by C. C. Snow
She shakes her head, sending bleach-blonde hair flying over her shoulders. “I’m sorry, Detective. I swear I haven’t seen him,” she says with a telltale quaver in her voice. Blue eyes darting from side to side, she fidgets with the hem of her mini-skirt nervously. I don’t know how she walks around in the dead of winter in her skimpy outfit, but I suppose the less she wears, the faster she’ll attract a client.
Maxine is only twenty-two, but drugs, alcohol, and hard living have left their marks and she looks a decade older. I’ve referred her to social services time and time again, but within weeks she’s always back on the streets. It amazes me how decent people keep making bad decisions over and over again.
Marc’s gaze meets mine over her head and our expressions tighten with frustration. We’ve spent the better part of the day trolling Carmona’s territory to find Bleed, but nobody is talking. Their silence doesn’t surprise me. Carmona’s gang is known to be diabolically brutal when it comes to anyone who betrays them. The last guy caught being disloyal was eviscerated. Literally.
Resigned to another dead end, I say gently, “Thanks, Maxine. Have a safe night.”
Her face relaxes and she bobs her head enthusiastically.
Before she walks away, I clasp her arm, wincing when I feel the scabs along her flesh. “Maxine, if you need anything, please call.”
A small, sad smile flits across her face before she disappears down the street.
Marc grunts in anger when we get inside the car. “Fuck. Just the mention of him has them pissing their pants.”
“We’re not going to get anywhere. Let’s go back to the office.” It’s already eight and we’re too tired to be productive. The drive back takes almost an hour and both Marc and I are exhausted.
As we pull into the parking garage, my phone rings. Blocked number. “Rowan here,” I answer.
“Detective. I don’t think you got my message.” The voice has been digitally altered, but there is no disguising the menace.
“Bleed,” I say curtly, my gaze scanning the garage automatically.
Marc’s gaze jerks to mine and he pulls swiftly into a parking space. In sync, we step out of the car and take out our guns in one motion. It’s unlikely the fucker is here, but he’s proven to be one arrogant son-of-a-bitch.
“And I thought you were a smart man.” He makes a tsking sound, setting my teeth on edge.
I force my voice to be calm and nonchalant. “You’re a coward, Bleed. Hiding in the shadows. Too afraid to face me like a real man,” I jeer softly.
My taunt finds its mark because his words sound terse, as if his jaw is locked with anger. “I’m not afraid, but you should be. Since you’re so dense, I’ve left you a message even you would understand on your desk. Good night, Detective.”
My gut tightens with dark foreboding at the sound of his soft, maniacal laugh and I break into a run toward the open elevator doors. I’m not worried about an explosive device. All packages are scanned before they get into the building, but knowing Bleed’s MO, it’ll be something gruesome and personal.
Marc is only a fraction of a second behind me. Curtly, I outline the conversation and he swears colorfully in Italian. We both stare at the lit numbers over the door, willing the elevator to move faster than its tortoise-like crawl. As soon as the doors are wide enough, I slide through sideways and race toward my desk.
Sitting in my inbox is an innocuous manila envelope. There are no distinguishing marks on it, but I can feel the wrongness of it. Snatching it up, I slide my finger to open the flap and reach in to pull out the contents.
“Jesus,” I say through numb lips, fighting not to lose the contents of my stomach. I would recognize this picture even if all the vital details were hidden. I had studied it over and over again for months. It is etched in acid on the back of my eyelids.
Leanne Martin, limbs sprawled at impossible angles.
Covered with bruises and innumerable seeping wounds.
Blood-soaked hair.
Eyes vacant in death.
Only in this photo, the face of Leanne is superimposed with a cutout of Maggie, her sweet face lit up with a bright smile. At the bottom is scrawled: Expiration date: 9:30.
I slap the photo onto my desk, reeling with shock. How the fuck did he find out about her?
“Madonna,” Marc mutters, eyes round with horror.
