by Carly Fall
As he looked at the bodies lying on the dirt floor, one thing was certain: All were definitely red heads, one shade or another.
What was the deal with that?
“I don't know, Rayner,” Noah had said. “It would be strange for a Colonist to get that specific on his kills, but you know as well as I do that unpredictable is their middle name.” Noah was right. He thought about the other Colonists. Jeffrey Dahmer? Yes, he had stuck to a certain type of victim. Saddam had no preference—man, woman, or child. Manson was what humans considered a psychopath through and through. Some stayed true to their patterns, like the last Colonist they had caught and killed in Reno, Nevada a short time ago, but you just never knew.
And the thing about the Colonists was how they integrated with humans. They could be the heroes of the community such as firemen or policemen. They could be leaders of countries such as Saddam was in Iraq. They could be the nice quiet guy next door, like Dahmer was. They were so hard to pinpoint, to put a blanket pattern over. They were impossible to catch without luck and a shitload of skill.
After hanging up with Noah, Rayner continued his self-imposed exile to stay away from Faith and did some sit-ups and push-ups. As he worked his big body, he thought about what the Colonist’s next step would be.
So, obviously the guy liked redheads. That was a given clue that any idiot could see. They had been through every other physical characteristic and every other link, such as work and family, and they had come up with nothing those girls had in common except that they were all redheads of some shade.
He had glanced over the police reports of the investigation. On a couple of them, the subject's living space was described as “neat” or “organized.”
Huh. Maybe a Colonist with a red-head fetish who had a thing about people being neat and tidy?
The Colonist had to have studied those women, severely scrutinized them in order to get their patterns down and find when they were most vulnerable. Most likely followed them for days, maybe weeks, and...Rayner stopped in mid-push up. Faith had said she felt like someone had been in her apartment.
He thought back to Faith and Terry's apartment. It had been very clean, very tidy. Everything had a place, and everything was in that place. He supposed if the male liked redheads and needed them to be neat, seeing Faith's apartment would be the guy's wet dream.
That thought, of course, led to the vision emblazed in his mind of Faith being naked in his quarters.
Jesus, he was going to have to bang his head against the side of the silo multiple times to dislodge that one. Maybe a give himself a lobotomy as well.
But back to work. And his push-ups.
It would be interesting to see how the other women lived. Were they as neat as Faith and Terry? He would guess yes. Why had all the other women died? Had he captured them just to kill them? Maybe some twisted psychology, like the Colonist was killing off the thing he hated most—the perfection and tidiness? Did they get to Faith just in time, or was the Colonist keeping her alive for a reason? Faith had told them that the Colonist said he had special plans for her...
Christ, he didn't know. He wasn't a psychologist, and even if he was, those Colonists tended to be a little more messed up than the average human. Their brain functioned differently; their thought processes didn't make sense a lot of the time. They had more than one wire crossed in there. Who knew why those girls had died and Faith had lived.
Unless the Colonist had made a choice. Maybe he told Faith the truth and had chosen her for something and it was easier, and probably more fun for him, to just outright kill the other women.
That made sense. But chose her for what? That was the big mystery.
His arms burned, letting him know he was working them. He wanted them numb. He knew he could achieve that with a little more work, and he wondered if there was an exercise that didn't involve a bottle of tequila that would numb his brain.
He continued to heave his two hundred and fifty-six pounds up and down. For kicks and giggles, after every fourth push-up, he went one-handed for ten.
One thing was certain: Faith was in danger and would continue to be until they caught the Colonist. The Colonists might have some wiring problems in the brain, but they didn't stop until they got what they wanted.
He flipped to his back, his breath heaving, his arms numb, and began to do some sit-ups. He was taking a chance on taking Faith home tomorrow, but he would reiterate to Chevey that Faith couldn't be let out of his sight. Faith would hate him for it, but she would be safe under her father's thumb. At least he hoped she would.
