by Lake, Keri
“Your hands are like nothing I’ve ever known before, Nick. Both pain and pleasure in your touch.”
“Pain?” His words vibrated against my throat.
Exhaling a long, easy breath, I closed my eyes and rolled onto my back, where he stared down at me, propped on one elbow. “Pain of knowing it doesn’t belong to me. That this is all temporary.”
Those blue eyes cut away from mine. “Being with you has only strengthened my reasons for going after Culling. Not just for what happened to my family.” His stare lifted, drilling into me with intensity as his brows furrowed and his lip twisted in disgust. “For what he did to you. How he hurt you. Tortured you.” His fingertip drifted along my shoulder. “This touch does belong to you, Aubree. And I promise these same hands that seek to bring you pleasure, will bring pain to those who hurt you. I will destroy the nightmares that haunt you, and deliver Culling’s fucking head on a platter for all he’s done to you. All he’s stolen from you. I promise you this.”
His face blurred behind the tears filling my eyes. “What if I told you that I don’t want that from you? Fuck Michael.” My blood thickened with ire. Was vengeance so important that he’d risk dying? Michael had too many connections to make him an easy kill. “I want you, Nick. Don’t you understand? If you die, even having killed Michael, in the end he’s won. He will have taken the last shred of hope.” I placed my palm against his cheek. “I can’t lose this. I can’t lose you.”
Frowning, he rolled over my body and cupped my face in his palms. “If ever a woman was capable of owning my heart again, you are. No matter what happens, Aubree, I will take care of you.” His lips brushed mine in what felt like a shushing of my thoughts, and when his mouth closed over mine, tongue dipping past my teeth, his kiss penetrated the wintry shroud of despair that kept us at a safe distance. It somehow broke through the suffocating uncertainty that loomed like a black cloud on the verge of destroying both of us.
I yearned to know his secrets. Not the ones he’d given me, but the ones he refused to share. The ones buried in some locked chamber inside his head where I couldn’t reach. The ones that didn’t answer the burning question swimming inside my own head—why me? What did I have to offer in his grand scheme? A ransom? A vendetta?
If only I could somehow unlock the secret door inside his heart, where I sensed something darker burrowed, protected by an ominous lie that hung on the air, perhaps then he’d trust me enough with his truths. I could heal him and perhaps he’d see something beyond the vengeance.
He’d see me.
41
Chief Cox
Cox slouched in the chair across from Culling, who ignored him while talking on his cellphone. Not a single black hair on the mayor’s head stood out of place, and the slicked back style glistened under the office lights. Must’ve been in his thirties, Cox guessed, but the lack of wrinkles and the smooth surface of his skin, lacking any sort of texture, swiped ten years off his guess. Clearly, the asshole put too much time into his beauty regimen. No man should look like he caked on a bunch of fuckin’ makeup before coming to work, yet, the patch of red at Culling’s cheeks almost looked like the bastard’d blushed ‘em.
“I’ll figure it out. I’ll come up with something and call you back.” Culling rubbed his forehead in what seemed like distress. “Thanks for calling.” He flipped off the phone and, tossing it onto his desktop, cupped his face with both hands and let out a string of muffled curses.
Christ. Cox had come to him with the developments on the case—a task he never looked forward to, as it seemed his efforts were never enough for the asshole— yet, he had a feeling he was about to get roped into whatever shit-storm had just stolen the first half hour of their meeting.
Culling’s hands slid down his smooth face, and for the first time, Cox had a good look at his eyes, dark and bloodshot. “Please tell me you’re here because you’ve found my fucking wife.”
Cox had known the bastard long enough to recognize the daunting calm to his voice as the placid moment before the fucker snapped into a hurricane of rage. Straightening in his chair, he sniffed and cleared his throat, muscles tense. “We, uh … got reason to believe there’s a connection between this Eye for an Eye killer and Mrs. Culling.”
