Quintic (67 page)

“
Come on, cunt. Unless you want me
to force your sleeping boyfriend to look.” Sicko creep laughed with
evident glee at the idea. “Come here right now or I’ll kill him
after I make him watch.”

In that instant, she believed him. What
choice did she have then? She uncurled her stiff limbs, stood and
walked around the desk. Slowly, her feet barely moving, she inched
toward the ugly cop, her footsteps faltering a couple of steps
short. For now, out of reach.

She heard him draw out a sharp breath,
his nostrils flaring, as she froze in front of him in her pants and
bra, hair shielding her face. Sicko shoved the barrel of the gun in
his pants. How can there still be room? Her eyes widened, more in
surprise than fear, as the thought bubbled up.

The nozzle now tucked in his pants, he
scooted on his seat toward her and extended greedy hands. “Stay
still, bitch,” he instructed her as he grabbed the elastic band of
her black commando pants with both hands. He grunted as he pulled
her pants down with a jerk.

Disgusted, she swatted his hands
away. Reflex. Before she had time to blink, he fished his weapon
out, and he hit her. A sharp blow to the stomach with the butt of
the gun. Even if the punch had no swing in it, thankfully, she
dropped to one knee nonetheless before she could brace
herself
. I am not kneeling in front of you,
maudit salaud
.

The fat ugly creepy cop sat in the
chair as if it was a damn throne. Think, she cursed herself, think
fast.

“
Enough games, puss,” he
snarled.

Yanking her by her hair, he drew her
closer. The tip of the gun jabbed her thighs. It poked her belly.
Stabbed her right breast. He lifted the weapon level in her face.
Against her lips.

“
Suck, bitch. Take a mouthful and
suck it good. Do it right, and I’ll let you suck me. And then,
we’ll both fuck you.”

She closed her eyes.

Excerpt
from
The J-man
, by Trica C. Line

A
fter their too-quick
bout of lovemaking and the even-shorter conversation afterwards,
after listening to her sleep for an hour, after setting up the team
for the coming days and nights, Chris had finally fallen asleep,
exhausted.

H
e didn’t plan on getting a lot
of sleep during the following week; he’d be too busy tracking the
creep and, hopefully, tying him to Lemieux’s murder, although the
shit the sicko had done to Patricia didn’t mean he had anything to
do with Lemieux’s death. Not that it mattered. Chris intended to
make him the asshole pay either way.

She had
sn
eaked out of bed without waking him,
but he woke with a start when she turned on the shower. Half an
hour later, when she strolled out of the bathroom fully dressed,
hair in a full out mode, he took the cue: no morning sex.
Tonight is going to be
hell.

Although
s
he was skilled at hiding her feelings,
she seemed in good form this morning. She looked so damn beautiful,
he wanted to drag her back under the covers and keep her there all
day. Instead, he jumped in the shower before cooking breakfast with
only a small towel wrapped around his waist. Since she didn’t pull
the towel off, peeked (not that she needed too, his state was
pretty obvious), nor comment, again he took the hint. No
sex.
Not all quite in tip-top
shape then, Angel of mine
.

They rode to
the office together.

“
You know
what I’m going to ask you, don’t you, Princess?”

“A damn report.”

“
Smart
woman.” He suspected that statement was going to be even harder on
her than Lemieux’s. “I’m sorry, Angel, but I need it to build my
case.”

“I know.”

“
You can
leave out Joshua’s name for now but not Lemieux’s.”

“
If you say
so
.”

“
That
story, you write at the office.”
Where I can keep an eye on
you
. “This morning.” He needed her near
enough to watch over her. Keep her safe.

“Whatever.”

“
Hell, you
can even use my laptop, my desk, my office,” he offered even though
he knew she felt better with her back to him, so he wouldn’t see
her face, see her eyes turning green if she was about to
cry.
I will know nonetheless,
Angel, in the way you hold your head and square your
shoulders
.

“I have a damn desk and a damn
computer, thank you very much.”

“
My
Pussycat’s all claws this morning.”

“Fuck you.”

“
Glad to see
you’re feeling better.” Strong enough to write the fucking thing
without falling apart.

She spent
the rest of the
drive with her eyes glued
to the side window.

He
studied her as she settled at her desk; the
sight made him sigh. Today was going to be one hell of a long day.
The team stayed away from her, making do with a simple hello. Not
that he had asked them to keep out of her way, they simply did. The
quiet hush fell over the department.

Fredrick
showed up around nine. He started
to give
Chris his work progress, but within the third sentence, when he
noticed Patricia at her desk, he stopped mid-word and vanished from
Chris’s office before Chris had time to stop him. The kid almost
ran to her, but Bridget cut him short ten steps before he reached
Patricia’s corner. Bridget must have told him off harshly because
Fred froze, pivoted on one foot and left. He never completed his
weekly report.
This place is
a fucking zoo
.

Chris
briefly recalled how things were before he had allowed her to come
and do her damn filing. Were they more effective? No. More
efficient? Probably. Happier? Hell, no, no way. At least, he
wasn’t, and could name a few on his team that would readily agree
with him. Life then for sure was simpler, but somewhat predictable
and boring, lonely as hell too. He would never admit to that in
front of her, though; he wouldn’t have any authority left, he
barely had control over her on the cases as it was.

He had a
brief meeting with the
team, gave them a
general overview without going into details. Details he privately
presented after, first to Ham, in charge of the case, and some to
Reid, thus enrolling feminine support for Patricia.

