Ah, fuck. She needs to snap out of this, so I step forward. “Raine?”
“No, no, no!” she chants.
I go to her, ignoring the fact that I’m tracking in blood, and stand behind where she’s kneeling. Her fingertip covers the last name on the plastic card, but I clearly see a photograph and recognize the man from yesterday. I see the name Montana.
The blood is fresh, still wet, mixed with soft gray and white matter, littered with bone.
She releases a heart-wrenching scream, dredged deep from within her.
A rustling noise catches my attention and I stiffen. The bodyguard in me demands I check the rest of the building. We might not be alone, a fact that didn’t occur to me. Raine stole my focus. I’ve even ignored the smell of shit and garbage that’s hurting my nose. A scent that wasn’t here yesterday.
What the hell’s going on?
All along, Raine’s been telling me the truth. For that reason, the man in me wars with my professional instinct. The bodyguard can leave her. The man can’t. Not even to make sure the place is secure.
She’s hysterical, wailing, arms wrapped around her waist. If I don’t grab her, she’ll fall face-first into her brother’s blood.
Bending down, I lift her up and she collapses against my chest, sobbing. My arms wrap around her and I rest my chin on her head. I spin us, so that my back is to the wall and I’m facing the door.
The danger might be inside, but it’s definitely somewhere outside.
“My brother!” she sobs against my chest, her body shaking. “Montana! Chambers killed my brother. He’s all I have. He can’t be gone. Please! Bring him back.”
I’m well-acquainted with loss. What Raine needs most is comfort.
“Shhh,” I whisper, unable to resist planting a kiss to her temple. “That might not be his blood.”
Doubtful but there’s always a small chance I’m right.
She snatches herself out of my arms. “It is,” she cries, her eyes wild. “Who else would Chambers bring here? Why did I find Montana’s ID laying in the blood? Chambers told me…he gave me…I got here in time.”
There’s no honor amongst criminals. One would think she knew that. It isn’t for me to point out, especially now.
I cradle her face between my palms. “Look at me,” I order.
A heartbeat passes. She keeps her lashes lowered and sniffles rapidly. I tip her chin up and she raises her gaze to me. Her eyes are pools of watery pain.
“Kiln,” she starts, my name falling from her lips like a plea, her voice husky with tears. “Kiln, I…”
“Shut your fucking mouth and listen to me.”
For once, she complies.
“If this Chambers really thought you could get him a lot of money, would he risk that win fall?” When she doesn’t answer, I shake her. “Think about it.”
Licking her lips, she nods. “If it isn’t Montana’s blood, then whose is it? Why is his ID here?”
That looks bad. Unfortunately, I have no answers for her. These walls certainly won’t tell us. As a matter of fact, staying here puts us at risk.
Her eyes widen, and she gasps. “Maybe, he’s in one of the back rooms.”
“There’s more than a kitchen and storage room here?”
“Four more rooms.” She glances away. “With beds in them. For tricks.”
Unwanted tenderness rises in me at her vulnerability. I ignore it, and study the blood puddles. The smears. It’s mainly on the right side of the room, where only three booths are located.
No more delays in checking this place out.
Without commenting, I back her to the booth closest to the door. “Let me check the rest of the premises.” For Montana, dead or wounded, and whoever else, although it stands to reason if another live body was here, they would’ve made themselves known. “Keep your shit together.”
Not giving her a chance to comply, I push her onto the seat, then head off. After going through the door behind the counter, I find a small hallway, lined with several additional doors.
I feel against the wall, searching for a light switch, frowning at the grease and grime beneath my fingertips. Once I find the switch and flick the light on, two rats scurry across my feet. Cockroaches race across the floors and walls. It smells of garbage and stale alcohol. Piss, too.
Though it’s a filthy disgrace, I see no blood. If a gunshot victim were brought back here, there’d be evidence, especially with all the blood in the front of the building.
