Killer Career

by Mandel, Morgan

  It worried him that his sister enjoyed living on the edge where anything could happen. He’d hoped she’d settle down with a quiet type who’d steer her into a more mundane occupation, but no such luck. Instead, Avery had fallen for a great guy, but a fellow reporter, who was as gun-ho as she about covering breaking news. Avery’s husband and job were her life. Dade should be happy for her. Most of the time he was.

  “See ya,” she said, ending the conversation.

  He should have known better. How could Avery help him? She had no idea of the radical change in his thinking and he didn’t care to clue her in. No one must know, especially Julie.

  “You chicken shit,” he said, shaking his head.

  Boy, if Barabat or one of his other opponents could see him now.

  The phone rang, interrupting Dade’s diversion into self-pity. “Sergeant O’Connor here. We’ve drawn a blank on your accident investigation.”

  “How’s that?”

  “Whoever did it was darn clever. No fingerprints, no solid evidence. I’d still keep your eyes open, if I were you. This bad guy means business.”

  “Thanks Sergeant.”

  Hell, with everything else going on, Dade hadn’t given a thought to who’d cut his brake line. The idea seemed paranoid anyway. It had to have been an isolated incident by a drugged-out kook who’d picked on his Saab for a lark. After all, nothing had happened since.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Dark pendulous clouds threatened to reach into the penthouse windows. Staring at the gathering storm, Tyler felt the pressure build inside of him. His head pounded and his throat ached with bitterness. A week had passed, but time had not dulled the pain.

  Julie didn’t want him. No matter where he went or what he did, her glittering green eyes stared back at him dispassionately. Her full lips pursed in a frown.

  Turning from the windows, he strode into his office. With an angry flip, he fired up the computer. At least it didn’t judge him, but sat poised, ready to fulfill his commands.

  Preceding the title page of his new manuscript, he inserted the dedication, “In memory of Julie McGuire.”

  That done, the words welled up inside of him, so fast his fingers could barely keep up. This would be his masterpiece.

  * * *

  Gripping the receiver, he waited, counting the rings. One, two, three, four.

  “Hello,” she finally answered.

  “Please forgive me. I promise I’ll be better. Can we try again,” he asked, groveling at her feet. Pride didn’t matter. He must have her back.

  “I’m sorry. I just don’t think it’ll work.”

  Her unyielding words bore into him like a boulder in the chest. She had to be convinced. She was his last hope.

  “All I’m asking for is one little chance. Don’t say no.”

  He held his breath, waiting for her answer. Give in, please, he mouthed.

  “I’m sorry. I just can’t.”

  “You’re in love with him, aren’t you? That’s why I’m not good enough.”

  Her silence was answer enough.

  “It’s your loss, darling,” he said softly.

  With infinite care, he replaced the receiver onto its cradle.

  He’d convince her. Once she saw him in person, she’d relent.

  * * *

  Before he realized it, he was outside, rushing on foot down the darkened street. Wind and rain pelted his coatless body, but he paid no heed to the elements. Nothing mattered but her. She couldn’t mean what she’d said. She was waiting and it was up to him to find her. Squinting, he peered through the driving sheets of rain.

  He’d play her game and find her hiding place.

  His search led him from his posh upper class neighborhood into the grimy labyrinths of the inner city. Head bent, he plowed on.

  He looked up and suddenly there she was, leaning against an apartment building’s doorway. Her golden hair shone like sunlight, brightening his way in the darkness. She smiled invitingly.

  He was right. She did want him. His heart quickened, as he bridged the gap between the sidewalk and the door.

  Stepping up to her, he said, “I found you. You didn’t hide very well.”

  “Of course not. Let’s go inside where it’s dry.”

  A welcoming smile lit her face, as he followed her into the damp vestibule of the nearby building. A stench of urine and mold almost gagged him. Why was she here? She deserved better.

