Haunting Woods (Under Covers Book 2)

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Haunting Woods (Under Covers Book 2) Page 3

by Adalind White


  The memory of Nick's voice was not welcome. Anything that had to do with him made me lose by focus.

  "I'll wait for you."

  Those words had the most chance to break me. They helped me hold on while they were hurting me. The memory of his voice made me want to live even when pain was so intense I was tempted to think that death was the easy choice. I took a couple of pills to dull the pain. They didn't do drug tests where I fought, but I was still a cop and I didn't bend the rules if I didn't have to. Tatiana's stash of painkillers and mood altering pills were the first things I flushed down the toilet when I came back. She wasn't going to need them where she was. She wasn't going to need anything where she was.

  A loud knock on the door was followed by the muffled shout of a female voice.

  "NYPD, open up!"

  Great! The freaking cops were already here. A few thoughts zipped through my head with lightning speed. They were going to be suspicious when they found her clothes in garbage bags. Maybe it wasn't about Tatiana's murder. How stupid could the Bratva be to let her body be found so soon? No, actually they would display her body. She had to be seen as an example of anyone who dared to spy on them.

  "Be right there," I shouted back and grabbed a hoodie to cover the signs of torture on my own body.

  I was pulling it over my head when I heard the door being broken and the female voice warning me.

  "Police! Don't move!"

  "What the fuck, lady, let me get dressed!"

  Only my midsection was bared and there were no cut marks there. The bruises were easily explainable in my line of work.

  "Slowly," she said.

  When she wasn't shouting, the voice was all too familiar. Katherine Robinson. That meant that there was someone else in the room. I took an inordinately long time to pull the hoodie all the way down. I kept my eyes closed for a second even after my head was out. A different kind of torture awaited me when I opened them. But I couldn't afford to linger and risk them saying something indiscreet. The room probably wasn't bugged, but the neighbors had keen ears and busy mouths. I hadn't survived torture only to blow my cover in my own home.

  "Why did you bust my door for?"

  I asked looking at Robinson and Woods. The shock on their faces was just as clear as the recognition. She opened her mouth but Woods spoke first.

  "I am detective Woods, this is detective Robinson. This is the residence of Tatiana Urmanova?"

  "Yeah. But she's not here," I said.

  "We know. She has been found dead."

  I took advantage of the news to sit down hard on a chair. My legs were shaking from pain, lack of sleep and seeing him.

  "Who are you?"

  "Joanna Blanchard. I'm her flat mate."

  "Does she sleep here?" Woods asked, pointing at the unmade pull out couch.

  "No, this is my room."

  "Where is hers?"

  Before I could answer he went to the only other door in the room.

  "Don't you need a warrant or something?" I asked behind him

  "Not to look through a victim's residence, no," Katherine said and followed him.

  I tried to think of my next move while they rummaged through Tatiana's room. How dangerous would it be if I let them take me downtown for questioning? Would Fadeyev believe that I betrayed them and have me killed to make sure I didn't speak? In this world, being question by the police was a common occurrence. Most of the Bratva higher ups were well known by the OCD but there was no evidence against them. That was why I was there. After all the blood I spilled for them and the money they made off me in fights, I probably was in a good enough position to gamble my safety for a trip downtown. I really needed someone to look at my wounds.

  They came back from her room, with the black plastic bags in their glove covered hands.

  "Are these her things?" he asked

  I nodded.

  "Why are they in garbage bags?"

  "She said she found a better place and she was moving out. She didn't even sleep here last night."

  "Did she put them in garbage bags?" Woods asked

  He reached inside the one he was holding and took out a cornflower blue top. She loved wearing that top when we went out. Its color matched her eyes and made her blonde hair look even more beautiful. I shrugged, a fraction of a second after my jaw clenched. I could lie better than that, but the memory of her death was too fresh and his presence was pushing me off balance even worse.

  "You put them," he said. "Because you knew she wasn't coming back."

  "How would I know that?" I asked.

  "That is a very good question. Let's talk about this at the station."

