Out of Control

by Shannon McKenna

  Maybe he should have become a cop, like Connor. Problem was, he was bad at dealing with rules, bureaucracy, politics, power games. Connor had more patience for that crap than he did. Davy had never been much of a team player. A result of his weird upbringing.

  Monique was an attractive woman. He’d thought about getting involved with her, and there the matter rested. Thinking. Whereas with Margot, he couldn’t string two lucid thoughts together. He was running on mindless impulse. Like driving with his eyes shut, pedal to the floor.

  He peered through the door of the dojo. Sean’s raucous kickboxing class was in full swing. It sounded more like a street brawl or a wild party than a martial arts class. He kept going, and pushed open the door to the Women’s Wellness Center next door.

  The place jarred him with its femininity. Pastel colors, plants, the fruit ’n veggie juice bar, perfumes from the aromatherapy shelves wafting over from the New Age boutique.

  His tenant, Tilda, who ran the place, sashayed around the bar, a grin flashing in her dusky face. She gave him a smacking kiss. “I’m paid up on my rent, honey, so to what do I owe the honor of this visit?”

  Davy eyed Tilda’s moist fuchsia lipstick and wondered if she’d left a kiss mark on his jaw. “Just wondering if Margot was around.”

  Tilda’s liquid brown eyes widened in amused speculation. “Yes, actually. Just finishing up Ifs, Abs and Butts.”

  “No kidding?” He started to grin.

  “Great title, eh? Came up with it myself. After that she’s got the evening step class to do, and then she’s done. I think she’s already doing the cool-down. She’ll be out in a minute. Why don’t you have a seat at the bar and let me juice you the wheat grass, beet and lemon cocktail? It’s a bomb. Keep you going like the Energizer Bunny.”

  “No, thanks,” Davy said hastily. “I’m fine. I’ll just wait.”

  The music faded away moments later, and a stream of damp, exhausted looking women began to trickle out. Margot was the last of them, decked out in her purple outfit that fit her gorgeous body like a second skin. It clashed wildly with green and orange striped tights.

  She caught sight of him, and froze in place, eyes wide.

  His gut clenched to think that his attentions might be so unwelcome as to seem creepy. He tried a non-threatening smile, and tried not to stare at the sinuous way she walked towards him.

  “Hey, there,” she said. “What’s up?”

  “Uh…” His mind went embarrassingly blank for a second before he fished the salient item back to the surface. “I got preliminary results back from the lab. It’s animal blood.”

  Her eyebrows shot up. “Huh. Weird. I’m sorry for the animal, but thank God it wasn’t…well. You know.”

  “Yeah,” he said. “The cleaning service should have been by today, too. They told me they’d take care of it.”

  “Thanks,” she said again. “You shouldn’t have done it. I told you not to. But you were a sweetheart. That was really kind of you.”

  Davy’s eyes flicked to Tilda, who was listening avidly to every word. “I was wondering if you would have dinner with me,” he said. “I’ve got steaks marinating at home. Or we could call out for Chinese, or Indian, or anything you felt like. We need to talk about how to proceed.”

  Her brow lifted. “Oh? Are we proceeding? I didn’t know that.”

  Her cool tone grated on him. “The situation is unacceptable.”

  Margot’s mouth tightened. “You’re not the one who has to accept it. Look here, McCloud—I mean, Davy,” she corrected. “I appreciate your concern, but I got doused with blood this morning and fired from my restaurant job this afternoon. I’m really on edge, to put it mildly. So don’t even think about throwing your weight around with me.”

  Tilda leaned over the bar. “Don’t be an idiot,” she hissed. “He offers to help, and you give him attitude? Get a clue, girlfriend!”

  Margot did not drop her eyes from Davy’s face. “Til, you’re a fabulous woman, but this is complicated. So please butt out.”

  Davy took a deep, calming breath and called on all of his patience. “Would you step outside with me for a minute?”

  Her eyes flicked over to Tilda. “I have to teach the—”

  “The step class, I know. It’ll just take a second. Please, Margot.”

