Toxicity

by Katie May

  As he turns to saunter away, my eyes drop to the little girl cowering in the corner.

  “Wait!” I scream, holding up a hand. He pauses but doesn’t bother to turn his head. Condescending little shit. “Let the girl stay with me. Please.”

  I’m not above begging when I have to.

  “Please, Gerald. Please. Let her stay with me.” Tears travel down my cheeks as he slowly, slowly turns to look at me. He extends a hand, and the girl immediately rushes to grab it like a trained puppy. Maybe that’s all she is.

  After all, it was all I was.

  “Her mother would be quite disappointed if I don’t bring her home. You remember her mom, don’t you, Mallie? Theresa?”

  I freeze at the name.

  There’s only one Dragon’s Girl with that name. I didn’t know her that well, but she was one of the few who was nice to me. She offered me her rations when Gerald punished me for disobeying, and she gave me her coat when mine ripped. I recall a fuzzy image of a beautiful woman with orange, frizzy hair and a soft smile.

  Is this her daughter?

  And finally, I notice the similarities between the girl and Gerald. There are few, but the few I see are painfully noticeable. The large nose. The structures of both their cheekbones.

  She’s his daughter.

  “You’re a sick bastard,” I whisper in horror. The little girl ducks her head, cheeks flaming to match her hair. Gerald laughs huskily.

  “Whatever you’re thinking is wrong. I’m not fucked up enough to sell off my own fucking daughter.” He smiles at her fondly, giving her hand a squeeze. “I’m hoping she’ll grow up to take over the family business. Isn’t that right?”

  She remains silent.

  With a sigh, Gerald looks back up at me with a malicious gleam in his eyes.

  “One week, Mallie. And not a second longer.”

  I watch until they both disappear from view. The wind whips my hair around my face, but the cold is only a minor inconvenience. I know I’m late to class—and I also know Roman is probably freaking the fuck out—but I can’t bring myself to care.

  I’m stuck once more in this fucking spiderweb. I can see the spider fast approaching, but I’m helpless to escape.

  And maybe, a twisted part of me doesn’t even want to.

  No, I do, I tell myself darkly. I promised myself I’ll fight this. Fight myself. And I’m going to fucking survive.

  As that thought cements itself in my brain, a belligerent voice calls from behind me, “What the fuck was that about?”

  Freezing, I turn.

  Deluca’s eyes are hard with anger, chips of obsidian stones. No sign of the jovial cop or even the tired one from this morning.

  “Mallie,” he begins in a clipped voice. “You have some fucking explaining to do.”

  Chapter 21

  I hate the disappointment I see in Deluca’s normally kind eyes. More than that, I hate the suspicion.

  “How much of that did you overhear?” I whisper, wrapping my arms around myself. My emotions are raw—the previously scabbed wound has just been ripped open. I feel tiny and vulnerable, the little teenager I had been years before.

  “Enough,” Deluca answers cryptically. His eyes are staring down the street Gerald and his daughter disappeared down. “Do you know who that man is?”

  I sniffle, wiping my nose with my sleeve. I feel fucking disgusting. The remnants of Gerald’s toxicity has seeped through my skin, tarnishing my soul. If I could, I would scrub my face and arms raw to rid myself of his disgusting touch. I can still feel phantom tingles of his lips on mine.

  “The question is: do you?” My words punctuate the silence rapidly growing between us. I stare intently at Deluca, daring him to lie to me.

  I can’t take another fucking lie.

  When he sighs, running a hand through his long hair, I have my answer. It doesn’t comfort me; instead, an icy chill skates from the bottom of my back to my neck.

  I suppose when I was younger, I had the delusional mentality that the cops didn’t know about Gerald and his evil enterprise. I dumbly believed that we had remained off their radar—why else had the police let it go on for so long?

  But Deluca’s face is tortured, anguished, and his hand trembles when he shoves it in his pocket.

  He knew.

  They all fucking knew.