Before his
suspension, Charles had given him the list of the clubs
he had visited with Patricia. Last night (late
last night), Chris had organised the investigation with Ham over
the phone. They had divided Charles’s list between pairs. Frankke
and Des, Shapiro and Ham, Le and Reid. Chris would tag with one
pair or another. Or he might go alone; he was willing to cover each
fucking club if he had to. He even thought of calling back the
quartet’s leftovers, cursed himself and did not. Patricia, he had
not invited to the meeting; he had not assigned her any club on the
list either.

“
You do half
a day. Keep up on your current cases
,
then take the afternoon to rest,” he told his team. “We start
tonight. Shapiro? I want you with Ham on this. You guys start with
last night’s club. I’ve cleared it with Steve; you guys can meet
him there. I want interviews with dancers, staff, johns, anyone who
so much as walked past that place last night, got it?”

“Roger that, boss.”

He
had considered assigning some of the strip
joints to Lonzo and MacCarmick, his old-time buddies turned
security muscles for-hire. The duo was open to any and all odd
security jobs. Chris hired them on a regular basis; they already
knew the team, and they patronised strip clubs on occasions. For
now, though, he wanted a legit investigation. Hence, he had
enrolled them for something else.

His late
call to them had been brief. “I need you on her.”

“Again?”

“
Again.”
Yes, fucking
again!
“If Patricia gets another idea on
Lemieux’s case, I want to be the first to know.”

“
Won’t she
tell you?” Lonz, the jerk, asked, knowing full well that when the
damn woman had a crazy idea, she never told anyone
anything.

“
That’s why
I’m paying you to shadow her.”

“
Again,”
Lonzo wheezed out with a laugh. “Man, I love that woman of
yours.”

“
Fuck off,
Lonz.”

His old
friends might have been more discreet in the clubs than some of his
men; they were accustomed to the clientele and working ladies
alike, but since no one on the team could tail Patricia without her
spotting them, it was the best arrangement.

T
he possibility she discovered
the two was ever present. The damn woman had a radar when it came
to tails; she had detected them repeatedly in the past. Hopefully,
Mac and Lonz had learned some of her tricks by now and wouldn’t get
caught. If she did make them again, he was in for a fight of
gigantic proportion but keeping her safe was worth any
argument.

Patricia
worked at her desk all
morning, taking toilet breaks every hour or so; those pauses were
not a good sign. Vitto brought her a coffee at ten-thirty.
Did you call for it, Dollface, or
did Vitto learn you were working from one of my guys?
The old barista’s visit seemed to cheer her up
some, so Chris let her be. He wished the Italian guy had brought
him a coffee too, though.
Maybe I’m the bad guy again
.

Vitto
’s ways of looking at things
were simple. If a woman was sad, angry, tired or experienced any
sort of negative emotion, her man was at fault. Which was fucking
OK with Chris for he liked that everyone believed he was Patricia’s
man. He considered her
his
woman. Simple.
Another thought I’m not going to
share with you, Darling of mine. Not yet
.
He smiled. He hadn’t tasted her earlier that morning, but he might
this afternoon.
Someone needs
to take your mind off the creep, Princess, and that someone’s going
to be me.
He was good at distracting her,
liked it a lot. Loved it even more when she liked it.

C
hristopher left right after supper.

“
Police
work,” he said by way of explanation.

He did not
share anything else about his plan; she did not ask. She didn’t
have to. No doubt, ‘police work’ meant a strip club
tour.

Even if
she
had not completed her damn report on
her encounters with the creep, the Big guy had given her the
afternoon off. “You look tired, Princess.”

He was
right. She was indeed exhausted, but so was he. She didn’t like
seeing him so tensed. She had thought of the creep all morning, and
now she yearned gentleness. She and Christopher could be gentle, so
very tender to each other. She might start her afternoon off by
offering him a back rub, she had thought then.

H
e had indeed been soft and
thoughtful later that day, yet hard in a very, oh so very gentle
way. And funny. And loving. He had not mentioned Lemieux, Joshua or
the creep once, keeping the conversation on nonsense. She was
usually the one to do the chitchat, not that she was a chatterbox,
but she did enjoy teasing him, make him laugh or
react
. He
had done all that. Perfect. He had his moments, and they were
spectacular.

Earlier that
afternoon, he had asked, an innocent look on his face,
“What would you like to do now?”

They
were sitting on a small terrace, enjoying their
coffees after an overly copious lunch. The air was unseasonably
warm, and a soft wind swirled around them, blowing her hair gently
away from her face. Her right leg was propped on Christopher’s
thigh, and his thumb drew lazy circles on her bare
ankle.

Did he
really think she didn’t know what he was up to?
“I don’t know, Big guy. What do you want to do?” She
enquired back, ignoring his thumb wrecking havoc on her composure.
Just a thumb, on an ankle at that. Most infuriating.

He shrugged
macho-like.
“I don’t care. Although,” he
paused briefly, “I should probably take a nap since I’m working
tonight.” He managed to keep his noncommittal demeanour.

Like that,
was he? She too could play. “OK. Let’s head to your place then.
I’ll watch television while you lie down.”

“
Sure.” He
smiled sweetly at her.

Did the man
truly wish to sleep?

Less than an
hour later, h
e slid into the bed in his
underwear. His damn briefs! Was he protecting her? She let his
expectations simmer for a quarter of an hour. Fifteen minutes of
silly television shows before she sneaked into the bedroom silently
in case he had indeed dozed off.

After
her first showdown with the creep, she had
stopped giving blowjobs altogether. Her gag reflex had become
uncontrollable. She had not given Joshua the details of that night,
in a bitchy let-him-worry revenge type of thing perhaps. Joshua had
not pressured her, though. Neither had Lemieux.