The Sally Ride Chronicle (The Syndicate-Born Trilogy Book 4)

by K. M. Hodge

  “Did you find her? Is she okay?”

  “No, I’m breaking into the lawyer’s office. It doesn’t look like they’re here.”

  “Where else could she be?”

  “His place, maybe. I don’t know.”

  “Hold on. I have his address.” Jude could hear papers being rifled through in the background. “I got it. You got a pen?”

  Jude pinned the phone between his ear and shoulder, reached into his pocket, and pulled up his sleeve. “Yep. Go.”

  “1013 Studio Lane.”

  Jude scribbled the address on his forearm and went back picking the lock. “I’ve got a key to his house, but I never used it to see if it works or not.”

  “You have a key?”

  “Don’t ask,” Jude said.

  The pins of the lock clicked and the door opened. “I’m going to check the office real quick and then I’m going to head over to the guy’s house. Can you meet me there?”

  Alex sighed. “Yeah. I can, but it’ll take me three hours to get there and that’s with no traffic. You should call Detective Cook.”

  Jude pinched the bridge of his nose. “Cook’s in court right now, but I’ll figure it out. Don’t worry about it. “

  “Hey man, don’t be like that.”

  “It’s fine. I don’t need your help.”

  Jude ended the call, shot Cook a quick text to meet him at the lawyer’s address, and then slipped the phone into his back pocket. It rang again, but he ignored it. He flipped on a light switch and looked around. Nothing looked weird in the outer office so he continued into the inner office. “Oh God.”

  He pinched his nose to stave off the stench. The trash overflowed with takeout boxes, which explained the smell. A fine white powder covered the desk in several spots. Jude swiped his finger over it and gave it a taste. Coke. The phone’s headset hung over the desk and onto the floor—broken. Jude pushed the speaker button and pressed redial. It went straight to voice mail. Sally’s voice mail.

  He hid his fist inside of his sweatshirt and used the sleeve to wipe down the phone, the desk and the light switch to remove any evidence that he’d been there. Then he locked up the office and jumped back on the bike. He did a quick sign of the cross, something Sally would have done, and prayed she was okay.