  A dim bulb lit the cramped space, glinting off a silver chain hanging around her neck. When she moved, a tiny charm dangled. Mesmerized, he stepped closer and discovered an angel twinkling back at him. He nodded at the apt symbolism. The angel wearing it would soon be his. His mouth grew dry with anticipation.

  Something about her seemed different, probably because of the poor lighting. Technicalities didn’t matter. The main thing was he’d found her.

  He’d wanted her in the worst way. Now that she was finally here with him, her presence seemed too astonishing to be true. Was she real? He reached out and touched her cheek. The skin felt coarse, not as soft as he’d anticipated. He frowned.

  “Wait a minute. Not so fast, baby,” she whispered.

  Her sly smile took the edge off her words.

  He ached for her, but she played coy. Must she torture him? He stepped closer until he was almost on top of her.

  Unflinching, she held her ground. With knowing eyes, she slowly perused him, her gaze finally resting on the bulging portion of his anatomy.

  “My, my, sweetie, you are eager. I see you’ve got a great big present for me. And I’ve got something for you, too. Now don’t be bashful. Come to mama.”

  He pinned her by the shoulders and flattened her against the wall. “No more games.”

  In the yellowish light, her face appeared sallow, not as creamy as he remembered. That was okay. He knew what she looked like. She’d haunted his dreams forever.

  “The money, honey. Then you can play as rough as you want. I can take it.”

  “You’ll get everything you deserve.” He yanked down his zipper and pulled out his throbbing manhood.

  “My, my, but you’re a mighty one.” Her eyes hungrily riveted on his erection. “Okay, since you’re in such a big hurry, you can pay later. Just don’t forget.”

  She was no different. Like every woman alive, she was a slut.

  “No more talk.” He slapped her face for emphasis.

  Tears sprang to her eyes. “Hey, not that rough, baby.”

  He smacked her again. “I call the shots.”

  “That does it. I’m out of here.” She swung from him and bolted toward the door.

  “No, you’re not.” He reached out and grabbed her by the back of the hair, catching her necklace in the process. He shook her like a rag doll and flung her against the wall. With a ting, the necklace bounced to the floor.

  Using the tips of his fingers, he lifted her chin and stared into her slit eyes. “Stop pretending. You want me bad.”

  “Not anymore.”

  “Yes, you do. Say it.” He leaned closer, stepping on her feet. “Say it.” He’d not let her go until she admitted the truth.

  “Yes, yes I want you.”

  “You’ve got me, babe.”

  He rammed himself into her warm hole. She’d given him hell, but it was worth it. She was exactly where he wanted her.

  His heart pumped like a locomotive. He thrust deeper. Sweat broke over his body. She kicked and bucked and twisted.

  He smiled, enjoying the warm wetness, feeling himself lifted higher than ever before, so high he could almost die. Everything turned bright red. Then, with a shudder, he climaxed, releasing his bountiful fluids into her waiting cavity.

  He lifted a blonde strand of hair away from her eyes. “Ah, that was good. Was it good for you?”

  She stared back at him defiantly, then spat on his cheek. He brushed at the slimy spittle with his backhand. The bitch. She should be grateful for what he’d given her.

&nbs
p; This was no angel, but a wicked she-devil, who spat back at him, spraying blood and snot over his lips and cheeks.

  “Go to hell where you came from,” he said, hitting her hard against the mouth. Her lip cracked and red droplets ran down her chin.

  “You think you’ve won, but you’ve lost big time, you prick. I’ve got AIDS.”

  His stomach turned. He grabbed her by the shoulders and pounded her against the wall, harder and harder, rejoicing in the thumping sound.

  “Say you’re lying. Say it.”

  A buzz filled his ears, growing louder and more insistent. A bear-like voice growled out, “What’s going on down there? Decent people are trying to sleep.”

  His heart leapt into his throat. He couldn’t get caught or everything he’d achieved would be wiped out.