Terror and revulsion rushing powerfully through me, I bend over and brace my hands on the edge of my desk, trying to keep the room from spinning. Blood rushes to my head, but instead of helping me to think logically, it makes my thoughts churn even more chaotically.
Get it together, Rowan.
I try to latch onto the advice, but it’s overruled by panic and fear. Cold sweat sheens my body as I try to get my mind to work. I smack my forehead against my desk, hoping the pain can snap me out of it, but in my mind’s eye, I see Maggie’s body splayed obscenely in death. Her beautiful spirit snuffed out. Her sunny laugh forever quieted. I gag, bile rising up to coat the back of my throat, bitter and foul.
The inhumanly furious thumping of my heart acts like an electric shock to my system. I place my palm on the organ threatening to slam through my chest cavity. Threatening to explode in agony at the thought of losing her forever.
My heart. She’s my fucking heart. My everything. No more bullshit theories about love. No more pretense. I fucking love her and this sick monster is not getting anywhere near her.
A distant part of my brain notes with dark amusement that Maggie’s not going to like the revelation that I realized I loved her at the same time I was trying to not vomit.
Get your shit together or you won’t be making any revelations. Go, go, go!
The injection of rage and urgency sends a shot of much-needed adrenaline through my body. My brain kicks into overdrive and I ruthlessly focus on a plan to keep her safe. Before I’m even fully upright, I have my phone at my ear.
“What’s up, Rowan?” Bo’s voice is crisp and alert.
“Where’s Maggie?” I ask, fighting for calm. Having a pansy-ass panic attack is not going to help the situation. I make eye contact with Marc and jerk my chin toward the exit. It’s a testament to the strength of our partnership that he starts moving without asking any questions.
“Jace is watching her. Let me get him on the phone.”
I hear indistinct murmurs in the background.
Bo says promptly, “She’s still at school. Her exam is scheduled to end soon.”
“Bleed knows about her.” I describe the doctored photo and Bo makes a snarling sound. “Tell Jace to sit on top of her as soon as she walks out of the building.”
“Roger that. I’m heading over there now.”
At Marc’s questioning look, I briefly outline the situation and explain about the protection detail I put on Maggie.
“At least she has professionals looking out for her,” he tries to reassure me.
“But I won’t feel right until I can see her,” I say, anxiety gnawing at my gut.
When we reach the car, Marc gets into the driver’s seat.
I give my partner the address as I tap on Maggie’s number. As expected, it goes to voicemail. She probably shut her phone off for her final exam. “Maggie, it’s Sean. When you get this message please call me, angel. It’s urgent. Also, when a man named Jace McGregor approaches you, please do everything he says. He’s there to protect you. Don’t. I repeat. Don’t go anywhere by yourself. I’m on my way to see you and I’ll explain everything as soon as I get there.”
When I hang up, I call Cael.
Stubborn fuck is still not answering. Mule-headedness is definitely a family trait. “Asshole, it’s Sean. Maggie’s in danger because of a case I’m working on. Call me as soon as you get this.”
It doesn’t surprise me when he calls me a minute later. I knew he was listening to my messages.
“What the FUCK do you mean Maggie’s in danger?”
“A gangbanger is trying to get me to back off from a case.
He found out about our relationship and is going after her.”
“Relationship?” Cael’s voice is a carbon steel blade.
“YES!” I shout into the phone. “You can beat me to a pulp later, asshat! I already have a guy watching her, but I need you to get to the school. Stat.”
“Fuck! I’m in Brooklyn having dinner with a friend. I’m heading back right now.”
Shit. Shit. Shit. Always too far away. “I’m on my way to Columbia. I’ll call you as soon as I get to her.”
Marc’s curse draws my attention and I follow his gaze to see a bus skid sideways and plow into a cab. Pandemonium erupts as passengers stream out onto the street and screams fill the air. I swivel my head to look behind us and we’re completely blocked in.
“FUCK!” I scream into the heavens, feeling like this is punishment for all my shit. I look at the clock. It’s already 9:28 and my nerves are prickling with unease. Checking the surroundings, I unbuckle my seatbelt. “We’re not too far from the school. I’m going to hoof it.”