  I shook my head in disgust, but I stood up to follow them. My head spun for a second. I got it under control and rolled back my shoulders, as if I was about to step into the ring. We walked in silence to their car. Katherine's hand was hovering behind my back, as if she wanted to guide me or to stop me from bolting.

  I didn't speak until we were safely out of the neighborhood. The problem wasn't actually speaking, the difficult part was to maintain body language. When I felt safe, I let myself on one side, and curled as best I could in a fetal position on the backseat.

  "Can you take me to Doctor Bachman without anyone noticing? I don't want anyone to know I'm hurt."

  "You're hurt?" Katherine exclaimed. "We'll take you to a hospital."

  "Did you not hear the part about not wanting anyone to know?" I almost yelled at her. "If you can't, then fine, let's go directly to interrogation."

  I sat up as I said this, already back in full pain masking mode. They were not going to ruin my cover at the very end.

  "We can take you to him," Woods said.

  Katherine gave him a look that said she disagreed. He answered with a look of his own. She seemed to relent. I witnessed their unspoken conversation with a twinge of jealousy. It must be nice to have someone you can talk to without actually talking.

  "How the hell did you guys get a case in this area?" I asked

  "The body was found displayed in front of our station."

  "Fuck," I said. "Bastards!"

  "Who killed her?" Nick asked.

  "A couple of thugs. Low level Bratva muscle. Viktor and Ilya. You won't find any biological from them."

  "What will we find?" he asked.

  "Some of mine. How did you identify her?"

  "There was a tattoo on her back."

  I squeezed my eyes shut, willing myself to prevent the image of the markings on her skin, and the blood pouring over it.

  They took me to the coroner's office, and Doctor Bachman patched me up without any comments. I pulled the hoodie tight around my face when they took me to the interrogation room. So many people in that building knew me. I had to count on the fact that they knew the apple cheeked California girl with blonde hair and perky boobs. Sometimes even I didn't recognize myself in the mirror.

  It was so strange to be on the other side of the table from Nick, to witness his interrogation technique live, after watching so many hours of footage. He asked me about Tatiana, and I said as little as possible. I played for time asking for water, pretending I didn't remember details, asking them to repeat the questions. At some point, Nick and Katherine walked out and I could imagine them talking to Captain Jackson on the other side of the mirror. They wouldn't risk jeopardizing my cover by reaching out to OCD. At least I hoped they didn't.

  The bastard had left the photos of Tatiana's corps on the table. I reached out with a trembling hand and flipped them over. The memory of her mangled body was too fresh anyway.

  They came back in, but they didn't get the chance to ask anything else. The door to the interrogation room opened and an uniformed officer led in a man in an expensive suit.

  "Cease and desist, detectives. I am Arkady Dimitrievich, Ms. Blanchard's lawyer. I want to talk to my client in private."

  When they left, my lawyer looked at me.

  "What did you tell them?"

  "That I didn't
know anything. Tatiana mentioned she wanted to move out. I didn't hear her come home last night."

  "I'll get you out," he said.

  "Who sent you? I don't think I can afford to pay you."

  He looked at me with the pity one reserved for stupid people.

  "The matter is settled by a mutual friend."

  "None of my friends has someone like you on speed dial."

  "Let's put it this way: you better win tonight."

  Chapter 9 - Last fight

  With every minute that passed, I lost hope that Deacon would break down the doors before my fight. After losing two violent fights in two weeks, and after the torture session that afternoon, I was in no shape to win.

  Boris Fadeyev's eyes didn't betray anything, but I could read my future in Ilya's eyes. And if that wasn't enough, Viktor came to my locker room. My corner men wanted to object but they knew better. He barked at them in Russian, and they scurried out.

  I wore nothing but my ring gear, a pair of lycra biking shorts and the chest protector. We were in the process of wrapping my hands when he came in, but the bandages were still on the table, and my hands were naked.