  The stairs creaked. He didn’t have time to lose. He must get away. First he had to make sure she couldn’t identify him. He was his only weapon. With all his might, he jammed his thumb and index finger into the slut’s eyes. He pressed harder, digging deeper into the sockets and twisting. The steps drew closer until they were almost upon him. With a jerk, he thrust the bitch against the wall then reached for the outer door. The knob slid in his bloody wet hands, refusing to open. He wiped them on the pane and tried again. Finally, it turned.

  “Hey, you,” he heard, but didn’t turn.

  Outside, he flew down the street faster than he’d run in his life.

  Eight blocks later, with lungs bursting and stitches doubling him over, he stopped. Puffing loudly, he leaned against the alley wall to catch his breath.

  Thoughts raced through his head, matching his racing heart. What if the bitch had given him AIDS? What about the DNA he’d left behind? Could it be traced to him? Impossible. He had no record. Besides, no one knew he was there, right?

  His stomach roiled. Bile rose in his throat and refused to go back down. He heaved over the side of the building, then wiped his mouth with trembling fingers.

  Tonight had been one huge fiasco. It shouldn’t have ended this way. He couldn’t figure out why it had gone wrong.

  He lurched and trotted the rest of the way home.

  Only after the warm cleansing water of the shower hit him did the pieces fit together. With the dawn of enlightenment, came relief and dread.

  How ironic. He must have been blind. From the beginning, he’d thought something was different. Now he knew. It hadn’t been her at all, but an imposter.

  An imposter with AIDS.

  * * *

  Shaken, Tyler switched off the computer. The words he’d written were frighteningly real. Again, he’d stepped into the villain’s point of view and lived his sordid life.

  Though he’d showered earlier in the evening, he felt unclean. Tonight’s story had come straight out of his subconscious and reminded him of how often he’d played with fire. Taking advantage of his celebrity status, he’d reveled in a variety of sexual encounters. The women were all beautiful, clean and willing and he’d never seen a need to protect himself.

  He’d denied the reality of AIDS, though on countless occasions the media had warned him. Tonight was a wake-up call. As soon as possible, he’d get himself tested. Also, he’d be more circumspect in the future.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Real estate closings didn’t always go smoothly. That’s why participants needed attorneys. It was Julie’s job to ease the process for her client, in this case, the seller. She held her breath as the buyer brought up the leaky basement. To everyone’s satisfaction, fortunately, the buyer and seller agreed upon a credit. The closing concluded without further incident. She snagged a cab to take her straight to her office building. After she paid the driver, the wind blew so fiercely she had a hard time closing the cab’s door.

  She dashed inside the building where an elevator awaited her. She slipped inside the tiny cell. She was the only one inside and didn’t like it one bit. She wished she could forget where she was, but as usual, all she could think of was how soon she’d be free.

  Hurry, I want to get out of here, she pleaded silently, as the cables whirred.

  To torment her, the cab rose inexorably slow. Then, with a lurch, it stopped between floors. Her heart skittered.

  “Don’t do that,” she yelled. Paying no attention, the elevator refused to budge.

  It was happening again. She was trapped. She had to get out. She jammed her finger on the alarm.

  “Lobby,” the guard answered.

  Trying to keep her voice steady, she said, “This is Julie McGuire. I’m stuck in the elevator. Can you help me?”

  A crackling sound answered. Panic rose in her throat. She was four years old again, all by herself, scrunched in a dark corner. Any minute the cab would crash to the ground and she’d be squashed to death.

  A voice broke in. “Hold on. We’ll get you out of there.” The guard’s voice was reassuring. She must have sounded really scared, but that didn’t matter. She’d embarrass herself a thousand times if that’s what it took to get out.

  The walnut colored walls closed in on her. To divert her attention, she gazed upwards at the light fixture. It could use a good dusting, but who was she to talk. She’d devoted so much energy to the firm her house had suffered immensely and needed more like an overhaul than a good cleaning.

