by Sarah Makela
She bent and pressed a kiss to his lips, rubbing her hand over his shoulders. “So what have you found?”
“I sent out a few emails. I should know something soon.” He returned his gaze to the computer screen, and his fingers flew over the keys. “It’ll take a little bit to get into the personnel records. I’ll let you know when I do.”
She placed a kiss on the top of his head and massaged the firm muscle of Ian’s shoulders. His ability to get what he wanted from computers never failed to amaze her. It would’ve taken her a lot of buttering up to contacts and a few days to try to get what he achieved in almost no time.
He groaned and leaned his head back to rest against her breasts. “Not too much of that, or you’ll have me getting too relaxed.”
She grinned. “What’s the harm in that? I see no problem with a quickie.” She backed away from his office chair, leaning against her desk. He turned to face her slowly. A grin spread across his lips as he stood, moving toward her with desire flashing in his eyes.
She held out her arms for him, and once he was in range, she wrapped them around his neck, savoring the feel of him so close to her. The warmth of his body soothed and comforted her.
He reached behind her and pushed aside a stack of papers to make way for her.
She might’ve protested at any other time since she didn’t like her desk to get messy, but now was certainly not one of those times. Right now, nothing else mattered but the press of his body against hers. Normally she didn’t allow herself to get so smitten when there was work to be done, but their sex life had lessened a little within the past few weeks. It seemed like things kept happening to hamper their desires.
She was tired of that happening. Her needs needed to be met too.
Ian’s mouth brushed kisses along her jaw line to the curve of her neck. He lifted her onto the desk and pressed his hips firmly between her legs, letting her know just how happy he was to be there. He ran his hands up under her blouse and caressed his way up her ribcage to the swells of her breasts.
She groaned and ran her hands over the back of his neck, kneading the muscles there and wanting so much more.
He cupped her breasts and ground his hard cock against her. His breath tickled the flesh of her neck. “Hannah. I want you so much.”
She smiled. “I can tell.”
A sudden cheerful chime came through his computer’s speakers. Another followed it.
“That was quick.” Ian brushed his lips over hers for another long kiss. The mood dropped from heated to lukewarm. “It’s my email. I’m sorry. I’ll make this up to you later,” he said and went back to his computer.
She sat on the edge of her desk and sighed. Knowing full well that Ian would make it up to her, possibly multiple times, she let the interruption go. Money was tight, and the case took priority. Work first, and then happy cuddly stuff could follow.
Hannah slid off the desk and headed toward the coffee maker. She poured coffee into Ian’s I don’t do Mondays mug, and walked toward Ian.
“So, what’s up?” She passed him the steaming cup across the table, and he eagerly grabbed it, taking a long swig before answering.
“The emails from my acquaintances say there’s no real demand in the black market for bio-organs at this point due to the amount of work required to properly implant them. As such, I think we can scrap the idea that any random gangs or thugs have targeted these victims. It seems much more specific. Not only are there multiple bodies, but I’m guessing that each of the victims was selected for a different organ.” Ian flipped to another screen and smiled. “Oh, and here’s the list of hospital personnel for you.”
“We should do background checks on the ones that have the kind of knowledge to fit the suspect,” Hannah said, leaning over his shoulder and glancing at the names on the screen.
“You’re right. I’ll get started. Maybe more than a few of these oh so high and mighty doctors have a dark side they don’t want to share.” Ian took another drink of coffee.
“In that case, I think I’ll wait for the courier with the information from the hospital. That way we can match what they don’t want us to see,” Hannah said and walked to her desk. She read over the personnel list and stifled a yawn.
A little while later, a sharp knock on the frosted glass door stirred her from her work. A middle-aged man hovered in the hallway with a box and a clipboard in his hands. She signed the clipboard and received the package, after which the courier strode down the hall toward the glass door leading outside.
From what she could see, the street was filled with people walking to and from various shops and vehicles. The neon-colored signs lit up the sky, attracting the early bar crowd. The early evening was turning slowly into twilight before darkness would drown the city in a sharp contrast of light and people.
She closed the door behind her and locked it, then set the box on her desk. “We received the package. Dr. Grant left a note for us. It says, ‘Dear Ian and Hannah. Here are the documents I felt most relevant for the two of you to look over to begin your work. My apologies for not being able to meet with you myself. Feel free to contact me if you need further information. Sincerely, Dr. Daniel Grant.’”
“Let’s get started, shall we? May I have the autopsy reports to start with? You can go over the other documents they provided,” Ian said. The glint in his eye made it clear the caffeine fix was slowly, but surely, hitting him.
Not feeling like reading the autopsy report about various details of decomposition, details that sometimes made her squeamish, she was happy Ian had stepped up and was eager to help. Having seen death firsthand did not make her any more comfortable with it. She still had problems washing away the memories of Rich’s savaged body.
After setting the documents into various piles according to category, they set to work. It wasn’t until the sole source of light outside was from dubious trader shacks, bars and illegal operations that Ian lifted his gaze to meet hers.
