by Trisha Wolfe
“Taking me somewhere private, detective?” I ask.
His mouth presses into a hard line. “Yes. Your very own private hospital room.”
He opens the car door with me still in his arms, then sets me in the passenger-seat. “We really need to stop this routine of you carrying me to cars, Quinn.”
I’m surprised when a small smile lights his stern features. He rounds the car and slips into the driver-seat. As he buckles himself in, he says, “Are you hurt? In pain? Anything happen at all that—?” He stares at the wheel, a severe furrow creasing his forehead.
I lean toward him. “Nothing happened that you need to worry about. Maybe if this was the first time I was abducted…” I say with a shrug. “But by comparison? This was a pretty lame attempt on my life.”
He doesn’t seem to like my answer, and turns the key with more strength than necessary. Like he wants to tear the damn ignition off.
“Relax, Quinn.” I rest my hand on his shoulder. The feel of hard muscle beneath my palm has my fingers working to ease his tension. His hand seizes mine, and he moves it to the console between us.
“Avery, if they hurt you…you can tell me.” His eyes find mine then.
“I’m fine. I promise,” I say, which is true. Any pain I might be in is dulled by the numbing effect of the drug. “In fact, all I need is my bed to sleep it off.”
Pulling onto the road, he takes off in the direction that is the exact opposite of my house. “I’m not taking any chances,” he says resolutely.
Then, against all logic trying to seep past the drug rushing my system, I do something so out of character that I would cringe at myself if I could. I actually hear myself whine. My body struggles against the seatbelt strap, the restraint intolerable. I cross my legs, tighten my thighs, applying enough pressure to sate the sudden onset of need.
Here it comes.
Panic laces my mind, and any rational thought evaporates. As the drug begins to crescendo, all inhibitions fly right out the window.
“Stop the car,” I say, a frantic hitch in my voice.
“Avery…I can’t.”
“Stop. The. Car,” I demand.
Quinn utters a curse as he pulls onto the side of the highway. He doesn’t bother putting the car in Park as he gives me his full attention. “What’s wrong?”
I lick my lips, my mouth desperate for liquid. “You can’t take me to a hospital,” I say, latching onto his hand. I squeeze as the pressure builds into a painful ache, and he lets me. I close my eyes for a few seconds until it ebbs. Then I release a slow breath. “Please, Quinn. I’m begging you. The thought of some doctor running tests…it’s humiliating.”
Confusion mars his face. “Then tell me, Avery. Make me understand.”
I want to die. I want to curl into myself and just die. The realization of what I’ve created for those monstrous devils hits me with sickening force as a wave of ecstasy crashes over me.
“Oh, shit…” I breathe through a sharp spasm. Then I look into his eyes, anticipating judgment in his hazel gaze. But they only see me, reflecting none of the revulsion I feel. “I’m not sick, and I’m not overdosing. The cocktail I made? The aphrodisiac?” He nods his understanding. “Multiply that by a thousand, and that is what’s coursing through my system right now.”
A fierce gleam lights his eyes. A range of emotions—from sympathy to rage—wars within their depths. But I don’t wait for the questions to come. I know he wants answers, but right now, I’m desperate to get somewhere safe and secluded.
“So please,” I say, evoking as much commiseration in my voice as possible. “The last place I need to be is a hospital bed.”
“Fuck,” he bites out. He glances in the rearview mirror, then steers the car back onto the road. After he makes a U-turn in a strictly no U-turn lane, he says, “You’re going to give me answers.”
“I will,” I say, pressing down into the seat to ease the mounting throb. “I’m going to help you get these bastards. But you need to get me through this first.”
Another sharp curse fills the car, and the busted skin around Quinn’s knuckles turns white as his grip tightens on the wheel.
12
Purgatory
Quinn
Sadie’s not happy. Not one bit. But mother fuck, what can I do?
Avery has to know what’s best. She’s the brains of this operation. I have to trust that if she thought her life was in danger, she’d say so.