He was banking on the fact that the Colonist didn't know where her parents lived, and if he didn't know where they lived, then she should be safe.
He hoped so.
There was a hard knock on the door. He knew it wasn't Faith. Probably Hudson.
“Enter,” he called out, not missing a beat with the sit-ups.
Hudson's big frame filled the door. “Hey man. Just checking to make sure you weren't dead. Haven't seen you all day.”
“Been busy,” Rayner breathed.
Hudson rolled his eyes and leaned against the doorframe, crossing his big arms over his chest. “So Faith wants to go out tonight. Cohen and I are taking her.”
Rayner stopped with the up and down and looked at Hudson. “No,” he said with force.
Hudson's eyes flared. “Didn't come down to ask you for permission, my man. Came down to tell you that's the way it is. Thought you would want to know where everyone went in case you decided to come out.”
Rayner stood up shaking his head, “No, Hudson. She can't go out. It's too dangerous.”
Hudson stared at Rayner for a moment. “I don't think that's your call,” he said quietly. “Faith's a big girl, and she wants to go out. Cohen and I could use a little action ourselves. She'll always be with one of us, so nothing will happen.”
“No.” Rayner knew that he was being an unreasonable ass. He also was very aware that Faith would be totally safe with Hudson and Cohen, but he simply couldn't allow it for a number of reasons. What if she hooked up with one of them? He would have to kill one of his fellow Warriors, and he wasn't into that. Second, there was a Colonist on the loose gunning for Faith.
“Rayner, the chances of one Colonist being out in downtown Phoenix at the same time we are is slim to none.”
“Hudson, no.”
Hudson pushed off the doorframe and stepped inside, coming within inches of Rayner. “I know you're down here avoiding her. We all know that you're about as busy as a rock. If you don't like the plans, if you don't trust Cohen and me with her, or if you don't trust the fact that we can protect her, then get your sweaty ass in the shower and come with us. We are leaving, Rayner, in about two hours.”
He turned for the door. “See you upstairs. We'll probably toss back a few before we leave. And don't forget your contacts.”
The door shut and Rayner stared at the floor, trying to remember the last time he had been out to a club. It was probably in the seventies when he went to Studio 54 in New York with Noah and Hudson. He remembered it had been a party that lasted all night, and the hangover had lasted two days. He hadn't done any drugs, but he had tipped back more than a few drinks. He had partied with Rod Stewart, Mick Jagger, and Liza Minelli that night. He had danced with Cher, and also had sex three times in the upper balcony with three different women. The night had been nothing short of awesome.
He hadn't been out to a club since. The desire just wasn't there. Every now and then he dropped into a neighborhood bar and found a woman to quench his needs. But clubbing? It had been a while. Or close to lifetime, depending on what species time he went on.
He wasn't going to allow Faith to go out with Hudson and Cohen. Rationally, he knew she would be safe with them, but right now, he didn't have a rational bone in his body.
Looked like he was going clubbing.
Chapter 34
Faith slammed back a shot of tequila. Looking for some sort of normalcy i
n the shitstorm that had become her life, she decided she wanted to go out. Tomorrow she would be returned to her parents, and there wouldn’t be any going out. Not that there was a huge nightlife in Flagstaff anyway. She wanted to have one last night of fun to take her mind of depressing thoughts of being kidnapped, almost dying, and being in love with someone who didn’t love her back. And she was also ready to face her fear of being out of the silo. She was excited, and a little nervous to go out, but she was ready to party.
Last night after Rayner had left her, she had stood in the same place for what seemed like hours. She didn't feel anything—just numb. Finally, she had gone back to bed and slept for almost ten hours.
Sometime after noon, she finally made her way up to kitchen area of the silo to scrounge up something to eat. She had found some turkey and bread and made herself a sandwich. She tried really hard not to think about what had happened the previous night, but she couldn't keep the thoughts at bay.
She didn't understand what Rayner meant when he said that she could get killed if they got together. Did he have some deadly disease or something?