  “Explain,” I whisper hoarsely. “Explain how you know...yet that monster is still roaming these streets.” Deluca remains silent, lips pressed into a straight, unrelenting line. I know I could probably go to jail for this, but my rage consumes me. I charge at him and pound my little fists against his chest. “TELL ME!”

  He finally lowers his eyes to stare at me, his hands creeping up to capture both my wrists. I expect him to shove me away, but he doesn’t. Instead, he holds them gently between our bodies, right above his pounding heart.

  “I’m not on the team investigating him,” he begins softly. Carefully. “We know what he’s doing. In theory.”

  “In theory,” I parrot like the imbecile I am. I blink rapidly, attempting to dispel the tears forming in my eyes.

  “You have to understand that we have nothing to hold him. That slippery asshole has been arrested a half dozen times, and yet he always finds his way out of it.”

  “He has a building full of prostitutes,” I stress. “Some of them are children.”

  Like me.

  Deluca’s eyes travel over me, as if wondering how I know so much about the infamous pimp of our city. Does he know about my past? I can’t imagine he would. He wasn’t in the interrogation room when I vaguely relayed my story to the two police officers, Moder and Griffin. Did they tell him?

  “We know about the building,” Deluca says on a sigh. “But, Mallie, you have to understand that he has the proper paperwork. It appears on paper to be a legit apartment complex with tenants who partake in consensual sex.”

  No. No. No.

  He can’t get away with this. Not anymore. Gerald is a virus that has to be stopped.

  “So if you have something on him, even something small…” I trail off.

  “We can get a warrant and investigate further,” Deluca confirms.

  Nodding stiffly, I grab his arm and pull him in the direction of Phillip’s car.

  “Come with me,” I say stiffly. When he remains rooted in place, I tug once more. “Do you trust me?”

  Once more, his eyes assess me. I feel stripped and vulnerable underneath his branding gaze—the man doesn’t just see my face and body, flaws and all, but my fucking soul. It’s unnerving.

  “I don’t know why, but I do.” He nods his head once, moving to stand beside me. “But where are we going?”

  “I’m going to get you something to charge Gerald with.”

  He curses softly, feet momentarily faltering.

  But he still follows me to the car.

  “I’m going to lose my fucking job,” he murmurs as I back out of the school parking lot.

  The building is tiny, nestled in the shadow of two much larger ones. The exterior is composed of roughly hewn logs; two windows are aligned perpendicular over a rusty red door.

  I’ve only been to this building twice.

  One time to pick up a package for Gerald when he was indisposed.

  Another time to entertain his esteemed guests.

  Shivers travel down my spine at the memory, and I hastily grab my rapidly cooling coffee from the cup holder. Deluca had insisted we stop at a fast food joint—can’t have a proper stakeout without greasy burgers and stale coffee.

  Stereotypical ass.

  “I’ve never been on a stakeout before,” I muse, staring at the seemingly empty building. It’s located just off the edge of downtown, in a dark corner where few people walk. Even now, the sidewalks in front of it are bare.

  Our car is parked around the corner—headlights and engine off.

  “Confession. I haven’t either,” Deluca whispers conspiratorially, taking a huge bite of his burger. Juices drip
down his chin, and he groans low in his throat. “I’m so fucking hungry I could eat a live cow and it would taste phenomenal.”

  “I can tell.” I chuckle, leaning across the center console to dab the grease off his chin with a napkin. His eyes cross as he attempts to see what I’m doing.

  “So how do you know about this building?” Deluca asks, handing me a fry. I shove it in my mouth as I try to find the words to explain.

  Finally, I settle on the truth. “I’ve been here before.”

  His brows crease. “Here?” At my nod, the crease deepens. “With Gerald?”

  “Not a lot of people know about this property. I imagine he paid in cash and put the deed under one of his aliases. But he comes here every third week of the month on Tuesday at five. I can’t imagine that changed.” I snort, looking around. “There are no cameras in this part of the city, and the police never come this far away from the main town. He has a dozen of these buildings around this town—and in the next town over. Some he visits every Wednesday, and others he only travels to once a month. Sometimes once a year. It’s probably one of the ways he has been able to evade you guys for years. The man has money and connections, and his clients know where to meet him.”

