A Righteous Kill (18 page)

“What happened there?” he kept his voice soft, like maybe he bought it.

“The most spiritual experience of my life.”

One that involved dead prostitutes and a Jesus complex maybe?

“Which was?” Luca pressed.

“It was there that I saw the face of God, bro. I melded with the universe and understood my place within it.”

“Oh yeah, what did God look like?” Luca held his breath. Was this deity nailed to a cross? Did he offer him women to ‘save’?

“It’s something I can’t talk about. Something you don’t share, you know? It’s too personal, too
real
. Pearls before swine and all that.” Rivers put his clove out against his boot and palmed it.

Luca nodded. “I understand.” What a fucking poser. “So, what was your name before?” he asked casually.

“I do not speak of the dead, bro.” Rivers shook his head as though still mourning the tragic death of a friend. “That incarnation is gone, never again to be named.”

Oh, for the love of—

“Look at that, Hatha Yoga meditation starts in five minutes.” Hero seized Luca’s hand and pulled him toward the studio entry.

“Righteous, I’ll go grab my Jung-jungs.” Rivers headed for his hippie crossover.

“I’ll just bet you will,” Luca said under his breath after he memorized the old Subaru’s license plates.

***

“Does he use his handcuffs?” Stef whispered against Hero’s ear. “Do you guys play—I don’t know, what’s the FBI equivalent of dirty cop and
dirtier
criminal? Drug lord and captured agent? Terrorist and infidel?” He bent over the yoga studio’s bathroom counter and shook his booty at her. “Please, Agent Ramirez, please don’t take me to Guantanamo, I’ll do
anything
.”

Hero dried her hands beneath the air dryer then spanked Stef on his offered ass. “Stop it, you.”

“Mmmm, I’d let him
interrogate
me—”

Hero clapped her hand over his glossed lips. “Hush your mouth. He’s right outside the door!”

Stef slapped her hand away. “So what? He knows he’s
fine
.” Checking and reapplying his lip gloss in the mirror, he twinkled his eyes at Hero. “So tell me everything. How did you two actually get together? When did it happen? Where did it happen? And where did he put it? And
why
didn’t you tell me right away?”

Hero stalled a little. In theory she’d thought she was ready for this, the pretense of being
with
Luca. But she hadn’t counted on the fact that she wasn’t a very adept liar, and these incidentals really shot holes through her story. How would it have happened? When she’d visited the offices? The crime scenes? In the hospital? She’d been back from Mexico with Stef for less than a week. So to him this seemed rather sudden.

Luckily, Stef didn’t wait for her reply. “He looks like one of those that fucks
real
gritty.” He humped the edge of the sink for effect. “Like all, angry, violent, hold-on-to-your-knickers, I’m-gonna-take-my-issues-out-on-your-business kinda sex. Then again, you never can tell. Sometimes you’re expecting that and all the sudden some bad ass goes all tender and starts crying.” He rolled his eyes. “Gah. That’s the worst.”

“If you don’t shut up, I’m going to get you banned from the girl’s bathroom.” Hero was only half joking. She knew Luca stationed himself a circumspect distance from the bathroom door and hawkeyed Two Rivers and the rest of her students as they left for the night. However, this building wasn’t known for its sound insulation. Part of her chagrin stemmed from the fact that she actually wasn’t sure where Luca stood on the whole gay issue. She’d hate to cause trouble between her dear friend and her fake boyfriend. It wasn’t like she could dump him.

“Few have tried, many have failed.” Stef flashed her a brilliant smile.

“That doesn’t even make any sense.”

“So, are you bringing him to every class?” He linked his arm with hers. “Because I have more incentive to work hard if his fine ass is right in front of me. Talk about your af-
firm
-ative visualizations.” He pushed open the restroom door.

Luca stood across the hallway looking like a bouncer in basketball gear, his face completely expressionless.

Oh shit, he’d heard every word. Hero’s features fell.
Please don’t be an asshole. Please don’t be an asshole.

“Is that a gun in your shorts, or are you happy to see me?” Stef put extra wattage into the shameless smile he pointed at Luca and winked.

Hero tensed.

To her complete shock, Luca gave a sexy smirk while he reached deep into the waistband of his basketball shorts and produced the intimidating semi-automatic he’d earlier strapped to his thigh. “Sorry to disappoint.” He returned the wink.