“I’ll come as soon as I get out of this mess. Go get your girl.”
I slam the door and start running. The icy ground makes it tricky to pick up speed and I swear as my feet slide from under me.
When my phone rings, I pick up without slowing my gait. “Rowan.”
“We lost sight of her.” Shame and disgust are rife in Bo’s voice.
“WHAT THE FUCK?” I yell, ignoring the startled passersby who steer clear of me. Good, I think savagely. Get out of my way.
“She never came out of the lecture hall with the other students. Jace and I split up to watch the main entrances, but she must have used one of the exits in the back. I’m sorry, Sean. We’re scouring the area for her right now. We tried calling her, but it goes straight to voicemail.”
“Jesus.” My blood turns to pure ice. What if Bleed already got to her? What if her attacker got to her?
Shit, I had been the one to put her in danger.
For half a heartbeat, I consider staying away from her for the rest of my life, but I immediately dismiss it. I’m not that fucking noble. Even before I had my epiphany, I had been gearing up to go after her. I wasn’t going to leave her alone until she took me back. I had only waited because I had to take care of Bleed and my own shit. I never imagined he would find out about us and go after her.
When I get my hands on her, I’m going to handcuff her to me, I vow to myself.
Ignoring the dangerously slippery road, I pick up my pace. “I’m almost there. Meet me at the entrance of the building in three minutes.”
I tap on Maggie’s number, but it kicks into voicemail. “Angel. It’s Sean. Call me. Please.”
Still running at full speed, I call Cael. I won’t hide anything from him again.
“Sean, what—”
“We can’t find Maggie.”
“WHAT THE FUCK?”
At any other time I would be amused at how alike we are, but right now, I need intel. “Did she tell you where she might have gone?”
“She said something about celebrating with friends, but she wouldn’t give me any details.”
“Why the fuck didn’t you get her to tell you?” I know my anger is misdirected, but I feel like I’m coming unglued.
“Fuck you! You’re the one who put my sister in danger,” he roars.
“Fuck. Fuck. FUCK! We don’t have time for this. Where are you right now?” I need as many people looking for her as possible.
“I just crossed the bridge.”
Shit, still too far away. “Do you remember anything else? Do you know who she was going out with?” I see the silhouette of the lecture building ahead and I push my body to move faster.
“She didn’t mention any names, but I remember her saying her friend, Todd, was walking her to school.”
“Todd Jorgsen?”
“I didn’t get the last name.”
“FUCK! What’s wrong with you?”
“When my sister’s safe and sound, Rowan, you have a date with my fist.”
“Bring it!” I end the call and turn to the two men waiting for me. Panting from my run, I gasp, “Anything?”
Bo shakes his head. “No, we checked the perimeter, but there’s no sign of her.” He left the Marines years ago, but his speech pattern still retains the staccato rhythm of the military. He’s my height, but bulkier in the chest and arms. His dark hair is shorn to inches within his skull. He has a deceptively boyish, friendly face, but a sharp observer would know he’s dangerous from the way he moves, economical and restrained. His dark grey eyes are never still, constantly assessing and weighing everything around him.
“I fucked up,” Jace McGregor says, standing stiffly as if awaiting disciplinary action. “I didn’t expect her to take evasive action.” His light blue eyes look eerie in the dark.
I want to lash out, but I know he’s not to blame. My sprite is damn unpredictable. “I should have warned you she’s doesn’t always do what is expected.” I comfort myself that if she evaded Jace and Bo, she might have also escaped the notice of anyone else who might be stalking her.
God, please let that be the case. My only option is to move forward on the assumption she’s okay. Anything else is unacceptable.
I take out my phone and dial Todd Jorgsen. Thank fuck I had the foresight to do background checks on every one of her friends after she was attacked.
“Hello?” A voice answers tentatively.
“Todd Jorgsen?”
“Yes? Who’s this?”