“Whoever, whatever did this to these people is really sick,” Ian said and shook his head in disgust. “Not only were there burn marks and bruises along the major arteries, but long, paper-thin cuts ran along their entire body, not deep enough to cause decent bleeding, but enough to cause pain.” He leaned back in his chair. “Circular cuts were etched into shoulders, buttocks, and thighs. The ears were burned, and the eyes glued shut. After that, the victim was bled from all extremities to slow his vital functions. When that happened, he was put somewhere cold, causing hypothermia. The body was vivisected in clean, narrow slices until the killer reached their goal, the new artificial liver. It’s hard to believe a surgeon would ever do that. It seems less medical and financial, and more occult-related.”
Bile rose in the back of Hannah’s throat. She really hadn’t wanted to hear that much about how the person had done this sick deed, but she’d known she wouldn’t get off that easily. It reinforced her determination to find out who had done this and help bring them to justice.
She ran her hand through her hair and took deep breaths before even attempting to reply to Ian. “That’s just gross and horrible. How could someone do something like that?”
He grimaced. “We live in a sick world.”
* * *
Ian set the documents aside, noticing that Hannah had turned a little pale. He knew she was a little more sensitive to violent situations, so he hadn’t wanted to overwhelm her. Heck, this stuff made him wish he hadn’t eaten lunch recently. Yet it was something he needed to know about. They needed to have all of the facts so they could piece together the puzzle and track down whoever was doing this.
“Can I get you something?” he asked.
She lifted her can of Coke before setting it on the coaster next to her. “I’m fine. Thanks though.” She typed away on her computer.
“Just let me know if there’s anything I can do for you.” He glanced over at his computer and then back at the autopsy report, reading over it again to make sure he got everything. He scribbled down
a few noteworthy details. He was glad to have had the material to look over, even if it disturbed him.
The reports all gave him similar views. The eyes, ears, shoulder, buttocks, and thighs. Eyes and ears cut the individual from the outside world and locked him inside his own body to suffer. Shoulder for movement, agility. Buttocks and thighs, naturally sexual. The slow bleeding similar to that practiced widely in medieval Scandinavia, where it had been used as an aid against infections and disease. The cold acted to dull the nerves as a cheap anesthesia, making it harder for the victim to react or to raise any alarm. The careful vivisection and the neat fashion in which the skin and tissue was removed on top of the liver spoke of old-time study of anatomy, and its high regard for neatness. Whoever was after the organs was talented and well versed in medical history.
Even beyond that, he saw traces of something else. Ritualism, shamanism, science, medical sophistication, and an interest in classical and older times. Also cruelty, targeting the living instead of the sick and dying. He hadn’t known the psychology classes he’d once taken would ever be used in this fashion.
Turning his attention to the computer screen, he looked over the personnel history and background checks. Most of the hospital personnel lived in the suburbs and sections close by, but some had addresses outside of the city. The doctors, surgeons and the legal department seemed to be well off. Most avoided common forms of corruption, like drugs, alcohol, and prostitution. Other than a parking ticket here and there, the personnel, from the cleaners to the hospital management, seemed clean. Even foreign members of the staff had green cards that matched and registered properly. He sighed. Nothing in the background checks raised any red flags.
Looking up, he saw Hannah lean back in her chair and yawn. “Time to head home, Ian. That’s enough for one day,” she said and gave him the look he had learned to watch out for. He turned and shut down his computers, knowing she was more than ready to call it a night. After all, she had gotten up earlier than he had, and while he gulped down coffee, she typically didn’t touch it.
They closed the office and headed out, where the crowd was now a mix of drunken wanderers, gang members, and an occasional desperate prostitute. Normal people gathered in the background, trying not to be seen by anyone. Walking past two bars, Ian and Hannah mostly kept out of the way of major traffic and the shady alleys they glanced cautiously into.
Suddenly someone ran past them, grabbing Hannah’s purse and knocking her down. The runner was of medium build and kept his momentum despite taking a sharp turn around a corner.
Ian helped her up as the initial shock passed, and they ran after him, toward one of the darker sides of the town. The street became a mix of cobblestone and concrete, with trashy graffiti littering the sides of the buildings. The darkness made the walls around them seem to stretch longer than they should, and what light shining from the neon-colored signs behind them faded fast. The inhospitable place held a sense of dread.
A slight movement in the dark gave Ian a moment to duck before a trashcan hit the spot right behind him. Hannah stepped closer to him.
“You should hide,” Ian said. He cautiously advanced to where the assailant had thrown the trashcan from, his eyes slowly adjusting to the darkness.
A shape ran toward him, as if trying to ram him. Smiling to himself, he braced himself for the initial feel of pressure that would come, keeping his left leg behind his right, knees bent. He barely had enough time to adjust his stance when the shape ran into him, and Ian’s mass pushed forward into the other man’s torso. A quick movement later, Ian had dropped the assailant to the ground in a sweeping motion, using the martial arts lessons he’d learned years ago. To his surprise, the assailant did not stop for long, but picked up running before Ian had a chance to react.
“He must have been on something. Dropping him like that should have at least knocked the air out of him. Whatever.” He shook his head in disbelief. “At least he didn’t have a gun to shoot at us. Besides which, I think he dropped your purse.” Ian looked around the area where he had thrown the man down.
