by Julia Derek
“So tell me again how you saw this man get up to the 16th floor of that building,” Ian asked quietly.
I threw a quick glance over my shoulder to ensure no one was right behind us. We were completely alone. “I saw him climb the wall outside the building.”
“Using only his bare hands and feet?”
“That’s what it looked like.”
“Really? So, in other words, I was right all along when I told you we were dealing with someone of unnatural powers.”
“I don’t know about unnatural powers. I’m sure the NYPD will figure out how he got into the building eventually.”
“You mean how he managed to climb sixteen floors of a smooth stone building using only his hands and feet?”
“It was pretty dark out. Maybe I missed something.” I decided to change the subject as I couldn’t stand the gleeful tone in Ian’s voice. “I found two politicians for you.”
He turned to face me. “You did? Great. Who are they?”
“Governor Damon Chatterly and Janine Eastwood, a North Carolina senator. I’m sure you’ve heard of her.”
“I have heard of her and him. And, in fact, I heard she was in New York at the moment.”
“Really? Maybe she’s meeting up with Chatterly and my fitness manager as we speak.”
“Why are you saying that?”
“I saw Chatterly work out on the fifth floor yesterday afternoon. I even spoke to him. He was as pleasant to talk to as he is to look at.”
“Go on.” Ian’s voice sounded so tense that I shot him a look. All the glee was wiped off his face and instead he looked stony. “Because there’s more, isn’t there?”
“Yes. My manager suddenly appeared on the gym floor and he and Chatterly exchanged a few words. They—well, at least my manager—spoke in a way that suggested they already knew each other. Like maybe they’re old friends.”
“What did they say?”
“Rolf—that’s my manager—just asked Chatterly if they were still on for tomorrow—meaning today—at two p.m. And Chatterly responded with a ‘you got it.’”
“I wish you’d have told me this earlier. I would have shadowed your manager.”
“I was planning to, but then all the stuff with the rapist happened and I totally forgot.”
“That’s understandable. Next time, please tell me. Also, keep looking for more politicians.”
“Sure.” But I wasn’t as sure as I’d sounded. If the NYPD came up with a plausible reason the rapist had climbed that smooth stone wall in the end, I’d be less inclined to help him. I still refused to believe all he had used were his hands and feet, even though that was what I had seen with my own eyes.
Maybe I had been mistaken. It had been dark out after all, exactly like I had told Ian. Only the full moon—albeit brightened up by New York City night lights—had helped me see him.
Maybe the rapist had used something to help him climb that I had failed to see. Some kind of extremely strong glue on his hands and feet. It was possible. Or maybe someone had been on top of the building, having lowered rope from the roof that he’d been using. Of course, it sure hadn’t looked like he’d used a rope from my vantage point. But, again, it had been dark out.
It’s easy to make mistakes in the dark.
Having completed one sixth of a mile, we reached the door back into the health club. We stopped there. Neither Ian nor I were breathing heavily. We were both in too good a shape for such a slow run to have much of an effect on our lungs.
“Let’s go back inside,” I said and opened the heavy glass door.
We walked inside and up to the fifth floor where I would have Ian do some bench press and lat pull-ups on the bars there, as well as some abdominal work. I wasn’t a sadist. Even if he didn’t want to admit it, I knew his legs could use some more time to recover from our last workout.
An hour later, I was done with Ian. After making phone calls to new clients, I went down to the club cafeteria for a break and a bite to eat. Not in the mood to talk to anyone, I sat on a barstool at the long wooden counter that edged the side of the cafeteria. I gazed out the windows there with my back to the rest of the food establishment’s patrons while taking my time eating a chicken salad.
When I had finished, my plate scraped clean, and was about to stand up to go put my tray in the trash area, my phone buzzed.
I pulled it out of my pocket to see who had texted me. I froze and nearly dropped the phone when I read the message.
It’s not over yet. You’re next.
I read it a couple more times to be sure I had understood the words correctly. Not because they were hard to understand, but because my brain didn’t want to understand them at first.
When I finally accepted what they said, I checked the number they had been sent from. It was the same number that had contacted me the other two times.
