Sin Eater (10 page)

It wasn’t going away on its own, so he palmed himself and went to work relieving his arousal. It didn’t take long, and when he came he nearly cracked his neck, jolting his head back violently. He stopped breathing for a good fifteen seconds.

Holy shit
, he was actually seeing stars. Christ, had it ever felt that good before?

His body relaxed, he rel
eased his hand and raised it to the spray to wash it off, his erection subsiding and falling back downward almost like it was sighing. But when he looked down at his hands, under the spray of the water, his heart stopped.

He tried to rear back from his own hand, but of course the thing came with him. He
fell over the edge of the tub, ripping the shower curtain off its rings in a series of popping pings. He hit the ground hard, knocking the wind out of himself. He was lucky he didn’t crack his head on the edge of the toilet or the countertop or both.

He was still staring down at his hand, at what he’d just come all over himself with. He wanted to scream, shout; he felt like he might actually be dying.

Red? Why the fuck was it red?

When the knock sounded at her door, Iola felt her heart race just a bit. She knew it was time for Vinnie to pick her up, but part of her was worried it might be that other source of excitement in her life. She had a wild notion of Damien following them upstairs, waiting for Claudia to leave her alone, then coming to her door, sweeping her off her feet and carrying her to her bed.

Ridiculous. Completely ridiculous, and yet it made her feel warm all over.

She opened the door, and at the sight of her Veneratio Aubericus smiled widely, the corners of his eyes crinkling. “Iola,” he said, his voice cracking on her name. “You look …
gorgeous.
”

She ducked her head down as though she was wondering what he could possibly be talking about. “Oh … thank you.”

Then she checked him out. He was freshly shaven and wearing a dark gray suit with a light blue tie that made him look almost devastatingly handsome. “You look great.”

He shrugged, then handed her a paper cone taped at one end. She popped the tape off and looked inside, smiling. Purple tulips.

“You didn’t have to do that.” She backed away from the door. “Come in, I’ll put these in some water.”

He followed her in
to her little kitchen, and she found an old-fashioned milk bottle under the sink. She trimmed the stems and filled the vase with water, watching him check out her small but clean apartment.

“This is nice,” he said, sounding surprised.

She laughed. “I know this isn’t a great part of town, but this block is nicer than most. And we all recognize each other, so it’s kind of like a downtown scary-block Neighbourhood Watch.”

He laughed, too as she put the flowers in the vase. “I didn’t mean this area was seedy. But I was surprised to find out where you live, and that you live alone.”

She shrugged then put the flowers in the middle of her two-person dining table. “I have a good friend across the hall, she’s a cop. I feel pretty safe.”

He offered her his arm. “Shall we?”

She hooked her arm through his with a shy smile and they made for the door. As she opened it, getting her key ready to throw the dead bolt behind them, Claudia’s door opened and she stepped into the hall too, ready for work in her uniform.

Iola made introductions, and was pleased that Vinnie didn’t seem totally bowled over by how gorgeous Claudia was. It had happened to her once before. As they started down
the stairs Claudia went back into her apartment, claiming she’d forgotten something. Iola knew she wanted to let them leave on their own.

On the street he opened the passenger-side car door for her, instant
gold star there. She settled into the leather seats of his Audi without wanting to look too impressed. The car was somewhat compact, and she had to tilt her legs to the side. They were tilted in his direction; she’d done that without realizing it.

He got behind the wheel, turning the engine over. As he did so he smiled over at her, and his eyes also dropped down to take in the V-neck of her dress and her legs folded up in front of her.

The fact that he was such a gentleman helped the look not feel like a
leer
at all. The fact that he found her that attractive was … more than flattering. He was just appreciating the view, and he gave her another sweet smile as he put on his seatbelt.

“I hope you like Italian,” he said as he pulled away from the curb. “Have you been to Ricardo’s before?”

“No, never.” She didn’t want to add on that it was a bit above her pay scale.

After a moment she realized his car radio was on KLCD. She glanced over at him nervously, hoping that her scrutiny was casual enough. He didn’t seem like a stalker. He wasn’t throwing off any creepy vibes whatsoever. But the radio station made her put up a bit of a guard, no more than what was prudent.

