MARKED
Shadow City: Book 1
C.M. Blackwood
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
Text copyright © 2019 by C.M. Blackwood.
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.
No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission from the author.
Chapter 1
I stretched my arms over my head, yawning loudly. My left arm flopped off to the side, accidentally knocking against a naked woman with an eyebrow ring and purple hair.
She woke with a start, looking around in confusion.
“Sorry,” I said. “I didn’t mean to hit you.”
She smiled mischievously and crawled up to kiss me. I couldn’t remember for the life of me what her name was. I’d been wasted when I took her home last night.
“Look,” I said, pushing her away from me a little roughly. “I don’t want to be rude, but I have to get to work.”
I got out of bed and walked into the bathroom, leaving her lying dumbstruck in my bed. I wasn’t going to lie – I didn’t really care about her feelings. I’d been alone for a long time, ever since my parents died in a car accident when I was a teenager, and I liked it that way now. Women were like playthings to me, jointed toys that I could move any way I pleased. I’d always been like that. I’d never connected with anyone.
I closed the bathroom door so I could pee. I heard the stranger in my bedroom getting dressed quickly. I thought I heard her sniffling, and I rolled my eyes.
For fuck’s sake. Why are women such a goddamn chore?
When I heard the apartment door click shut after the stranger’s exit, I turned on the shower head and hopped in. I had to be down at the station in half an hour.
I was a homicide detective in the Shadow City Police Department. I’d been a beat cop for a long time, but now that I was thirty, I was finally the real deal. I’d worked hard for it. It hadn’t just been handed to me on a silver platter, but it was worth every second of grit and gruel I went through to get it.
I got out of the shower and wiped the steam off the mirror, examining my reflection with a frown. I’d been pretty bummed about turning thirty. So far, my face and body betrayed no signs of aging, though I’d caught a few strands of grey in my long black hair. My pale skin was still smooth and unblemished; my belly was firm and taut. My dark eyes burned with a fire for things I longed to achieve. I was nowhere near done yet.
I toweled off, blow-dried my hair, put on a little makeup and dressed in my usual black pantsuit. Then I fixed some coffee, poured it into a travel mug and started on the fifteen-minute walk to the station. Luckily, I managed to avoid waking Mr. Tanaka, the little old Japanese man who lived next door. He always said I closed my door too loudly. It had gotten to the point where I barely allowed it to click when I shut it; but almost every day, sure enough, I’d hear Mr. Tanaka shout in his typical Angry Man Bad Grammar: “Some people trying to sleep, you wanton young woman!”
All right, so he had me at “wanton.” But personally, I think he just disliked me and enjoyed looking for reasons to holler at me.
I’d rented an apartment close to the station so that I wouldn’t have to worry about transport to work. Because, really, my whole life was about work. I worked, ate, slept, and had sex occasionally. That was pretty much it.
I was on my guard while I walked. Even in the clear light of day, Shadow City was a dangerous place. The murder rate was the highest in the country, and though it wasn’t quite as bad as, say, El Salvador, it certainly gave Mexico a run for its money. Muggings happened too frequently to even keep track of them properly, and sadly, rapists usually went unpunished.
Immigration has been a big issue in America lately – but you can be damned sure nobody’s immigrating to Shadow City. If you sent them an invitation, they’d hop back over that fence so fast, the authorities working the border would pull them out a chair and fix them tea and cookies.
I’d had a lot of illusions when I joined the force, thinking I was going to clean up the city single-handedly. I learned pretty quickly that was a fool’s errand, and that I’d be lucky to make it to retirement age alive.
I walked into the station, nodding to people I knew as I passed them. I went into the bullpen and sat down at my desk.
“Morning, Dani,” the man at the desk across from me said. He was a handsome black guy with a deep voice. Moreover, he was probably one of the only people in the world that I actually liked. He was my partner, Kent Hale.
“Morning,” I replied, taking a sip of my coffee. “How goes it, partner?”
“Not bad. The wife wants to move again and the baby was up all night crying – but other than that, everything’s peachy.”
“She wants to move again?” I asked in disbelief. “You’ve already moved twice this year.”
“I remember,” Kent said bitterly. “But now she thinks the neighbors are plotting against us. She’s convinced they’ve made voodoo dolls in our images that they’re going to stick pins in.”
“I don’t mean to sound harsh, bro,” I said with a laugh, “but I think your woman needs to be on some kind of medication.”
“I’d tell you to stop being an asshole if I didn’t agree with you,” Kent said with a chuckle of his own.
We were interrupted when the captain came out into the bullpen – and right over to our desks. “Ford, Hale,” she said. “In my office.”
We stood up to follow Captain Briggs across the pen. She gestured for us to step into her office, then came in after us and shut the door.
We sat down in the chairs in front of her desk, and she took her own seat, folding her hands on the desk and looking at us seriously.
