The Vigilantes Collection

by Lake, Keri

  Lathering soap in his hair, he twisted back around and stared down at me, his dick never once giving up the dream as it still remained hard. Was he having me wait until he was clean?

  What the hell was he doing?

  As he slicked soap over his body, I stood like an idiot, like a trained puppy, waiting for my master. Bastard. I eyed the shower door beside him, gauging whether or not I could slip past. Probably not. Rubbing the pads of my thumbs across each of my fingers, where I'd tucked them beneath my arms, couldn’t even calm the anxiety brimming inside of me.

  One-two, three-four, five-six …

  Discomfort had my eyes searching through the ingredients of the shampoo on the shelf, just to keep from staring at him.

  After rinsing off the last of the soap, he stepped toward me, and I kicked back a step, leaving me crowded against the cold tiles.

  “Here we are. Locked in a room. Both of us buck ass naked. Yet, I haven’t laid a single hand on you.” He bent forward, his arms planted at either side of my head, and the intoxicating scent of fresh sandalwood assaulted my senses alongside his intimidating stance. The heat of his body cast frissons of excitement that formed goose bumps across my skin. “Does that answer your question?”

  He turned away and exited the shower—leaving me standing in the warm sprays and trying to wrap my head around what the hell had just happened.

  15

  Detective Matt Burke

  Milligan’s Pub held the kind of dark and quiet ambience of an old speakeasy, with thick, rich wood, high-backed seats that ensured privacy, and dim lighting. Slouched in a back corner booth, homicide detective Matt Burke drummed his finger on the tabletop, as he watched football highlights on the wall-mounted flatscreen, across from him. He’d hardly touched his beer. Too much shit on his mind, including why Police Chief Corley had asked him to meet outside of the station.

  As if he didn’t get enough of the bullshit outside of work.

  With some of the staff cuts, Burke’d gotten more cases thrown in his lap, which meant he got less time to spend with his soon-to-be eighteen-year-old daughter, Katy.

  Jesus. Eighteen years seemed to have flashed by in a blink of an eye, and he couldn’t even say that he’d really gotten to know his daughter all that well.

  Her mom had packed up and left when Katy was only nine, shacked up with another man, and left Matt a single father, desperate to make ends meet. His salary, alone, didn’t quite cover Katy’s private school tuition and the mortgage, but he refused to send her to public schools, where she’d end up dating some shithead thug and probably dropping out.

  Saint Catherine’s Academy was made up of strictly girls and, aside from the Catherine’s wheel that stood proud out on the front lawn of the place, offered some peace of mind that he was doing something right by her.

  As he lifted the bottle to his lips, Corley strolled up beside him and fell into the booth. The man looked tired, more tired than he ever had during his days as a street cop. The dark circles set against his dark skin told Burke he probably hadn’t slept much.

  The waitress sauntered up to the table, young and pretty, maybe only twenty-five at most, with long brown hair tied back into a loose ponytail. “What can I get ya?”

  “Take a Coke,” Corley answered, leaning into the table.

  With a nod, she walked away, leaving both men staring at one another in silence.

  Burke didn’t necessarily have anything against Corley, but the two of them had clashed a few times on a couple of cases before Corley had gotten his promotion, and Burke pretty much kept his distance, if he could help it. Sometimes, it felt like Corley had a tendency to throw shit in his lap a bit more than the others, but Corley’d helped promote him to detective two years back, so he couldn’t complain.

  However, as most of Burke's communications came down through his sergeant, the purpose of the secret meeting remained a complete mystery.

  After only a few minutes, the waitress set Corley’s drink in front of him, eyed Burke's mostly-full beer, and walked off again. As soon as she had, Corley pushed the Coke to the side and sniffed. “I have a job for you. Want you to look into something for me, but I don’t want you to say a word to Anderson.”

  For the last few years, Kyle Anderson had worked as his partner, and though Burke liked the guy okay, he made a point never to get personal with his coworkers after his long-time partner had been shot dead nearly sixteen years ago, while working patrol.