The heat that had licked through her body when Rayner was touching and kissing her had almost been overwhelming, as was the love that welled up in her heart. She hadn't wanted to tell him she loved him, but she had been caught up in the moment.
As far as him telling her to let him go? She didn't think she would ever be able to do that. He would hold a solid place in her heart for eternity. Her wise warrior. She sighed as she thought about going back to her parents, and that was when she decided that she wanted one last night out.
When she had found Hudson and Cohen in a room with a big, black, marble table pouring over papers and pictures, she had asked them about it. They hadn't been too receptive to the idea.
“Rayner will never go for that,” Cohen had said.
“Rayner doesn't have a say over what I do. I want to go out tonight. My last night of total freedom. C'mon guys. You both look like you could use a little partying. Please?”
They had looked at each other for a moment, then Hudson had smiled and shrugged his shoulders. “I'm game. I could use a break,” he said as he gestured to all the papers. “Besides, we're pretty much at a dead end with all of this. We just wait until he fucks up.”
Cohen nodded. “Rayner isn't going to be happy about this,” he had said under his breath.
“Like I said, he doesn't have a say in what I do, Cohen.”
Faith had spent the rest of the day with Cohen. They walked through the desert, and she had pointed out different plants and animals to him, as well as other things. “Here's some bobcat scat,” she said, bending down.
“What's scat?”
She had burst out laughing, surprised that someone didn’t know what scat was. “It's poop, Cohen!”
She had also tried to improve her game at the pool table, but to no avail. Rayner was noticeably absent. Cohen told her that he was working a case, but Faith knew he was avoiding her.
After her shot of tequila, Cohen and Hudson shot down their little glasses of gasoline as well. Just as they were about to leave, Rayner walked into the room. She didn't say anything, just stared at him. He nodded once to her.
“Ready to go?” Hudson asked. Faith couldn't help but notice the difference between the two, yet the similarities. Both had dark eyes. She looked over at Cohen and noted he did as well. Hudson was dressed in black leather pants and a white button-down shirt opened a few buttons with a black leather vest over it. A large, gold clasp sat at his wrist. His black-as-night hair blended in with the vest. Rayner had on a pair of baggy jeans, a black t-shirt that looked like it might rip at the seams as it stretched over his chest, and a black leather coat, his blond hair falling to his chin. She loved the simplicity.
“I guess so,” Rayner said.
“Great. You drive,” Hudson said while tossing him the keys.
Chapter 35
Rayner was happy to drive so he didn't have to do the seat juggle to avoid sitting next to Faith. She looked good, ready to party. Her jeans hung loosely, her black tank top hugging every blessed curve. She maneuvered in her high-heeled boots with ease, her hair swaying with every step as it swirled around her waist. She grabbed a red leather jacket on the way out.
They sped toward the city limits of Phoenix, Radiohead blaring from the speakers. He exited the freeway at 7th Street.
“Where to?” he asked once they hit a stoplight and he killed the music.
“The Black Cuff,” Faith said. Rayner had never heard of it, but he didn't get out much, did he. “Go down to 4th. We can park at the garage and walk a block.”
He nodded and did exactly as she told him.
The club's entrance was down some stairs. The bouncer looked them over, winked at Faith and let them in. Rayner glared at the man as they passed him on the way in.
“You got a problem, friend?” the bouncer asked Rayner.
Rayner thought about all of his problems at the moment, Faith being highest on the list. And the fact that everyone with a cock would be looking at her as if they were hungry rabid dogs and she was their next meal.
He felt Cohen's hand on his shoulder pushing him forward. “No problem here, man. Have a good night.”
As they went through the door, Cohen said, “You need to fucking chill, Rayner. She's young, she's beautiful, and you're letting her go. The last thing we need is to get caught up in a bar brawl because you've got the whole possessive SR44 male thing going on and a jealous streak a mile wide. Males will look at her. We're here to make sure she's safe, and then she's off to Mom and Dad tomorrow. That's your plan. Keep that in mind.”