I speak quickly. “We haven’t met. I’m Maggie’s friend, Detective Sean Rowan.” I deliberately use my title. “We have reason to believe she’s in danger and I need to find her immediately. Were you going out with her tonight?”
“Yes, we were supposed to meet at Cielo at ten. I’m on my way there now.” His voice fills with concern.
I look at my watch. It’s already a quarter ‘til. “Have you been in contact with her?”
“No. I haven’t talked to her since I saw her at school.”
“If she contacts you, tell her it’s an emergency and she needs to call me.”
“Okay.” His voice shakes with fear.
“We need to get to Cielo,” I say curtly, dread weighing down my thought processes. Even with no traffic, we’ll barely make it in time, but on a Friday night, we would need a miracle.
“I have my bike,” Bo says.
“I’ll stay here and look around one more time before I meet you there,” Jace volunteers.
“Let’s go!” I start running after Bo, not wasting time to call Cael. Something in my gut tells me every second counts. If she makes it into club before we reach her, she’s a sitting duck. In the loud, crowded atmosphere, anything could happen to her and nobody would notice.
Hurry, hurry, hurry. The refrain is a frenzied drumbeat.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Maggie
My heart is still thumping wildly when Paula, Arianna and I walk briskly away from campus.
“Are you sure that guy was following you?” Paula asks as she looks fearfully over her shoulder, a note of disbelief in her voice.
“Not one hundred percent, but I wasn’t going to risk it.” As we were about to leave the lecture hall, I caught a glimpse of a dark-haired man standing on the edges of the lit entrance and my belly cramped in alarm. There was something very familiar about his stance. When he stepped into the light, his pale eyes glinted and I gasped with recognition. He looked like the man who was watching me when I walked with Todd to class. It couldn’t have been a coincidence that he was standing outside the lecture hall.
Don’t doubt your instincts. If anything or anyone makes you uneasy, you need to follow your intuition.
This time, I listened to Sean’s instructions. Sneaking out through one of the side doors, my friends and I used a roundabout route to get onto a main street.
I considered calling the police, but they would probably think I was pathologically paranoid for reporting someone
who might or might not be stalking me. Besides, the man was a complete stranger and couldn’t have been my attacker. The more I consider the situation, the more I realize I had overreacted. But that prickling at the nape of my neck won’t go away.
Once we are in a more trafficked area, Arianna holds up her hand to hail a cab. One pulls up quickly and she and Paula slide into the backseat.
I hesitate, feeling off center and uneasy, and make a sudden decision. One hand holding onto the cab door, I lean down and say, “Guys, I’m going back to the dorm. I don’t think I’m up for going out after all.” I can’t stand the thought of sweaty, anonymous bodies brushing against me all night. I’ll probably have a nervous breakdown before I even get on the dance floor.
“Are you sure?” Arianna asks with a frown.
“Yeah, I need to make some calls. That guy really spooked me and I’m not going to be very fun tonight.” I guess I’m going to spend the night crying about Sean again, I think wryly.
They start to get out of the vehicle, but I stop them with a gesture. “You better go now or you’re going to be late to meet with everybody. Tell them I’m sorry I bailed, but I’ll make it up to them. It’s only a few blocks away from the dorm and there are still people walking around. I’ll be fine.”
They look torn and I make the decision for them by closing the car door. “Have a good time. If I change my mind, I’ll give you a call.”
“Okay. Text us when you juice up your phone,” Paula says.
I wave goodbye and the taxi takes off. Adjusting my collar to block out the cold, I start to walk toward my dorm. I hold my pepper spray at the ready and keep my senses fanned outward. I swivel my head around, surprised by how quickly the street has emptied.
The normally loud city noises seem to be very distant. I strain to hear anything that would indicate the presence of other pedestrians, but I seem to be alone. No footsteps. No quiet conversations.
How the hell can the street be empty at this time of night?
Shivering from something other than the cold, I hunch my shoulders inward, trying to make myself inconspicuous.