  “What’s going on?” Burke asked.

  Fingers still threaded together, Corley tapped his clasped hands against the tabletop. “Got an anonymous tip. A body dumped at the old slaughterhouse. Some girl saw the whole thing, before they chased her out of the building. Just don’t want to draw a whole lot of attention to it yet, with that acquisition going down.”

  Burke huffed, leaning back in his seat. “I’m drowning here, man. Every case that’s thrown on my desk is priority, and I can’t even take a shit without these cases spinning in my head.” Ordinarily, he’d nod and smile and pile on the bullshit, but Burke had known Corley a long time, and speaking candidly had always been their method of communication.

  Rubbing a hand down his face, Corley nodded. “I understand. There’s a lot of clean up going on, but that leaves the good cops struggling to stay above water. If you can’t do it, I’ll go myself.”

  Christ. Even if the guy didn’t exactly blow Burke’s skirt up, one thing he knew about Corley was that the man worked harder than anyone else in the department. Which either made him a good leader, or a shitty role model.

  Sinking back into the booth, Burke shook his head. “Fuck it, I’ll do it. Slaughterhouse?”

  “Basement. Sump pit. Report back directly to me, got it?”

  Burke gave a nod and tipped back his beer, dropping cash for the waitress as he stood up from the table. “I won’t say a word about it.”

  16

  Jase

  I stared up at the Sacred Cross Children’s Center sign, hanging above the entrance of the building on the corner of a quiet side street. It’d once been located on a small plot on the east side, in the New Beginnings building that'd become nothing more than a shattered landmark, riddled with graffiti and decay. As The Ladder program had expanded, the need for space prompted David Kelley, the CEO and Controller of the organization, to pack up and move closer to downtown.

  My mind drifted to old photographs we had, of Reed and a few of the boys from the program, standing in front of the building, as I entered the lobby. It was the first time my brother had reached out, beyond his tightly woven shield, and made friends with someone else.

  The secretary sat at her desk inside—the same crotchety old bitch that most of the kids referred to as Butch. She looked up over her spectacles, which hung halfway off her nose, regarding me with the same repulsion as if I’d spit in her coffee. “Can I help you?”

  Part of me was surprised she didn’t recognize me. After all, I’d chewed her ass for sending my grandmother away, when she'd come to visit Reed during his post-detox therapy. All because they’d failed to update the guardian address on his file.

  “I need to see David Kelley.”

  Her gaze raked me up and down before she returned to her typing. “Meetings with Mr. Kelley are by appointment only, and I’m afraid he has no openings today.”

  “He’ll remember me. My brother used to go here. I just need five minutes.”

  She paused typing and tipped her head, those beady eyes narrowing to slits. “What, exactly, isn’t clear to you when I say by appointment only?”

  “Allow me to be clear, as well.” I leaned forward, planting my knuckles against the desktop. “I’ll be meeting with him for five minutes—with, or without, your blessing.”

  “The only meeting you’ll be having is with security.”

  “Jase?”

  The familiar voice came from the left of me, and I turned toward where David stood in the hallway. He hadn’t changed much from the last time I saw him�
��slim guy, probably about my height, with thick gray hair. He had to be somewhere in his mid-fifties, and reminded me a bit of the bigwig bad dude in the original Robocop movie. David was cool, though. Anyone who'd put up with my brother had to possess the patience of a saint.

  “Jase Hawkins?”

  Straightening to a stand, I caught the beep of the secretary ending the call.

  “Mr. Kelley, this young man tried—”

  He waved his hand at her in dismissal. “It’s okay, Alice.” Planting his hands on his hips he shook his head. “Jase Hawkins. How the hell are you?”

  I gave a sharp nod. “Good. I’m good. Hey, you got, like, five minutes?”

  “Absolutely!” He waved me to follow. “C’mon, c’mon.”

  Glancing over my shoulder, I sneered at Alice, who pursed her lips. I expected the old hag to stick out her tongue, but she didn't.