Rayner nodded.
Everything in the club was black, the walls spattered with paint that was visible under the flashing black lights. The crowd consisted of some punks, a few goth types, and what looked like half a football team. Hudson and Faith had secured them a booth up ahead, and as they made their way through the crowd, Rayner noticed a couple discreetly getting busy in one of the booths. Another booth of people enjoyed a not-so-discreet pile of cocaine.
The music pulsed loudly, reverberating through his skin, down to his bones. As they passed the dance floor, couples bumped and grinded into each other, looking as if they were having sex with their clothes on.
Rayner closed his eyes and realized he might very well have to watch Faith out on the dance floor with another male. Dancing like that. Shit. He rubbed his eyes and wondered if the fastest way to get a beer would be to go to the bar or wait for the server.
As he and Cohen slid into the booth with Hudson and Faith, the server was on them in seconds. She was short and very busty. Rayner wondered how in the hell they stayed in her corset top, and was certain they were about to get an eyeful when she bent over to put the napkins down.
“What's it going to be?” she said, smiling at Hudson.
“Tequila,” Rayner and Faith said at the same time. He had managed to put Hudson and Cohen between him and Faith, but now he had to look at her across the table. Their eyes locked, and she smiled slightly.
“With a beer,” Rayner said, barely able to break the eye contact, but eventually succeeding. Cohen and Hudson ordered their poison, and all their eyes went out to the dance floor while they waited for their drinks.
Rayner watched one of the football steakheads walking their way, his eyes on Faith.
Oh hell.
As the guy approached, Rayner had to fight the urge to get up and plant himself between Faith and the football player. Tonight was not going to be easy for him, of that, he was certain. Heck, that was probably the understatement of year.
The football player looked over Rayner, Hudson, and Cohen, nodding to each. His eyes finally landed on Faith.
“If you aren't here with anyone, I'd like to dance with you,” he said loudly.
Faith smiled up at him, then glanced at Rayner. He was willing her to say no. She looked at him for a moment, then stood up. “I'm not here with anyon
e. These are my friends.”
As they headed to the dance floor, the server came by with their drinks. Rayner pounded his tequila, then downed half his beer before she had laid out all the glasses.
“Again,” Rayner said to her.
She nodded and headed back to the bar.
He promised himself that he wouldn't look at the dance floor. He didn't need to see Faith gyrating her body against another male.
Hudson took a long pull of his whiskey and coke, his eyes roaming the crowd. Rayner knew the male was on the hunt and would most likely end up in a bathroom with a female or two before the night was over. He watched Hudson's gaze settle on one particular area, and Rayner followed his eyes. He was looking at a booth with three women, all in their late twenties, all dressed in clubbing attire of short skirts and little shirts. A smile crept onto Hudson's face. “I wonder if I could take on all three at once,” he said to no one in particular as he made his way out of the booth and over to the table.
This was good. Rayner could just concentrate on watching Hudson. Cohen could watch Faith.
“You got an eye on her?” Rayner asked.
“Yep. Looks like she's having fun,” Cohen said.
“I don't need a fucking play-by-play.”
Cohen shrugged and shot down his bourbon. “Whatever you say, man.”
Rayner watched Hudson talk to the women, and they all laughed. The females loved Hudson.
Hudson said something else, and all three nodded. Then they headed toward the dance floor, but the opposite end of where Faith was dancing. Rayner kept his eyes trained on Hudson, and he and the three females all began gyrating against each other. There was definitely enough of Hudson to go around.
The server brought over his tequila and beer just as he had finished the first one. This had been a bad idea. What if the Colonist was here? Rayner scanned the crowd and didn't see anyone standing out, blatantly staring at Faith. Not that it would be an indication. Short of the fucker spilling some ash, Rayner would never know until it could be too late. Hell, she could be dancing with the Colonist right now.
