Then everything went wrong. She knew Pete had started to suspect her ever since she saw him talking to Nick. Nick put it together and came to extort money from her. As he always did, Pete stood between her and the threat, and now he was dead. It should have been her.
Out of the haze of that night, Luke showed up and soothed every torment she'd ever felt. Those brown eyes cut through the rot in her soul and laid bare something beautiful. Something she'd forgotten was there. Something she had forgotten she wanted.
An hour ago, he left. She pretended to be asleep while he scribbled a note and left it on his pillow. This morning she nearly told him everything on that bathroom floor. And she didn’t know if she would have the courage to do it when he got back. His note said pack a bag, but the baggage she carried around could destroy everything.
Tully flipped the covers back and padded into the kitchen, her feet taking her to the liquor cabinet without her brain even checking in. Not until she reached into the empty space did she remember she stopped drinking. She sighed and went to the couch.
She'd been so wrapped up in the way Luke made her feel, she forgot the reason he was there. He was looking for her. He was hunting her, and he would find out the truth eventually. Would he throw the cuffs on her and call it a day? Could he forgive her? He always talked about running away. Would he still want her bags packed and waiting if he knew the truth?
A framed picture of Sam Meara in his official deputy brown, the American flag behind him, sat on the end table. She picked it up and pressed her forehead to the glass. In the end, it didn't matter. Luke Marshall's legacy would be what no other man had managed to do. She kissed the glass.
She would tell Luke everything. If by some miracle he could forgive her, she would never look back. And if he couldn't, she would still be free of Alex's repulsive control. That would be enough.
Tully's head jerked at a soft rustle outside. She craned her neck to see the front door and listened. Nothing.
“Hello?” She wiped her face dry and listened. Silence.
Tully jumped up and yanked the door open. A yellow manila envelope lay on the doormat. Her eyes darted around looking for movement. She snatched it up and ran through the courtyard in her bare feet, her father’s portrait still clutched in the crook of her arm. She flew through the tunnel and onto Gaston Street searching for the courier. Nothing.
She looked down at the envelope in her hand. That was strange. She expected to hear from him, but Alex usually called her to guilt her back into submission. Opening it, she pulled out a 4 x 6 photograph.
For a moment she was drowning, her lungs unable to take in oxygen. She let go of the photo and her father’s picture. The frame shattered all around her. She staggered backward into a parked car as both photo and envelope wafted away from her. Her legs refused to support her and Tully slid down the car. On all fours she crawled to the photograph.
It was a snapshot of her and Pete standing in their favorite shady spot where they drank their coffee every morning. They were laughing, unaware their picture was being taken from across the street.
Tully wretched. Short choppy breaths sent pain searing up her back. The dark street dissolved as her vision blurred.
“What would he do if he found out? If you went to jail would he even visit you?” Alex always used Pete to keep Tully in line. He knew Pete was one of the few people whose approval she still sought. He was all Tully had left.
Alex was a brutal lover and mentor, but he'd never threatened her partner’s life. He threatened to kill Tully, to expose her, but even Alex knew that Pete was a clearly marked land mine. he kept her in line with threats of Pete’s disapproval, and it worked.
So that was his move. This was the final control tactic. When Tully left the phone behind, she had drawn a line in the sand. This was Alex’s answer. The mind games were over, and the message was clear. If she walked away from Alex Wynn, the price would be steep. He would strip her of everything she had left and then he would kill her.
Alex had already bled away fifteen years of her life, and the only thing her father had left her, a conscience. He devoured them until there was nothing left. Now he had taken Pete. Rising to her feet, she picked up the broken frame and the 4x6. She trudged back to her apartment, not feeling glass cut into her bare feet. Halfway there she broke into a run leaving a trail of bloody footprints behind.
