Hells Angel

by Kim Faulks

  Chapter 8

  "So, who was your friend?"

  With a small degree of satisfaction he watched Kellah jump and spin around to stare up into his eyes. Her lips were bright red and darkening with each second that passed from the force of the kiss he had just witnessed.

  Hunter licked his own lips and tried not to look at hers. He'd found her just in time to see the biker disappear. Hells Angels normally just passed through, so maybe he was someone else to her, her dealer? He sure didn't know, but he was a deadly looking biker and he would need to dedicate some special man hours to that punk.

  "What do you want, Detective?" she said, stifling a fake yawn. "These little get-togethers are getting old."

  "Well, who's your friend?" he repeated, jerking his head toward the tunnel.

  "Dunno."

  He stepped closer, glaring down at her. "What do you mean, you don't know? Is it normal for you to kiss strangers in a park?"

  She sniggered and turned away, moving out from his shadow but he reached out and grabbed her, pulling her by the arm, ignoring the electricity that shot through his arm like a heart attack. "Listen to me. I’m on to you!"

  "You know, I could just bring you up on harassment charges. I'm sure Superintendent Harris would love to hear how you … What is it?” she said, waving her hand around in the air for effect while a vicious smile played out on her face. "Invasion of privacy or something like that?"

  She patted her pockets muttering, "I'm sure I have his card here somewhere, what were his exact words? Oh yes, if Detective Hunter steps over the line, I am to call him immediately and he will take care of it personally." She smiled sweetly, looking up at him. He counted to five before he spun on his heel and walked away.

  "If I didn't know better, Detective, I'd think you were acting like a jealous boyfriend."

  That was better than any knee in the gut she could give, and his mind and body reeled with her filthy words, bringing his hand to the warmth of his stomach as he watched her walk away. She looked back for an instant, her lip drawn back. The sneer making her looks even uglier than she was. And she was ugly, damn it.

  He let her go, no reason to rile her anymore now. He pulled his badge and made his way to where others gathered in the shadows of the bridge, passing the bright display of pansy's and marigolds. Just like the ones Naomi planted each year.

  He turned his gaze away from them, feeling the pain tear through him once again. Maybe I'm having a heart attack ... God I hope so.

  The pain didn't worsen, it just settled nice and deep into the center of his chest. It wasn't the kind of pain that would drive him to his knees and kill him where he stood. No, this was a cruel pain. One that would let him live, but at the same time let him wish that he was dying.

  Think about the job. Think about Kellah Slater.

  Yeah, the problem with that was he thought about her too goddamn much. He made his way over to a woman sitting on a bench seat, reading a book with a half-eaten sandwich beside her. She looked nice enough. Blonde hair falling in a golden wave across her shoulders, her legs crossed under her navy skirt and sensible heels. Why couldn't he find someone like her, someone normal ... someone safe?

  He cleared his throat, suddenly feeling like a rookie. "Excuse me, Ma'am. I was wondering if you saw a man pass through by here about five to ten minutes ago. About five eight with blonde hair and a medium build?"

  She looked up at him, her smile apologetic as she shook her head and waved her open book at him. "Sorry, head in my book."

  He glanced at her hand, saw no wedding ring, and thought about giving her his number for a whole split second before he smiled, nodded and muttered, "Thanks for your time. Well, if you remember anything at all?"

  He reached out, handing her his card, which she took, not bothering to give him a second glance, instead she slipped her eyes between the pages of her book once again. He cleared his throat, his pride a little hurt as he turned and pulled open the front of his shirt, sniffing. He didn't smell. Hell, he knew he wasn't in the best physical condition, but he wasn't a total waste of space.

  It seemed the only women that gave him a second look these days were ones like Kellah Slater, and the only reason they did was to see if they could get away with their crime. Talk about disheartening.

  He made his way towards the others near the tunnel entrance, asking them for any information. They shook their heads and turned away. What was wrong with people now days? Not wanting to get involved and help. But they were always the first to scream bloody murder when it was their place that was robbed, or their loved one that was hurt. Yeah, they became all too helpful then.

  A poster flapped wildly in the breeze, tearing off, slapping him in the face, and staying there. He grabbed it, ripping it away, pissed off enough to screw it up and throw it in the bin, but something caught his eye. In need of some spiritual guidance? Do you have a question that needs answering? Then come down to the Workers Club between 16-20th November to the Psychic Expo. Meet with our psychics, or have your Aura captured.

  It was a slap in the face if ever there was one, and the buzz in his gut twanged like an old country singer. So he took notice, he had been through too much not to. He checked the date on his watch, the twentieth, and the last day of this expo - coincidence? He didn't think so. He walked towards his car, taking the flyer with him, and slid behind the wheel, heading for the Workers Club.

  He pulled up outside and parked in spot at the back, not wanting to draw attention to either him or the unmarked. He walked through the dark tinted glass double doors as he pulled his jacket on and buttoned it up. The desk manager smiled instantly, and then frowned as he realized who had walked through the door. Darrion made his way quickly past the manager, coming towards him. He had been here more times than he could count in his days with the Tactical Assault Group, or TAG as they were referred to, and he guessed his presence warranted the nervous tension that reflected in the desk manager's face.

