“That’ll be the freakin’ day,” Tat said under his breath.
“That day had better be today, Brophy, or you’ll have an appointment with the gas chamber tomorrow.” Jess approached him, looked him in the eye and watched him cower like the weasel he was.
When she turned away from him her teeth were still aching from the desire to sink them into the asshole’s worthless neck.
It was then she spotted Britt standing inside the door with his arms folded across his chest. He’d cleaned himself up. Got a haircut. Right now, he didn’t look like he belonged here with this group of misfits.
“Britt. Glad you could make it. Don’t be late again.” She turned back to the group. “I want everyone to drop and give me fifty.”
“Fifty what?” Griz said.
“Push-ups, Mr. Moran. Are you up to it?”
“Lady, I can handle anything you want me to.” He dropped and started doing one handed push ups.
Surprised at the agility for a man his size, she watched him. “Showing off will get you killed in this job, Moran. I suggest you think about that long and hard in the future.”
Terry Grant was doing her push ups without breaking a sweat. No surprise. Jess continued around the room, monitoring the status of each member.
“Didn’t expect this, Brittain?” She watched a bead of sweat trickle down the side of John’s face as he did his tenth push up. No doubt he’d spent most of his time drinking and driving his taxi since he got kicked off the force. He was out of shape.
He ignored her and kept counting. She watched him for a moment, then became aware of the biceps rippling under his cotton shirt indicating strength she hadn’t expected. He had been working out. Maybe he hadn’t spent all of his time bending his elbow for exercise.
By the time midnight struck she’d given them a good workout. But this was just kindergarten stuff. They had a long road ahead of them yet.
“Okay, that’s it for tonight. See you all tomorrow night. Same time, same place.” She turned and walked away. She could feel Britt’s gaze following her. He wanted to talk to her. She’d find him later tonight.
It was three in the morning when Jess spotted Britt’s Taxi stopped at a red light. Like her, he always worked the nightshift. Crossing the street, she opened the cab’s passenger side door and jumped in.
“Morning.” Apparently not in the least surprised to see her, he still said, “Surprised to see you’re still up at this time of day.”
“I always work the nightshift. I know what my reasons are for doing that. What are yours?”
The corded muscles in his neck bulged and he gripped the steering wheel tighter. He looked straight ahead. Didn’t even glance at her out of the corner of his eye.
“Lady, you’ve got some gall coming here and expecting me to spew out information at the drop of a hat. You want me to do a job without any information. You get me into that gymnasium and make me do a workout then walk away without a backward glance. What the hell’s up with you anyway?”
“Calm down, Britt. That’s why I’m here. I promised you information, and I’m here to give you some of it.”
“Just some?”
“For now.”
He turned his head and stared at her. Unreadable eyes searched hers. “Jesus, lady, you’re a hardass. What made you this tough?”
“Now that would take quite some telling, but I don’t share those kinds of stories with mere acquaintances. If and when we become friends, I’ll rethink that question and maybe I’ll answer it.”
He pulled over to the curb and stopped the car, opened his door and got out. She followed him, watching him pace up and down the sidewalk. Sounds of the city at night were muted and eerie. Unpleasant odors wafted through the air from bars and takeouts. Rats rustled in Dumpsters not far from where they stood. She could hear them and smell them. Foul little creatures.
“This is a bad part of town to be taking a stroll at this time of night, Brittain. Do you make a habit of it?”
“Only when I’ve got a bug up my ass,” he said turning quickly and scowling at her.
“Must be painful.”
“What the hell are you people up to? Why the secrecy?”
She touched her lips with her forefinger. “Shhhh.” Had she heard rustling of the unearthly sort? Her senses grew more vigilant, and she backed up slowly toward an alleyway not far from them.
She gritted her teeth when Britt dogged her steps. Before she reached the mouth of the alley, she held one hand in the air to halt him. Someone was there, all right. She could sense the evil, as if a dank odor had spilled down the street toward her.