After few moments of searching with light provided by their cell phones, they found the purse, spoiled by foul-smelling fluid dripping through a hole in the nearby Dumpster.
Chapter Four
Hannah stared in disgust at what had been a nice purse. Juicy sludge oozed against the side of it, and she gagged, nearly dropping it. Tears glistened in her eyes. Not because she’d liked the purse—she had—but because of the ridiculousness of the situation. It seemed peculiar that someone would mug her right after she and Ian had accepted this case, but then again, maybe she was becoming too paranoid. That was probably it.
In her line of work, paranoia helped extend her lifespan, so it wasn’t a fault.
Ian took the purse and held it away from him. His nose wrinkled, and he sneezed, but he didn’t let it go. “Let’s hurry home before he decides to come back. Besides, I’ll definitely need a shower after this.”
She nodded in agreement. “Yeah, I wouldn’t mind joining you.”
He cracked a smile and kissed her forehead. “Good. I was hoping you’d say that.”
The walk home was long since they’d gone well out of their way to chase the thief. Now, she kept an eye on her surroundings since they were in a seedier part of town. Whatever they’d wanted from her had to be important. Had they gotten what they’d wanted, or had Hannah and Ian stopped the assailant too quickly?
Either way, she wanted to get back to Ian’s safe apartment, where she knew no one could get in without some mega mojo since Ian and Bernard had magically safeguarded it to keep anyone from getting in.
Ian pushed open the door, and she walked in after him. Bernard peeked his head out from the kitchen, chocolate smeared across his face, probably from the cookies he’d insisted on Ian buying him. Little slob.
“Peeeeee-yyyyyeeeew. You two need a shower NOW! And I’m not talking about the kind with lots of SEX.” Bernard’s face contorted with disgust, and he disappeared back into the kitchen, muttering about humans who smelled like sewage.
The blood rushed from her face, and she eyed her purse now that they were in better lighting. Ian’s back mostly blocked her line of sight, but thankfully, she didn’t see anything that screamed human waste. Still, she wanted to get her belongings out of that thing and burn the bag. If she never saw it again, it’d be too soon.
“Bernard, grab me something to put this on,” Ian called.
“What am I? Your personal servant?” Bernard grumbled incoherently, but then maybe that was just his gnomish language. Sometimes it was hard to tell the difference. She’d never tell him that though. He’d take it as a personal insult, and she’d never hear the end of it.
She stripped off her jacket and then set it on the coffee table.
Bernard toddled in with a small red blanket and spread it on the coffee table over her jacket. “Here. Use that, but you better clean it really GOOD after you’re done.” He glared up at Ian with fire in his eyes.
“Yeah, yeah… Thanks.” Ian set down the purse and sighed before glancing over at her. “I’m sorry you had to go through that. I should’ve been more alert. That really shouldn’t have happened.”
“It’s not your fault. I should’ve been more with it too.” She crossed the distance between them and started to wrap her arms around him but stopped herself. Yes, they were both gross, but she didn’t want to further muck up Ian.
He grabbed her and pulled her close. “Don’t worry about my clothes. They can be cleaned. Besides, they’ll need to come off anyway…”
“That’s a FANTASTIC idea!” Bernard sat on Ian’s favorite chair and stared up at them. “Strip off those clothes. I want a good show!” He grinned and danced around as if to the beat of a pop song.
Hannah grimaced and returned her gaze to Ian. “We should probably handle my purse before getting cleaned up. I’d hate to deal with it afterward.”
He nodded and stared at the coffee table. “Right.�
�� Gripping the edge of her bag, he flipped it upside down, spilling the contents onto Bernard’s small red blanket. They wiped off her belongings the best they could before pitching what couldn’t be salvaged into the trash. The rest was laid on the coffee table.
He tossed the blanket to Bernard. “There you go. Put it in the laundry.”
The gnome took the small blanket, holding it away from himself, and muttered about acting as a maid to a bunch of humans. Walking toward the other section of the apartment, the gnome was soon out of earshot.
“Now, you mentioned something about a shower?” Ian asked, taking her hand.
She grinned and cast a glance toward the hallway Bernard had disappeared into. The sound of water starting in the washing machine and then a solid slam a few moments later signified him beginning a load of laundry.
Hopefully he wouldn’t do anything mean like shrink any of her clothes.
Returning her gaze to Ian, she let the thought slip away. Passion burned in his eyes as he led the way to the bathroom.
Once they reached the bathroom, Ian shut the door behind her and pressed her against the wall. His hips nestled against her, and she could feel the press of how happy he was to be there once again. Man, she wanted him desperately. He knew too well how to stoke the flames that flared within her.
She kissed him and wrapped her arms around his neck.
He ran his hands down her sides and moved them to her hips, cradling them. Just the gentle sensation did that much more to turn her on. He sank to his knees before her and slid his hands lower. His fingertips brushed her knees and drifted up her skirt, caressing the inside of her thighs in a beeline to her pussy.
Desire struck hard, moistening her so much that she knew her panties were damp. She bit her lower lip and held her breath as he came ever closer to touching her wet folds. Closing her eyes, she leaned her head back against the wall.