Running in her bedroom, she switched out her sweats and tank top for jeans and a T-shirt. Then she threw open the closet door and ripped through the top shelf until she found a small ceramic jar. She emptied its lone item into her hand and stuck it into her jeans pocket. Then she pulled on her boots and jacket and grabbed her truck keys. It was Friday, and she knew where he would be.
Alex Wynn would get nothing else from her.
THIRTY-FIVE
Twenty minutes later Tully stood in a dark alley ending in an ivy-covered retaining wall. Three men leaned against the wall, smoking and laughing with two topless blonds in g-strings. Smoke breaks here were clothing optional.
The alley led to the basement door of a Georgian mansion, a soft thumping from inside the only advertisement. There was no sign. If you didn't know about the Executive Club, you didn't belong there.
Tully didn't look the part of aspiring stripper in motorcycle boots and a leather jacket, but her t-shirt cut low enough to give it a go. She smiled at the two burly bodyguards flanking the entrance.
“Can I help you, Darlin?” The black bouncer said. Right on cue, his eyes locked on her chest.
“I’m here to see Mr. Jackson. He's expectin me.” She glanced over at the white bouncer. His muscles were more grotesquely swollen than his partner’s. He looked skeptical, so she winked at him and put her hand on her hip sticking her chest out. “You wanna search me?”
He grinned. “We don't do that here,” he said, pulling the door open for her.
Inside, Tully planted her back against the wall to let her eyes adjust to the dark. “You should,” she muttered. The throbbing beat swallowed up her words. Across the dark room, she saw a solitary door. Her destination.
The large room was filled with sumptuous leather nail-head chairs grouped around raised platforms. A pole rose from each platform with a naked woman wrapped around it. Topless waitresses ferried criminally expensive drinks from the bar.
The alternative upstairs offered poker, scotch and chitchat if that was more agreeable; or if a customer needed an alibi. Down here, the business was pleasure and business was booming.
No one noticed her skirt the room as she made for the door. She pushed it open and slipped into a wide hallway with the same dim lighting. More doors led off the hall. A shiny brass number marked each door.
Number 9 was at the end of the hall. Tully tried the handle. Locked. She pulled the key from her pocket and eased it into the lock. The handle yielded this time. All these years, he never changed the lock. More loud music escaped through the crack and a blast of cold air hit her face.
He liked it cold. He liked how uncomfortable it made the women. Another calculated control tactic. Without seeing it, she knew the scene. Alex would be sitting in the overstuffed leather chair, a cigar smoking in the ashtray next to the scotch he favored on the table next to him. He’d be on his phone ignoring the woman foolish enough to be in there with him.
Tully took a deep breath, surprised at the sudden tremor in her hand. She pushed the door open. Alex’s head came up, and he straightened in the chair. A sly smile quickly replaced the surprise on his face. He set his phone on the table and leaned back, his eyes never leaving her face.
The naked dancer stopped mid-leg raise and flipped her hair back. “Um, we’re a little busy here.” She wagged her head.
“Get out.” Tully said as she locked eyes with Alex.
“This is my client, bitch.”
Tully turned to the young woman and gave an unnatural, guttural laugh. Walking over, Tully grabbed a fistful of dark hair and yanked her head down bending her in half. “Trust
me. Even your soul is worth more than he's paying.” She heaved the woman out the door and slammed it shut.
As soon as Tully flipped the lock, her cheekbone slammed into the wood. It throbbed as Alex jerked her around. His hands slammed into her chest, and the back of her head bounced off the door.
“Come to relive the glory days, Baby?”
She threw her head forward and connected. He jerked away, his hand over his nose. Tully paced in a half-circle getting her back away from the wall. “Why did you do it?”
“Why did I do what?” Alex sneered.
Enraged, she flew at him, her fists pounding. “You sent…Nick to…kill…Pete,” she huffed.
He was ready this time, and her blows didn’t make it past his block. Her punches were hard but wild. She realized too late she was out of control, emotional. The one mistake she couldn’t make now. Not ever. She hesitated.
Alex noticed and pushed her hard. She stumbled back, catching herself before she fell.