There was fear in that smell. Whoever hid in the shadows was afraid of her. Good.
“Help you?” she asked softly, looking into the shadows with night vision as clear as a wolf’s. The creature stood there, drooling.
“Nah. I ain’t here to cause you any trouble, Jinx.”
“Why are you here then? Hoping to get some intel for your boss? Who is your boss, by the way?”
Britt didn’t pay attention to her warning to stay back. He’d followed her to the alley. No doubt to play out some macho scenario. She hoped he didn’t get in the way. And damn, it was too soon for him to know the whole truth.
“Is this guy bothering you, Jess?” Britt said, pushing his shoulders back. His voice became louder and more authoritative.
“No, Britt. Things are just fine here, aren’t they Bergeron?”
Britt stood in awe of Jess’s ability to find this man. How’d she even know he was there in the dark alley? Britt had been a cop for years and prided himself on his instincts. Yet he hadn’t sensed the guy. Not to mention the unyielding tone in her voice which made him realize she was a force to be reckoned with. Her every movement was deliberate, yet silky and smooth. And, if Bergeron’s reaction to her was any indication, probably just as deadly. Maybe a little too mesmerized by the way she moved, and by the shape of her finely formed glutes, he turned his attention to the person she called Bergeron.
Her hypnotic voice washed over the little weasel, and Britt didn’t attempt to interfere. He could make out the outline of the man in the shadows, a small, thin frame. Really weird eyes reflected strangely in the moonlight.
“This is your lucky day, Bergeron, because I’m going to let you go this time.” Her gaze switched back to Britt for a second before she focused on Bergeron again and said, “The next time I catch you following me, you’re going to regret it. Or maybe there won’t be a next time. Maybe I’ll find you instead.”
Britt grimaced as the smell of urine filled the air and the guy in the alley whimpered and slunk deeper into the shadows until Britt couldn’t see him. He wasn’t sure if he’d ducked into a doorway or had just disappeared.
Jess continued watching the darkness, her form straight and impressive in her leather outfit.
Suddenly, as if the memory burst free inside his head, he remembered that night outside the bar. It’d been her pressed up against him. Why hadn’t he remembered that until now? His pulse kicked up about ten notches when he thought about how her body had felt pressed against his. He wanted to grab her and shake her, to demand she tell him why the hell she’d done that. Instead he stuck his hands into his pockets and forced a calm tone into his voice as he said, “He’s gone.”
“He isn’t gone. He’s in the corner at the back of the alley. He’s hoping we don’t see him, but I still do, and I’m not going to tell him to get lost one more time.”
Suddenly Britt heard the guy practically wailing as he scrambled over the alley’s back wall.
“Hell, that’s some vision you have. I can’t see a damned thing but pitch black down there.”
“I have a condition that gives me very good night vision.”
“Never heard of any such condition.”
“Lucky you.” She walked back to the taxi and waited for him to open her door. He did. Confused by the fact that she wanted him to open her car door when she wouldn’t let him pull o
ut her chair in the bar, he rubbed the back of his neck. Then, halfway around the car to his own door, he smiled. Of course! She had no intention of making anything easy for him. She’d already started his training. He had the feeling this was just the beginning.
“How’d you know that guy was there?”
“It’s a matter of training. We all have the ability to use our senses more than we do.”
“Right.” Cynicism dripped from that tiny, one syllable word. “Snatch the pebble from my hand, grasshopper. Is that what you’re trying to say?”
“No. I’m not talking about transcending to another level of consciousness. No gurus or martial arts specialists necessary. Everyone has more sensory ability than they know. Most of it happens subconsciously. If you become aware of those abilities you can enhance them.”
“Where do you want to talk?” Britt asked. It was time to change the subject and he didn’t care how obvious it was. He didn’t believe in mumbo jumbo. Life was what it was. Good guys versus bad guys. You used your brain and your brawn to get you through. Not senses. Not intuition. Shit! Next thing he knew, she’d want him to use feng shui in his taxi to make his karma more—more what? He didn’t even know what karma was supposed to do.