  “How do you know all this?” His words are quiet, almost resigned. The man isn’t dumb; he has pieced together the truth during our talk. Now, he’s just waiting for confirmation.

  With a heavy sign, I roll up my sleeve, baring the dragon tattoo to his inquiring gaze. I hear his sharp intake of breath followed immediately by a low curse.

  Finger as soft as a butterfly’s wing, he traces the black ink. Goosebumps rise on my flesh wherever he touches.

  “I’m sorry.”

  I shrug, attempting to portray a nonchalance I don’t feel. Can’t feel.

  “I’m surprised the others didn’t tell you,” I say at last, taking another long sip of coffee. Without cream, the bitter liquid tastes like cough syrup going down my throat. Still, it’s better than nothing.

  “The others?”

  “Moder and Griffin,” I correct. “I told them in my interview.”

  His brows furrow further. “They never told me. And I’m supposed to be the lead detective on this case.”

  At that, I spin towards him, eyes wide with shock. “You are?”

  He taps his fingers against the dashboard, humming a noncommittal sound beneath his breath. He appears to be a million miles away.

  I never would’ve suspected Deluca was in charge. For one, Moder and Griffin looked down on him. For two, the older police officers were always the ones to interrogate me. Threaten me.

  And three, Deluca did not look old enough to be their bosses and a detective.

  “How old are you?” I blurt.

  Way to go, Mallie. Another case of the dreaded foot-in-mouth disease. You need to be vaccinated.

  “Never mind,” I stutter. “I just...you just seem young, Deluca.”

  He still seems lost in thought, but a wiry grin tugs at the corner of his plush lips.

  “You know, Deluca is actually my last name, not my first.”

  “Huh?”

  His teeth shine brightly when he smiles. “It’s my last name.”

  Now, I’m curious.

  “What’s your first name?” I press, but he pantomimes zipping up his lips and throwing away the key. Asshole. “It must be something bad, right? Something embarrassing? Leslie?” His smile grows, a feat I didn’t think was possible. “Bobby G? Punch Ass?”

  “Punch Ass? Really?” Deluca says dryly, and I shrug.

  “You never know.” I consider thoughtfully. “Gertrude? It’s Gertrude, isn’t it? Rudolph. Gigolo. Winnie the Massive Poo. Bobett. Justin Bieber.”

  “Wow. You guessed it.” Deluca’s teeth gleam in the car. “All of my secrets are out in the open now. I—wait!” His smile leaves as quickly as it appears, eyes narrowing at the entrance of the building. A familiar man slinks through the shadows, a plastic bag in his hand.

  Gerald.

  A few feet away, a young woman leans against the brick wall of the neighboring building. Her orange hair and freckled face are unmistakable. Theresa. She’s much older than I remember her looking; prominent lines now mar her pretty face, giving her an ageless look. She’s skinnier too. Paler.

  I watch in rapt fascination as a second man joins Gerald at the entrance. He’s not one of Gerald’s usual clients—his hair brushes his back in tangled snarls, and his eyes dart nervously around.

  The two men exchange words, too low for me to hear, and to my horror, I witness Gerald procure a handgun from the plastic bag. The second man offers up a briefcase—a briefcase I know to be full of cash.

  Sometimes it’s weapons Gerald deals. Sometimes it’s drugs. On the rare occasion it’s a female. He never invites his clients into the nondescript building. I don’t know if it’s confidence in himself and his abilities to evade the police or pure cockiness. Either way, I’ve always known it’d be his downfall.

  “Is that enough to arrest him?” I whisper to Deluca.

  “More than enough.” Deluca grabs his phone, dials one number, and demands to speak to the chief. I hear him quickly relaying the events transpiring in front of him a moment before promising not to engage in a reluctant voice.

  But that promise goes out the window when Gerald turns and spies our car. The shadows obscure it mostly, and with any other car, he wouldn’t notice it or think it odd. Cars park on the street all the time. However, I know he recognizes the car I drove to school in, and his lips curl into a threatening smile.

