Quintic (60 page)

She sighed
and closed her eyes when she saw the
red
emergency entrance sign. Steve had arrived ahead, and a nurse was
expecting them. Two minutes after their arrival, the nurse ushered
her into an examination room where a doctor was waiting. How
ridiculous. Charles was the one who had stopped the punches. She
only sported a few bruises, mostly to her feet. Her sore shoulder
might be acting up again, but ice would take care of that ache once
she got to her hotel. She had a nasty-looking red welt where the
stun gun had hit and contusions from her fall to the
floor.

She tried to
escape the good doctor. “All in all, I’m in good shape.”
Physically. “No need to make a fuss.”

The annoying
doctor probed, cleaned and creamed her nevertheless before
t
he nurse brought her back to the waiting
room. Charles had also been patched up. She found it ironic that
Steve and the arresting officer released them into Christopher’s
custody. Again.

Christopher
drove back to the club so Charles could get his car back. Déjà vu.
After that
, they rode just the two of
them back to her place. She anticipated the impossible man was
going to drop her, alone, in front of the hotel and drive away. He
was beyond mad. He drove without glancing her way. He drove and
smoked while she felt miserable.

The tears
were
threatening to spill over, but she
didn’t want to cry in front of him. Her stupid idea! She was going
to take whatever consequences came her way as a man. Even if she
didn’t feel like a man anymore. Even with the stupid jacket and
ball cap. Why couldn’t he drive faster? The streets were empty at
this hour. She wouldn’t be able to hold back the tears much
longer.

He parked in
front of the hotel and sat there. Damn child safety lock, he had to
open her door from the outside, what was he waiting for?! She
waited.
Breathe
. And waited.
Don’t think
. Finally, he got out and rounded the car. As soon as he
opened her door, she jumped out and ran, through the front door,
the lobby, up the stairs, to her room. Her hands were shaking so
much she had trouble putting the card key in, had to hold it with
both hands. All she wanted was to get in and lock the door, lock
herself in.

The locks
didn’t make much difference, though. Christopher would bypass them
if he wanted to, but right now she was sure he didn’t wish to see
her. His anger had been oozing into the car. The way he drove,
smoothly but with his knuckles white as he gripped the wheel,
betrayed his thinning control. The more pissed he was, the less he
cursed, questioned, yelled. He had been utterly impassive since the
club. He had stopped smoking midway. That told he was way beyond
smoking.

I will not cry
. That thought was
all she had focused on during the ride.
I will not cry in front of
Christopher
. When, finally, she managed
to unlock her door, she lurched forward, the tears already rolling
down her cheeks. She ran straight to her bed and, jacket, cap and
shoes on, ducked under the covers. The night had been horrific. And
scary. So crazy. Although, as afraid as she had been, the night was
still a half-success. She had sent the bastard to the
floor!

“
Tha
t man that was admitted
earlier, the big bald guy with the scars, he’s not too badly hurt,
is he?” She had asked the nurse.

“
Slight
concussion, cuts from the bottle, bruising on his back.” Patricia
had almost smiled at the nurse listed the bastard’s injuries.
“Don’t worry, Miss, he sustained no serious damage. Fat’s a good
cushion in fights.”

Damn.
The shoes she was wearing were soft-soled
espadrilles, too damn soft.
Maudit!

“
I believe
he’s
already been released,” the nurse
had added.

The nurse’s
words had not surprised her. After all, the
salopard
was sleek,
and he did have the surest way of getting out of sticky situations,
didn’t he? All he had to do was flash the badge.

T
he Chief’s truck
pulled away, leaving Charles alone in the club’s parking lot. The
adrenaline that had spiked up during the fight had drained away. He
was beat. His first trip to the strip club with Patricia had been
more embarrassing than weird, but tonight? Tonight was the
strangest night of his life.

He liked
that woman; s
he was sweet, smart, and
very gorgeous.

“
Sexy as
fuck,” to quote that jerk, Ham.

She was
beautiful, but Charles found her beauty accessible. Granted, he
would never offer for a woman such as her. When she and the Chief
had shown up at the motel that afternoon, was it only weeks ago?
Charles was honest enough to admit his first thoughts had not been
polite.
Chief Officer
MacLaren has secured himself a younger doll, a girlie
girl
. She had looked a decade younger
than the man and had acted accordingly.

Darn if she
had not been two steps ahead of him that afternoon. And to this
day, she was still.

He was fond
of her. He liked the way she smiled at him and teased. His cousin
Lorena was the same. He had grown up with Lorena, the two of them
running wild, playing in the fields, riding their bikes.

Lorena
had been reckless and was
always calling to him, “Come on, Charlie, hurry up,” “You can do
this,” “Let’s try that,” “Go for it,” “Just follow me,
kiddo.”

Even
without
her exhorting him, Patricia was
as cocky as Lorena. He might describe her as rousing if he dared
use such a word in regard to a woman. Much smarter and prettier but
otherwise equally rousing.

Lorena had
got him into trouble also when they were kids. Lorena was married
now, still playful and funny but all grown up and sensible. The
world was a better place thanks to all the Lorenas. If Charles-type
fellows populated the earth, imagine how boring a place it would
be, Charles reflected derisively. And a MacLaren world would be
frightening, safe but unnerving nonetheless.

Charles
suspected Patricia had
saved his neck the last time. She denied it, insisting she never
interfered with MacLaren’s decisions, but Charles believed
otherwise. She may not have talked to the Chief, but MacLaren had
given him a second chance because of her. MacLaren had taken into
considerations how she liked the young, dull Charles. But now his
time was up; his recap of the night’s incident had not convinced
the Chief.

