Hyde, an Urban Fantasy (43 page)

“Mitchell, what’s wrong?”

Why bother to hide his frustration? Who knows, maybe it would stave Hyde off for a little longer. “Go get the fucking phone, Jolie.”

She could be a good listener.

He’d reconsidered before Jolie brought him the phone. He shouldn’t have a hand free if Hyde was this unpredictable, this close to the surface. And Jolie wouldn’t be able to strap him in once he appeared. Mitch wouldn’t even want her to open the door of the cage.

“Stop. I need you to dial Carter’s number for me, put it on speaker and set it over here.” He pointed his chin to the side of the mattress. About two feet away from the bars. “Then I need you to leave. Go have a drink downstairs, whatever. After I speak to him, I’ll call you back in. If I’m still me, can you slide your arm in between the bars and take the phone back?” He looked at her thin arms, judging their diameter. “I’d hate to lose the phone if Hyde decides to eat it or something.”

She nodded and slipped her hand through as though she’d done it many times before, rotating her elbow when it touched the metal. It just made it through. She wiggled her fingers at him. “Ta-da.”

“Nice work,” he said.

“Thank you. I do come in handy sometimes.”

“Yes, you do.”
If only you weren’t such a pain in the ass so many other times.
“I’m assuming you know Carter’s number.”

“He told you.” Not a question, a statement of mild regret.

“He mentioned you in passing. Call him. Use the speaker.”

The number was buried in the call log, but she dialed it from memory without hesitation. They must be closer than Mitch had thought. She slipped the phone through the bars and stepped back, the sound of her footsteps in the hallway disappearing seconds later. Or maybe they were just covered up by the sound of the phone.

He wasn’t taking any chances. “Out, Jolie. All the way. When you hear me screaming your name, you may return.”

She huffed, heels clicking rapidly in the hallway.

I swear I’ll kill her if she’s just outside the door.
He tugged against the straps around his wrists.
Frustrating as fuck.
He couldn’t check where she was and he wouldn’t be able to kick her ass until she freed him.
Charming.

He let it go when Carter picked up at the other end of the line.

“Is she okay?” The beginnings of panic were apparent in his voice.

“I’m on your caller ID? How sweet.” Mitch kept his voice as low as he could, not taking any chances of Jolie knowing anything until absolutely necessary.

Carter sighed. “What do you want?”

“First off, I want you to stop yelling. In addition to giving me a headache, you’re on speaker. Secondly, I’m having a bad day. Need you to check on her.”

“Where is she?”

“I hope she’s going home to call you. But since our girl”—he paused at his slip—“since Eden is as stubborn as a donkey, I’m concerned she won’t make that call.”

“So
you
are.”

“Indeed. Go over there tonight and make sure she stays home.”

The delay in Carter’s response was either due to his brain doing the math or trying to come up with an excuse to get out of it. Mitch hoped it wasn’t the latter.

“The fourth night was last night. Is it every night now?”

“No. But nothing happened last night and both of our cycles seem to be in flux.”

“
Both
of your cycles?”

Shit.
“I misspoke.
Her
cycle.
Her
cycle is off.” He filled Carter in on the previous night, trying to be as vague as possible, just in case Jolie was as nosey as he knew she was.

“Mitchell, I have some news about that girl’s murder. The one in the alley.”

Why did he need to qualify his first statement? Because they’d all been wrapped up in so many
other
murders lately? Mitch’s heart contracted at the thought of the death that had left him half-dead himself. Murder number one, Shelly’s. Yeah, that was a biggie. How could he have forgotten that one? But he moved on.
Just keep swimming, asshole.

“Talk,” Mitch said.

“There’s this guy . . .”

“Does he walk into a bar? I think I’ve heard it.” His temper was tissue-paper thin and Carter wasn’t helping.

“When I went into the station, someone had just turned in some cell phone footage of the club from that night. The receiving officer didn’t think it was important and gave it to me to look at. It showed a dealer walking out into the alley where the dead girl was found. So I went and talked to him.”

Not interested that the kid had fallen off the wagon, Mitch said, “Good for you for finding a new supplier. Is there a point coming soon?”

“The guy said something about the night that girl was killed. He was there. But he’s not going to the cops because, well, because he’s a dealer.”

“What’d he see?”

“He was finishing up a meeting with a customer in the alley.” Carter’s words came out achingly slow. “And he says he . . . um . . . he saw a hot woman with long brown hair talking to the girl who got killed. Like, a half hour before someone found the body. I don’t need to tell you which girl has long brown hair, do I?”

Mitch’s mind filled with the memory of wrapping that hair around his fist, twirling it around his fingers, brushing it out of her flushed face while he was inside of her. He swallowed. “No.”

“I want to see if the dealer can recognize her from a picture. Then I need to talk to Eden.”

Mitch kept his voice calm. “No, I don’t think you do.” The news would crush her. Eden had been so lost until she’d convinced herself Chastity hadn’t done it. This would . . . destroy her, maybe make her do something stupid like turn herself in. “She doesn’t need to know, Carter. We can make sure it doesn’t happen again—you and I will make sure. Don’t tell her.” His biceps strained against the binds. Helplessness was not something he dealt with well.

“She’s hurt enough people, Mitchell. This has to stop. Think about Eden.”