Trust.
That word batters my brain as I take the scolding from Sadie.
“After everything she’s been through, Quinn. You need to man-up and make the right call for her.”
Sadie’s words make my jaw lock tight, my back teeth grinding down so hard I fear I’ll crack a tooth. This job is going to put dentures in my head before I’m fifty. “Fucking hell. She’s not a child. This is Avery we’re talking about.”
“I know,” Sadie says.
“Then don’t you think she knows what she’s doing?”
A beat, then: “Okay. You’re right.”
Mother of mercy. I can’t believe it. “Listen. I got Avery, so I need you focused on the perps. Wherever she was held, Avery said there was another woman there, and there could be more. Use Carson. Let him work them over, then you bring in the big guns. We need names and locations. Fire off all the charges—”
“Quinn, they’ve lawyered up. Right off the rip, they asked for some swanky lawyer named Maddox.”
I squeeze my eyes closed. Mostly from hearing the name of the lawyer I’ve been investigating, but also to stop the sight of Avery undulating on the couch.
I turn toward the window. “I need you to get ahead of this. Maddox is dirty.”
“Name me a lawyer who’s not,” she says.
We’re on the same page there. “But he’s connected to the first vic somehow. Theory is, she was a working girl. And if Maddox is representing our perps, he may know the whos and wheres. Get to him. Get those perps talking.”
“You’re asking me to be on this case?”
My back tenses. With a glance Avery’s way, I frown. There’s still too many unanswered questions—but the answers won’t make a damn bit of difference at this point. Not when I need my partner working the angles that I can’t.
“Everything you need is in my office. Get caught up as quickly as you can. And, Bonds,” I say, my tone inflecting the seriousness of this request, “complete transparency. You do not make a move without me.”
“I’ll get Wexler to assemble a team. We’ll locate this other woman and any others, Quinn,” she says, and I know Sadie will do everything within her power for these women. “I’m on top of this. You just take care of Avery. I’ll call when I have a lead.”
I end the call, a weight of uncertainty dropping in my stomach. It’s not that I don’t trust Sadie to work the case, to find the answers. I’ve never doubted her when it comes to the job. This doubt is of a different beast—one that worries what she’ll do with those answers after the fact.
And trust is everything between partners.
I tuck my thoughts away, getting my head back in the current predicament. Grabbing my forensic kit, I approach Avery, feeling as if I’m about to perform an exorcism rather than a forensic examination. “If you’re not going in, then we have to collect evidence here.”
For my sake, she stops grinding against the couch. “I can do it myself.”
“You’re under the influence of a drug.” I kneel before her and open the kit. “You know how this works. Lawyers will have a field day tearing you down, getting any evidence thrown out.” I’m extra cautious now; making sure any and all trace is collected right. Maddox is notorious for getting his clients off on bullshit technicalities. “So you have to tell me, Avery. If there’s anywhere personal we need to examine—”
“There’s not.” She lifts her chin high, resolute.
I exhale my relief, a physical weight being removed from my chest.
Avery slips out of Sadie�
��s jacket and lays it on the back of the couch. “My hair,” she says, pointing to her head. “One of them may’ve scratched me. And my nails. Possible blood or epithelial cells.” At my wary expression, she adds, “I stuck one of them with a pen.”
Although it’s absolutely inappropriate, this brings a smile to my face.
“What?” She balks at my reaction. “I wasn’t going down without a fight. Not this time.”
“Not any time.” I pull on a pair of gloves and hold my hands out to her. She slides her palms against mine, and our eyes meet. A question lingers in hers. “You’ve never been anything but a fighter, Aves. I’m glad you got a piece of him. It will help.”
I’m as gentle as possible while I scrape her nails. Moving on to gathering any trace from her scalp, I use a strip of tape to lift evidence. She shivers as I comb my fingers through her hair.
A pretty blush rises to her cheeks. “My scalp is extra sensitive.”
