by C. L. Quinn
Now, the trip back to The Blind Spot was even more imperative.
After she rinsed her glass, Margot grabbed her bag and headed to the elevator. She was checking her satchel for her umbrella just as the expected ding announced it had arrived, and pulling the compact umbrella free, she stepped into the close space. The doors had nearly touched when a hand inserted between them forced them back open. Margot moved back to allow the new arrival access, her breath held when she saw that it was Michael.
He smiled at her, his head high, his lips tight.
Did he know something? How could he? Shit, trapped with him was nowhere to be if he did. She just might get the chance to test her hard-won defense skills.
“Good evening, Margot,” he said, the words over-enunciated.
“Hello, Michael,” she responded, and prayed it sounded casual and friendly.
“Late evening, it seems. You were always quite dedicated to your job.”
Margot’s eyes shot to his. “Were?”
“I meant are. Are always dedicated. Slip of the tongue.” The tight smile widened, his surgically perfect teeth too white from chemical bleach.
My ass! Margot didn’t respond. Please elevator, go faster, break light speed please!
Not complying, the elevator seemed as if it actually slowed as Michael stepped closer to her.
“You know, after our truncated dinner the other night, I had some serious decisions to make. You would have been the perfect choice for partner, but…” He sighed dramatically, putting his right arm up to lean against the wall. “It looks like Kym is going to get the job.”
Margot’s eyes hadn’t moved from his. “Is that so? Well, I’ll have to congratulate her when I see her.”
“Don’t hurry. I haven’t actually offered it to her yet. If you would like to come back up to my office and perhaps discuss this further, I might easily change my mind.”
His left hand still free, he slid it up her arm, the fingers roaming in a manner he must have thought was sensuous.
Seconds passed when she did not move or speak. The fingers continued to move, up, up, and began to slide over to her breast.
In a measured voice, calmly, her eyes still fixed on his, Margot finally responded to this bold invasion of her personal space. “Mr. Lipnicki, if your fingers aren’t several feet from me within a few moments, I will fucking break them off at the third knuckle. And I probably won’t stop there.”
Michael yanked his hand away and stepped back as if she’d thrown hot acid on him, the offensive smile gone.
“I should have fired you after dinner at The Tall Giraffe,” he spat at her, literally, spittle splashing off her jacket.
“Yes, I assumed you would.”
“No you didn’t. You know you’re too good.”
“And thanks for reminding me. You acknowledge that I’m dedicated and good at what I do. Why in the fucking world are you blatantly sexually harassing me? I could kill you right here, right now, and most of the people who know you would applaud me. Don’t touch me again. Ever.”
She couldn’t have said anything different. What she knew of him, his brutality, his hubris, that he thought he was entitled to treat people this way, that he thought he could get away with touching her like that, threatening her… More than anything, she wanted to swing at him, to punch him to the floor, to see him bloodied and broken, punished, to ask him how the fuck it felt!
There was no doubt he wouldn’t take this well, and he didn’t. Her eyes dropped to his hands, balled into fists now, then moved back to his face, livid with fury.
“Don’t touch you? Hardly. It’s like touching an ice sculpture.”
When another ding interrupted, it startled them both. After the doors slid open, Michael stepped to the threshold, paused, and turned back. “Don’t let me see you around. Maybe, just maybe, you still have a job.”
He walked out as if the angel of death followed him, and Margot moved quickly to avoid being trapped inside again. She dropped back against the lobby wall, though, and waited to watch him disappear into his car that was already parked under the covered drive-up.
A long breath shoved through a grimace. She’d determined two things in the exchange. Michael did not know she was investigating him, and he had serious control and rage issues. Based on this unexpected meet, she knew more than ever, in spite of Michael Lipnicki’s pedigree, she needed to tread very, very carefully.
As she reached the door and raised her umbrella, thunder ripped across the sky, winds pushed the heavy rain nearly horizontal, and the umbrella strained to leave her hands. Tonight wasn’t a good night to pursue her witness. Tomorrow would have to do.
FOUR BLOCKS NORTH
“I should get out of this cursed city. There will be time again to kill that obnoxious Scotsman.”
Drunk off his ass, Claude chatted with his latest blood meal, a handsome young man he’d grabbed just outside his basement apartment a few hours ago. The blonde man lay twisted next to the shitty mattress he used as a bed, his throat torn, bleeding. The guy tried to hold his hand to the gaping wound, the pressure weakening as he did. Claude glanced at him when he gurgled.
“Right! You’re right! Mustn’t miss the opportunity. Once he gets his wits about him again, once he’s back in their world, I’ll never get this chance again. I stay the course! Good advice.”
Glancing weakly up at the beast who’d fed on him, who had killed him, the man gurgled again, praying that the creature might show some measure of humanity and at least call for an ambulance. Even in his state of dying, he knew that the guy was batshit crazy. No, no one would save him. After another gurgle, he took one last pained view of the big man who’d brutally grabbed him while he was on his way home from work. It had been a good night. He’d nearly proposed to his girlfriend, who’d come into the restaurant where he waited tables until midnight to get some dinner. He let his eyelids drop, and knew he wouldn’t open them again. The last thing he heard before he lost consciousness was the crazy murderer who took his life laughing hysterically.