  ***

  Michael David’s Home

  Ocean Pines, Maryland

  December 8, 2005

  2:45 PM

  ~~~

  Michael narrowed his eyes. “Don’t make me ask you again. Who do you work for?”

  Sally softened and tried to lighten the mood. “The coke is making you paranoid.”

  “Pot makes me paranoid. Not coke.” He paused for a beat like maybe he did wonder if the drugs were making him crazy. He narrowed his gaze. “No. It’s not the drugs. Cut the shit, Sally. Is that even your real name?”

  She forced herself to relax. “Michael—”

  He wrapped his hand around her neck and squeezed. “Don’t fuck with me. Who do you work for and why are you spying on me?”

  Sally wet her lips and tried to stay calm as it became increasingly difficult to breathe. “No one. I'm not spying on you.”

  His grip tightened and he slammed her against the wall. Two of the tacky pictures hanging beside her head, crashed to the floor. Broken glass peppered her feet.

  “Stop. Don't do this,” she choked out as she clawed at his hands. She began to black out and his grip loosened just enough to keep her conscious.

  He smiled at her and unbuttoned her shirt, all while pinning her in place like a rat in a hole.

  “Please,” she begged.

  “Beg for mercy all you want. You’ll get none.”

  His wide Cheshire grin frightened her. As he started to undo his pants, her anxiety grew. His hold tightened again and he didn’t seem to feel her scratches and claw marks.

  “Have you ever done breath play?” His rancid breath assaulted her. Playing like hat didn’t entice her in the least. “I hear it heightens the sexual experience. I just have to keep squeezing this pale neck of yours—barely keeping you alive—while I fuck you up against this wall.”

  He kissed her numb lips and groaned. Sally balled up her fist and punched him on the side of the head with all her might. His hold loosened a little—enough for her to catch her breath again.

  “I don’t want to hurt you.” He gave her a look that might have convinced her had he not had his hands wrapped so tightly around her neck. “Don’t make me hurt you, Sally. All you have to do is tell me the truth.”

  Sally gathered the spit in her mouth and spat at him. The glob landed between his eyes and rolled down his nose and lips. Michael’s expression darkened as he loosened his hold on her and wiped his face with his free hand.

  Then he grabbed her broken arm and slammed it against the wall. The bolt of pain stole her breath. He leaned in again until they were nose-to-nose and the stench that came from his jagged breaths, made her gag. His grip tightened once more around her neck, while his other hand pinned her broken arm in place. Black spots floated in her field of vision as a slow smile enveloped Michael’s face.

  “You’ll pay for this.”

  “Like that other girl. The one you got killed.”

  Michael grew pale and his jaw unhinged—an open invitation for flies.

  “Yeah, everyone knows. Why do you think you were fired?” It was hard to talk—her throat felt like she’d swallowed knives—but she needed his confession.

  He narrowed his gaze and tilted his head to the side like he might not have heard her right.

  “Everyone knows all about how you hired that shitty mechanic from Ocean City to kill her. Did she get too close? Not hold your interest anymore?”

  Sally buzzed with the pent-up frustration and anger heightened, no doubt, by the cocaine. When he hit her, flat-palmed across the side of her face, she didn’t even feel it. Michael dragged her by the neck down the hall towards his bedroom. A seedling of fear bloomed in her gut. She grabbed at her wrist and tapped “SOS” into her watch. At least she hoped it was SOS. She prayed Jude got the message and that he’d find her.

  “Yeah,” Michael said. “You’re right. I should have killed her myself. I see that now.” His sudden calm chilled her skin like a bucketful of ice. He tossed her onto the bed and pinned her there before she could scramble away. Her shoes slipped off and fell to the floor.

  “I’ll show you,” he said, inching over her, a menacing smile split his lips. “I’ll show you what I wanted to do to her.”

  ***

  Michael used his height and weight advantage to keep her pinned to the bed. She wiggled beneath him, trying to break loose, but he kept his legs pressed into her arms. Beads of sweat rolled down her reddened face. He remembered her broken arm and a small twinge of guilt poked at the center of his chest. The part of him that cared for her, wanted her to be safe and well, screamed at him to let her go.

  But she knew too much. Enough to send him to prison, a place he desperately wanted to avoid.

  “Hold still.”

  “You’re hurting me,” she said, her face scrunched up.

  “It’s your own fault. If you’d just fucked me and kept your mouth shut, I wouldn’t have to do this.”

  His high was wearing off, and the inevitable anxiety that followed, crept up his back. He couldn’t do this sober. He needed another hit to go through with this.

  “I never killed anyone before. I thought about it.”

  “You don’t have to kill me. I’ll keep quiet.”

  “I want to know who you work for.”

  “Myself.”

  Michael snorted. “I hardly believe that.”

  He tightened his thighs around her and stood on his knees. Then he fished the bag of coke out of his pocket and put a little on his pinkie finger.

  As he started to put it in his mouth, Sally twisted towards her broken arm. Michael toppled forward and the coke fell from his finger and onto her face. He licked the coke off her che
ek and sat back up on his knees. Sally shuddered and a thrill shot through him. He wanted to fuck her. Not kill her. Just…just break her. There must be another way to keep her quiet and alive. Without the financial backing and muscle of The Syndicate, he couldn’t beat a murder rap. Thoughts slid through his mind at such a quick pace that he couldn’t make heads or tails about what to do next.

  Sally wiggled her arm free and punched him hard between his legs. He didn’t see it coming. Hell, he didn’t even feel it. But she punched again until he lost his balance. He tumbled back, slid off the bed, and hit his head on the nightstand. That he felt. She took off like a shot, out of the room and down the hall. He heard her curse as a loud thump along the wall prodded him into action. He rose to his feet and stumbled after her—no plan other than to stop her. As he stepped out of the room, his feet were swept out from under him and he landed once again on the floor. His head hit with a sickening thud and he felt glass dig into his scalp.

  He groaned and then looked up. Sally stood over him with a gun in hand. His gun.

  “Don’t even think of moving.”

  ***

  Michael David’s Home

  Ocean Pines, Maryland

  December 8, 2005

  3:00 PM

  ~~~

  Jude parked on the street, two houses down from the lawyer’s house. Taking off his helmet, he looked around. The street—rows of townhouses with perfectly manicured yards—seemed deserted. But he couldn’t take any chances. He didn’t need some well-meaning old lady to call the police about the strange black man lurking around her neighborhood.