I’ll just come out and say it – Donna Briggs is a superb piece of ass. She’s forty-five years old, nearly six feet tall, and has long blonde hair that she usually wears tied back in a braid. I’ve fantasized about her frequently, and that’s not all I’ve done. We both got smashed at the office Christmas party two years ago, and we ended up having sex in her office. In this very office. On the floor. Goddamn, it was amazing.
In moments like these, when we were positioned so close to one another, it was kind of hard not to think about that night. I would have been lying if I said I wasn’t up for a repeat performance. But she never alluded to it afterwards, and honestly, I wondered if she even remembered. She’d been so drunk, it was possible she’d blacked out. That was probably for the best, considering the fact that she was my boss; but still, the woman made prime dream material.
She looked so grave at the moment, however, any and all sexual thoughts were driven far from my mind, and I was nothing but business.
“What’s up, Cap’n?” I asked.
“I have a case for you,” she said. “You guys know that nightclub downtown, the one with the weird name? Bloody Teeth?”
I nodded. It wasn’t one of my usual pick-up spots, but I’d passed it a few times.
“Well, it seems like the newest place to move large quantities of drugs,” Briggs went on. “I’d leave it to the Narc Unit, but I have this feeling in my gut. I think there’s more to it. There’s been more than one report of young women being led out of that club and stowed into vans.”
“You think this place has something to do with the kidnapping case?” Kent asked.
We had an open kidnapping case that involved dozens of young women from all over the city. None
of them seemed to have anything in common, so it had been impossible so far to try and glean anything about their kidnapper. These women came from all walks of life, their only link being that they were physically attractive.
The captain nodded. “I think it might,” she answered. “I want you guys to check it out. I need good eyes on this one, and you’re the best I have. Don’t let me down.”
“We won’t, Cap’n,” I said confidently.
“I know you won’t,” she said with a faint smile.
It was little smiles like those that made me wonder if she did remember our night together. But then again – I supposed it didn’t matter all that much. I highly doubted she was ever going to give in to that repeat performance.
Chapter 2
Kent and I figured it would be best to check out Bloody Teeth at night, when the place was hopping. We could survey the scene and get an idea of what was really going on in the place.
We dressed casually. I wore my usual club attire, a little black dress with a pair of modest heels. To say I slayed it like Rihanna at the V Live strip club in Houston would have been perfectly accurate. I’m not all that modest.
I took a cab and met Kent in the club parking lot. He was wearing new Nikes, black jeans, and a white Rocawear T-shirt. Even his line-up was fresh.
“You look straight pimpin’, G,” I said in admiration.
“Well, girl, that is how I roll,” he said with a laugh.
“Hell,” I added, “I might even do you – if I wasn’t a raging lesbian.”
“Not a bad compliment,” he said, still laughing. “Especially coming from a fine woman dressed like that.”
We did our customary fist bump, then went into the club and took a look around. It was packed, even on a Thursday night. We were surrounded by sweating, moving bodies.
“I’m going this way,” Kent said, pointing to the left. “I’ll meet you back at the door.”
I nodded, and we separated. Lady Gaga was loud in my ears. The place was huge, an open square with the bar on the right-hand. Since that was the direction I’d taken, I decided to stop there first. Sometimes bartenders had stories to tell.
The neon strobe lights flashed like epileptic seizures as I picked my way over to the bar, grabbing a stool and settling my purse in my lap. The bartender came right over to me, a slim Goth guy in his late twenties with eyeliner and spiked black hair. He kind of looked like Billie Joe Armstrong from Green Day. Well, that was, if Billie went around looking grumpy enough to run somebody over just for smiling at them.
“What can I get you?” he asked with a deep frown. I wondered if his goldfish had died or something.
“Rum and Coke,” I replied, raising my voice to be heard over the music.
He fixed my drink quickly, and he didn’t seem overly inclined to converse. I could give it a shot, but my instincts told me this wasn’t going to be all that rewarding.
“What kind of name is Bloody Teeth, anyway?” I asked, smiling in a saccharine Valley Girl sort of way.
As I’d expected, he didn’t bite. “I wouldn’t know,” he replied in a flat voice. “I just work here.”
“My friend told me some weird stuff about this place,” I went on, sort of wondering why I was even bothering. I sipped my drink, watching the guy’s face.
“Oh, yeah?” he said tonelessly, obviously wishing I would shut up.
“Yeah,” I said. “Have you heard anything like that?”
“Nothing at all,” he said dismissively.
Just then, a woman came around the end of the bar, walking down to meet the bartender. Her eyes were on me. And mine were definitely on her.
She was absolutely stunning. She wore tight jeans that revealed every curve, along with a white tank top and a black leather vest. Her pale white arms were adorned with black-and-grey tattoos. She had short, feathery blond hair, and a beautiful heart-shaped face. It was like a biker and a fairy tale princess had a baby – and she was standing right in front of me.
“Hey there, Jed,” she said to the bartender. Then she glanced at me and asked, “What are you two talking about?”
I narrowed my eyes, trying to size her up. It was obvious that she had come over because she was wondering what my game was. She must have seen through me like a wet T-shirt at a Hooters Slip ‘N Slide contest.