Then she watched his hands as they gripped the wheel, the right hand dropping down to shift from time to time. His hands were gorgeous. He could model watches, she realized. The skin was unmarked, not a mole or freckle to be seen, the palms wide but long, his veins popping up on the backs. And his fingers were elegant, beautiful. The hands of a piano player or a sculptor. She couldn’t stop looking at them.

He caught her looking. She blushed when she realized he’d noticed, and she turned her attentions out the window, pretending she hadn’t seen how he smiled, pleased. Yep, they were definitely taking note of each other physically.

At Ricardo’s they pulled up to a valet station, and her door was opened by a uniformed attendant. She took his gloved hand as she climbed out, then stood to the side while Vinnie handed another attendant the keys. The Audi was whisked away, and Vinnie took her arm again and led the way into the darkened dining room.

“Doctor Vinnie!” A large man greeted them almost immediately, coming forward and kissing Vinnie on both cheeks. Her date seemed mildly embarrassed by the display, but returned the greeting.

“Ricardo … how are you feeling?”

The man was an Italian caricature, made up of circles with a bald head and white Chef Boyardee moustache. He wore a nice suit, and on the whole he kind of looked like a super-friendly gangster. Like
, if Sesame Street wanted to teach kids about the mob, they would cast this guy as a character. But she was sure it helped the reputation of the restaurant having him greet people like this.

“You know, the stomach, she still bothers me. But nothing like before. I’m getting better.”

“I’m glad to hear it.”

Ricardo turned his attention to her, putting a hand to his heart.
“Bella
,” he greeted her, taking her hand and bowing low to kiss the back. “It’s so nice to see the doctor with a beautiful woman. We were starting to worry about him, always working. But come, come. I’ve got your table ready.”

He motioned for them to follow, and Iola had to smile at Vinnie as he shrugged in apology. “We operated on him once, not a topic
for dinner, but ever since then he’s been my best pal,” Vinnie explained, putting a hand to her lower back and leading her through the room.

Their table was next to a natural gas fireplace, set for two with a bottle of champagne already waiting in an ice bucket on a stand. Iola was trying not to be impressed, but of course she noted that the champagne was Perrier-Jouët. Not only was he brilliant, he was so beyond her tax bracket it was making her nervous as hell.

The waiter popped the cork and poured their first glass, presenting them with their menus and then left them to decide on what they were going to eat.

Iola had wanted to pay for her own meal, even more so now. The price of everything was making her feel obligated to put out. Looking at Vinnie, she knew that was ridiculous but that’s how she was feeling. As she took in the menu she felt like passing out.
Jesus, a hundred dollars for filet mignon?

The salads weren’t much better, but that was about as high as she could go. And didn’t girls order salad on dates? Wasn’t that the girly thing to do?

Vinnie had put his menu down and was just beaming across the table at her. She decided on some odd salad that included artichokes and salmon, then put her menu down as well, flushing under the attention he was showering on her. He held up his champagne flute, so she did the same.

“Iola,” he said slowly, as though he loved the sound of her name and didn’t want to rush it. “I am so glad I met you. Thanks for having dinner with me.”

Iola smiled, turning a deeper red, no doubt. “Thank
you
for trying to save Mister Horn. Thank you for showing me that you were concerned for him, too. And thanks for asking me out.”

As he took a sip from his glass his Adam’s apple bobbed, and she caught sight of the corded muscles in his neck. That’s when she decided
that even a meal at McDonald’s could have had put her at risk of putting out at the end of the night.

Claudia turned away from the mangled body in front of her, walking away from the dumpster and covering her mouth. Someone had attempted to dismember the blonde woman, and maybe they’d been interrupted or lost their nerve. They
had
, however, managed to kill a person and leave them out like garbage, hanging half-in, half out of a trash receptacle.

She’d been out in the sun on a very warm day, too.

Claudia’s blood was hot and her hands kept clenching into fists without any directions from her. The woman had also been raped, that much was obvious, but the autopsy would outline everything else.