“I can’t believe that as damaged as he was, he’s been able to hide from me. Could he have made it back to France? No, surely not.” Claude poked at his companion, who no longer gurgled. He looked down and groaned.
“God, humans are so fragile.” He kicked the motionless body away from him. “I cannot believe I almost remained one of the powerless eunuchs of this world. I will find him, I just need to keep scanning this city. The fucker loved to drink, even with his brain damage, he’s likely to find himself in bars and this city has plenty. He’ll show up and I’ll be waiting for him some night soon. Just bloody needs to be before winter.”
Stretching out on the sheetless mattress, Claude sighed. This basement was a rathole, replete with rats, but it didn’t matter to him. Comfort wasn’t his concern right now, just survival, and the final destruction of Xavier.
Five
Margot took one last look at the photos, tucked them back into the envelope, and placed it in her satchel. Tonight she would go to The Blind Spot to try to find either the victims in the photos, someone who knew where she could find them, or seek out the Rodman again. All of these were bad ideas, but she had no choice. Now more than ever, she needed to stop Michael. The monster needed to be put into a cage for the rest of his life.
Her poor car was still being assessed to determine its fate, so she called for a taxi and waited anxiously for it on the street, her eyes drifting often to the building to search for any sign of her boss. Luckily, the hired car arrived and when she gave the driver the address, he paused, only momentarily, before putting the car in gear and pulling out.
Margot sat back and tried to relax. Last night, sleep refused to come after the vile confrontation with Michael, leaving her more exhausted than usual. He may not know that she was investigating his lascivious activities, but she was on his radar. And in a bad way. She contemplated her path from here, how she could do this effectively and make certain that he would not know anything
about this surveillance until it was too late. He was rich, he had contacts, and obviously very few scruples. It was apparent that he liked to hurt women. She had little doubt that if he found out she was preparing a case against him, he’d hurt her, at the very least, or have the problem, her, eliminated.
After a second yawn, she laid her head back, eyes closed, and thought about how this strange detour might completely destroy years of hard work and plans.
“God,” she breathed. How had she come to this? What made her think she could right all the wrongs of the world? Where was the self-serving cut-throat attorney who just wanted a lavish lifestyle, to retire at age 55, and travel the world endlessly until she couldn’t climb aboard a plane anymore? Slow even breathing helped to calm a stressed-induced tightness in her chest as she tried to purge the idea of the repercussions of her actions and just do what she needed to do tonight. No one knew the future anyway, and all of this supposition and worry was tearing the shit out of her health.
“Lady, we’re here.”
The cabdriver’s brusque voice interrupted her stream of consciousness mental dialogue.
Her eyes opening slowly, Margot bent forward and fished a large bill from where she’d already slipped it into a pocket, well aware that the fare was significantly less. She hoped it would help him to answer yes to her next question.
“Thank you. Would you be able to hang around here for about half an hour? With the meter running, of course.”
He didn’t even hesitate this time. “No, ma’am. I don’t hang around this district. This ain’t the best part of town to stay parked. You call me when you’re ready for a ride, be waiting here when I get here, and I’ll pick you up. Best I can do. I can’t risk damage to this cab or someone robbing me.”
Yeah. “I understand. I’ll call. Thanks.”
Before she stepped from the safety of the taxi, Margot scanned the street in front of the club, her eyes moving quickly from one man to the next to the next. Why did they all look like felons to her? They couldn’t be, of course, they were just a different group of patrons than she was used to working with.
Glancing once more toward the driver, she smiled and stepped out. At least she had a small automatic pistol in her satchel should she need it. The cab pulled away from the curb, gone into the darkness in moments.
The second she pulled the door open, music poured into the street, nothing she’d ever heard before. A rhythmic beat with digital undertones bounced off the walls, and she thought she liked it.
Another wide scan revealed more of the scary-looking clientele she’d seen outside, typical for these types of establishments at this time of night. Lucky was behind the bar, smiling big as he placed a pitcher of beer in front of a group of loud men at the pickup dock. Cigarettes burned from their lips and fingers unchecked, ashes falling to the scarred wood floor. Everyone seemed to be having a good time.
“Once more unto the breach,” Margot whispered as the door opened behind her and two of the men who’d been staring at her outside entered and shoved her on into the room.
Lucky watched the woman pause in front of the doorway. Smiling, he pushed open the swinging door to his kitchen.
“Hey, Scottie, that doll’s back. The gorgeous one from the other night.”
Xavier looked up from the fryer, where he removed two baskets of French-fried potatoes and shook the extra grease off before he poured them into a stainless steel bin.
“What doll?”
“The blonde. The one you took to the fixerman.”
“Huh,” Xavier commented. “I’d forgotten about the lass.”
No, he hadn’t. In fact, it was the opposite. Her lovely, expressive face had invaded his dreams the past few nights. And the erotic things that she’d done in those dreams had left his cock in a constant state of arousal. He’d been successful at thwarting the attentions of the women who came into Lucky’s looking for male companionship, as well as his own libido that at times raged at him for taking care of his own needs in the shower. But this woman fascinated him so much, she haunted his sleep.