  She nodded. He followed her out of the gym to the breezeway outside. She bit her lip, clearly nervous. “I don’t have a lot of time.”

  “Let’s try this again,” he persisted grimly. “Let’s get back to the burning issue of steaks, Chinese, Indian, Thai. What’s your preference?”

  “But you fed me dinner last night,” she protested.

  “You shouldn’t make such a big deal of it,” he said. “Especially since it’s just a manipulative ploy. I’m softening you up for a favor.”

  Her eyes widened. Tension suddenly charged the air.

  “Don’t be so suspicious,” he hastened to say. “It’s an innocent, G-rated favor.”

  Her eyes rolled. “There’s nothing innocent or G-rated about anything you say or do, Davy McCloud.”

  “I need a date for my brother’s wedding tomorrow,” he announced.

  Her jaw dropped. She was speechless for several moments. She lifted her hands to cover the flush on her cheeks. Her lashes swept down to shield her eyes. “You want me? For something like that?”

  “I know weddings can be boring, but this one should be relatively entertaining,” he hurried on. “Sean alone is a one-man floor show. And Connor wants to have a really wild party. So, uh…”

  “A family event?” Her voice was soft with disbelief. “Me?”

  “It’s not that big of a deal,” he protested. “It’s a nice place. The Endicott Falls Resort. You’d just parade around with me, looking good. We’d mingle, create a buzz of gossip that’ll keep my brother’s new mother-in-law from trying to fix me up, which I loathe. You may have to dance with me a couple of times. If you like dancing, that is.”

  “I love dancing,” she whispered.

  “Great. Excellent news,” he said hastily. “So, will you go, then?”

  He realized, alarmed, that her eyes were bright with tears. “You’re doing this because you want to keep an eye on me, right?” she asked.

  “That’s just a side benefit,” he protested. “I really do need a date. Sean’s going to be no help at all. He’ll be at the bottom of a writhing heap of bridesmaids as soon as things get going. Please, Margot.” He pulled her hand to his face and pressed an impulsive kiss onto her palm. “Don’t make me face this alone.”

  “That’s so incredibly sweet.” Her voice sounded as if she was talking to herself. “Thank you, Davy.”

  The sad, faraway note to her voice made him uneasy. “So?” he prodded. “You’ll go? Is it a deal?”

  She shook her head. “I’m afraid not. I can’t—”

  “Why not?” he demanded.

  She squeezed her eyes shut. “God, you’re difficult. I can’t leave Mikey, for one thing.”

  “Bring him,” he suggested rashly.

  “To a wedding? At a posh resort?” She looked doubtful. “Get out.”

  “They must have rooms where you can keep pets.” He had no clue if such a room was available, but he was up to the kind of hard-core intimidation it might take to make one become available.

  Margot shook her head. Another thought occurred to him. “It’s a formal afternoon wedding in the rose garden. I’m one of the best men, so I’m stuck wearing a goddamn tux. If you need to buy a dress—”

  “Hold it right there, before you say something we’ll both regret,” Margot’s voice was sharp.

  He swallowed back the rest of it. “Sorry,” he muttered.

  “No. I’m the one who’s sorry. Thanks for asking me. I would love to go to a big party someplace beautiful where people are celebrating something happy. I really, really wish I could go, Davy, but I can’t.” She held her hand up and frowned as he opened his mouth. “Don’t ask me why. You don�
�t have the right to demand explanations from me.”

  He wrestled down a red fog of frustrated anger. “Will you at least have dinner with me tonight?” He bit each word out with steely calm.

  She threw up her hands. “Davy, please. Let it go. I still have my class to teach, and then I have to pick up Mikey.”

  “I already bought a dog dish and can of food for him. Mikey’s own brand. Mikey’s invited to this party. It’s a given. No-brainer.”

  Margot’s mouth dangled open for a moment, at a total loss. She gazed at him for a long moment and started to smile, helplessly.

  She reached up and rubbed at his cheek with her hand. “You underhanded, manipulative son-of-a-bitch. You know, it’s hard to take a guy seriously when he has a big fat lipstick mark on his face.”

