Reaping Havoc: Kiara Blake Book 1

by Kinsley Burke

  “You’re my hero.” I gave her a sideways hug until she pushed me off. “But aren’t you worried about getting arrested?”

  “They’d need proof it was me who took it. And trust me, there’s no proof. Now, back to Logan. Where are we on the investigation?”

  All right then. I’d often wondered if Hadley had secret Ninja skills. But best to not ask. Instead, “Like I said, I took your advice and started checking for his killer.”

  “How’s that going?”

  My head rolled in her direction. The incredulousness of her words weighing it down.

  “That bad, huh?”

  “Let’s just say, I won’t be trying to nab Detective Wilcox’s job out from under him anytime soon.”

  “Maybe you should. Face it, he still thinks Logan’s alive. That’s not good sleuthing skills.”

  “He doesn’t exactly get a see the dead cheat card. I do.” Although, there had been times I’d wondered if Wilcox somehow managed to sense lost souls. His facial expressions around Miss Prim indicated he knew something was up.

  “Suspect?” Hadley asked.

  “A co-worker named Doug Hylett.”

  “Motive?”

  “Nut-job sister who has a stalker fetish with Logan”

  “Define stalker.”

  “For a year she brought him a sandwich for lunch. A year, Hadley.” I leaned closer. My voice dropping to conspiracy levels. “And his apartment? She would break in to clean before he arrived home.”

  “Yeah, sounds like a winner. What does this have to do with Doug killing Logan?”

  “Doug told his sister Logan would take her as his date to a wedding next month, but then Logan signed up at Maude’s to find a date.”

  “A man committed murder so his sister could date? No, wait, still no date because one-half of the couple is dead.”

  “I was going for avenging the little sister angle. I guess there’s a bunch of holes in my theory?”

  “Spider webs. Quite a weak motive.”

  “You haven’t seen the sister,” I said. “There’s another co-worker named Eric Kane. He was arguing with someone on the phone about money this morning, and then he went into a bank. He was also the only person at the firm who didn’t believe me when I said I was there for internship applications. Suspicious, right?”

  “Not really, but it sounds more plausible than Doug killing a man to help out his sister’s love life.” She appeared lost in thought. “You’ve got a money mention thing going on with Eric. Lots of people kill for money. That’s a very strong motive.”

  “Oh!” Memories popped. “The detectives followed Eric at the mall.”

  “Okay, that’s something. When?”

  “Last week.”

  Hadley’s face fell.

  “What?” I asked.

  “It could be something, but since it’s been a week, it could be nothing. Do you know if the cops ever brought him in for questioning?”

  My head shook, and not only to answer, but to also knock back the dang tears trying to sneak their way into our conversation. My sob fest quota was already met for the day, but damn, I was feeling desperate. And hopeless. “I’ve got nothing else. You haven’t said anything about my contract with Hell. If you could get me out of it, like now, I wouldn’t have to worry about Logan.”

  She grabbed my hand. Stomach plunged. Not a good sign.

  “I’m sorry, Kiara. I thought I’d been given a good lead, but after more digging, I realized the guy I met with was nuts. You were right about him, a human negotiates with Satan and remains alive?” She laughed. It was bitter. “Not likely.”

  “So what does this mean?”

  “If you survive the next twenty-four hours, you’re still a Praedator. You’ll have to work assignments. I don’t think I can find any way out of this contract.”

  Part of me had expected this, but with hearing her words, I felt as though I were standing in a far off distance. One that forced the harshness of the situation from becoming an ugly reality. This wasn’t the end. Get sent to Hell for all eternity or spend the next twenty-nine years of my life working for Satan? No, thank you. My choice was option C: None of the above.

  “You’ll keep looking, right? You’ll continue trying to find me a way out?”

  Her squeeze on my hand tightened. “Of course.”

  “Good.” I sucked back more tears. “Hey, don’t you have a library to be in?”

  “Playing hooky. The books won’t miss me.”

  “Hooky? You?” Who was this woman sitting beside me? “Didn’t classes start last week?”

  “See? Plenty of time to catch up later. Right now, I’m here for you, Kiara. Tell me what to do.”