  He walked slowly toward me. I was getting ready for a fight; fear was already under tight control. I didn't flinch when he stopped so close to me that our bodies touched. He was head and shoulders taller than me as I was standing barefoot on the cold tiles of the locker room. The hair on the back of my neck stood on end when he lowered his head to look me in the eye. His breath touched my skin when he spoke.

  "If you don't win tonight, I'll be the one to take your life."

  "Oh, thanks. It was really weighing on my mind who'd do it."

  I tried to sound confident and arrogant. Maybe I could have pulled it off if he hadn't had me tied to a chair and tortured me earlier that day. He traced his fingers over one of the cuts he had drawn with a steel blade and Doctor Bachman had sewn.

  "Don't worry, Maleficent," he whispered, relishing the sound of my Disney villain nickname. "I'll never let anyone else kill you."

  He kissed me hard and without passion. My mind flashed to the Italian Mafia's kiss of death. The bite on my lower lip changed my mind. He would kill me if he had to. And he would fuck me if he didn't have to.

  The cavalry better show up soon, or Joanna 'Maleficent' Blanchard was going to have a very, very messy night.

  *

  My opponent was so hopped up on drugs, I could see it from across the cage. Viktor's words and Fadeyev's cold stare were all the motivation I needed to give the Viper the beating of a life time. Unfortunately, she was a horribly precise striker and the chemical boost made her faster than I could see.

  I was so desperate, I even tried to do a Skywalker thing and use the Force. I got hit hard in the jaw and fell to the ground. She pounced on me and heavy punches rained down. I managed to keep my guard up to protect my face, and I blocked away the pain.

  I had to exploit her focus on hitting me with her fists. I locked my legs around her waist, and I started to squeeze the breath out of her. At first, she didn't even realize, she kept hitting under my ribs, delivering merciless punches to my side. Soon enough, the rhythm slowed down. Her punches got just a little lighter. I concentrated my remaining strength and managed to sneak one punch between her barrage of punches. I broke her nose and blood sprayed out and began pouring on my face. It wasn't the pain as much as the surprise that made her stop. I hit her again, and I increased the pressure on her ribcage. She covered her face so sloppily, I managed to hit her twice more.

  Fear took over her and she tried to wriggle out, to be able to take in a full breath. I let her escape and I crawled to my feet while she drew her breath. She didn't expect me to attack, but I moved too slowly. She was ready for me. She resisted my takedown attempt, not realizing it was a trick. We rolled around and I ended up behind her. My legs wrapped around her waist and my left arm snaked under her chin. I felt her windpipe in the crook of my elbow, and I locked my left hand on my right upper arm. Then I applied pressure. My whole body was flooded with adrenaline reducing it to numbness. I thought about Leo Dvorak's hand on my own throat. I thought about the handcuffs digging into my flesh. I thought about how good it felt to have Anna's throat under my forearm just like I was holding the Viper's now. And I kept holding on while the Viper clawed at my arm, and thrashed trying to get me off her. I thought of Tatiana, tied to a chair and beaten, and I increased the pressure, wanting to snap tear the Viper's head off.

  I didn't feel her tap on my arm. I didn't feel the referee's tap on my shoulder. I didn't hear him shouting at me to let go. I heard the roar of the crowd, chanting my name. And for a heart stopping moment, I thought it was my real name.

  "Joan! Joan! Joan!"

  I shifted my focus to the here and now. My vision cleared and I saw the referee's lips moving. I felt his hands trying to get me to release the limp body of Claudia 'The Viper' Oliveira. I let go and she fell like a rag doll to the floor.

  I stood up, and the last conscious thought was the referee holding my arm up while the doctor was kneeling above Claudia. I stumbled out of the cage while the ring announcer proclaimed that the winner of the tournament for the bantamweight class was Joanna 'Maleficent' Blanchard.

  Chapter 10 - In Hospital

  I had no idea where I was when I woke up. The silence was punctuated by loud beeps that hurt my ears. The smell told me I was in a hospital and the rapidly accelerating beeping was probably my heart monitor. I panicked when it became clear that I couldn't see and I couldn't move. I tried to open my eyes, but the bandage over them was tightly wrapped. I tried to move my hand, and I felt the strap holding my wrist down. I could also feel the needle in my vein, itching and hurting, and I started to struggle against the restraints.