“She’s very inquisitive,” Jed answered, casting a distasteful glance in my direction.
The blonde woman laid a hand on Jed’s shoulder and murmured to him, “I’ve got this.” Jed nodded in obvious irritation (with me), then went to serve customers at the other end of the bar.
The blonde woman stepped up to the bar and put her elbows on it. The pose looked so sultry and enticing, my mouth nearly dropped open. This girl was exactly my kind of candy – and I was really wishing that I had come looking for treats.
“Sooooo,” she said slowly. “I hear you’re kind of curious, huh?”
I tried not to, but found myself looking straight into her eyes. They were a light, golden brown, so I figured her hair was dyed.
Those eyes drew me in like magnets. It was really freaking weird. I was an ardent admirer of women, that much was true – but it could hardly be said that I was ever even all that attracted to them. They fulfilled a carnal, primal need, and that was pretty much it. There was nothing deeper. Nothing more.
But now, at this moment in time, I was literally falling into Blondie’s eyes. Freefalling. I had no parachute, and there was no net at the bottom waiting to catch me.
I shook myself roughly, downing the last of my rum and Coke. What the hell was the matter with me?
“Yeah,” I replied in a short, clipped tone. “You could say I’m curious. You got a problem with that?”
The woman’s gaze hardened instantly. She straightened up, planting her palms against the bar and staring me down. I didn’t buckle, but I won’t deny that my stomach was doing flip-flops.
“Actually, I do,” she said in a gruff voice. “This is my club. Get it? If people come in asking questions, you can be damn sure I’m going to follow up.”
I frowned at her. “This is your club?” I asked.
“Yeah,” she replied, sounding proud and defensive at the same time. “Why do you look so surprised?”
I sighed, tossing my purse up on the bar so I could cross my legs and make myself more comfortable. “Look,” I said. “I think we got off on the wrong foot. I meant no disrespect.”
I gestured to my empty glass and inquired, “How about another?”
She shrugged nonchalantly, but seemed unable to keep the outline of a smile from her lips. “Hey,” she said, “you’re the paying customer. Customers get what they ask for.”
“All right, then,” I said as she fixed my drink. “Have a round with me?”
“You still paying?” she asked, smiling a little more widely now.
“Sure,” I answered, reaching into my purse and tossing a twenty on the bar.
“Ah,” she said, practically grinning. “I like it when a woman puts her money where her mouth is.”
My heartbeat immediately dropped down between my legs. So she likes women, I thought with an inward fist pump. Maybe I’ve got a shot.
I shook this thought away quickly, surprised at myself for thinking it in the first place. I had no business making plans to get involved with this woman. She owned the club that was at the forefront of a major case – and I couldn’t allow myself to get confused.
She slid my drink across to me and poured herself a shot of bourbon. She downed it swiftly, then put her elbows on the bar again, her expression softening. “I’m sorry if I was rude,” she said. “But you can’t imagine the people I get in here sometimes.”
“Tough crowd, huh?” I asked, taking a swallow of my drink.
“You could say that,” she returned. There was an indecipherable look on her face as she spoke. I was immensely curious to know the meaning behind that look, but of course that was impossible.
“Anyway,” sh
e said, clearing away her troubled expression and smiling faintly. “Since you’re so curious and all – my name’s Risa. What can I call you?”
“Dani,” I replied, returning her smile involuntarily. She had me operating like a second grader who wants to share the cute girl’s chocolate pudding cup. Jesus.
She held out her hand, and I took it without hesitation. I felt a sharp crackle, like static electricity, only much stronger. It moved through my hand and up my arm, then passed down my entire body, similar to a sonic vibration.
My glass tipped, spilling rum and Coke all over the bar. I let go of Risa’s hand, practically shaking.
“Sorry about that,” I mumbled, looking down at the puddle of soda and alcohol.
Contrary to my expectations, though, Risa wasn’t even paying any attention to the mess. Her hand was still hovering near mine, and her eyes were locked on me.
“Don’t apologize,” she said softly. “It’s no big deal.”
I met her gaze, and I found myself falling into her eyes again. Goddamn it, Dani, I screamed at myself. This is not supposed to be happening!
Not that I really even could have explained what was happening.
This had never happened to me before.
Our intense staring contest was interrupted when Jed appeared at Risa’s elbow. “Hey,” he said pointedly to his boss, indicating my spilled drink. “Do you want me to clean that up?”
“Sure,” Risa replied, though she continued to stare at me, and she didn’t move aside for Jed to get to the bar.
I don’t know if I could have forced myself to break eye contact with her, if a sudden commotion hadn’t started up on the dance floor behind me. Risa’s eyes snapped away from mine, and I swiveled on my stool to face the floor.
The dancers had parted in the center of the floor, and it looked like there was a fight taking place. At first, though, I had trouble taking in what I was seeing. There was a young woman, very petite, literally attacking a much larger man who was laid out beneath her, making ineffectual attempts to defend himself.
Marked (Shadow City Book 1) Page 1