While they waited for homicide, the other officers were standing at the mouth of the alley, blocking traffic, telling curious passer
s-by to keep on walking, and discussing the NHL play-offs. Claudia was not part of that discussion; she couldn’t be in this situation. They seemed to know that, and respected it. All she could think about was the blood.

She wanted the guy that had done this in front of her, right at this moment. And she wanted him unarmed. All she wanted in her hands was her baton. That would be all she needed, judging by her fury.

Across the street a crowd was gathering anyway, it was just human nature. They were discussing, whispering, pontificating on what could be happening in that alley. She scanned the faces, looking for someone that was more than curious. Someone that might actually get off on seeing the havoc he’d created. Or checking to see if the police had a lead on what had happened.

Bingo
. On the far edge. A guy in ill-fitting clothes, thin as a rail, his face pock-marked with scabs. He kept looking around him, scratching at his head, his eyes, the side of his nose. Twitchy as all get-out. Maybe mentally ill, but definitely feeling the pressure of guilt and paranoia.

Claudia motioned another uniform over. “Check the guy in the black sweater, gray pants. A little warm for a sweater today.”

Constable Dawson made a show of looking behind himself into the alley. “Far left side?” he asked for confirmation. “Itching like he’s got fleas? I just clocked him when you motioned me over.”

“Wanna head over?”

They crossed the street together, trying to be all casual, but they were definitely headed in the direction of this suspicious character. As he noticed them, he turned and started walking, too fast to be casually deciding to move on.

“Excuse me, sir?” Claudia called out, and that’s when he bolted.

Claudia hit fifth gear right off the bat, adrenaline kicking her into high speed. She heard Dawson pounding the pavement behind her, calling for more assistance. But Claudia could run faster than both of these men.

The little worm ahead of her kept checking for her over his shoulder, and she was praying he was dumb enough to keep checking until he t
ripped and hurled head-first into a brick wall. And he did.

He took one corner in
to another through-and-through alleyway, and as he did so he looked to see where she was, stepped on the only unbroken beer bottle in the entire alley and sprawled backwards, his feet up above him as he landed hard on his back. It was like she had the help of the Three Stooges or something.

She planted herself on him, knees on his chest as he fought to regain the breath he’d knocked out of himself. Her efforts didn’t help and he groaned in protest. She grabbed an arm, reaching to the back of her belt for handcuffs. “What’s your name?” She asked, breathing heavy. “You got warrants or something? Why’d you run?”

The scrawny fucker totally shocked her by socking her in the jaw. Where he got the strength she had no idea, and it stunned her enough that he pushed her off of him and got to his feet again.

He kicked her in the jaw, and that’s when she saw stars. She was completely disoriented, knowing she had to get up and stop him, because he was going to kill her. She didn’t know how she knew that, but now he was kicking her again, in the ribs this time, and she had to get moving.

There was blood in her mouth. That scared her into action.

“Fucking bitch,” he was snarling. “Who the fuck do you think you are, cunt?”

Very original
, she thought wryly as she rolled to her side and pushed herself to her feet. Her head stayed focused with her, so that was good. As she convinced herself she wasn’t that hurt she felt a bit better. When he swung another fist at her she blocked it, driving a good left into his kidney. He grunted, but it also made him angry.

Just as he pushed off of her and made to punch her again, a form was suddenly flying at him, tackling him from the side. The both of them hit the ground in front of her.
Dawson
she thought absently, unhooking the cuffs from her belt successfully this time and falling to her knees next to the two struggling figures. She grabbed one of the man’s wrists, snapped a cuff on it, then wrenched the other arm behind him as well, eliciting a loud cry. Like she gave a shit if his arm came right off. She’d use it to beat him into the ground.

“Bauer? You okay?”

She looked up in confusion; Dawson was in the mouth of the alley, huffing like he hadn’t had any exercise in decades.

She looked to see who had helped her, just as a tall man in an awfully nice but now
dirtied suit got to his feet. He dusted himself off then offered her his hand, helping her stand as she took it. “Nice to see you again, Claudia.”