“The fuck are you on about, Tully?” Alex gingerly touched his nose, assessing the damage.
She set herself, ready to attack again. But she didn’t. “Why?” Tears brimmed her eyes.
“Why what?” The tears produced nothing but more contempt.
“I told you to leave him out of this.”
“What are you talking about?”
“It was the only thing I ever asked from you,” shouted Tully. “And now Pete’s dead because you sent that crack head. You wound him up and set him on Pete.”
“What? No, I didn’t, you psychotic bitch. Now, will you cut this shite out before they revoke my membership.”
Tully faltered. Why wouldn't he admit it? He never denied anything. Then she remembered he was a liar. She pulled the crumpled photo from her pocket and threw it at his feet.
Alex looked down surprised. "What is that?"
She began circling her prey, coiled to move.
Alex moved with her, making sure he kept her to his front. “You think I sent you that?”
“Who else?” Tully snarled. “Who else would know to send it to me?”
“How should I know? I don’t send you paper. It’s bloody careless. Besides he was your supplier, not mine. I didn’t associate with that gutter rat. If you’re looking for someone to blame, it’s your fault your partner is dead. Not mine.”
Before he finished speaking Tully charged him, her hands stretched out to grab his neck. She envisioned smashing his conceited face into her knee.
His hands came up between hers and batted them to the side. Air rushed from her lungs as he landed a punch to her diaphragm. As she gasped for air, he grabbed her throat and twisted using her momentum to slam her against the wall.
Alex put his face next to hers. His breath felt hot on her skin in the cold room. “No doubt he found out about you and saw dollar signs. Don’t forget, Baby, you’re the one that left a tidy trail of crumbs pointing to your partner. Something I doubt was accidental.”
Tully flinched. “You’re lying,” she croaked as he squeezed her throat tighter. She felt a hot tear let go and roll down her cheek.
His lip curled at the sight of it. “No, Baby. It doesn’t mean I’m lying simply because you don’t like the truth.” He released her windpipe but grabbed the back of her neck and yanked hard.
Tully stumbled forward and slammed into the stout side table beside the tufted leather chair. She bounced off and rolled to a stop on her back. Scotch and cigar ashes spattered her as the bottle and the heavy crystal ashtray hit the floor.
Alex was on top of her instantly, straddling her. “You've been in this position a lot lately, haven't you?” He leaned forward, resting a forearm on her Adam’s apple. With the other hand he grabbed her hair and slammed her head into the floor.
Stars erupted in her vision and her head lolled to the side.
“I’ll be honest. It’s not your best one,” he said letting the pressure off her throat.
Through the spotty haze, Tully saw something on the floor. The bottle of scotch she knocked over in her fall. She blinked to clear her vision.
Alex took her hair again and forced her to face him. “We both know you’re not here because your drug dealer killed your BFF. You’re here because of that dreamy FBI agent running around town.”
Tully dropped her hand to the side feeling for glass.
Alex laughed. “I knew you were riding him the second he walked into my office. You start fucking the other side and suddenly you want to walk the straight and narrow, but I’ve got some bad news, Baby. Agent Marshall will find out about you. He’s not especially bright, but you served both of us to him on a platter when you left that phone. And when he puts it all together, he will do his job. Men like him always do.” Alex laughed again. “Did you think he was gonna get down on one knee? You don't get a happy ending.”
The bottle was just out of reach. Tully’s fingers grazed the lip, but she couldn’t grasp it. She forced herself to hold his gaze so he wouldn’t notice her reach. She shivered. There was no trace of the gentleness he baited her with so long ago. His emotions were controlled and calculated. He hid it well in the beginning. He made no such attempt now.
His smile turned ugly. “Nice touch, by the way, leaving that phone behind to put the pressure on me. You want out. Message received. But you forgot one very important thing, you little dope fiend. Without me you're nothing but a crooked cop. The most decorated officer in the history of the Savannah PD is a killer. It’s quite the headline.”
