Unwed and Dead (The Dead Ex Files Book 1)

by Claire Kane

  She couldn’t very well grab for her gun, and she wasn’t about to anger Greg at a moment like this. He was a pawn she might still need, to at least close the illegal operations if she couldn’t use him to solve Victor’s murder.

  “Greg,” she said, softening her expression as best she could, “I’m just feeling a little lightheaded, being so high up.”

  Suspicion crossed his dark eyes, before he chuckled. “You’re a pro at flying along in my helicopter.” He put a hand behind her waist, pulling her forward, away from the ledge but against him. “Better?”

  Her thoughts jumbled together, and the world began to spin. She staggered, but Greg caught her, then buried his face in her neck. His lips flamed on her skin, but instead of being pleasant, it caused her guts to roil. Without warning, she shot her wine down the back of Greg’s collar.

  He jerked back in shock.

  “Oh! Oh, no, Greg. I’m soooo sorry,” she said. A little giggle bubbled up, robbing her apology of any sense of sincerity. She couldn’t help it, and giggled even harder as the effects of whatever he’d used on her mingled with the alcohol from dinner. Apparently, Greg wasn’t the only one dealing with the inebriation.

  He cursed loudly, and stepped back, just in time to catch a second barrage of vomit to his polished loafers. “Ugh! Oh! My—ack!”

  “Greg, forgive me. I—” She continued to laugh. “I’m sorry, really.” She reached a hand forward to wipe off his lapel, smearing and making things all the worse.

  “Forget it!” He backed away, disgusted.

  Lacey slumped to her knees. “I swear to you there was nothing I could do,” she drawled, then giggled some more, because in her state of mind it was just too funny.

  “Do you have any idea,” Greg demanded, retreating, “how much this suit cost me?” Any trace of lust was gone from his eyes, but she felt no fear at the anger that had replaced it. “I’m going to need to change. You just stay right here. We’ll finish this later.”

  Lacey feigned compliance for the sake of getting rid of him, and he stalked off, muttering and swearing under his breath. As he ducked into the stairwell, it occurred to Lacey that she’d accidentally stumbled on the time-honored defense of skunks; that made her laugh even more. “That’s how I really feel about you, Greg Mendoza. You swine.”

  Feeling immensely better, Lacey reached up and grasped the parapet, using it to haul herself to her feet. The taste of bile stung her mouth and lingered in her nose, but she was so grateful to have avoided something far worse that she couldn’t bring herself to mind. She glanced down at her red dress; surprisingly, only the smallest drops of colorful spittle had dripped on her. With trembling hands, she pulled a handkerchief out of her purse. After a quick clean up, she filled her lungs with the salty-sweet night air, and headed for the stairwell.

  “Stay right here my foot,” she said, wondering what had happened to Victor. She wished he’d been there for her ordeal; surely his howls and threats against Greg’s life would have kept her from giving in so much to what must have been contact drugs.

  Moving quickly, but still unsteadily, she slipped into the stairwell and, with a firm grip on the railing, started her descent. She’d take the elevator as soon as she could, to hopefully reach her car before Greg learned she was missing.

  Her thoughts were interrupted by a tone from her cellular. She pulled her phone out and noticed a cryptic text message. “You’re barking up the wrong tree,” it said.

  Lacey narrowed her eyes at the message and thought of Victor’s ex-girlfriend, Jessica. The woman had told Lacey that same thing at the airport. The context had been different, back then, but the parallels were unmistakable.

  If this was Jessica, stalking her with a vague message, what did she mean? She hadn’t spoken to the woman since the airport. It didn’t make any sense. Victor had assured her Jessica knew nothing about his death.

  Ding. Another message: “It wasn’t your boyfriend who was supposed to die.”

  Lacey’s heart pounded, adrenaline coursing through her body. She quickly scanned her surroundings. The stairwell was dimly lit. There were lots of shadows. She pulled up her dress, sliding out her gun. It was cold in her hands.

  Ding: “It was you.”

  TWENTY-FOUR

  Holding her gun low as she stepped quietly along, she called out in her mind, Victor! Where are you?! Victor! Come back! Please!