I returned my phone into my pocket, then grabbed my tray and walked over to the trash area where I left my plate and silverware. Then I walked to the elevators behind the cafeteria that would take me up to the sixth floor and the rooftop terrace. I needed some fresh air and privacy so I could call Dante. Not that I thought he would be able to do something about what had just happened, but I needed to talk to someone I knew, someone I trusted.
Unfortunately, Ian didn’t belong in that group. Maybe he would one day.
As I waited for the elevator to arrive and take me up to the sixth floor and the rooftop, my chest ached with longing for Nick. Nick was the person I really wanted to talk to, whose voice I really wanted to hear. Oh, Nick, why do you have to be dead?
I blinked a couple of times to make the tears that were suddenly threatening to fill my eyes to go away. I needed to stay hard, tough. It was the only way I would ever find his killers. The only way I would stay sharp. If I let myself miss him too much, I worried that I would never again recover. I would have to live the rest of my miserable life in an institution somewhere, having gone crazy with sorrow.
That could not happen. I would stay strong at least until I knew what had happened to him. Then I’d see what I would do. If I’d keep living. For now, I had a purpose.
The elevator pinged and the doors spread open before me. Some people came out and I walked inside, pressing the button to the sixth floor.
As soon as I was out on the rooftop, having made sure I was far away from the other people up there, I speed-dialed George instead of Dante. I had changed my mind at the last second. The idea of speaking to Dante, whose voice was naturally more soothing than George’s, might push me over the edge. It might cause me to break apart by asking me about Nick. I hadn’t spoken to Dante since I’d arrived in New York, so chances were he would.
Yes, it was better if I spoke to George. He was sweet, but more business-like. Also, come to think of it, he might actually be able to do something about the texts. This time I would tell him what the texts contained.
He picked up after the first ring.
“Hey, Gabi. You all right?”
“I’ve been better. I got another text from that same Skype number. Someone’s threatening to rape and kill me.”
“What? Was that what the person did when you called me the first time?”
“Yep.”
“Why didn’t you tell me? I would have tried harder to find out who it was!”
“I didn’t want to upset you, but now I’m really weirded out.”
“Why? What did it say?”
“That it’s not over yet. That I’m next. The thing is, the rapist murderer here in New York I thought was behind the texts was caught and killed last night.”
“Is it possible he isn’t really dead?”
“No. I killed him and saw the body several minutes after he was shot and had fallen sixteen stories. He’s dead many times over.”
George inhaled. “Then he must have an accomplice.”
“Yeah, it looks like that.”
“What’s the number again? Let
me do another search on it. I’m in front of my computer at work right now.”
I checked my phone and gave George the number. As I waited for him to do a second search, I took in the people lying on the sun chairs. There were only five, all of them reading or just lying there with closed eyes, lapping up the spring sun.
“Hmm. That’s weird,” George said after some time.
“What’s weird?”
“I can see from where the Skype text was placed this time.”
“You mean you can see the location of the computer that was used to text me?”
“Yes. It’s from a street on the Upper East Side of Manhattan.”
I grasped the phone more tightly. “Can you see what block?”
“Maybe. Wait a second. Yes, now I see it. It looks like it’s from a place on third and 78th street.”
I could barely breathe. “Are you sure?”
“Yes.”
“Why do you think you weren’t able to see it the last time you checked?”
“Not sure. Maybe because the person forgot to block it this time around. Could be many reasons.”
“Got it. Thanks, George. I gotta run.”
We said goodbye and disconnected. I went back to the texts on my phone and scrolled down to Ian’s string of texts. In one of his texts, he had mentioned his address so I could go there for dinner. The address was 166 East 78th street, which would put him right on third and 78th street. I checked the time. It was four p.m. now, which also meant that Ian would have had time to get back home and send me the text. If he was in a hurry to get it to me, it wasn’t strange if he had forgotten to block his number this time.
Well, it sure looked like Ian was the rapist’s accomplice—or at least pretended like he was to fuck with my head. Who else would have sent me those texts from a computer on Ian’s block, right at the corner where his apartment building was? What was the chance it was just a coincidence? Minuscule, I decided. Surely Ian was behind them.
I sighed heavily. What the hell was I going to do now?