  Trailing behind David, I passed classrooms on the right and left of me. In a few of them, kids sat at desks, listening to an instructor at the front of the room, while in others, they sat in circles, huddled in group therapy sessions. One kid flipped me off as I strode by, and I chuckled, shaking my head. Bastard.

  At the end of the hall, David opened the door to his office, and ushered me inside. “Jesus, Mary and Joseph, you’re the last person I expected to waltz through that door!” He patted me on the back, as I slipped by him, making my way to the leather seat across from his at the desk. As he plopped into his own chair, his face soured to a serious twist of his lips as his brows came together. “I’m so … very sorry about what happened to Reed.”

  I nodded, entwining my fingers together, and shifted in the chair. “Yeah. Was a … shit thing to happen.”

  “Absolute bullshit,” he added, shaking his head. “I remember exactly where I was when I heard the news. Hit me right in the gut. Like losing a child.” Double-blinking, he removed his glasses and wiped at his eyes, making me shift in my seat again.

  I hated waiting for people to get the sentimental feely shit out of their system. Yeah, it was nice knowing Reed had touched someone, but it sure as hell made for an awkward first couple of minutes.

  I cleared my throat of the prickle of embarrassment at watching him tear up. “So, councilman Kelley,” I said, switching the subject. “Congratulations. That’s quite a promotion.”

  The wrinkle in his brow softened with his smile, and he nodded. “Well, I figured it was time to give my career a much needed jump start. I still intend to keep to my responsibilities here.” He splayed his hands out. “There's still much to be done, but I’d like to try my hand at politics. Thinking of giving a run at State Representative next year.”

  I shook my head at that. “Politician. Never thought I’d see the day.”

  “Well, that makes two of us.” He chuckled. “Never thought I’d see you walk through that door again! So, what brings you here?”

  Sniffing, I leaned forward in the chair. “You remember a kid from a few years back? Viktor something?”

  “Viktor Sykora. I remember him quite well.” His eyes widened, as he seemed to stare off at nothing in particular before snapping back to me. “What about him?”

  “I know you’re not supposed to talk about clients, but … what happened to him?”

  “You're right, I’m not.” He shot me a wink. “But I don’t think you’ll tattle to the nuns.”

  The Ladder was a faith-based organization, something Maria had always appreciated about it. For Reed and I, having grown up without much religion made any church or religious based facility a place we’d avoid like the plague, and I wasn’t too keen on The Ladder at first, particularly as it was run by a bunch of nuns. During one of his post-detox mood swings, though, Reed had threatened to have an inverted cross tattooed to his forehead so the nuns would stay off his back. Instead of getting all pissy about it, the head nun had offered to give him a ride to the tattoo parlor and praised him on his faith. I didn’t get it at first, until I’d Googled it and found out that the inverted cross was actually associated with one of the apostles, known as a St. Peters Cross. At the time, I'd thought it a pretty snappy comeback for a nun.

  David’s smile stretched across his face, exposing a mouth full of white veneer. “Viktor, Viktor, Viktor. From what I understand, he went on to start his own strip club, of all things.” Tightening his lips, David shook his head. “Very disturbed individual. Lots of therapy, lots of retreats, and he still acted out.”

  “How so?”

  His cheeks puffed, and he blew out a breath. “On a number of occasions, he was found with other kids in the program—particularly the pretty girls … uh … in fairly embarrassing circumstances. Often in the closets, or stairways. He liked to take them to the basement of the building and cover their mouths with tape, or some kind of gag. It wasn’t until later we found out he forced them.” David crossed his arms and rubbed his chin, kicking back in his chair. “For years, we had him in the Sexual Offender Treatment Program here, and he still acted out. To be honest, it surprises me that he’s not behind bars.”

  Interesting. “And how was he with Reed?”

  Head rocking back and forth, he squinted an eye. “Certainly not what I’d call friends, that’s for sure. Viktor was quite competitive. Very jealous. Reed, as troubled as he was, seemed to be well-liked, in spite of his … behaviors. Particularly by the young ladies who came through the program. I think Viktor had a problem with that.”