Tully jerked, hoping it seemed like a reaction to his words. It was enough. Her fingers closed around the prize. As hard as she could, she swung the scotch bottle up. Alex threw up his hands, but he was too late.
The bottle shattered against his temple raining glass on them. Tully threw her hips up pitching Alex forward. In a flash, she flipped onto her stomach, pulled her head through his legs and rose to her feet in a single, agile move.
Tully took a deep steadying breath. Every inch of her body hurt, her face bleeding, but it infused her with purpose. Pain made her stronger. So much of it had come from Alex, but it had always served her well no matter the source. Now she would use it one last time. Its sharp awareness brought back the control her emotions had stolen. Coldly she eyed her kneeling opponent.
Alex’s hand covered the bleeding knot forming on his head. Slowly he pulled himself to his feet and looked at the blood smeared on his palm. “Kitty finally grew a pair of claws.” He tried to sound smug, but she heard the anger. He was beginning to understand.
“I told you I was done,” she said, calm for the first time.
“Yeah, yeah. Just like last time. And the time before that.”
“Did you really think this would never happen?”
He whirled to face her. “Actually, I thought it would happen a long time ago.” Blood smeared on his shirt as he wiped his hand across his chest. “You were the only one I never had to paddle to keep in line. You were so sweet and compliant. I never had any problems out of you. I only had to tell you I loved you.”
Tully exhaled. She, the salvaged fool, saw it so clearly now. It threatened to take her to her knees, but the pain overpowered the shame. Instead, she stood taller. After years of lies, he was finally telling the truth. He was afraid.
“Then again, you had a bigger debt to pay,” Alex continued quickly when he saw her listening.
“You’re the monster that destroyed me. I owe you nothing.” Her instinct kicked into high gear, and she dropped her eyes to his chest so she could see every movement.
Alex’s face twisted with rage. He jammed his finger toward her. “I pulled your daddy's gun out of your mouth and made you a formidable talent. I made something out of you. I took your pathetic life and gave it purpose. And a pretty handy income too.”
“You should have let me die,” she said calmly.
“You call me a monster, but I have always been the only thing between you and absolute ruin. Me. Not him.” Spit flew from Alex’s mouth
as he yelled.
“I used to believe that, Alex. But he is something you’ll never be.”
“And what’s that? Lovey-dovey?” Alex’s sneer was ugly.
“Real.”
Alex’s eyes grew dark. He took a step forward and his shoe clinked on the crystal ashtray. Leaning over he grabbed it and brandished it at her. “Then maybe I’ll suicide him next.”
He barely had time to react before Tully slammed into him. They fell to the floor, Tully on top raining down blows. Alex swung the ashtray aiming for her face, but she knocked his hand back. Blood spurted from his nose before he gave up trying to make contact and threw her off.
Tully rolled away springing lightly into a crouch.
This time Alex rose to his feet slowly. He was still dangerous, but she was younger and lithe from constant training and a life hard lived. His indulgences had weakened him. Alex straightened his collar and wiped his bloody nose. “I appreciate the spunk, but you're not leaving me. Without me you’re nothing. Somebody else's penis isn't going to change that. You belong to me.”
“No.”
Her decisive tone sent him into a rage. His face twisted into a snarl, and he advanced on her. She took a step back and felt hardwood beneath her boots. The stripper pole touched her back. Reaching up she grabbed it with both hands and brought her legs up. She aimed a devastating kick at his chest.
Alex reeled backward and caught himself on the armrest of the chair. This time she didn’t hesitate.
But he was ready. As she attacked, Alex dropped to one knee and drove a braced elbow into her bad hip. Something popped and again stars exploded in her vision. She staggered sideways.
Alex rose and caught her. Pushing her backward he slammed her against the pole, pinning her arms around the pole behind her. She shook her leg trying desperately to get it to respond.
The Last Innocent Page 27