  Damn, and those tears were about to flow again.

  “Well, if you can’t bring me a ghost on a silver platter, can you do some research? Check into Doug, just in case. Also, see what’s out there on Joe’s Body Parts? It’s an auto body shop over on Second.”

  “On it. But Joe’s Body Parts? What exactly am I looking for?”

  “Anything. The manager who works there wears custom cufflinks and I found one matching it inside Logan’s apartment. And that prostitute who signed up at Maude’s, Gina Welch? She worked the corner out front.”

  “Now, that’s a lead. Where’s the cufflink?”

  “In the bush out front of Logan’s apartment building.”

  “Why is it in a bush?”

  “Because Wilcox and Ross were headed toward me and I’m pretty certain a hidden compartment inside the fastener recently held cocaine.”

  “Oh. Good call.” She pulled out her cell and started typing into it. “Hey, speaking of hooky, what about you? Why no texts? Did Maude’s fingers break?”

  “Crap, I forgot about her.” I pulled out my own cell phone. “Oops. Turned off. Wanna place bets on the number of missed text messages?”

  “I don’t think I can count that high.” Hadley stood. “I’m off to see what I can dig up for you. Now go find the ghost.”

  “Will do.” I breathed out in a new rush of determination.

  But at eleven o’clock that night, exhaustion drove me to my bed despite the protest of every anxious nerve in my body, and I still hadn’t found Logan. Numbers on my clock climbed. I stared. Wondering if, like Cinderella, when the clock struck midnight, I’d get a shackle instead of a shoe, a bed of coal instead of a pumpkin, and a fire-breathing demon instead of a prince.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  My eyes shot open. White textured ceiling greeted from above. The light of the midday sun streamed through my bedroom window, and Eyes squinted shut from the assault. Temperature wasn’t any hotter than what Thermostat dictated at eighty, so I knew I wasn’t in the pits of Hell. Yet.

  Hellhound sat by my bedroom door. His flames burned low while his stare remained unwavering from wide yellow eyes. Anxiety was strong and contagious as it radiated off his large frame.

  My own body must have shut down from exhaustion. The only explanation. Brain couldn’t remember a thing, and it wasn’t because of vodka. Or gin, or rum. Or even tequila. For once.

  Although at that moment, I would have gladly taken a shot from all of the above. Instead, I had been blissfully passed out during the midnight hour, and nothing had happened. Yet Hellhound’s soft whines informed me my dilemma was far from over. I had a date with Hell that night. Not cheating scumbag Mark. Hell. Acid churned inside my stomach at the thought of when. The unknown was torture.

  Cell phone chimed from the nightstand. High noon and only forty-two missed text messages. Disappointment in Maude prompted my head to shake. Losing her touch with the messaging thing. I should have missed more than a hundred texts by now. Natalie Bennett’s first big date was scheduled for that night, which had prompted unscheduled spa visits to be tacked onto Maude’s calendar during the past week. She had been pampered with cucumber water and massages while agonizing over the date that was certain to make her career.

  I typed off a quick response:

>   Reservations confirmed. Sick. Contagious. Won’t be in.

  Days off was in my contract as not to be taken, but Maude was borderline hypochondriac and the mere mention of the word contagious would send her running for anything probiotic.

  The ring from my phone startled me. Wow. Were demands of appearance still to be made despite illness? Was the Bennett date the one event to conquer Maude’s fears of malaria?

  But nope. Not Maude.

  “Hello?”

  “A leanbh.” Aunt Kate’s happy voice had made my jaw clench before tears started. Too many dang tears in the past twenty-four hours. Fortunately, Aunt Kate was oblivious as she said, “Can you do me a favor, young one?”

  “Sure?”

  “Phillip is taking me out for the afternoon, and Rick called about my car. Can you pick it up for me?”

  “Already?”

  “Already, what?”

  “They’ve already repaired your car?”

  “Yes, and Phillip’s, too. We’re in his right now. They finished it yesterday. You should see the work. They did an excellent job.” I heard the muttering of Phillip’s voice. “Phillip said they were washin’ and waxin’ my car when he spoke to Rick, and it should be ready by the time you arrive.”