“Reason to believe.” The articulation of every word set Cox’s spine tingling, like the instincts animals had when preparing themselves to flee. “And what, pray tell, brilliant sleuthing brought you to this conclusion?”
“Found a video of the Theodore Street massacre from three years ago. Looks like someone connected to that family might be out for revenge.”
“Theodore massacre. Would this be the same fucking video that just hit a major news station about an hour ago?”
Cox frowned. “I’m sorry, sir. What?”
“That call was my Chief of Staff, telling me that the city is going ballistic over a story that, apparently, went viral on social media earlier today and ended up on the evening news. There are rumblings of a massive protest planned for Devil’s Night. They’ve come up with an endearing name for it—The Culling Conspiracy.” The pounding of his fist against the desktop had Cox flinching. “I, somehow, have to answer to thousands of residents wanting to know how I could overlook and suppress such an atrocity. They’re questioning my methods of crime reduction in this city, and when they begin to question, they begin to dig. And when they dig, they begin to rebel. And when they rebel, you have a fucking anarchy and the Detroit Riot of ’sixty-seven knocking at your door! I have every king pin in this city ready to help me take down some of these hellhole neighborhoods that suck the life right out of this goddamn shit stain on the fucking map, and now I have to find something shiny enough to distract the restless flock of jobless hippies who have nothing better to do than save humanity between tokes of their fucking peace pipes! This has Achilleus X written all over it. Now, perhaps you might explain how a dormant video managed to go viral on the same day you happened to discover it?”
Like a thunderclap inside Cox’s head, Culling’s words jolted the clues that’d been swimming around his mind the last couple of days. Vaughn. Achilleus X. Could there have been a connection? “We got a tip from the guy who owns the apartment where we found the video. Some Alec Vaughn. I don’t yet know how he’s linked to Theodore Street, or why, but this Vaughn … he’s one sick son of a bitch. Might be tight with Achilleus X. Like some kinda faction, or something.”
“Then, I suggest you pull your finger out of your asshole and make sure you find him first. Does anyone else know about this Vaughn?”
“Another cop. DeMarcus Corley.” A twinge of fury licked Cox’s spine at the mention of Corley.
“Make sure he keeps his fucking mouth shut. You’re going to need an element of surprise in order to catch this one, if he’s as slick as Achilleus X.”
“I’ll make sure DeMarcus doesn’t say a word.”
“In the meantime, I have to find a way to distract an entire city.”
Cox leveled his gaze on Culling. “How can I help?”
“Devil’s Night is coming up. They’re going to see me as much a victim as any one of them. I’m going to tell them, in my most gut-wrenching performance, that my wife was kidnapped and may have been murdered by their hero, their beloved Achilleus X. After all, he did threaten that I should watch what I value most. And I’m going to offer a reward to anyone who has information on her whereabouts. You are going to find her. And when you do, I want both of them brought to me alive.”
“I’ll find them.”
“Good.” Culling straightened his cuffs and sniffed. “Because if you don’t, the city will soon be looking to fill a spot for their Chief of Police, who met his unfortunate and untimely demise while sleeping peacefully in his cozy little bed.”
42
Nick
Dawn broke across the city, casting light on dark spires that I could see from the observation deck of the Penobscot building. Staring down at the city from five hundred and sixty-eight feet in the
sky, I waited for Alec to arrive at our old haunt, accessible via the staircase that lead out onto the parapet, where the famous red beacon blinked behind me. All the major landmarks of the city stood beautiful and proud around me, the graffiti and broken windows invisible from that height.
My whole life, I’d never had anything against the place where I’d grown up. Detroit pumped through my veins, infected my blood. No matter where I lived, it’d always be home.
The Penobscot building was the perfect place for our meets, and Alec and I often sat plotting over beers while balanced on the narrow wall of the parapet. The view reminded us why revenge wasn’t just about what happened to my family. It was about being a voice to the voiceless.
Unusually, as I stood there, the height made me queasy.
“Still think you have the balls to jump?”