A rat the size of a cat takes its time crossing from one side of the hall to the next. It rubs against a small aluminum cup, scraping it against the floor. Rustling, similar to what I heard earlier, reaches my ears.
We have more than enough vermin, but no other people are here. Still, I must check the other rooms. I have to ignore the ridiculous thought to check on Raine.
She’s silent, though.
Has she left?
A lizard darts across the wall, and I squint. What the hell else is there? Snakes? Spiders?
Ignoring the rats, roaches, and lizard, I open the door to the first room. Dim light glows from a lamp with a broken shade. A bare mattress stained with blood and cum lay next to the lamp. Used condoms are strewn on the floor. Behind the second door is much the same thing.
The third door is a bathroom.
Surprise! Surprise! Spider webs hang from two corners. However, the strong smell of shit turns my stomach. A rat peeps out of the toilet. Shit drips from its whiskers, nose, and mouth. Lifting the collar of my shirt, I yank the material up, until it covers my nose. This place is a literal shithole.
Today, my life has been all about opening fucking doors. I continue the pattern and open the last one. It leads to the room I saw through the server’s window, in the dining room.
Raine still sits in the booth, her head hanging. Her shoulders shake. She’s been crying for an hour. She’s going to have a sonofabitch of a headache. If anyone comes in…Fucking hell! I forgot to lock the door.
Grumbling, I hurry out of this health hazard and back to the dining area. Instead of sitting, I go to the door and open it to check on my car. It looks just as it was, the metallic paint glimmering underneath the street lights.
The deserted street offers little comfort. Not with the gore in this place.
I sigh, tempted to leave Raine here, right where we met. That first night, she tried to play me. Admittedly, it was in a different way than usual. Rather than filling my head with lies to get shit out of me, she and her brother tried to con me.
She was fucking fearless. I’d even go so far to say that, in retrospect, she amused me.
I glance over my shoulder. Her red nose, tear-swollen eyes, and wet cheeks grate on my conscience. I’m not walking away yet, but she needs to be aware of my feelings.
I lock the door and return to her.
“By right,” I begin, seating myself across from her and resting my gun in front of me, “I should walk the fuck away and leave you on your own. This isn’t my fight. I have my own shit to deal with.” Things that take priority.
No answer from a girl who responds to everything.
“I’m willing to help you,” I hear myself saying.
She sniffles. “Help me do what?” she asks in a monotone.
Good question. I think for a moment. “Recover your brother’s body or bring him back alive.”
The nostrils on her delicate nose flare and she searches my face. “In exchange for what?”
Satisfaction swells in me. She knows nothing in life is free. As I consider her question, I’m startled not to have a ready answer. I’m shocked that I didn’t make the offer to gain anything. That’s a first for me, in a very long time, and it makes me damn unhappy. No, I don’t want to deal with her vulnerability. Seeing her in that light would leave me susceptible to her schemes.
“For the con you tried to run on me, I want pussy from you whenever I see fit.” Liar. I wanted in her cunt before. This just lets me off the hook for complicity in
the matter. No fucking way can she accuse me of wanting her just because.
“Really, assface? How do you know I’m not a walking STD?”
She has a point. “Ever heard of condoms, doll? Eight times out of ten, I swear by them. The best dick armor around.”
“Besides abstinence.”
That remark doesn’t deserve an answer. The suggestion is ludicrous. “Are you on the pill?”
She nods. “Montana insisted,” she croaks, her sadness returning.
“That means check-ups every few months or so?”
No answer.
“Do you have an STD?”
“No,” she whispers.
“Neither do I.”
She stares off into space for a moment, then heave her shoulders and glances at me again. “I could be lying.”
“You could be,” I agree, “but I don’t think you are. I’ve learned when you want the truth catch a person at their most vulnerable. You have nothing right now. Not money. Not shelter. Not food. Or protection. Your brother’s more than likely dead. You’re completely defenseless and at my mercy.”