KEEP READING. PART THREE IS COMING RIGHT UP. BELOW IS A DESCRIPTION SO YOU KNOW WHAT TO EXPECT:
When a homeless man stabs Gabi's new client to death, Gabi's bullshit detector goes off. The case is too neatly tied up by the NYPD, so Gabi investigates it. But the more she learns about the case, the stranger it becomes---and she starts to wonder if Ian isn't right after all.
GIRL UNDERCOVER
Part Three—Homeless Fury
Julia Derek
Published by Adrenaline Books
Copyright © 2015 by Julia Derek
This is a work of fiction. All characters appearing in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
Published as an e-book March 2015 by Adrenaline Books.
To find out more about the author and to sign up for her new books release, visit
JuliaDerek.com
Cover design by Luly Blazek at
Kalosys Art.
Chapter 1
“That dude seems like a lot of trouble,” Dante said, referring to Ian.
“You can say that again,” I said into my smartphone where I sat curled up on the couch in my living room. I was back home and just had to talk in depth about all that had happened with someone I could trust. Someone I could use as a sounding board who at the same time would nourish my exhausted soul. How much more stress would I be able to handle before I broke down? I especially wanted to discuss the fact that it looked like Ian was texting me all those nasty messages and what I could do about it.
I didn’t have many choices. But even under different circumstances, I think I still would have called Dante.
In addition to being Latino like me, Dante was a former gangbanger with ten years of experience in the criminal underworld. As scared as I was at the moment, I needed to explore all possibilities. An ex-Latin Devils member had no problems thinking outside the box and was also intimately familiar with the minds of true psychopaths. More and more, it was looking like Ian might be one.
I sighed. “I don’t know what to believe any longer. I mean, how big is the likelihood it’s someone living in the same building? Pretty much zero, right? It’s gotta be Ian fucking with me.”
“Sounds like it to me.”
“But the funny thing is my gut keeps telling me Ian isn’t a bad guy and that’s totally throwing me off. Each time I think about him being out to get me, do things like those done to the victims, my stomach twists with pain like I’m so wrong.”
“Huh. Maybe it’s that time of the month. Ricki’s always bitching like crazy about how much her stomach hurts then.” There was a slight pause. “Don’t tell her I said that.”
“Don’t worry, my lips are sealed,” I replied and giggled. I heard Ricki’s voice in my head, complaining about how badly her stomach bothered her around her period. I used to train Dante’s wife at Crunch Fitness back in L.A. before becoming a cop. Knowing how she could go on and on about this, I couldn’t blame him for bringing it up. But the pain in my own stomach was different, more subtle. Not unlike how I’d felt about Nick when I first got to know him. Back then I had not been as good at judging what my gut was trying to tell me. I had been in love with Nick and thought the only reason I felt so strongly he was a good man despite being a thug was because I wanted him to be.
It turned out that Nick had been the most incredible man I’d ever met.
I quickly pushed away thoughts of my dead husband. There was no time for me to miss him right now. I needed to figure out what was going on. What was really going on.
“No,” I told Dante. “I wish I could tell you I’m like Ricki, but I’m not. This has nothing to do with that time of the month. My gut’s definitely trying to tell me something and I don’t think it’s something good.”
“How about I come over there for a month or so until you’ve figured it out? I can act as your secret bodyguard. It sounds like you need someone to watch over you. Ricki will understand if I tell her it’s got something to do with you.”
A pleasant wave of warmth streamed through me. “That’s so sweet of you. But I can’t take you away from your family.”
Dante and Ricki had just gotten their first kid, an adorable boy who was now five months old and the spitting image of his father with his dark locks, olive skin and wise black eyes.
“Gabi, if your life is on the line, my family can spare me for a few weeks.”
“Okay, good to know. But I think, for now, I’ll be okay on my own. Really. If that changes, I’ll let you know.”
“But what are you gonna do? Just wait until this freak does something to you? Based on all you’ve just told me, it’s only a matter of time before that happens. I’m not buying he’s really a good guy, no matter what your gut’s trying to tell you. The evidence is too damned strong.”
“I know.” I sighed again. “It’s very confusing.”
Dante exhaled, sounding exasperated. “Listen, chica. I know you’re a big girl, but this one might be too much even for you. You’ve been under tremendous stress lately, which means your gut’s probably off. You can’t just play things by ear and hope for the best.”