Stef’s laughter was husky and delighted.

This unpredictable agent constantly surprised and intrigued her. Probably more than he should.

“Oh well.” Stef tossed his head in a gesture that imitated a woman with long hair. “A girl can dream.”

Luca lifted the leg of his shorts to re-holster the weapon.

“Oh dear lord, he has thighs like a vice.” Stef feigned a swoon.

“And, apparently, a top shelf, praise-worthy ass.” Though Luca didn’t exactly smile, his dimple appeared. “By the way, Guantanamo is more a military facility than anything to do with the FBI.”

“If you say so.” Stef looked dubious, but his eyes still twinkled up at Luca. “I’ve learned not to argue with a man packing
heat
.” He shot a look at Luca’s shorts, and not where he’d holstered the gun.

Hero laughed and enjoyed her entourage while she flipped off lights and the heater and locked up the studio. Stef lingered to give her a warm hug and a sloppy kiss. “We’re on for the gallery show next weekend?”

“Of course, and all the shopping that goes with it.”

“I’m not saying that I support you putting more clothes
on
, I’m just saying that I’m excited to see you all dolled up.” Stef threw his arms out to Luca in the universal sign for “give me a hug” and puckered his lips.

Apparently, that was where Luca drew the line. He opted for a strong handshake.

“Thanks for keeping my girl safe,” Stef beamed.

“Always,” Luca returned seriously.

He had his cell glued to his ear before Hero had her seatbelt on. “Bea, I need you to run a license plate for me.” He listed off a plate number and the description of Rivers’s car. “Start a file on the owner, a man who operates under the alias
Two Rivers
. He’s probably mid-thirties, five-ten, one-seventy, African-American male, possibly mixed race. Look for a history of violence, assault, or burglary. I’d like you to run nationwide warrants search and full background including credit history and weapons transactions.”

Silence.

“Yes, possible person of interest.”

Hero rolled her eyes, but it was with a smile. This wouldn’t have to do with their little pissing contest, would it? Hero had known Two Rivers for going on a year. He was another of Luca’s suspects she found preposterous.

Once the call was disconnected, both hands returned to the steering wheel and he stared wordlessly out the windshield.

Uncomfortable with the silence, Hero turned to him. “I don’t want to seem like I’m questioning your instincts,” she began diplomatically.

“Then don’t.”

“It’s only that, do you really think that
Rivers
is a prime candidate for John the Baptist? I mean, he hardly fits the profile.”

“He’s a killer,” Luca said without inflection. He remained motionless except for the deft movements that maneuvered his dark car through the darker night. Rain clouds threatened above and blocked out the sky, a common occurrence in the Northwest, but Luca kept his eyes trained on them as though he’d never seen such a thing before.

“How can you be sure?”

“Did you fuck him?” His lips barely moved, but the question ricocheted like a gunshot inside the car’s interior.

“What?”

“You heard me.” Still no movement. But the creases in the big hands around the steering wheel whitened.

She sighed, missing the easy-going Luca who’d bantered with Stef. “Rivers? No. He’s so deep in the friend zone he couldn’t afford the equipment to climb out.”

“Why?”

“Why does it matter?”

“It’s obvious he’s at least tried. So answer the question.”

Hero thought about it. “Two Rivers is a little
too
laid back for me, you know?”

Luca glanced at her then, but only to lift an eyebrow.

“Look, this shouldn’t matter, but I work really hard. I know not in a conventional eight-to-five kind of way, but my work as an artist and instructor is very important to me. Rivers is somewhat aimless, irresponsible, and most important, chronically
unemployed
. I hate to be judgmental, but that’s a gigantic turn off. Money isn’t everything me, but what I find very sexy in a man, is a passion for what he does, who he is. I’m not looking to find a man who hasn’t found himself.”

Her words seemed to please and trouble Luca simultaneously. “He certainly has a passion for you.”

Hero wrinkled her nose. “Doesn’t make him JTB. I mean, he’s a vegan. He probably
would
murder a hooker before he’d hurt a goat and stick his head in my fridge.” Luca’s dark frown caused her to wince, and she held up her hands in surrender. “Okay, yeah, bad joke. But what makes you so certain he’s a killer?”