These examinations aren’t easy for anyone. And considering Avery is nearly crawling out of her skin, I’m impressed—and admittedly, relieved—that she remains still during the grueling process.
When I begin to explore her body with the miniature UV light, she arches her back, her breathing intensifying. Exam over. “I think you can handle the rest.” I hand her the light, then pack up the Heme Stix.
“But I thought you said—”
“I know what I said.” And damn, I’ve already strayed so far outside the lines of my own rulebook, at this point, what difference does it make? But that festering guilt still eats at me—the compulsion to try to do this by the book.
I don’t even know who’s rules I’m following anymore.
Setting the lamp down, Avery lies back on the couch. The restraint it took to keep composed during the examination shows. She trembles from that exertion. “I think you covered it,” she says. “They were meticulous. We’ll be lucky to get anything.”
Taking a seat on the chair opposite her, I prop my elbows on my knees.
“You should let me doctor your knuckles,” she says.
“They’re fine.”
Her intimate stare unnerves me. “Did you do that during the fight?”
I shake my head. “No. Before.”
Through the haze of drugs, her eyes sharpen on me, but I’m relieved when she lets it drop at that. “Do you know them?” I ask, getting back on the topic of her. “Did you recognize them from anywhere?”
Her breathing is labored, her chest rising and falling heavily with each gasp for air. Sweat beads across her forehead, dampening her light hair. According to Avery, her desire to experience pleasure is so demanding it’s physically painful. Her agony is unbearable to watch.
She attempts to shake her head against the pillow. “They didn’t act or talk like the people I’ve dealt with before. I don’t think these men have anything to do with my contacts on the darknet.” Her eyes close for a brief moment as a sudden spasm hits. My frown deepens. “But you can check it out yourself,” she adds when it passes.
She gives me the password to her laptop and rattles off some other screen names and access codes. I jot it all down in my notepad and then stand to get started, relieved to have something constructive to do. Despite my limited input on the case while here, I should still be able to investigate her darknet connections.
Another wave assaults her, and I come to a stop. “Is there anything I can do?”
Her brown eyes snap to mine. “You shouldn’t ask that.”
I force down the knot in my throat as her hungry gaze devours me. A lesser man would wilt under that gaze—would surrender to the temptation. And god, but Avery is tempting.
I clear my throat, avert my eyes to the floor. “What I mean is, if you explain how the drug works, maybe I can—”
She laughs. “Still detecting, detective? You want to know just what is being unleashed out there? What these fiends made me create…a drug that, as we speak—” she shifts to get more comfortable “—could be spreading out there right now?”
I huff my aggravation. “Yeah. Something like that. I have a responsibility to report it and take action to get it off the streets. Especially to keep it out of the hands of rapists.”
She nods weakly. “That’s the only logical conclusion, isn’t it?” Her eyes spear me. “That I’ve designed a drug which will be used by men so wretched…so vile…they want to cause physical pain to a woman until she succumbs to her desires.” She chokes back a cough, then pulls air into her heaving lungs. I’m moving toward her, but she holds up a hand. “Please don’t. The last thing I deserve is sympathy. I’ve created the ultimate date rape drug, Quinn. And what’s more terrifying…? I can’t even fathom the full evil this drug can achieve.”
It takes all my strength not to go to her. She’s not just suffering the effects of the drug; she’s punishing herself. And when she buckles over from the pain, it’s more than I can stand.
I toss my notepad aside and yank off my coat as I rush toward her kitchen. Rolling up my sleeves, I locate a washcloth and run it under the tap. I wrap a few ice cubes in the cloth, my focus clear. The case can wait.
As I enter the living room, I don’t give Avery a second to argue. I sit down beside her and pull her against my chest. “Lay your head back,” I say, taking note of the fierce tremble in her body.
She’s on fire. Her skin flush, her clothes damp from sweat. Even as she does what I ask, laying her back against my chest, I can feel her hesitancy. I stretch out my legs on either side of her and smooth her hair away from her face, then lay the cool cloth along her forehead.
