you know when I need to lighten up?”

  “Duh, you’re always wound tighter than the inside of a baseball.”

  “Still, I had no right to do that. I’m not usually violent. I don’t know what’s going on with me lately. Everything pisses me off.”

  “Wanna talk about it?”

  “No.” If she talked, she’d have to admit that all her emotional issues were rooted in pain and sadness. And she’d have to acknowledge the growing possibility that Abby was gone forever. She didn’t want to say those things out loud. It would hurt too much.

  Vi slid down the building beside her and was quiet for several seconds. “You sure made a splash on your first night out. Should’ve waited for your wingman. I could’ve covered while you got your freak on with the brunette.”

  How the hell did Vi know about that? She hadn’t seen her in the club. Her intelligence-gathering skills rivaled any organization, government or otherwise. “Are you following me again?”

  “Nope. Whoever the brunette is, ditch her. I’ve found the perfect woman for you.”

  “Not interested.”

  “You don’t even know who I’m talking about.”

  “And I don’t care, Vi. I’m not interested in seeing anybody…special.”

  “Then you wouldn’t like this woman. She’s very special.”

  Loane rested her forehead against her knees and had the overpowering urge to cry. Abby had been a special woman. Why hadn’t she told her? History. Think about history. Not one single fact sprang to mind, but words tumbled out of her mouth.

  “One of the people who…died in the explosion was…my lover, Abby.” Vi remained uncharacteristically quiet. “I should’ve been there, should’ve saved her. I tried, but it wasn’t enough. Never quite good enough.” She looked at her hands and then wiped her eyes as tears threatened.

  “I’m sorry.” Vi rested her hand lightly on Loane’s shoulder. “I didn’t know.”

  “How could you?” She took a couple of deep breaths and looked up at Vi. “I didn’t mean to unload on you. I don’t even know you.”

  “Yeah, but you know you can trust me. Freak.” They both chuckled, now back on familiar ground. Vi went quiet again, as if changing the subject
required serious concentration. “You interested in some case-related intel?”

  Just because Vi knew the cop lingo didn’t mean she knew good information from bad. But after her meltdown, Loane owed her the courtesy of listening. “What you got?”

  “The new manager of the club drove a moving van in last night.”

  “News flash—that’s not significant.”

  “I’m not done, brainiac. It was loaded with boxes marked ‘furniture’ that were never unloaded at the club.”

  “So…” Her patience was wearing thin again. She was exhausted, horny, and aching to slip into the condo and relax.

  “So, the boxes weren’t like any furniture boxes I’ve ever seen—long, rectangular.”

  Suddenly Vi had her complete attention. “Is the truck still at the club?”

  “Nope. Ray, the tree-trunk goon, drove it to a storage place near State Street and off-loaded the boxes into one of the units.”

  “Playing detective?”

  Vi shook her head.

  “Then how do you know this?”

  Vi shrugged.

  “That’s not going to get it. You need to be honest with me.”

  “I know things, that’s all.”

  “No, that’s not all. You could get seriously hurt or killed screwing around with these people, Vi.” An image of the explosion ripped through her mind and she shivered. “I can’t be responsible for that. Do you understand me?”

  Vi seemed genuinely contrite. “Yeah, I do now. But I’m not doing anything dangerous. I watch stuff. I’m no hero.”

  “And promise you won’t ever try to be.”

  “What’s the matter, copper, starting to like me?” Vi nudged Loane with her elbow. “I knew I’d get you eventually. I’m like a bad cold.”

  She wasn’t about to admit that she actually had a soft spot for Vi. Her ingenuity and independence reminded Loane of herself as a young officer, before the reality of procedures and politics blunted her enthusiasm. “Where is this storage place?”