  His face heated up. He scrubbed the spot with his own knuckles. “Better?” he demanded grimly. “Can you take me seriously now?”

  “Yes,” she said quietly. “And yes, steaks would be great.”

  As a favor to Margot, Faris had wanted to dispose of her dog and its remains before he made his move on her tonight. He’d gone so far as to consider letting her keep the dog, to soften the rough transition. Upon more reflection, he had decided that such a feeble compromise was no real favor to her. A radical break with everything familiar would be better, in the long run. He could not be soft.

  Softness had no place in the world she would soon inhabit.

  Once she’d been properly broken in, he would reward her with a new dog. A quality, purebred animal worthy of her beauty.

  He circled the block of the kennel where she boarded the dog and began spiraling out in wider circles. The right person to run this errand would present himself or herself soon. He drove past a sidewalk full of young slackers in black leather sprawled on the sidewalks, and turned the corner to circle around and take another look. He couldn’t be seen by the kennel personnel, but one of these disposable persons could.

  He knew her the second he saw her. A short girl with stringy, white blond curls, facial piercing, eyes shadowed with makeup. Still pretty, not yet strayed so far from her affluent suburban upbringing as to be useless. He slowed the car and stared at her until she looked up and took notice. She scowled and gave him the finger.

  She had the same faint death’s-head mask superimposed upon her pale face that he had seen on Joe Pantani. She was the one.

  He rolled the window down, and regarded her with his most unthreatening smile. He was lucky in his pleasantly handsome, mild face. He hid his powerful, muscular body under loose clothes so as not to draw attention to himself. Marcus had told him once that from the neck up, he looked like an accountant. He often wore wire-rimmed glasses to underscore the effect, even though his vision was perfect.

  “Excuse me, miss?” he called out.

  She got up and swaggered towards him. “Whaddaya want?”

  “I have a job for you, if you want it.”

  She shrank back with an expression of loathing. “I don’t do that shit for money, man. Stay away from me. Pig.”

  “Oh no. I don’t want sex,” he assured her. “I just want you to run a harmless errand for me. It’s not dangerous, not difficult, not illegal. It’ll take you five minutes at the most.”

  Her face was twisted with a fierce scowl. “Why should I?”

  Faris wondered idly if that row of piercings in her eyebrow was painful when she frowned like that. He fished around in his pocket until he found the baggie full of Ecstasy that Marcus had supplied him with.

  He held it up. The girl’s eyes dilated. “I’m not sure what your personal preferences are, but these are—”

  “These are great.” She held out her hand. “Give ’em over. I’ll do it.”

  He pulled the bag back. “Not yet. I need you sharp for this. After.”

  She stuck her hands in the pockets of her short leather jacket and jerked her chin impatiently. “So? What do I do, then?”

  “I need you to go to the kennel on the corner of Hardwick and Sorenson Avenue. You will collect a dog for me there. It’s a small black mongrel, part poodle. His name is Mikey. You must say that you are Margot Vetter’s niece. Repeat the name to me.”

  “I’m Margot Vetter’s niece,” the girl repeated obediently.

  “You’re picking up her dog early because you’re throwing a surprise birthday party for her,” Faris instructed. “Insist on it. Be persuasive and charming.”

  Anxiety flashed behind the death’s-head superimposed upon the girl’s face. “What are you gonna do to the dog? Are you gonna hurt it?”

  “Don’t worry about that,” Faris said. “That doesn’t concern you. Just think about”—he rattled the contents of the baggie—“these.”

  He gave her a ride to a point a few blocks from the kennel, repeated the instructions, and drove to their established meeting place, a graveled parking lot behind a new construction site.

  Twenty minutes later, the girl appeared from behind the chain link fence. She didn’t have the dog. Faris felt his stomach drop. Bad sign. He got out of the car, and asked the question with his eyes.

  The girl looked defensive. “They said the lady told ’em under no circumstances could they let anybody but her pick up her stupid old dog. I swear, I tried. I made a big stink. Told ’em they’d totally ruin the party and everything. But it was no use. Shit, man. Fuckin’ Nazis.”