  “Aunt Kate, where is Phillip taking you?”

  There was more muffled conversation before Aunt Kate’s voice cleared. “What did you say, dear?”

  “I asked where—”

  “Kiara? I’m sorry, but I’ll have to call you back. Tonight, I’ll call you back tonight, okay? Love you.”

  The connection went dead. I stared at the phone. Still refused to cry. I had hoped my water reservoir had dried out the night before, but had a sinking suspicion it remained full. I looked at Hellhound. He looked at me. He’d stumbled in at some point during the night, whenever Miss Prim had freed him from ghost-hunting duty. Unsuccessful ghost-hunting duty if the anxiety reflecting in tired yellow eyes was any indication. Which meant my tears were warranted, but I still refused to cry.

  “Well, we’re not in Hell yet, so let’s go.” I rolled off the bed and headed for the shower where I got stuck at the door. “Move it. I want my last few minutes of smelling like lavender bliss before I get the permanent stink of sulfur.”

  Hellhound whined. The beast was jealous of my lavender bliss. Nothing could mask his smell of burnt charcoal.

  When I entered Joe’s, I found Chuckling Guy where I’d last left him: sitting behind the counter while smirking at a computer screen. His eyes raised with his brows raised when I walked in, but a nod was my only greeting.

  “Is Rick around?”

  “Nah, he’s gone.”

  “Gone like Joe’s gone?”

  “No, Rick’s only out to lunch.”

  “I’m here to pick up my aunt’s car. Is it ready?”

  He shrugged. “Check the shop.”

  Helpful, that one. I’d reached the door leading out into the mechanics’ bays when a thought struck. “No word about Joe?”

  Chuckling Guy’s brow furrowed. “Listen, I just show up —”

  “Do your job and mind your business,” I finished for him. “I know. But did Joe go off on a vacation and simply hasn’t come back?”

  His gaze dropped back down. “Nah, nothing like that.”

  My head made mental lists of reasons to be missing as I stepped out into the garage. The area I’d entered into was ear-piercingly loud while a handful of guys worked on cars suspended high by hydraulic lifts.

  Aunt Kate’s car was parked in the last bay, ready to drive… shinier than the day it rolled off the car dealership lot. How much wax was used? Because mirrors were no longer a viewing reflection requirement, and I could tell from a few feet away, sleep had made the dark circles from under my eyes disappear. At least, I’d look respectable when the beasts came for me. And smelling like lavender. Cuz that’s how I rolled.

  None of the men acknowledged my existence as I crept through their domain. Unlike Chuckling Guy, these men were hard at work. I took my time making my way toward Aunt Kate’s Buick. I’d seen garages before, but this was my first real foray into one. Eyes curiously scanned my surroundings. The floors were made of poured concrete, and the tables crammed full of auto parts. Tall multi-drawer toolboxes were scattered throughout the bays. A tarped area bearing paint splatters occupied the far back corner. Shiny rims were lined up along a table to my right. Rims…

  My cell phone blared. Heat rushed my cheeks as I caught sight of the mechanics. My presence prominently announced. With relief, they turned back to their work without comment.

  “Hey,” Hadley greeted. “Thank goodness, you’re still here. I’ve got something.”

  “Doug?”

  “No, Eric. So that Joe’s Body Parts you asked me to look into?”

  “Yeah, that’s where I’m at now.”

  “What?”

  “Picking up Aunt Kate’s car.”

  “Well, Joe’s last name is Kane.”

  “As in Eric Kane?”

  “Cousins according to Facebook.”

  Wow. Did not foresee that connection.

  “Remember how I told you the Imp said the word rims?” I asked cradling the phone against my shoulder. I lifted a shiny rim from the table with both hands. My thoughts became sidetracked. “Hey, did you know car rims are light? They look so heavy.”

  “What? Light? I know nothing about rims. So you think the Imp was talking about car rims?”

  “Oh, right. Yeah, I do. So many clues point back to this shop, so it has to be.” I set the rim down and moved on to the next table. A stack of hubcaps begged for my hand to run across their smooth surface. “But what does—”

  “Hey! Get away from those.”