I turned to find Alec standing behind me, his cigar hanging out of his mouth, but snapped my attention back to the edge of the building and peered down at the rooftops below me. I probably wouldn’t even hit the streets. “Maybe.”
“I don’t like the sound of that.”
“Does it matter? Unless Culling does the honors first, you’re going kill me anyway. That’s the deal, remember?”
“How could I forget?” he said, but I caught the flinch of his eye.
“Of course, if you’ve come to throw me over the edge of the building, at least let me pick the side first.” I glanced over the railing. “The east end looks like a messy fall.”
“Then, you still wish to go through with this? To the end.”
I twisted to face him. “I have to.”
“Am I to assume you’ve spent two weeks with a woman and never once fucked her?”
His question brought a smile to my face, despite the sobering expression on his furrowing his brow. “You assume wrong.”
With the cigar caught between his lips, he crossed his arms behind his back and paced. “And this fucking you gave her, how was it?”
Scratching my cheek couldn’t hide the widening of my smile, and I turned away from him, facing the magnificent view of the city. “Good. Real good.” I entwined my fingers, resting them atop the wall.
“And yet, you have no desire to explore her body? To see how dark and depraved she’s willing to become at your command? You’d prefer death instead.”
“At my command? She might act all sweet and obedient, but that woman does what she wants.” Cocking my head to the side brought Alec’s stiff form into my periphery, and the smile on my face shriveled. “She’s the wife of my enemy, Alec. Her husband destroyed everything that meant something to me. He destroyed the man who might’ve been capable of loving a woman like her. There’s nothing left. Why do you keep probing about this? What the hell do you want from me?”
“The truth, Nick. No one knows you better than I do. And I happen to believe you’ve fallen in love with her.”
His bold statement had me rolling my head against my shoulders. “Love is a bit too strong for what I feel. She’s been a good distraction, I’ll give you that. But that’s—”
Pain exploded in the back of my head as I hit the wall behind me, and I caught my balance, while Alec stood, cigar in mouth, his fingers curled around my throat.
“’The hell?”
“Stubborn fuck! I’m losing patience.” He released me, and my knees damn near buckled as I drew in a breath, desperate for air.
I rubbed the back of my head, a growl brewing inside my chest alongside the urge to punch him. “We’ve got bigger topics on this meeting’s agenda, don’t you think? Like a plan to take out the goddamn mayor of the city? Who gives a shit about the woman?”
He leapt on top of me, gripping the neck of my T-shirt, his fist drawn back, but I flipped him over, and both of us pushed to a stand.
I swung, but he ducked, and my fist drove through the window of the door behind him. “Fuck!” The glass had sliced the delicate skin, leaving a lick of flames dancing across my flesh.
My feet kicked out from under me, and gravel smashed into my spine, knocking my field of vision left then right, wide and blurry, before it shrank back to normal. Alec straddled me, that fucking cigar hanging on like a champ from his mouth.
I caught his returning punch midair and held firm to his wrist, ready to volley the next strike. “What the fuck has gotten into you? What does it matter?” At his silence, I continued, “Here, I thought you’d be pissed that I’d developed feelings for her, and you act like you’re ready to kill me if I didn’t.”
“Then you do have feelings for her.”
“Yeah. I do.” I puffed a breath. “She makes me fucking crazy and has my body all strung the hell out. But my feelings won’t get in the way of the plan, so chill the fuck out.”
He lowered his fist and released my shirt like I’d satisfied him.
“Tell me something, Alec. Kidnapping Aubree Culling was never part of the original plan. What made you change your mind?”
With a push off the gravel, he rose to his feet and wiped the dirt from his pant legs. “It’s not important.” He reached a hand out to me. “Let’s discuss the end of this plan.”
43
Chief Cox
Cox put the paper cup to his lips, but when cold coffee slid across his tongue, his nose crinkled. Setting the coffee back into the cup holder beside his seat, he refocused his attention on the entrance to Bojanski’s apartment building. Probably a waste of fucking time, staking out the place from his car, but Cox wasn’t in the mood to get hit with any more death threats from Culling.