  Reed had never had a problem with girls, oddly enough. As fucked up as he was, he’d somehow always drawn the hot chicks. They probably thought they could save him.

  “Why do you ask about him?”

  “Just trying to make sense of that night, is all.” My fingers splayed with a shrug. “I’d never known Reed to have any enemies. Just doesn’t add up why someone would target him.”

  Snapping forward in his seat, David rested his entwined fingers on the desk. “Death often fails to make sense, Jase. You lost a great deal that night, and God doesn’t seem to like giving us the method behind his mysterious workings.” About the only thing I didn’t like about David was the occasional pep talks with Jesus he threw into conversation. “But I’d urge you to stay away from Viktor. Stay far away. He’s trouble.”

  Shifting my jaw, I gave a nod. “Was just curious, is all.” I cleared my throat. “How’s Elodie?”

  David had adopted one of the girls from The Ladder—a pretty blonde about my age, who often accompanied him on the picnics and field trips. Dax had always had it bad for her, but Elodie went from the streets to private schools and, as far as I knew, college. Way too good for the hood-rats that rolled through The Ladder.

  “Fantastic! She’s joined a sorority at school. Lot of charity work.” He twisted a picture frame on his desk, to show a black and white photo of her, her head tipped back in laughter.

  “That’s great,” I said, as he turned the picture back around.

  Slouching into his chair, he kicked his feet up on the desk. “So, where are you staying these days?”

  I shrugged. “Nowhere in particular. Motels, mostly.”

  “You need anything … a place to stay, a hot meal, or a cup of coffee, just stop in.”

  “Thanks, but …” I threw a thumb over my shoulder. “Your Pitbull at the front desk probably wouldn’t let me take a piss, let alone stay for a coffee.”

  David’s head kicked back with a laugh. “Alice is a bruiser, isn’t she? God forgive me, but I want to strangle the woman sometimes.”

  Reaching out a hand, I offered a handshake. “Thanks for … taking care of my brother. I know he wasn’t the easiest kid to deal with.”

  “I’m not going to lie … sometimes, he was a pain in the ass. He had a good heart, though. I hope you find the despicable monster behind his murder.”

  Rising up from my chair, I gave a quick nod. “Believe me, I will.”

  17

  Detective Matt Burke

  Burke stared down at the email on his cellphone, then tossed
the damn thing onto his desk and shook his head. How the hell Corley had the nerve to ask him to do a favor, then turn around and deny his vacation request, was beyond him.

  It’d been months since he’d last taken some time off. Yeah, he knew that the department was going through some changes and, as a result, was low on staff, but it was Katy’s last year before she’d head off to college, and he just wanted a couple of days to reconnect with the daughter he hadn’t spent much time with.

  Swallowing a bite of his sandwich, Anderson sat across from him. He perked up when the phone hit the table. “What’s up?”

  “Nothing,” Burke muttered, taking deep breaths through his nose to calm his rattled nerves.

  “Don’t look like nothing.”

  Burke couldn’t even look at his sandwich. His stomach had soured the moment he’d read the email from Commander Rickson, who’d attempted to explain his reasons behind the denial. “Rickson denied my vacation request.”

  “You try Corley?” Anderson sipped his iced tea before swiping a napkin over his face.

  “Orders came down from Corley.”

  Shrugging, Anderson sat back in his chair. “You’re tight with Corley. Ask him to override it.”

  Override. Ridiculous. The man wouldn’t override shit for Burke. “I don’t know. I think I need a new career.”

  A burst of laughter beat through Anderson’s chest as he sat back on his chair. “You probably need a night out with the boys. When was the last time you got laid?”

  Burke glanced around at the few cops out of ear range. “None of your fuckin’ business, that’s when.”

  “I’m meeting up with Thompson tonight for some beers. Gonna watch the game. Come out with us.”