  He appeared next to her, concern showing across his wrinkled brow. “What is it? I got here just in time to see Greg—”

  “I just got some texts saying that the murderer was after me.”

  “After you? As in right now, you mean?”

  “The wine was meant for me,” she spat in worried frustration. “They wanted to kill me.” She lifted her gun a little higher, rounding a corner. Her chest shuddered in short breaths. “I need to calm down,” she told herself. “I need out of here. I need to tell the police everything.”

  Eager to reach the nearest elevator, she holstered her gun and hustled back upstairs. She pushed open the door leading to the 10th floor, only to slam it shut almost immediately. “He’s coming back already?”

  Victor stuck his head through the door—which Lacey found disconcerting—then reappeared and met her gaze. “And fast. Maybe another few seconds. Looks like dinner didn’t agree with him. He’s got puke all over himself.”

  Lacey instantly weighed her options. Exiting into the floor’s hall to catch an elevator was no longer an option, and she was certain he’d see her if she went down another floor. The door to the roof was only half a flight up, but that would leave her trapped. When she heard footsteps just outside the door, instinct drove her back up the stairs toward the roof before she could think.

  Ding. “I know where you are.”

  Lacey froze, her hand on the push bar of the roof exit. Should she respond?

  Ding. “I’m coming for you. You’re mine, slut!”

  Was this just some sick joke? Was it safer to be inside, with Greg hot on her heels, or outside where she had nowhere to go? The slam of a door, one flight down, made up her mind.

  “Lacey?” It was Greg. “I told you to stay put.” A split second later, heavy feet pounded up the stairs behind her.

  She shoved the door open and ran onto the roof, the night breeze suddenly chill, her only company being the sleeping helicopter. Searching frantically for a place to hide, she realized her only options were to take either cover in Chopper One, or hide behind the stairwell structure; neither option would conceal her for more than few seconds. That left her with only one good option. Whirling, she grabbed for her gun just as Greg hurled open the door.

  The gun stuck in her thigh strap.

  Greg flicked a glance toward the weapon, his eyes widening in comprehension. His nostrils flared, and he charged Lacey, blasting her onto her back before she could make a second attempt to unholster her gun.

  “I take you for a night on the town,” he said, dropping on top of her and slapping her again and again, “offer you your own show; think about making you a partner in the biggest business venture I’ve ever done, and this is how you repay me? You really think I’m that stupid, Lacey? You were just using me. Just like my wife; like Orochi; like all those other women.” His hand snaked up her skirt, and she rammed her heel into him, earning a groan of pain, and another slap. He repositioned himself to avoid her kicks.

  “Well, I’m still getting something out of this deal,” he spat, his meaning obvious. One hand gripped her neck while the other roamed her, hungry. The reek of vomit, mixed with cologne, assaulted Lacey’s senses. His knees dug painfully into her shoulders and she was starting to see stars. Her self-defense training was lost in a jumble of panicked thoughts.

  Victor stood helplessly by, wishing he could wrench Greg off and hurl him from the roof; he checked the thoughts quickly, though; Rao hadn’t been kidding when she’d told him how negative emotions called to Legion. Already he could see a black haze forming around the roof. He’d been su
premely lucky to evade them once, tonight; he wasn’t certain if he could do it a second time. And yet, he couldn’t leave Lacey. Nor could he bring himself to watch.

  “Lacey,” he called, kneeling beside her, fighting tears, and doing his best to interpose himself between her and her attacker, “just hold on, baby. Keep fighting him. Don’t give up! Kick, scream. Do whatever!”

  Lacey was already ahead of him, but her efforts were clearly in vain as Greg continued to strangle her toward unconsciousness. Lacey knew what would happen once she blacked out, and renewed her struggle. For a moment, she even managed to lever him off her with a surprise roll to her side. Yet she rolled onto her gun, and by the time she was able to twist the other way to reach it, Greg was on her again.

  As Lacey watched the world dim around her, she prayed—the way Victor used to. In fact, she felt him praying with her. She had no idea whether it would work, but she could taste “desperate” in a way she’d never even imagined.

  A sharp crack rang out in the air.