“
I
see
good things in you, Charles,” she had
said their first night at the club. “I’m sure you’re going to find
your place in Christopher’s team.”

N
ot after tonight, I
won’t
.

The hunt for
the fight guy had been a splendid idea,
her
idea. How to go about
it, the surveillance from club to club was her idea too. That the
evening had been a disaster didn’t mean it hadn’t been a grand
plan.

Charles
couldn’t begin to understand
what had
happened tonight. The night, their fourth, had started well enough.
They were both a little tired but remained motivated. The first
three stops had gone smoothly. She had seemed a little wired,
preoccupied, but he had figured she was exhausted.

“
Are the
late shifts getting to you?” He had asked at one point.

“
It’s
nothing serious, Charles. I’ll sleep late and make up for it this
weekend.”

N
ot a woman’s job she was doing.
Not really tough physically, more the tall and slender type she
was, but what she lacked in strength, she made up for in stamina
and stubbornness. He had seen her keep her grounds during that
first fight at the club, never once hiding behind a table or him.
Strange woman.

He
understood why
MacLaren had been mad at
him after; surely, the man knew how easily her ways ended up
putting her in peril. He had contravened MacLaren’s direct order
and let her put herself within harm’s reach again.

“
We won’t be
at risk,” she had said. “I’ll dress like a guy but a
non-threateningly small man.”

And
he, the chump, had fallen for that. In
retrospect, he wondered how such a man was supposed to
look.

“
Don’t look
so
apprehensive, Charles, I’ll be fine.
I’ll be with you.”

Flattery. He
had bought it all. That she still trusted him after the first
fiasco had flattered him.

Some might
say he
didn’t have much of a choice. He
needed to find the guy if he wanted to stay in. He couldn’t do it
with Hamilton as he didn’t feel comfortable with the guy, so that
left Patricia and her ideas. And he couldn’t confide in
Christopher, could he? He needed to bring the fighter in for the
Chief, not tell him his girlfriend’s ideas.

When they
were kids, never once had he ratted Lorena out. He should
have
, though. He had been told to, warned
about it. The Chief had made it crystal-clear, everything that
concerned her should be discussed, cleared and approved
beforehand.

Charles sat
in his car a long time. Thinking. Reflecting. So why hadn’t
he
snitched?

He wanted
o
n the team, wanted it bad. When he had
seen MacLaren at the motel, the way the man carried himself, the
way he took charge without once raising his voice, without showing
muscles, Charles had wanted to follow him. The old man Floyd was
competent, but he didn’t have
it
. The
it
that MacLaren
had.

The
way the Chief had taken care of Patricia had
also impressed Charles. His parents had been married since forever.
His mother was a strong woman, probably stronger than his father.
Even so, it was his father that shovelled the snow. And it was his
father that drove up to the mall entrance and got out of the car
and held the umbrella when it rained. His father was the one
walking the longest in the rain. For his mother. And Charles had
seen that in MacLaren as he hovered over Patricia without
smothering her.

So why
hadn’t he gone to the Chief?
Entering
their floor at the precinct had been the highlight of his days in
the force. He fantasised about working the cases with them. To be
offered a chance to work with them was a dream come true. Officer
Charles, detective.
Wow
. He had joined the force to
become a detective one day. To solve crimes. He did not wish merely
to stop any wrongdoings, but he hoped to crack the worst crimes of
all, murders. And to do it for a man like MacLaren was
awesome.

So why
hadn’t he? If he was that impressed by the Chief, why hadn’t he
reported the plan? Was a dream come true too good to be true? Alone
in his car, Charles had to face it. No, the fantasy was not too
good; he believed he could do the job.
Would
do it. Maybe not this
early but one day. This investigation came a little early but had
proved his dream was not impossible. So why hadn’t he?

Charles,
sitting alone in his car, only found one answer.
Patricia.

Was it love?
She was pretty for sure. More than pretty. And funny. Mischief in
her eyes.
As Lorena. Shy and sweet too.
Strong. Delicate. Unlike his mother or any of the women he knew.
Not even Lorena could have dragged him into a gentlemen’s club. Not
even Lorena would have gone to a strip club.

Patricia
impressed him; she was entirely different. Almost from a parallel
world. Charles didn’t care if she was cracked − not that he thought
her crazy, but even if it turned out she was, it wouldn’t make any
difference for him − she was his friend. And his compassionate
friend had lost it tonight. She had pushed him back voluntarily,
that much he was sure. But from what? And why?

The fight
was just bad luck. He had knocked into some jerk, the jerk had
retaliated, the other two had jumped in. An unpredictable and very
unlucky chain reaction. That she had hit the fat guy with the beer
bottle to protect him was one thing. The kicking was something
else; she had flipped out then. She had seen the guy fall to the
floor, seen he was out but cautious and gentle Patricia had rained
kicks on the fallen man nevertheless.

“
I bumped
into the big guy;
that’s what started the
fight,” he had told MacLaren. “Patricia tried to stop the fatso
from jumping me.”

Despite
all his explanations,
Charles had not convinced the Chief. His time was up, but alone in
his car, he was more concerned of Patricia than of losing his job.
It was his turn to save her neck but from what?

C
hris
scowled at Patricia’s back as she ran to the door. From the last
glimpse he caught of her face, he feared she was about to cry. He
was worried about her. Pissed. Scared.

“
Do you need
anything, Sir?” Philip, the hotel’s night doorman, enquired through
the passenger side window.