  The watch on his wrist buzzed out a Morse code message: SOS. He broke into a jog and made his way up the lawn to the front door. A plain Christmas wreath covered the glass looking into the house. He glanced back over his shoulder, but the street still seemed empty. He pulled out the handmade key and a tension wrench. The door opened almost immediately.

  From somewhere inside, he heard Sally’s voice say, “Don’t move an inch.” Jude texted Detective Cook to hurry, then he pocketed the phone, crept a few steps inside, and closed the door behind him with a soft click.

  “Can’t we talk about this?” a man’s voice pleaded.

  Jude slipped along the wall towards the voices.

  “No, we’re done talking.”

  He came to a corner that opened into a hallway. He saw Sally standing with a gun in her hand while a man lay at her feet groaning and holding his head. When the man tried to sit up, Sally acted quickly, slamming his head back down.

  Jude stepped out into the hall. “I thought you needed my help, but it looks like you’ve got it all under control.”

  His voice startled Sally and she flinched, giving Michael enough of an opening to shift and grab her. She tumbled forward over him. Jude rushed over and tried to pull the two apart. “Give up man, it’s over.”

  “Who the fuck are you?” Michael asked.

  Sally jumped up and disappeared into one of the rooms off the hall. Jude held the lawyer in place on the floor, glass crunching under his feet. “I’m her pimp.”

  From the other room, Sally laughed. “You’re funny.” She came back a moment later with shoe laces. “Help me tie him up.”

  Jude took the laces and tied the man’s wrists together behind his back. Just then, the doorbell rang. “That must be Detective Cook.”

  “What?” Michael turned red and pulled at the bindings. “You work for the cops?”

  A door opened and slammed shut. “Hello? Police. Anyone here?”

  Michael fought harder against the restraints that held him in place “This is bullshit. You’ve got nothing on me.”

  Sally carefully walked into the kitchen and picked up the broken device. She pulled out the tape, which remained intact. “Yeah, nothing except drug possession and a taped confession about putting out a hit on your last girlfriend.”

  Michael snarled at her like a rabid dog. Sally couldn’t be more grateful for the backup.

  Detective Cook walked farther inside and surveyed the scene with a smile on her face. “Are you okay?”

  Sally nodded. “Yeah, I think so.”

  Detective Cook looked down at Michael, who grunted and pulled on the ties even with a cop at his feet. “Sally, we should work together more often.”

  “The MDNA is always at your disposal, Detective,” Jude said.

  “What does that stand for anyway?”

  Sally looked at Jude and they both snickered a little. Jude straightened his jacket and stood straight. “Madonna.”

  Detective Cook and Sally both burst out laughing.

  “Oh, shut up. She’s amazing.”

  Sally wrapped her arms around her chest and shivered.

  “Are you sure you’re okay?” Detective Cook asked with concern. “I’m going to need to call the local police department since this isn’t in my jurisdiction, but I have a friend that I trust over here. I’m also going to call an ambulance for you. It’s regulations.”

  Sally nodded. “Okay. I think I might be going into shock.”

  Detective Cook grabbed a throw blanket from the living room, brought it over to Sally, and wrapped it around her. Sally barely took in the next few minutes as the cop read Michael his rights and called for an ambulance.