  Greg jerked, stiffened, and then slumped forward, flopping bodily onto her. His grip slackened instantly, and Lacey sucked in a deep, welcome breath despite the stench. Rolling Greg off her, she saw a dark figure in the stairwell doorway. Her blurry vision kept her from making out any details, but it seemed that whoever it was, was pointing at her.

  Another crack, and her ears started to ring slightly. Whoever it was, was shooting at her. Instinctively, she rolled, and out of sheer desperation ripped her gun from its holster. Barely bothering to aim, she squeezed off three rounds, stunned at just how loud a gun was when she wasn’t wearing hearing protection; no wonder Dad had always insisted on it.

  Though she was sure she hadn’t come anywhere close to hitting her new assailant, she saw a wavy image of a person hastily retreating into the stairwell. Taking only a moment to catch her breath, she staggered to her feet, and let adrenaline take over. Sprinting awkwardly for the stairs, she stepped to the side of the door, careful to stay behind it and yanked it open. When no gunfire erupted, she hazarded a peek inside.

  It’s safe, Lacey, Victor said in her mind. At least she could still hear that. Lacey rushed inside, and peered down the stairs. The dark figure was half-leaping down flights, and Lacey knew she’d be hard pressed to catch up. Down and down they went, the murderer clearly bent on outpacing Lacey, and certainly preventing a good shot. “Who is this person?” she said, half breathless as she watched another floor flash by.

  I’ll go down there and find out who it is, Lacey. Don’t chase this guy. He flashed away in an instant.

  Ignoring Victor, Lacey continued hurtling down the stairs, gun still in hand.

  Victor caught up with the perpetrator just a few floors up from the basement. Whoever it was, they were dressed like a ninja, swathed in tight black fabric from head to toe. Victor’s eyes widened when he noticed the figure was definitely feminine. He reached into the woman’s mind, only to be rebuffed by a cacophony of emotions and a million disparate thoughts. He tried a second time with the same results. A darkness seemed to surround her, and Victor felt the uncomfortably familiar sensation that seemed to herald Legion’s arrival.

  “I’m not leaving Lacey this time,” he growled. There had to be a way to fight them. Ceasing his failed efforts to read the woman’s mind, he flashed back up to Lacey who, surprisingly, had nearly caught up with her attacker.

  Lacey paused, angling her gun to get a sure shot. She pulled the trigger, and a bullet ricocheted off something metal, the sound zinging loudly in her ears.

  “Careful!” Victor called out.

  The person in black haphazardly fired back, hardly even glancing over their shoulder as they continued their descent. Lacey ducked just before a bullet hit the wall beside her.

  Breathing hard, she stuck to cover. Though it kept her safe, it let the murderer escape from view. Glancing at the hole in the wall beside her, she caught her breath at the near miss. “You’re not going to get away with this!” Lacey said, before peeking over the railing. Two flights down was a bodily shadow on the wall. If she were right, she’d get another, clear shot any second now.

  Pointing her gun over the edge, she did what her dad always taught her: her elbows locked, breathing steadied. Although her heart pounded, she aimed quite precisely at where the enemy’s back would appear. This would be Lacey’s last chance at having the upper hand of the stairwell; they’d nearly reached the basement.

  She watched and waited. The moment came with the black blur dashing away. Her finger mashed the trigger. The recoil shot through her arms and out her shoulders, and her target jerked, as if they’d tripped on something.

  Lacey’s eyes widened, eager to see whether her stumbling attacker had been hit. Instead, the murderer recovered their balance, and dove for a nearby exit into the basement. Before Lacey could get another shot, the dark figure awkwardly flung open the door and disappeared into the darkness beyond. Did she get them? Pulling off her high heels, and tossing them aside, she stepped cautiously down the stairs.

  Victor shivered as a small clutch of demons swirled out of the walls and hastened after the killer as if inexorably drawn to her; he counted his blessings that they hadn’t seemed to have noticed him. He grimaced as he felt his resolve to stay with Lacey begin to slip. “You don’t have to go after her,” he said with a pleading voice.

  “Her?”

  Victor nodded. “Yes, it’s a woman.”