  Who cares, her mind screamed. She couldn’t wait any longer. She had to do something, anything to get loose.

  She wasn’t a child any more. The console was within easy reach. In desperation, she pressed the buttons in succession, hoping at least one of them would restart the elevator.

  Nothing happened.

  Don’t give up. You’ll get through this. That’s what she told herself. If only she could believe it.

  Back and forth, faster and faster, she pushed the open and close buttons. The movements at least kept her occupied and sane.

  A creaking sound startled her. The door panels suddenly drew closer to each other and a hum started. The elevator lurched, then slowly started upward.

  Julie held her breath, as the cab continued its awkward ascent.

  Keep going, please. Miraculously it did. Then it stopped again.

  No, I can’t take this. Frantically, she glanced at the indicator. Where was she?

  Could it be? The light shone on eight, the next button she’d pushed.

  The doors sprung open.

  With hands and legs trembling, Julie stumbled into the hallway. She’d escaped. She couldn’t believe it. Thank God. If she’d been in there a second longer, she might have lost her sanity.

  She shot the bank of elevators a baleful look. She hated those things. She’d be happy if she never stepped inside one of them again.

  Well, not using one of those horrid contraptions could present a dilemma. Physical exercise is fine, but there is a limit. Hysterical giggles bubbled up in her throat, as she fought back tears. What a mess.

  Why did she act so helpless? Instead of feeling sorry for herself, she had to tackle the situation. She was not a wimp. To prove it, she’d step into the next elevator that stopped. Defiantly, she pressed the button.

  Not granting even a slight reprieve, the bell immediately rang across from her. Gathering up her courage, she walked up to it. She took a deep breath and lifted her foot to step inside, then stepped back to let someone out. It was Dade.

  “Are you all right,” he asked.

  She nodded and tried to look like she wasn’t ready to bawl. She’d just gained control over her emotions, but they were still too troubled for her to handle sympathy. “How did you know I was here?”

  “I came down for a snack. The guard called me over and said you were stuck in the elevator.”

  Julie shuddered. “It was awful. I can’t stand those things.”

  “I understand. I’m sorry this happened to you,” he said, putting his arms around her.

  Her adrenaline drained into a melting pool. She swayed, as her body struggled to catch up with her seesawing emotions. Was this a sympat
hy hug or something more? Whatever it meant, she sorely needed the support he offered. Also, it felt good to be enfolded in his strong arms.

  “That’s it. I’m taking you home,” he said.

  “Don’t be silly. I’m fine. No measly elevator will get the better of me.”

  “If you say so.” He didn’t sound convinced.

  She could tell she wasn’t fooling him. He knew how much it cost her to put on a brave front. He also knew how much she hated her weakness and strove to conquer it.

  After a few minutes she said, “Okay, let’s go back. We can’t stay here forever.”

  At the thought of returning to one of those instruments of torture, her heart pumped as if it would burst out of her chest. Determinedly she withdrew from the comfort of his arms and pressed the elevator button.

  * * *

  “New case for Dade, line five,” Pam said, as Dade and Julie stepped back into the office.

  “Damn. Already.” He flashed Julie an apologetic grin.

  “Get the phone. Don’t worry about me.”

  She was a survivor, one of the things he admired about her.

  “It can wait. Pam, hold my calls.”

  “No, Dade, take the call.” Julie put her hand on his shoulder. Her eyes held steely resolve.

  “All right,” he said, almost in a growl. Turning, he headed down the hall.

  Another client. More money. The idea should make him happy, but instead he felt sour. Since Julie had announced her imminent departure, what had mattered before didn’t seem as important. They’d vowed to get themselves a better life and they had. Now it wasn’t enough for her. Why couldn’t she leave well enough alone?

  Resentment welled inside of him, as he grabbed the receiver from the corner of his desk.

  “Billie Thomas here. I need some money. My back’s killing me.”

  “What happened, Mr. Thomas?”