  ***

  Ocean City Police Department

  Ocean City, Maryland

  December 8, 2005

  5:00 PM

  ~~~

  Detective Cook handed Sally a hot cup of coffee. “How do you want to play this? I don’t want to put you in any more danger that you already are.”

  Sally cupped the drink with her shaking hand and cradled her broken arm into her abdomen. The EMTs cleared her, but she looked a mess. Sally stared into her cup. “He stalked me. Went to my work. Bought me a coat. Followed me around. Then, today, after I told him to go away—that I’m happily married—he kidnapped me. Overpowered me. I’m too weak and hurt from my accident to really fight back so it wasn’t too hard. He took me to his house and tried to rape me, but I fought back.”

  “That would work.” Cook sat down and rested her hand on the Sally’s shoulder. “Is there anything else I can do for you?”

  “No, I’m fine.”

  “If you ever decide that you’re not fine—that you want out—I’m here for you.”

  Sally nodded as she stared at the coffee.

  “The FBI is involved now. They’re going to try and get him to turn state’s evidence, but it doesn’t look like he’s going to talk. We have him on possession of narcotics at home and his office. There is enough at the office to get him on intent to distribute, too. I don’t know if the taped confession about him and the girl will be enough to get him on conspiracy to murder, but I’ll try my best.”

  “Thank you.” Sally looked up from the cup. “I know this isn’t easy. Stepping out of line with The Syndicate comes with consequences.”

  “Yeah, someone stuck drugs in my locker and called in a tip. Internal Affairs did surprise check on the lockers, but thankfully I found it beforehand. I might see if I can get transferred. I don’t know. If I leave, then don’t they win? They’ll bury all of this like nothing happened.”

  “Welcome to my world, Detective.”

  Detective Cook sighed. “It’s not right. I took an oath to protect and serve the public, not some crime ring.”

  “I wouldn’t judge you if you walked away.”

  “I can’t. I’ve worked too hard to get this far and give up now.”

  Sally took a sip of the coffee, wincing. “I feel the same way.”

  “You know he’s going to make bail.”

  “Yeah, I’ll be okay. Especially if Billy buys my story of what happened.”

  “Are you ready?”

  “I don’t know that I have a choice,” Sally said as she rose to her feet.

  “You’re very brave.”

  Sally laughed. “Thanks.”

  Chapter 18

  Ocean City Court house

&nb
sp; Ocean City, Maryland

  February 28, 2006

  2:00 PM

  ~~~

  Sally stood in the shadows of the alley across from the courthouse and watched as the bailiff and several US Marshalls escorted Michael out of the court house and to a paddy wagon. The judge and jury had charged the bastard with drug possession and intent to distribute. For once, the legal system didn’t let her down. He would only go away for a short time, but it was something.

  One down. Hundreds to go.

  “You did good, Sal.”

  She turned around and couldn’t stop herself from smiling. “You too, Spook.”

  Alex stepped back farther into the alley and she followed him. He kissed her. It started off slow and tender, but she didn’t want that. It led her to imagine the fairytale life she could never have and had no business wanting. No, she needed to be strong, for her son, and for the war that loomed over the horizon. This battle—their Fort Sumter—would be the battle cry to start the war. The criminal world at least. There could be no tenderness in battle. She broke the kiss and pushed him hard against the brick wall. His expression darkened and he swallowed making his Adam’s apple bob up and down.

  This time he crushed her mouth with his and fumbled with his belt. She pushed his hands aside and made short work of undoing his pants until they lay pooled at his ankles. Then she dropped to her knees and thanked him for everything in the only way she knew how—with her in complete control.

  When she finally rose again to her feet, he caressed her cheek and his expression softened. The man could melt an igloo with those eyes. “Sally….”

  Her chest tightened and a twinge of pain erupted where she thought her hardened heart must be. She pushed his voice out of her head. She couldn’t let herself love him—not him, not now, not ever.

  “I’m not supposed to be doing this anymore, but I can’t seem to say no to you,” he said.

  And that dumb blonde you work with and the countless other women I found in your phone.

  “Don’t worry, Spook. I won’t narc on you to that therapist of yours.”

  He wet his lips and looked away from her. It seemed like such a serious expression for someone standing in a dark alley with their pants around their ankles. He must have had the same realization because he bent and pulled them up. The click of his belt made her jump—fucking belts and the damage they did to her body. She nibbled on her nail as her bravado faltered.