  "Everything okay, Detective?"

  "Yeah, no problem," he said, and kept on walking, feeling every pair of eyes stare at him as he followed the signs marked Psychic Expo and slipped through the doors.

  The room was abuzz and that was putting it mildly. The middle of the massive room was filled with tables piled with crystals, jewelry, statues of dragons, angels and what seemed like hand-made broomsticks. He winced, looking back towards the doors and thinking about heading back out them. No wonder these types got a bad rap, this all looked a bit too weird for him.

  "Hello, gorgeous."

  He turned slowly and watched as a woman made her way towards him. Her size only seemed to fit the expression on her face as she beamed at him, big and beautiful. Her smile radiated from behind her eyes, drawing him in and tuning out everything else around him, as she stepped forward and reached out her hand. Realizing it was too late to escape now, he reached out his own. Ever the polite male, he was careful not to squeeze. She took him by surprise, turning his hand over and sandwiching it between her own. For the first time in ten years, he felt peace right then.

  It was as though she had dimmed the urgency that had plagued him, leaving everything else as crystal clear. He became aware of this very moment, this second that hinged on neither the past, nor the present as he stood in this room filled with others that looked as lost and as desperate as he felt.

  The nametag she wore was a white rectangle sticker. It sat crooked across her chest, creasing in the middle of her name so that only one f in Tiffany was left. Her lavender collared shirt was creased around her waist and forearms, and she looked exhausted. But when she noticed him, it was as though he was the only one in the room. He felt naked and uncomfortable under her gaze. He looked back towards the door as the pressure in his head increased and the ulcer in his gut burned.

  "Are you here for some guidance, hun?"

  He wanted to pull his hand away, but she held on tight - too tight. He licked his lips, not knowing what to say or where to start. Opening up to strange
rs was not something he did. I mean, how does your mouth say the words that he tried so hard not to think about? Well, Tiffany, where to start ... See, I've been hearing this voice and feel this strange sensation in my gut that I can't explain. It started right about the time I led a murderer to my home to kill my wife and daughter. And now, I'm drawn to this woman. She is a thief, and I'm trying so goddamn hard to put her behind bars, but somehow she always seems to be one step ahead of me. My job is the only thing I have that has stopped me from eating my gun, and now I'm scared as hell that I don't even have that.

  He opened his mouth, but all that came out was a soundless sentence, complete with mouth action. He must have looked like a right fool. But she didn't notice, she was already moving on it seemed, looking at someone over his shoulder.

  He pulled his hand away, and the outside world came back to him in a rush; people laughing and talking, chairs scraping along the floor, and somewhere a poker machine hit a jackpot.

  His lips barely mouthed the words as he mumbled "I'm sorry," and made for the door.

  "It must have been so hard for you, losing them like that."

  The air in his lungs left him in one agonizing moan as the floor beneath him fell away. He didn't dare turn around. He couldn’t let her look him in the eyes - not like this. He closed them, pulling himself together, scrambling to regain what little hold he had of his composure before turning around.

  She spoke before he had a chance to, snatching his attention away from his escape. "I was wondering if you could help me get a coffee from the cafeteria? It's my knees you see, the stairs are hell on them and I haven't eaten all day." She pushed her hand into the side of her stomach, her expression filled with terror before she continued. "I think I can feel a rib."

  His laughter came out hard and fast, blowing through his nose and burning his eyes. And even though he knew it was a trap, he found himself nodding. She smiled and the twinkle in her eyes returned. This woman was good, and she fought dirty, appealing to his sense of decency to stop him from running away. He held out his arm and crooked his elbow for her to take, and she did as though they had done this many times before as they made for the door.

  The cafeteria was quiet and he found them a seat towards the back, the lounge seats plush and comfortable it seemed as he watched her sink into them with a sigh.

  She lifted her feet, plonking them on the footstool in front of her. He couldn't help but smirk, and laugh secretly to himself, at the way this woman had him wrapped around her finger. For the second time today he searched a woman's hand for a wedding ring. The first time in anticipation and this time in condolence for her husband, his life must be a living hell.

  "Be a dear and order me a caramel cappuccino, will you?" she said, patting his hand. He nodded, resigned to the fact that he was having coffee with a complete stranger. He made his way to the counter, ordered and paid for the coffee, adding two healthy slices of something rich and chocolaty.

  He made his way back to the seats, placing the sachets of sugar on the table in front of them.

  "So, you looked like I was going to snatch your soul and sell it to the Devil back there," she said, the corner of her mouth raised in a hint of a smirk as though she waited for his reaction before committing herself.

  He rubbed a beard that wasn't there, and found himself relaxing. His reaction now seemed a little more than silly. "Yeah," he said with a snort. "I guess I over-reacted a little."

  "It happens. The most important thing is that you came and stayed when you could have ignored the signs, or ran out when you had the chance."

  "Yeah, well, just 'cause I haven't bolted yet, doesn't mean I won't."

  "I don't think you will. You're a lot stronger than you think, you know."