The silence hung as low and heavy as the clouds for a moment. Luca could do that. Whatever storms raged inside him affected the climate surrounding him. As stoic as he could be, one didn’t need a meteorology degree to predict the forecast. And yet, when she expected thunder, his silken voice was nothing more than a low, ominous breeze.

“I never applied to work violent crimes, or homicide.”

Puzzled, Hero just shook her head.

“In my personnel file, it is noted that I have an ‘aptitude for profiling violent offenders.’ I was recruited against the recommendation of my field training agent and the psychologist who performed my competency evaluation. In my file it says a lot of things. Things like: Type-A personality, impulse control issues, violent tendencies, anti-social behavior, and liability. I think
liability
was underlined a few times.”

Hero hadn’t known that, but she couldn’t say she was surprised. “Then why—?”

Luca’s jaw hardened. “When Special Agent Trojanowski recruited me, I asked him the same question, and do you know what he said to me?”

He seemed to be waiting on her, so Hero shook her head again.

“He said, ‘
Simile videt Simile
. Like recognizes like.’ And ever since he’s assigned me the most dangerous, violent cases in the western United States.” They stopped at a red light and he turned to her, his expression intense. “So trust me when I say that I know that man is a killer, because we’re two monsters who instantly recognized each other.”

Hero stared at him. In that moment, she believed his every word. He looked like a monster. The vibrant red of the stoplight fragmented through the windshield and cast the left side of his face in crimson. He reminded her of one of Bouchardon’s satyrs. His dramatic brow illuminated from beneath by the color of blood sculpted his features with demonic shadows. Was it just her imagination or the strength of his words that conjured the image? Or was this a rare glimpse into his soul? If he were the Satyr, wouldn’t that make her the Nymph? Hero shrugged, if the cloven hoof fits—

“Are you a—that is, have you ever killed anyone?”

The demon became more grim, if possible, the shadows across his face were more prominent, but still the color of blood. “Ironically, I have the same body count as John the Baptist.”

“Six?”

He shook his head. “Five.” Reaching out, he ran a finger down her cheek and Hero remembered that she wasn’t technically a body. “All in the line of duty.
Righteous kills
, our secular government still calls them.”

“Is there such a thing?” Hero wondered aloud.

His short laugh was devoid of any mirth. “I sometimes wonder.”

“But you were protecting others, weren’t you?”

The Satyr had a dimple, this one appearing through a wry smile. “That’s what I tell myself.” He didn’t give that time to sink in. “Can I ask you something?”

Hero nodded. Her thoughts as laborious as chewing on salt water taffy.

“Do you want John the Baptist dead?”

Hero shrugged one shoulder. “I want him stopped. I don’t suppose that necessarily has to be the same thing,” she answered carefully.

Luca studied her face as intently as she had studied his.

“That’s where you and I are very different, Hero. I might be on the right side of this case, but it doesn’t make me one of the good guys. I want John the Baptist killed for what he did to you. To those other women. Beyond that, I want to be the one who drills the bullet through his eye.”

It seemed an inopportune moment for the light to turn green, but it did, breaking the demon spell. Luca shot through the light, returning to his previous posture of keeping both eyes on the road and both hands on the wheel.

Hero chewed on her lip and ran fingers over the raised scars on her palms. Tonight they felt extra tight, itchy, and hard. Like great, yawning fissures instead of small seams. “Do you think you will?” she asked quietly, watching street after tree-lined street whiz past in a vibrant blur of golden metropolitan lights. “Have the opportunity to kill John the Baptist, that is? Do you think you’ll be the one to do it?”

He made a dismissive movement with his chin. “Like I said, I’m good at finding monsters.”

Hero frowned. Not exactly an answer, which seemed to be the
status quo
with him. “Aren’t you afraid that if you spend your life looking for monsters, you’ll start finding them in everyone?”

Luca was silent a long time. “Not everyone,” he finally murmured before spearing her with a glance so naked and honest that tears pricked the backs of her eyes. “Not you.”

Unable to think of a single thing to say to that, Hero watched the white lines of the road blip past the hood of the car in rhythmic passages of distance. She let them hypnotize her into a sort of introspective trance where she could retreat from the intensity of the moment.