Who the hell else would I be thinking of?
“Don’t.” One word, one unspoken threat.

“I need to do something for Eden. Something to redeem myself.” Carter sounded like he was about to cry.

“Then keep her safe tonight. Do that.”

“Why isn’t she at your house, using the cage?”

“I sent it out for polishing.” He really needed to kick the sarcasm habit if he expected to get any help from anyone.
Needing help sucks
. There was one way to bring out Carter’s protective side. “She thinks I’m only using her for sex.”

Carter coughed. “What the hell? You guys are— Never mind, I don’t want to know.” He took a minute, probably to push images of a naked and sweating Eden under a naked and sweating Mitch out of his mind. Kind of like Mitch was trying to do himself. “Okay, I’ll go over there tonight like you asked even though she probably is still furious with me. She may not let me inside, but I’ll try. But if this is you deciding to bail on her permanently, I’m gonna kick your ass.”

“No plans to bail on anyone, Carter, but feel free to try and kick my ass anyway.” He looked down to his body, spread-eagle and bound. “If I’m available.”

“I’m going to tell her everything, Mitchell. Everything I know. I can’t keep doing this.”

“No!” Mitch heard the click of Carter hanging up on him. What the fuck now? Damn it. At least Carter would take care of her tonight. He would be the hero. What would Eden do when he told her about the dead girl? Nothing Mitch could stop her from doing now.

And Hyde would either show up or not. He seemed to be dormant again—no testosterone-spike running through Mitch’s veins, no new pain, no muscle spasms. But he couldn’t let his guard down. Couldn’t walk too far away from the cage. Shouldn’t really even be without the cuffs. Only one way that was going to happen
. Better to be severely sedated than to be bound.
He should make that into a fucking bumper sticker.

With a quick glance to the side table to make sure the syringe was still there, Mitch yelled for Jolie. A second later she entered the room.
Shit
. He hadn’t heard any heels hitting the stairs—they’d started clicking from the hallway. Not a hell of a lot he could do about it now.

“Jolie, I want you to empty about half of what’s in that syringe and give it to me.”

She didn’t say anything, just did what she was told, her back to him. “What’s the goal here, Mitchell? Get just high enough so you can rush off to help your girlfriend?”

“Number one, she’s not my girlfriend. Number two, I want out of these chains. Not the cage, only the chains.”

Jolie smiled slightly, though he didn’t know which point she found amusing. She unlocked the door and stuck him, all the while wearing that fucking smile. The sting of the needle in his arm was a surprise, something he wasn’t used to. He hated the idea of using drugs almost as much as Eden did. Jolie pushed the plunger and then uncuffed him, stepping back to watch him sit up and rub the injection site.

“Thanks for the help,” he said.

“I’m very useful to have around.”

“Yeah, I’ve noticed.”

“Took you long enough to remember.”

His eyes shot to hers. There was something in the way she said that—something different, something hidden, something wrong.

“Remember what?” he asked.

“Remember us. Together.”

Together? Them? Yeah, not what he meant at all. The drug hit him hard, sending a wave of heat down to his toes, up to his head. He wiped his face and put a hand out behind him for balance. Maybe a half dose was still too much. Hopefully what was too much for the man would be just right for the beast.

As she left the cage, she said, “I heard a bit of your conversation with Carter.”

He was losing focus. “Just a bit? Gee, I would have thought your hearing was better than that.” Her face was blurring slightly, but he saw her nod.

“Do you think she killed that girl? The one in the alley?”

“Seems so.” He laid back onto the pillow feeling nauseas.
Just say ‘fuck no’ to drugs. Great, another bumper sticker.

“Where is Carter going, Mitch? To talk to Eden or to the witness?”

There was a strong possibility he was going to throw up.
How could anyone enjoy this feeling? Do it willingly?
“Too much fucking narcotic.”

Pure drug-induced fire radiated out of his belly as if it was the terminus and the morphine was being thrown out by centrifugal force into each cell of his body. The last thing he saw before passing out were stars.

Even though he wouldn’t be able to see her, Jolie put a smile on her face as she called him. “Carter?”

“What do you want, Jolie?” he grumbled.

“Wow. What’d
I
do? I just wanted to talk to you.”

Tight sigh. “What about?”

This was going to be a tough-sell, but she was confident she could do it. “I think I found a way to get you out of this and still keep your real medical file ‘lost’.”

Silence.

“Did you hear me? You can still be a police officer. It was tough, but they agreed. A ‘for services rendered’ type of deal. And you won’t have to do anything about Eden anymore.”

“They’ll take her to the clinic?”

She heard the relief in his voice and gave herself a pat on the back. “Yeah.”
Just as soon as Mitchell knocks her up.
“So they win, and you win.”

“What about you?”

“You’re worried about me? That’s sweet.” Her smile grew . . .

“I know what you did to that girl, Jolie. I know you killed her.”

. . . and then died.
Damn it.
Was it worth a strong denial? No, she was too tired of dealing with him. “Oh. Then you’ll make a wonderful policeman.” How the hell did he find out anyway? How the hell could she talk her way out of this? “What you don’t know is that the girl was dangerous. I tried to help her. I did. But she attacked me,” Jolie lied. “She didn’t have anyone who cared enough about her to take care of her like Eden does.”