  The door opened and someone hurried inside. Instead of saying anything they walked past my bed. I had no idea what they were doing and I pulled harder against the restraints.

  "You can't come in," a voice next to my bed said.

  "You're ok. You're in hospital."

  I stopped struggling as soon as I heard Nick's voice. My heartrate however went up.

  "Sir, please leave. You're disturbing the patient," the voice said again.

  I wanted to argue that he should stay, but my jaw didn't work. The spinning sensation intensified and I felt myself slide into unconsciousness.

  *

  When I woke up again, I remembered that I was in hospital and I remembered that Nick was somewhere close.

  "iick?" I called for him.

  My mouth didn't work properly.

  "I'm here," he said from somewhere very close.

  His voice was croaky as if he hadn't spoken in a long time. I felt a hand in mine and I squeezed it.

  "You'll be fine."

  The emotion in his voice worried me. He said it like it was rehearsed. Maybe he had told himself many times that I was going to be fine.

  "Wha' 'ay ih i'?"

  He took some time to figure out the consonants I couldn't pronounce.

  "It's Tuesday. Your fight was three days ago. Everyone is in custody. Officially, you're under arrest, too."

  "Oh, 'ood."

  He squeezed my hand.

  "Wha' 'ong wigh 'e?"

  "What's wrong with you?"

  I made a sound that was more or less affirmative.

  "You had surgery for some internal bleeding. Everything is ok now. Also, the tear gas affected your eyes more than it should have. Your eyes might be too sensitive to light and the doctors decided that a bandage was a good idea. I'll call them to check up on you."

  "A' 'y 'outh?"

  "Your mouth is fine. Your jaw was dislocated during the fight. They decided to immobilize it until you wake up. You'll have trouble talking for a while. I know this must be difficult for you."

  I heard the smile in his voice. Oh, good, he was making fun of me. My scowl was concealed by the bandage. I barely managed to stick up the tip of my tongue between my lips. It probably helped him
relax to see me trying to respond to the insult. The tension in his hand loosened and his voice was almost normal when he spoke.

  "I'm going to let them know you woke up."

  I missed his hand but once he left the room I could hear the heart monitor's beeping calm down. So embarrassing! I was a pretty good liar, and with preparation I could fool a polygraph test, but I was in no condition to control my heartbeat. First order of business was to get the heart monitor removed. I did not need him to know how much he affected me.

  My eyes were itching. Sensitivity to tear gas. It figured that I'd get hurt when my own people came in.

  The restraints were gone. I was tempted to take the needle out of my arm, but I decided against it. I wanted to get better as soon as possible and if that meant putting up with the inconvenience of an IV needle, I was just going to bear it. If I could only figure out which was the heart monitor. Why didn't I pay more attention to these things? Wasn't it supposed to be on my finger or something?

  A doctor and a nurse showed up soon enough. They took out the IV, and unwrapped the bandage from around my eyes. The light bothered me more than I expected, but it was bearable and I soon got used to it. I tried to tell them about the heart monitor, but they didn't seem to understand my mumbling. After some more poking and prodding, the doctor unwrapped the other bandage from my head.

  "Everything looks ok. Just don't open your mouth wide for the next couple of months."

  "Ok. Thanks."

  "I'm going to let the officer back in. He's been here ever since they brought you, but he will not be allowed to stay long. You need to rest."

  I didn't feel tired, but my first reaction was that I didn't want to see Nick.

  "Umm," I said, trying to think of a way to tell the doctor not to send him in.

  The doctor looked at me expectantly, but since I couldn't find any words, he left. It wasn't that I didn't want to see Nick. I didn't want him to see me like that. Although, if he had spent two days by my bed, he had probably already seen the worst. I didn't want to see pity in his eyes. His words from that amazing weekend were seared in my soul. I had clung to them during the darkest times although deep inside me, I did not believe them.

 

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