“You don’t have to put up with me or my tears. Just give me the five grand you owe me and I’ll handle everything else myself.”
She’s letting me off the hook. I should grab this chance and run.
Folding my arms, I lean back. “Are you sure? You can stay with me until this matter is dealt with.”
Anger replaces her grief. “I don’t need to stay with you, if you pay me, as promised.” She straightens, swipes her runny nose, and glares at me. “Unless you lied to me about the money.”
“I offered to pay your brother’s ransom.”
“No. You did not. You offered me five grand to break and enter the second floor.”
“Two thousand of which was supposed to be for your brother.”
She lifts her chin. “You promised me.”
“Did I? Did we have a written agreement?”
Her eyes flash and she slides from her seat. She looms next to me, as if she’s trying to intimidate me.
“You’re a lying, dirty motherfucker,” she yells.
I stretch out my arm on the back of my booth. “Tell me something I don’t know.”
She flips me off. “Fuck you.”
The money I owe her would give her a new start as long as she’s frugal and lands a decent job. Looking at her, however, makes me doubt her ability to fend for herself.
“Cock sucks every morning,” I continue, as if she isn’t ready to punch me.
She doesn’t respond. Again. What the hell is she thinking?
“Are you on board so far?”
Her jaw clenches.
I shrug, and start to slide out. She’s doing this my way, a point I want to impress upon her. “I’m gone, doll.” Standing, I brush past her and head to the door. She allows me to reach it before she speaks.
“Give me the money you owe me, and I’ll be fine.”
What the fuck? I do a mental shrug. She’d be gone, and her problems will be hers to deal with. Amongst which seems to be murder.
Raine will be in terrible danger. I might have subjected Georgiana to threats and a little degradation. However, I wanted her gone, not dead.
Raine wants to go, though, so who am I to stop her?
I was prepared to pay her brother’s ransom and give her the remainder. Fifty one-hundred dollar bills are rolled up and stuffed in the inside pocket of my jacket. I feel the money and freeze. If I give it to her, she’s gone. Out on her own. In deep shit and in need of protection.
I shove the rolled bills back into my pocket.
“Give me my fucking money,” she snarls.
Turning away from the door, I fold my arms and smirk at her. “Sorry, doll. You only got the five thousand dollars if your brother was here.”
“You promised me the money if I got into the second floor. I did, so give me what I’m owed.”
The return of her anger wars with her devastation. I can argue with her for hours, but I don’t want to put her, or myself, through any more bullshit. We both have had enough for one day.
I walk to her and lay my palm against her cheek, thumbing away a renegade tear. She’s doing her best not to cry again.
“I’ll give you the money if you want it and I’ll leave. You’ll be on your own.” Indecision gleams in her eyes. I use it to my advantage. “If you come back with me, you forfeit the five grand, but will have my protection.”
Her lips tremble. Underneath her tough exterior, she’s soft, with a woman’s heart and emotions. “Whether I’m with you or not, money’s important,” she says hoarsely. “I don’t want to have to come to you for everything I need. Toiletries. Bubble gum. A matinee.”
I offer her a half-smile. “Bubble gum? A favorite of yours?”
She shrugs. “Does it matter?”
“Not in the least. Do you want my protection or not?”
“If you don’t give me money, I’ll be your free slut.”
“Business arrangements always come at a cost,” I remind her, then dig in my pocket and pull out the fat roll of bills. “You want this?” I hold the money out to her.
She raises her hand, hesitates, and pauses, her fingers inches away.
“The money will get you a place. Food. Clothes. But it’ll only last for so long. You’ll either get a menial job or return to whoring. My protection will buy you safety. Meals. Whatever you want and need will be at your beck and call. You’ll have dick.”
Her hand drops to her side and she lifts her chin. “You’ll have pussy.”
I ignore the reminder. “You’ll be provided for.”
“For how long?” The idea is growing on her.
“For a few weeks. Six, to be exact.”
“Oh, yeah. Then, you’ll be on the road with the band.”