Through a staircase window, he had a good view of Alec Vaughn’s apartment. It seemed the asshole was a complete mystery—not a single record of him anywhere—and since Bojanski didn’t exactly have his tenants submit applications, Cox couldn’t even be sure the asshole landlord had given him a legit name.
Ah, fuck it. He’d been sitting on the corner, a block away from the building, for most of the day. Aside from some drunk piece of shit, who must’ve passed out somewhere along the staircase, he hadn’t seen a single person come or go.
Cox fired up his Buick, ready to take off, but paused when a young woman, or teenager perhaps, strolled up the sidewalk toward the stairwell. Tight black curls had been pulled back into a ponytail, and she wore a vest over a sweatshirt, with jeans torn at the knees and black combat boots, which made her look more like a student than a street rat. Pretty, too, from what he could see, with her honey brown skin and slender frame. Had Julius still been around, Cox could’ve made some coin off her ass.
She climbed the stairs, and through the window of the stairwell, Cox damn near choked when she stopped in front of apartment one-oh-three.
“Well, well. What the fuck do we have here?” he muttered, grabbing his binoculars beside him.
She withdrew a hand from one of her pockets and knocked on the door. Once. Twice. Placed her ear to the wood and knocked again.
A minute passed, and she skipped back down the stairs, looking over her shoulder like she’d been trained to watch her back, and kept on down the sidewalk.
Cox crept forward, maintaining a good distance, watching while she slipped on a helmet, hopped onto a motor scooter, and took off.
He followed her through the streets, about a dozen car lengths behind, until she arrived at what appeared to be an old church. She hopped off the bike, swinging the helmet from her hand, and when she reached the door, she disappeared inside.
The sign hanging from the building had Sanctum written in large, old English letters and Youth Hostel below it. A smile slid across Cox’s face, and he lifted the cellphone beside him and dialed.
“What d’you want?” The twinge of contempt in Brandon’s voice told Cox he still harbored hard feelings after their last meeting.
“A favor.”
“I know you didn’t just ask me for no mothafuckin’ favor.”
“Then, perhaps you’re not interested in identifying the man who killed your brother.”
A long pause fo
llowed, before Brandon finally said, “I’m listening.”
“I need you to retrieve a girl. Looks mixed. Light skin. Student, maybe. She’s somehow connected to him. She’s at Sanctum. I don’t know if she lives here alone, or with someone. Get rid of any others. Bring her to me. Alive.”
“Consider it done,” Brandon answered without the slightest hesitation.
“Oh, and just for shits and giggles, have someone film it. Perhaps we’ll send a message of our own to this cocksucker.”
Cox smiled at Brandon’s sneering laugh.
“Fuck, yeah,” Brandon said.
44
Aubree
“My people of Detroit …” Onscreen, Michael’s lips formed a hard line, and the camera zoomed in on a slight quiver to his chin. “It is with a heavy heart and …” He cleared his throat. “… so much pain, that I …” Covering his face behind his hand, he shook his head in a way that had me shaking my own. “I’ve lost someone so … dear to me. My wife, Aubree Culling, was kidnapped, and is believed to be …” The asshole’s voice shook as he spoke. The theatrics must’ve exhausted him. “Dead. I’m offering a large sum of money to anyone who might have information on her kidnapper, believed to be Achilleus X. In a prior video, he threatened to take what I value most. And well …” Culling broke into a laugh-worthy sob. “… he did. And I want justice. My wife did not die in vain. She has brought so much to this city, and I’m asking you, my wonderful people, to help me find her killer. Help bring her the justice she deserves.”
“What a fucking fruitloop,” I said, lying beside Nick on the bed, as we watched the news report on his laptop. “As if he gave two shits about me!” Set against Nick’s chest, my hand balled into a fist. “Ooh! If I had a gun …” I drilled his stomach, but slapped my hand to my mouth when I realized what I’d done. “I’m sorry.”