“Real subtle, Brittain. I can tell you were a good ole boy cop. Nothing but the mean streets and the cops who patrolled them, right? On second thought, it might be too soon for you to use your subconscious abilities. Maybe you’ll have to work on conscious ones first. Like manners, for instance.”
“Since when do cops have manners?” Britt gave her the “I knew you were really a woman instead of a cop” look. You do want chairs held out for you.
“Go to hell.”
“You’re right. I shouldn’t have said that. It was out of line. Look, why don’t we grab a cup of java somewhere? Then we can figure out how much I need to know versus how much you’re willing to share and hope there’s a compromise in there somewhere.” He stomped on the gas pedal, lurching the taxi into traffic. “Sure, pick a quiet spot. I prefer to work without too many people recognizing me.”
Britt slowed the taxi for a pedestrian crossing the street. “If that’s the case, then I’d ditch that leather getup you’re wearing. Every hot-blooded male within a city block will remember seeing you in that.” He regretted his words immediately, but only because it let her know he’d been looking. Their eyes met for a second before he looked at the road again. He frowned.
“Every hot-blooded male, huh?”
His innards twisted as the velvet seduction of her voice caressed him again, just like it had that day in Drake’s office. That irritated the hell out of him. And it reminded him that there was no sense deluding himself. Even if he wanted to work with this woman, it would be for the wrong reasons. He’d never be a cop again. So why bother to go through the motions?
“Know what? I’m beginning to realize this whole scenario is too mired in intrigue. Nothing can be so hush-hush that you need a Special Forces unit in the city of New York. We have thousands of undercover officers on the streets. Why the hell can’t they handle it?”
She hissed out a long breath and lowered her head, looking at her hands crossed in her lap. “They just can’t, okay?”
“Not okay. I’ve changed my mind. I’m not getting involved in this situation until I know the score. I don’t care what your rules are.”
“I see.”
“I hope you do.”
“Stop the car, please,” she said.
He tightened his hands on the steering wheel. “Fine.”
With the precision of a race car driver, he cut through traffic and pulled into an empty space beside the curb. He wanted to keep her here. Spend more time with her, but he couldn’t.
She silently sat there for a minute. “Nice meeting you,” she finally said, then got out and disappeared down an alley. Most women he knew would avoid dark alleys in this neighborhood. She didn’t seem to mind them at all. His first instinct was to go after her. Protect her. But then, she must be a helluva lot stronger than she looked because without lifting a finger she’d made that guy in the alley so scared he pissed himself. And she had that night vision thing going on.
Cursing, he pulled back into traffic and turned the cab’s light back on. His shift didn’t end until six and some of the bars would be closing soon. He should be able to make up for the lost time he’d spent with her.
At five-thirty, just like every other morning, Britt stopped at a diner on the way home and bought breakfast. With fatigue dragging at his limbs, he grasped the handrail and climbed the four stories to his apartment. He laid his breakfast out on the tabletop of the old-fashioned table, and sat in the ripped chair that had been original to the decades old set.
He bit into his bagel and thought about his reaction to Jess. He regretted treating her the way he had this morning. He’d blown any chance for a good paying job, but he had his reasons. Didn’t he? Sure, he could use the money, but selling himself to that woman without knowing the score just wasn’t going to happen. He’d killed his partner by not stopping to think about what he was doing. He’d vowed then that he’d never again do anything without careful consideration.
Tipping his head back and letting out a long sigh, he looked around his meager apartment. Who knew he’d end up in a cheap tenement with fewer square feet than the downstairs bathroom at his old place? His ex got that house—and everything else.
This apartment consisted of an open kitchen, with a tiny balcony off the dining area. A luxury in this part of town. His bedroom was really just an alcove off the main room with only enough room for his bed and not much else. Since he didn’t own much furniture anymore, it didn’t really matter.