No, then Sloane will be dead, and I’ll take my mother and flee to Europe. Facts Raine don’t need to know.
Her hand closes around the roll of hundreds. I refuse to release it.
“Your brother’s dead,” I say in a hard voice that makes her suck in a breath. “I have resources to find his killer.”
The Death Dwellers come to mind. As does my new friend, Sean, hired to kill Sloane.
He employs hitmen. Certainly, Sean has an ear to the ground and could get information for me.
“Whoever hurt Montana has to be prosecuted to the full extent of the law.”
Her vow surprises me. “No street justice?”
She releases the money. “I wasn’t always a street rat,” she snaps.
What have I been doing, but wasting time. All along, I should’ve used her brother against her. If I know nothing else about Raine Whoever—certainly not Storm—it’s that she’s stubborn.
So am I. The more she resists, the more determined I am to bend her to my will.
“Your brother’s death will be avenged,” I promise.
Suspicion crosses her face. “You’ll call the cops?”
“Fuck, no. Our fingerprints are everywhere. No fucking way am I being dragged into this. I don’t need that type of attention.”
“You’ll really help me find Montana’s body?”
“Yes,” I whisper, wondering why her sadness is denting the wall around my emotions. A small part of me really, truly feels sorry for her.
I’ve kept her in this diner, filled with what’s presumably her brother’s blood and brain, surrounded by stench and death, and she’s met each of my challenges. She’s kept her eyes averted from the blood, demanding justice for her brother.
She’s tough, a little warrior princess.
“Last chance, Raine,” I say softly. “What’s your answer? Money and danger or safety and justice?”
“Do you guarantee to bring my brother back to me?”
“You’re not that naïve. Only thing guaranteed in life is death.”
More tears form and slip down her cheek. “We’re born to die,” she whispers in a tear-clogged voice.
�
��Exactly, doll. We just don’t know when, where, or how.”
She covers her mouth, but a wail still escapes through her fingers.
“Bringing your brother to you won’t reincarnate him. He’ll still be dead.” I point toward the bloody gore. “Do you want me to count how many pieces of his brain and skull I find.
She gags, then covers her face, and bursts into gut-wrenching sobs.
I refuse to touch her. Refuse to look away.
My grief was just as keen when I found Dietrech in bed with Sloane. Dietrech begged me for forgiveness, but I despised the sight of her.
Hearing Raine’s heartache makes me recall my mother’s screams when news of Stefanie’s death came. She begged God to bring her daughter home, alive and well. Jaeger, stoic and stuffy, fell apart. In spite of our shared pain, we grieved alone. We didn’t comfort each other. That’s not who we were.
Who we are.
Minutes pass. Raine wraps her arms around her waist and cry miserable tears.
Still, I watch her. The part of me that wants to comfort her doesn’t know what to say.
To me, offering solace and succor is an intimate act. It’s a bonding experience.
Finally, Raine pulls herself together and looks at me. “I’ll go with you if you swear to me that you’ll pull out all the stops to bring him to me.”
She blinks away more tears. It’s obvious her heart is broken. She should be used to it. If she isn’t, I am. Life is cruel.
“I’ll go with you. Suck you. Fuck you. Serve you.”
“As long as I look for your brother?” Christ, she’s still bargaining with me.
“Yes. If we find him and he’s dead, you have to pay for his cremation. I’ll have his ashes. He’ll always be with me.”
How fucking morbid. I shrug. “Done.”
Wildness enters her eyes, but it isn’t filled with the touch of insanity I witness in my mother. Raine’s is filled with grief and sorrow.
“Write your promise down, then sign and date it. You promised me money and reneged.”
I hold the money up again. “I beg to differ.”
I’m not giving in to her another inch. No fucking way. She needs me. Not the other way around.
She heaves in a breath and gains a little more control. “For the next few weeks, I guess I’m your whore.”
Phoenix Rising Rock Band: The Series Page 84