  “You sure?” The figure had been on the smaller side, but events were unfolding too fast to make out much else.

  “Um, yes. I am fairly positive by my up-close scrutiny of her black blouse,” he said dryly.

  Lacey frowned. “I really didn’t need to hear about you examining other women’s blouses, Victor.”

  He shook his head in frustration. “Not like that. Just that tight fabric tends to show a woman’s figure.”

  Lacey bit her lip, and hurried forward toward the door. “Jessica?”

  “I don’t know.” His face flashed in thought. “A $22,000 engagement ring doesn’t really make sense, in that regard. And we ruled her out a while ago.”

  Lacey shrugged. “Maybe she bought the ring for herself and was waiting for you to propose?”

  “Even for Jessica, that seems like a huge leap in irrational thinking. Why would she kill your boss? Or try to off you?” He stepped in front of Lacey with his hands up, stopping her. “Listen, you don’t have to get into a gunfight. I can go follow her, find out who she is, where she goes. I don’t want you to get hurt.”

  “Victor, once again you are questioning my capabilities. I am ready to do this. We may not get another chance. In fact, I can be set up as Greg’s murderer. Some of my old coworkers saw me here with him. I would be the target. Now if you don’t mind, I’m going.” She stepped right through him and directly toward a door posted with a sign reading, “Keep out. Authorized personnel only.”

  Lacey gently opened it and peered inside at what was simply darkness. Victor first peeked through the door, knowing Legion could be lurking behind it. He could see everything he needed to tell her where they were at: A mechanical room. A very large mechanical room.

  He drifted inside with dread. Where was Legion?

  Watch your step, he mentally cautioned Lacey as she entered quietly, gun still drawn. “There are tons of electrical cords in here,” he added aloud. “Your boss should hire better maintenance staff; OSHA would have a fit if they saw this.”

  Lacey frowned. “Do you have anything more useful to add, Victor?”

  He shrugged. “I’m going to look for the she-devil. This place is full of hidey-holes.” He caught her eye, and put on his most pleading look. “Just please be careful. I love you. I want to be with you, but not at the cost of your life.”

  Lacey didn’t respond. Instead, she slinked by a shelving unit hosting various gadgets with red or green lights, some blinking ominously at her. This was probably the only space in the entirety of the KZTB tower she hadn’t ever pe
rused, besides the men’s bathrooms. Her feet padded over a couple cords snaked across the cold concrete floor; she sucked in a breath in surprise, and kept moving.

  A deep hiss and a gust of air made Lacey stiffen, and nearly jump. From somewhere in darkness, she saw a sliver of blue flame burst to life near the floor, but she couldn’t make out details. The initial rush of sound subsided, leaving an eerie semi-silence buzzing in her brain. Lacey rounded the corner of the first row of shelving to the next, and mentally asked Victor, Well? Where is she?

  “I’m looking,” he responded. It was strange. Though he couldn’t see Legion, the residue of their passage lingered, stifling his senses, and stirring panic inside him. He fought to keep it down, knowing that fear would draw the creatures to him like sharks to blood. He literally flew over several shelves, circled the entire perimeter of the room—a few times—and still didn’t see anyone. “She’s not here.”

  Are you saying she just up and disappeared?

  “I… guess I am.” He hovered nearly flat against the ceiling, eyeing it all. “But how? I don’t see another way out.”

  But Lacey, although not a spirit like her ex, also sensed evil close by. A chill at the nape of her neck told her so. She’s here, Victor. You’re not looking hard enough.

  “I don’t—”

  He was cut off by the faint sound of… what was that? A doorknob?

  TWENTY-FIVE

  Lacey whirled toward the noise, and saw, through the dimness, a door farther into the room, bearing a sign reading “Boiler Room. Authorized Personnel Only.” Below it was the sliver of blue firelight she’d caught a glimpse of earlier.

  “Now how did I miss that?” Victor asked. His senses were even duller than he’d realized. Legion’s presence was nearly palpable now.

  Checking to ensure she was clear, Lacey bolted for the second door, pausing just outside. Sounds of metal on metal echoed from within the room beyond, and Lacey frowned, wondering what was going on. “Victor?” she asked.