  I turned to see one of the men barreling down on me. Obviously, touching stuff was bad. Based on his fisted hands, it was very, very bad. I pointed to my cell, still pressed against my ear. “On the phone.”

  “What are you doing back here?” He demanded. “You need to leave.”

  I pointed to Aunt Kate’s car. “Here to pick that up.”

  “The keys are in it.”

  Subtle, he wasn’t.

  “Listen, I’m going to finish my phone call first, and then I’ll leave. Okay?” I stared him down, wishing I was at least four inches taller to make my pointed look more dramatic.

  “Just mind your business.” With one last regard to the hubcaps, he walked away.

  “What was that?” Hadley asked.

  “You heard it all?”

  “Think so. What did you do?”

  “Touched some hubcaps. That’s a strange reaction, right?”

  “He must really like them.”

  I caught the guy casting another peek over his shoulder as he walked. “No, I think it’s more than that. The guy inside keeps making the same kind of comments about ‘minding his business.’”

  “Do you think they’re hiding something?”

  I scanned the shop, my eyes settling back on the hubcaps. “Oh, yes, I do. Drugs. Can you hide drugs in rims?”

  “No idea. I haven’t driven since my parents’ car back in high school,” Hadley said. “The one time I got a flat, some guy passing by stopped and changed it. Why do you think drugs?”

  “The sketchy way they act and the white powder I found in the cufflink at Logan’s”

  “I guess that’d be suspicious. Could an item be hidden behind the hubcaps?”

  “I think I’m about to find out.” I zeroed in on a parked car located behind my aunt’s, one as shiny as the Buick. Doubtful anything was stashed inside my aunt’s tires. “Call you back.”

  As I walked to the Buick under the watchful eye of Confrontational Man, I smuggled a screwdriver out of a toolbox along the way. The front end of Aunt Kate’s car faced out of the garage, so I had to walk around the vehicle to reach the driver’s side door, putting the car between the man and me. I waited until his back turned and dropped down on all fours. It took only seconds to crawl past my a
unt’s car and to the front end of the vehicle parked behind.

  Television made everything seem so easy. Because of a TV show, I had the gist that hubcaps popped off. But as I gripped the screwdriver in sweaty palms, I discovered the popping didn’t snap off so easily. I stabbed and pried and grunted all at the decibel sound of a mouse. Success made a show, and the hubcap pried away from the tire. From the weight of it, I wasn’t surprised to find taped up bags when I flipped it over. Drugs. Called it. I was about to give Hadley a run for her money with that always being right thing.

  Footsteps alerted me my failure to depart the facility had been noted. I slid the hubcap under the vehicle until it was out of sight, and crawled around to the back end of the car and leaned against the bumper. Stacks of boxes and barrels shielded my view from the workers still located across the garage, in their bays. Body stiffened, my nerves tingled in concern over discovery.

  “Hey, anyone seen where the girl went?” Confrontational Man’s voice was loud, but fortunately not close. Sounds of grunts followed the question in man slang for no. Brisk footsteps retreated. The slam of an exterior door followed. Gone. A second passed, and no one approached. Hidden between metal and boxes, Mind screamed leave before he returns, but I held. Probably not the smartest of ideas, but one more just-beyond-my-reach thought nagged. Time ticked, leaving none to second guess. Priority numero uno was to seek answers. Hadley would know. I dialed her number, mindful of any approaching footsteps that, thankfully, were not approaching.

  “Drugs?” she asked.

  “Yes.”

  “Do you have to whisper?”

  “Yes, and I only have seconds to speak. Need to work this out—what do we know?” I asked.

  “They’re smuggling drugs. Gina Welch worked that corner. Someone who’s somehow related to the auto body shop was inside Logan’s apartment.”

  “Still need motive,” I said. “What motivates drug smugglers?”

  “Money.”

  “You like that angle, don’t you?”

  “Tried and true.”

  “There were the stolen design plans from Health-Tech Systems, and yesterday, Eric wired a large amount of money. He doesn’t look like the kind of guy to have a lot of cash, which makes me think he recently received something from somewhere. How much money could be made by selling those plans to a competitor?”