  He chuckled, and shook his head. "That's the one thing I'm not. If I was strong I would have ended everything after my wife and my daughter died." The words tasted bitter, like bile, and the silence that came after them did nothing to wash them away. He waited for the waitress to place the coffees and cake on the table and disappear before tactfully changing the conversation. "So what exactly does a psychic do?"

  She picked up a plate and took a big bite of the thick mud cake frosting, and he waited for her to stop groaning with delight before answering. "Well, I can only speak for myself, as there are so many ways that others can receive messages. But, me - I'm an empath and an intuitive psychic, which, pretty much means that I get flashes of information and usually a strong gut reaction that goes with it. If you know what I mean?"

  "Yeah," he said, realizing at this moment that if anyone could help him understand what had plagued him for the past ten years, it would be this woman. "I know exactly what you mean."

  "Is that how it is for you, too?"

  There was a line that once crossed could never be taken back. That once he understood what or who it was inside of him, he could never go back. It would change him, there was no way that he could know and stay the same. Was he prepared for this? This was what he asked himself as Tiffany finished her coffee and scraped her fork along the saucer, chasing the last crumbs of the velvet cake. She was watching him, waiting even though she never once made eye contact. Something had brought him here, to this place and to this woman. It wasn't trust that forced his head to nod. It was sheer desperation.

  "Yes, and sometimes I hear a voice whisper to me."

  She nodded and sat back, the smile now gone and that look of knowing had returned. The look that felt like no matter where he ran or hid, he could never escape. "This voice - when did you first hear it?"

  "Not long after my wife and daughter were buried. I ... I was in a bad place, you could say." He looked away, reaching for the last of his coffee and avoiding her gaze lest his eyes betrayed his words.

  "It is only natural that the darkness claimed you, and that is usually when they choose to appear. It seems that you have been chosen for something much greater than you and me, Detective."

  "And what is that?"

  She shook her head, her eyes softening. "No one knows except the one that speaks to you. And when the time is right, you will understand. Tell me, the voice, what does it say?"

  "He tells me where this bitch is, this thief that I am busting my arse trying to arrest ... Sorry," he said, realizing his language was not appropriate for the setting or the company.

  "This woman you speak of, when was the first time you saw her?"

  He conjured the memory of that night in his head, focusing only on the dark alley and leaving the rest alone. He didn't need to fall apart here and even though his Naomi called out to him, drawing his attention to her, he pulled away, allowing his voice to drive his memories.

  "That same night, I remember it was like it was yesterday. I was sitting in my car, trying to stop myself from doing something stupid, and all of a sudden I heard this voice urging me to help this person sitting in the gutter of an alley. I swear I would have headed for the nearest institution if it hadn't been Naomi begging me to listen. I walked up to them, and when they stood I realized that it was a woman. I tried to help the bitch ... woman," he corrected quickly, hoping it was quick enough. "And she attacked me, stole my wallet and left me with a split head and a mild concussion for my efforts."

  She sat back, tapping her thumb against her chin. "Could it be, Detective, that you are pulled towards her for another reason? To help her, maybe?"

  "No. Not possible," he answered, shaking his head as his mind reeled from the implications that may hold.

  "It seems to me that this woman is destined for a lot more than just to be locked away in a cell. I mean, someone is going to great lengths to bring you two together, don't you agree?"

  He didn't answer. He didn't know what to say. He just sat there as he tried to find the words to prove her wrong.

  "Well, that's just my opinion. Take it or leave it, Detective," she said as she gripped the arms of the chair and hoisted herself upright. "Thanks for the coffee and refreshments, but most of all your company. It
was very enlightening."

  He nodded and stood, holding out a hand to steady her when she swayed. "It was really nice talking to you Tiffany, and I appreciate your candor as well as your insight, however misguided it maybe."

  She laughed and nodded, bending down to pat his hand. "Maybe, maybe not. I guess only time will tell, Detective. You have a good day now, and I can take care of myself from here."

  She left him then, making her way towards the stairs to take her back down to the foyer, leaving him with her words clanging around inside of him until the sound was deafening and he could take no more.

  Chapter 9

  She may have been topside for more than ten years, but sometimes Kellah felt as though the world had changed far too much for her to understand. Like now, when she tried to figure out how Hunter had tracked her down.

  Tracked ... that must be it.

  The fucker had planted a device on her somewhere.

  She walked through the bridge to the other side of the park, keeping an eye over her shoulder in case he followed. It didn't matter anyway. He could find her in an instant if he wanted. The last few moments had just proven that.

  Vulnerability wasn't her strong suit and while she waited for the last jogger to pass, she felt the need for retaliation grow until she reached the rusted chain-link fence. The locks were worn and she had picked them so many times now that they basically fell apart on their own when she neared.

  Desperate high pitched whines and the overwhelming stench of animal waste permeated the air. This only heightened her demon side, knowing they had been left uncared for ... Again. Her anger shifted, morphing under her human skin as the bones in her face moved and changed. Stop. Not now, she growled, stopping the distortion. She breathed through the waves of anger until she finally calmed. Their yelps and cries grew louder as her scent carried into the compound. She couldn't let them down, she wouldn't let them down. Their need was so basic and pure, the only true thing left in this world it seemed.