After he and his wife split up, he’d lived in a middle-class apartment for a time and had nice furniture. But he’d sold most of it off and anonymously donated the money to his dead partner’s wife. She had a kid. His money at least helped her to get by.
A loud knock on his door made him drop his bagel. He rarely had visitors.
“Yo,” he said, opening the door. His neighbors all knew he was a cop killer, and the majority of them liked him all the more for it. People in this building had grown up in the tenements and viewed the police as enemies.
“Britt, hola.” Maria, his sixty-year-old next door neighbor stepped inside his place, looking over her shoulder.
“Hola, Maria. Aren’t you supposed to be at work?” Maria worked at a bakery and had to be there early. Quite often he’d give her a drive in the morning when he’d been on his way home and seen her walking down the street.
“I didn’t go to work this morning, Britt,” she said, kneading her worn sweater with her work-roughened hands.
“Why? Is something wrong?”
“Yes…” Her voice lowered as if someone might overhear them. “I found someone downstairs this morning. In the laundry room.”
“Is someone sleeping down there again? Don’t worry, I’ll have a talk with them and make sure the lock is working on the door so vagrants can’t get in.”
She put out a hand and touched his arm. “No. He’s not sleeping down there. He’s … dead. He looks awful.”
Yeah, if he’s dead, he probably does look awful, Britt thought. Damn. “We’ll have to call the police, Maria.”
“No police, Britt. They’ll come snooping around here. Blame one of us for killing that poor man down there. Nobody in this building killed him, I’m positive.”
“How can you be sure of that?”
“Dios mio, you’ll believe me when you see him. That man didn’t die at the hands of any of our friends or neighbors. Some sick animal must’ve killed him.” She crossed herself and looked heavenward.
“Let’s go downstairs and take a look.” Britt pulled on his jacket. It was cold in the basement. The landlord didn’t believe in wasting heat on something like a laundry room.
A crowd had already gathered around the door by the time he got there. “Stand back, everyone. Don’t go inside the
laundry room and don’t touch anything.” He didn’t want any of his neighbors to inadvertently incriminate themselves.
“It’s just freakin’ sick, man!” Julio, a gang-banger who lived on the second floor, turned away, his face almost green. His Adam’s apple bobbed ominously.
Britt pushed through the crowd and stood in the doorway. Old washers and dryers lined both sides of the room. On the folding table in the center lay a very dead man with a gaping neck wound and what looked like minimal blood loss.
But it was the man’s face that shocked him. Was it really the man Jess had talked to in the alley? He had to get closer to tell for sure.
“Don’t go in there Britt,” Maria said as he took a step into the room. “You don’t need the cops after you. You know they’re going to blame one of us for this.”
“Don’t worry, Maria. I know how to look without contaminating the crime scene.” He moved further inside. In all likelihood the boys in blue would take this opportunity to harass him because he’d killed Randy. Killing his partner had been an accident, something that should never have happened. That didn’t alter the facts though. It had happened. But looking at the victim’s mutilated body he knew even the cops couldn’t believe him capable of doing this kind of damage to a person.
As he’d suspected, it was the man from the alley. What had Jess called him? Bergeron?
Bergeron lay sprawled on the table in a strangely angled way. Rigor had started to set in, so he must have died not long after he’d left the alley. His skin held the beginning of a bluish tinge. His throat had been slit, and his eyes were open and reflection free. No wonder he had looked so strange last night. He was albino. His eyes were almost silver.
“What happened to him?” Mrs. Brazowski asked.
“Someone introduced his esophagus to the light of day.” He knew bitterness had crept into his words, but this whole scenario reminded him too much of the life he’d left behind.
“Call the cops,” he said, and carefully picked his way out of the room. “Will someone stay here and keep people out?”
Grave Illusions Page 3