  “It’s all right.” Faris was surprised that Margaret had second guessed him like this. He should have known.

  “So, uh…” Her eyes were still hopeful. “It wasn’t my fault. I did everything you said.”

  “I don’t blame you,” he said gently. He pulled the baggie out and presented it to her. “Go on, take it.” He could afford it, after all. Marcus had an endless source of pharmaceutical supplies available to him.

  She snatched them from his hand, fished one out and stuck it in her mouth. The desperation of a hollowed-out soul. So young, but inside, she was dead already. His blow would be the touch of mercy, to stop her before she degraded herself further. So sad. For a moment, he actually loved her. He was her salvation now. Her only hope.

  The girl flung her head back and stared up into the pale, late afternoon sky, her eyes wide and glowing bright with anticipation. “This is gonna be awesome,” she crooned. “Oh, man. I love you.”

  “I love you, too,” Faris murmured, meaning it with all his heart.

  He struck with his fingertip to three points on her spine, whiplike gestures so fast she just gasped and yelped. No need for the needles. Each situation called for its own technique. Each time, his aim was more sure. Death itself guided his hand. It knew its own business.

  The blond girl crumpled to her knees. Whump, she fell to her bottom. She flopped onto her side, a black leather comma on the ground, her hair a pale flame against the dark dirt and gravel, eyes frozen wide. The baggie fell to the ground, pills scattered on the dirt.

  Faris looked around to ensure their privacy and crouched next to her. He kept a patient, respectful vigil until the convulsions began.

  Then he got up and checked his own footprints. Fortunately, the dirt was dry and hard beneath the shifting gravel. He inclined his head in a short bow to the twitching, gasping creature on the ground.

  He got into his car and drove away.

  Chapter

  9

  She was insane. Letting herself get steamrolled into a dinner date when she should have been fifty miles down the road to nowhere by now.

  Margot sipped her wine as she wandered around Davy’s house. His lethal combination of charm and subtle coercion got her every time. Even tonight, when she could least afford it.

  Still, she was pathetically glad to get to see him one last time.

  Mikey ran into the living room, tail flapping, to show off the bone that Davy had given him. Mikey was in a party mood. He made sure she noticed his good fortune, and trotted back to where the real action was.

  Amazing smells wafted out of the kitchen. She mig
ht have known Davy McCloud would be a good cook. A fine cabernet breathed in a decanter on the table. Mushrooms and garlic in butter sizzled in the pan on the stove. The charcoal grill was fired up out on his porch, right below which the waters of Lake Washington were ruffled by a fragrant breeze. Margot took another sip and reminded herself not to relax. Letting down one’s guard was what happened right before getting slammed. Then again, she got slammed whether she let down her guard or not. But stupid or not, she felt safe here.

  Davy McCloud’s beautiful home was spacious and comfortable. Lakeside property, in Madrona. Wow. The detective business must have treated him really well. She peeked into a big office lined with books, two computers, a laptop and a large array of unfamiliar electronic devices. A big sunken living room boasted soft, textured silver gray couches and armchairs, a pale Berber rug, a heavy, scarred wooden coffee table, a picture window overlooking Lake Washington. It made her nostalgic for her house on Parson’s Lake back in San Cataldo. God, how she’d loved that place. Mold, mosquitos and all.

  He had a kick-ass audio and video system. The art on the walls consisted mostly of pen and ink drawings, black and white landscape photos, and a couple of delicate, understated paintings, the kind with just a few telling brushstrokes. Comfy, classy, super-masculine, but the place could use a few splashes of color. A fireplace had photos on the mantel over it. She moved closer to study them.

  The first was a black and white portrait of a family. A grim-faced, long-haired man with a broad, hard jaw like Davy’s hovered protectively behind a light-haired woman who looked much younger than he. Four boys clustered around them. She recognized the nine or ten-year-old Davy instantly, even stringy and thin, with a mop of long hair hanging over his face. His somber, piercing gaze hadn’t changed at all. The other boy, next size down, was laughing up into his mother’s face, and the other two looked like twins, clowning and mugging for the camera. One of them had to be Sean, but she couldn’t tell which one.