It wasn’t going to help him at all to see her again. If he were wise, he’d stay in the kitchen until she was gone. The question was, how wise was he? Not very. He moved to the door and pushed it open just enough to find her shape in the smoky air. There, on the other side of the bar, her features unclear as her head lifted, searching the room, her body rigid. Okay, you’ve seen her now, close the door and go back to work, he told himself. It wasn’t enough.
Xavier wanted to go to her, to look into that face that could hold a brilliant smile or a scathing glance. There was a fire in that woman, he had felt it from the first moment he’d leaned against her, and his body deeply wanted a chance to get burned by it.
And why not? It had been weeks since he’d escaped his basement prison and his jailer had never shown. He still had no idea who he was, and although he was still confused about the odd things that he could do, at least he was making a life for himself.
He realized that, for some reason, he was content with the simplicity of this new life. Who he’d been before this, he may yet find out someday, but for now, things were good. He sighed, his eyes staying on Margot as she moved. But they could be better.
No, getting involved with her was definitely a bad idea.
The swinging door hit him in the butt as he left his safe zone and headed towards her. It might be a bad idea, but he couldn’t help himself. Perhaps he could just see her again, listen to her voice, look into those eyes that had mesmerized him in his dreams for days, feel the heat, and then return to the kitchen to enjoy the memory. How was that dangerous?
At first he paused beside Lucky, watching her as she went from one drunk man to another, showing each something in her hand, and when they shook their heads, going on to the next.
“What’s she doin’?” he asked Lucky.
“I don’t know. Getting in trouble again I bet. That girl has trouble written all over her.”
Xavier couldn’t disagree. He was fairly certain that his complete anonymity was at least one of the reasons he’d remained safe. Getting involved with someone who was stirring things up could compromise him. Yet he started towards her anyway.
Margot’s chest felt tight. She was risking a lot coming back to this part of town to continue her search for a victim or witness to corroborate her case against her boss, but so far, no one either knew, or would admit that they knew, either of the women in the photos. Sighing, she knew this was going to be another dead end.
She had one last thought, and glanced over her shoulder at Lucky, the owner of the bar. Her attention was drawn, though, to the large man approaching slowly from behind the bar, and she lowered her head. It wouldn’t do for him to see the smile she couldn’t stop when she saw him coming towards her.
There was no doubt that this huge Scottish cook would have his pick of sexual partners in this world he lived in. God knows she wouldn’t turn him down. That thought surprised her. He was sexy as hell, yeah, but Margot always controlled every element of her sexual encounters.
Every element. She chose the man and guided exactly what they would do and how they would do it. Usually, she sent her brief lovers home as soon as they were finished. Margot did not do relationships. It was something she’d learned from her mother’s “relationships” with men. Have fun, fuck like bunnies, but don’t expect anything from them. Men didn’t stick around, so it was useless getting attached to them.
This big uber-macho man…he wouldn’t play by her rules, that she was certain of, which meant that he wasn’t right for her. That admission didn’t change anything. Her heart rate raced and her breathing quickened. Somewhere south of her belly button began to twitch, and that didn’t happen often these days either.
She turned to face him head on, cool and detached, when he was within a few feet of her. For moments, neither spoke, then he smiled, full on charming, and her icy greeting melted.
“Lady Justice, ye’re back in our lit
tle bar. Can I help ya with somethin’?”
Boy, could he! Stop!
“No. Well, yeah, maybe. Would you or Lucky know either of these women?”
Margot held up the photos of the women she’d been showing around, surprised when Xavier took them from her hand, his fingers warm, a spark tingling through her own as they touched. Carefully, she lowered her hand and rubbed the places he’d touched against her pants as if that would stem the sexual spark she’d felt. It didn’t. Her eyes lingered on his fingers as he shuffled the photos. Long, sensual, she imagined he could do a lot with those hands. Her eyes dropped lower and a sharp twitch hit her between the legs again.
Under her breath, she whispered, “For God’s sake, woman, get a grip!”
Xavier’s eyes lifted to hers. “What was that, lass?”
He couldn’t have heard her, could he?
“Nothing, just mental rumblings. So, do you?”
“Aye, I recognize them, but I don’t know their names. Lucky might. Would ya like to come with me and we’ll ask him?”
Hopeful, Margot followed him back to the bar. Scottie interrupted his boss, showed him the photos, Lucky looked up at Margot, startled, then she watched his face as he shook his head.
Oh, the little shit! He knew them, she was certain of it, but he didn’t want to identify them to her. Yeah, she got it, this was a world that depended on keeping your nose out of other people’s business, discretion wise if you wanted to stay healthy. But she was going to get that fucking nutcase and no one was going to stand in her way.
Margot pushed past Xavier, pinning him against the bar, a hand pressed to his chest to keep him there.
“Please, I can see that you know who these women are. Lucky, I think that you’re a good man. I’m trying to help them. The creep I’m trying to stop is not only hurting them, but he’s arrogant enough to go too far. I’m afraid that their lives might even be in danger.”