“Just try to relax,” I say. “You don’t deserve this punishment, Aves. You didn’t set out with this outcome in mind. Some very fucked up people used you.”
Her chest rises as she sucks in a sharp breath, struggling to suppress a ripple of pain. “They knew they could, Quinn. They knew they could use me.”
I brush her hair away from her neck, trying to alleviate the heat blanketing her. “I once worked a case where a stalker found his victims online. It was way above my head. Somehow, he was using programs he coded to locate these women by their search history. Certain keywords…sites they visited…the clues were in the metadata. I was just a regular detective, hunting a ghost on the Internet.”
“Did you find him?” she asks, and I can hear the throaty pleading in her voice. She’s building again. My jaw clenches as she wriggles to get some relief.
“Yeah, I did,” I say, working through my own brand of punishment. “I had to learn a lot of shit that I never cared too much about before. Stuff I never thought would do me any good out in the field. That was what the techs were for, right? But we caught him in the end. Set up a whole operation to lure him out of cyberspace and I made the collar.”
“That’s a nice story, Quinn. But what does it have to do with what I’ve done? With what we’re facing?”
“That’s what I’m going to figure out,” I assure her.
We believe the killings started with the first dead pro, but what if she wasn’t the first? What if there are other vics outside of the city who suffered a similar fate? Avery didn’t give these bastards the idea for the drug; they were already in pursuit of it. Once I get the techs on the right trail, I’m sure we’ll discover a connection. I’m almost damn certain this goes deeper than some new designer drug to sell over the black market.
Unfortunately, Avery was hunting a cure for her own personal dilemma in the wrong neck of cyberspace. It snagged the attention of the wrong people. That’s where they found her, and that’s where I’m going to use their own resources against them.
“Quinn…”
Avery’s desperate tone breaks through my heavy thoughts.
I tug her more securely against my chest. “Honestly, Avery. What will make this better? There has to be something—”
“Touch me.”
My eyes close against the onslaught of arousing thoughts her breathy words illicit. I bite out a curse. “Not happeni
ng, Aves. Not like this.” I wrap my arms around her, offering her as much comfort as I can, but my hands stay locked in tight fists. Not even a pinky allowed to roam.
Her body racks with shivers. “It’s the only way. I have to relieve the pressure. Every time it mounts, the pain gets worse. If I don’t…” she trails off, but her unuttered words ring clear. If she doesn’t come—if she doesn’t grant her body the release it needs—this torture will continue, becoming unbearable.
I suck in a deep breath past the blazing ache in my chest. “Will once even be enough?”
“I don’t know,” she answers truthfully. “And god, this is so humiliating.”
“It’s just me, Aves. There’s nothing to be ashamed of. We’re two grown-ass adults. We can handle this. Here—” I remove the cloth from her forehead and set it on the back of the couch. Enforcing my own speech, I keep my hands steady as I unbutton the top of her blouse, letting her body breathe. “Do whatever you need to get through this. I’m here. Moral support.”
This makes her laugh, and I love the sound of it. Relief cuts through the tension. “Quinn, you’re the epitome of moral.” She takes my lead, undoing the rest of the buttons.
I bite back a groan as her lacy black bra makes an appearance, the sexy swell of her breasts capturing my attention. I should look away. That’s the moral thing to do, but I’m obviously a glutton for punishment myself.
My eyes trace the beautiful curves of her tits as she runs her hands over them. Then, because I’m not in enough torment, she arches up and unfastens the clasp, setting herself completely free. My cock takes this opportune moment to go fully erect, and when she pushes back against me, the greedy shit indulges in the feel of her ass.
Control. I’m in control. I mentally recite this mantra as I forcefully tear my gaze away from her breasts, which are now on full display. Seeing her peaked nipples, pink and soft—Jesus Christ. I’ve never envisioned Avery naked before—and I’m glad. It would’ve been a disservice.