  Shit.

  Deluca curses, dropping his phone and grabbing his gun from the holster. “Stay in the car.” Without a word, he silently slips out, gun raised as he screams at the men to drop their weapons and keep their hands where he can see them.

  The nervous man drops his new purchase instantly, the gun clattering but thankfully not going off, while his hands immediately raise. Snot drips from his nose. Gerald is much more indifferent about it. I watch as he slowly lifts his hands…

  His fingers grip the gun resting in his waistband.

  I’m out the door before I can even think, before I can breathe.

  “He has a gun!” I scream to Deluca. I hear Theresa scream even as Gerald lifts his gun, aiming it not at Deluca, but at me. His lips twist in a malicious sneer; his eyes are dark and cold, devoid of any warmth. During that suspended moment of time, as I stare down the barrel of the gun, I know I’m going to die. I can practically taste it.

  And it terrifies me.

  A lot of things are put into perspective. My life. My relationship with my men. My own mental sanity. I want to live. I’ve never realized it before.

  I want to have a life with my men. I don’t know what it entails, I don’t know if it'll be a happily ever after, but I crave it with an intensity that leaves me breathless.

  A gun is fired, and I wince.

  But no bullet ever hits me.

  Gerald is on the ground, crying, blood erupting from his leg. Deluca holds the gun over him with an almost manic gleam in his eyes. I release a breath I haven’t realized I’ve been holding, and instinctively, my eyes fly to Theresa. She still stands in the shadows, but there’s a slight twist to her lips that screams vengeance. As Gerald cries out in agony, grabbing at the bullet wound on his leg, I realize I’m not the only person he has hurt. Not even close.

  The man isn’t dead. Hell, he’s not even in prison yet.

  But I still feel like something monumental just occurred. I guess I expected it to take longer. If this was a movie, there would be a dozen more scenes with Gerald threatening me and the people I love. Maybe the cops wouldn’t believe me in this nonexistent movie. Maybe they would. Either way, I hadn’t expected this to happen so damn easily.

  I feel almost...robbed.

  At the same time, my heart grows with satisfaction.

  Sometimes you don’t need an epic battle to defeat the dragon.

  A little voice in my head w
arns me that there’s still more I have to do to retake my life—retake my throne.

  Chapter 22

  Deluca sends me home before the cops and paramedics arrive. I know that his decision is all kinds of illegal, but I’m too tired to argue.

  I just hope we can end this mess once and for all.

  When I arrive back at Susie’s house, two men are waiting for me in the living room. Roman looks to have paced a hole into the carpeting, and Phillip’s hair is tousled, almost as if he ran his hand through it one too many times.

  Oh, shit.

  “Where the fuck have you been?” Roman demands, stalking towards me. A multitude of emotions flicker across his handsome face—the most prominent ones being worry and fear.

  I feel like such an ass. Of course they would worry if I didn’t show up to class. I didn’t even think about texting him, too consumed by my need to extract justice on the man who wronged me.

  But I can’t really say all that without sounding like a psychopath, now can I?

  And I also don’t want to get Deluca in trouble. I have no doubt in my mind that what we did was illegal. There’s a reason he wanted me to leave the scene. Is it because I’m still connected to Jared’s murder? Because he shot a man?

  Shaking my head, I focus on the fuming law professor in front of me.

  “I’m sorry,” I answer honestly, placing my hand on his sculpted chest. The man could be hewn from solid stone.

  “Do you know how worried we were?” he continues, gesturing to indicate him and Phillip. My tattooed bad boy remains on the couch, a blank expression on his face. That alone causes my heartbeat to pick up speed.

  “I should’ve told you where I was,” I admit. And I should’ve. What I did was really, really shitty and selfish. If the situations were reversed, I probably would’ve flanked their asses with my shoe.

  Roman lifts an eyebrow, demanding me to continue.

  “I can’t tell you now, but I will. Soon. Promise.” I pray he can hear the sincerity in my voice, see the earnestness in my gaze. Right now, I don’t know what to tell them.