Chapter 13: To Slaughter a Pig
Derek
Tonight’s watch is different from last night’s. Unable to find a way to get Patrick from the restaurant to our hideout without being caught, we’d decided he’d be with me from the start, leaving Star alone with Sloan.
We both sit in silence in the tech booth, waiting. Neither of us knows what’s happening in the Oceanaire, and we can only hope she manages to lure him here on her own. If anything else happens, we won’t know until it’s too late.
It’s the worst-case scenario.
“When you were in country, did you ever do a night watch?” Patrick is sitting on the floor, his back against the wall. He’s got one of his gloves off, and he’s rolling a quarter back and forth across his knuckles. “This reminds me of night watch.”
“More like being in the advance party.” Going ahead of the battalion into a location, no way of knowing what might happen or what surprises might be waiting. “It’s a little like that. Minus the IEDs.”
My partner exhales and pulls the glove back over his hand. Then he pushes off the floor and steps over to lean beside me against the counter. “You’re right. Military deployment is way fucking worse than this. This is plain old detective work, pure and simple.”
“Or police work. Waiting around for what’s coming.”
Glove back off, he starts with the quarter again, back and forth. “Why’d you become a Marine? Other than you were born to play the part?”
“That’s pretty much it.” I watch the quarter rotate over his knuckles and think about being a kid, waiting on my dad to come home, hearing my mother softly cry herself to sleep at night. “My dad was a Marine. His dad was a Marine—”
“Phew, sounds like a fun group.”
“They weren’t so bad.”
Patrick exhales. Both gloves are off, and he switches the coin to his other hand, continuing the trick. “When Stuart said he was joining the corps, I wasn’t a bit surprised. He’d been perfecting that fucking attitude for years.”
“Your brother is a great Marine. He had my back more than once.” Checking my phone, it’s after ten. I don’t know how much longer this could take or when to worry if they don’t show.
“You’d better keep the gloves on in case we have to move fast.” He stops fidgeting, and puts the quarter back in his pocket, nodding as he pulls on the gloves. We can’t afford to leave fingerprints.
I’m pretty sure I’ve asked before, but this wait is mind numbing. “What made you join the Guard?”
“College. I wasn’t academic enough for a scholarship, but my parents couldn’t afford to send four kids to school. It seemed like the safest alternative.”
I chuckle. “And then you got deployed.”
“Yep. Thank you, War on Terror.”
“I’m sure you were good at it. I’ve seen your work.”
He nods and for a few minutes, we’re quiet. Then he shifts and clears his throat.
“Look, I know what we’re doing is pretty raw. I’m sorry I couldn’t come up with a more elegant plan, but you’ve got to get some mud on you to slaughter a pig.”
I exhale a laugh. “How long have you been saving that line?”
He grins and his shoulders relax. “A few days.”
Then I shake my head, serious again. “I couldn’t control what took Allison from me. There was nothing I could do.” I pause remembering that sick, helpless feeling as she slowly left me forever. I’d never felt that way in my life, and it almost broke me. “I’ll be damned if I sit back and let something take Melissa. Especially if I have the power to stop it.”
Just then the outside door creaks, and we both jump. Patrick hits the lights, and I instinctively feel my body preparing to fight.
Patrick’s the only one armed. He’d insisted, strike that, demanded I leave my gun in my room’s safe to “avoid temptation.” I’d only agreed because he played the Mel card. It’s possible he knows me a little too well.
The door creaks again, and in a fumble of hands and staggering steps, Star backs into the room. Sloan’s plastered to her mouth, and from this angle, we can see his hands moving up her thighs, dragging the hem of her skirt with them, quickly revealing her thong. Shit. This again.
“Here we go,” Patrick says in a voice one click above inaudible.
The pair roll against the wall, and the outside door slams shut. The noise breaks their kiss, and Sloan looks up and around, surveying the small, empty conference room. It’s dim-lit by small, emergency lighting and the green glow of the Exit sign.
“How did you know about this place?” His voice is thick.
“Passed it on my way to the restaurant tonight.” Star’s back to breathy-high Marilyn. “I peeked my head in, and when I saw the side door, I thought of you.”
He turns back to her with a greedy smile. “Good call.” Then he covers her mouth again with his.
His hands return to her ass, and he lifts her against the wall. A memory of me lifting Melissa in a similar way knots my stomach, and I turn my back. We can hear it. I don’t have to watch.
Star’s voice. “What if I worked for your company? Then I could see you every day. Or every afternoon?”
Glancing over my shoulder, I see Sloan lower and turn her so that her back is against him. “Not a bad idea.” He moves her legs apart with his knee, and his hand goes between her thighs in front, pulling up swiftly.
“Oh!” She lets out a shocked noise, but her cheek is pressed to the side so we can see her face. She isn’t in pain. In fact, her expression is just the opposite. It’s impossible to know when she’s acting. I’m fucking listening for Sangria.
“You feel that?” Sloan leans into her ear. “That’s where I’m going to fuck you. Right in that tight little hole.”
She inhales sharply. “I don’t do that for clients.” Her hips are following his movements, rocking back and forth. “It’s too risky.”
His hand appears to be moving all over her crotch, and she lets out a little moan. “Your tight little ass loves what I’m doing, and if you want your money, you’ll fuck me like I say. How do I know you’re on the pill?”
With a shudder, she moves to the side, quickly evading his hand. “Use a condom if you don’t believe me. I’m not getting pregnant.”
Anger flashes on Sloan’s face, and he steps in front of her, pinioning her. Her resistance is good, but it’s too soon. We need his physical evidence in her body before he hurts her.
“Don’t fuck with me. I’m going bareback, and I’m going where I want.”
Rage tightens my throat. The way he’s standing, blocking her face, she could easily be Mel facing down this bastard. It takes all the willpower I possess to stay in this small room and not go out there. I have to distract myself from the photos I’ve seen, the one of Jessica Black, the one of my beautiful bride’s battered face.
Patrick’s leaning over the counter near the door, and I see his hand twitch. From his tense stance, I can tell he’s ready to intervene as well.
“Look, I don’t have any lube.” Star steps to the side and around so her back is to us again. “I won’t ass fuck without lube.”
Rage burns cold in Sloan’s eyes. He’s controlled, but barely, and by the way his lips part over his teeth, I know tonight will definitely be the night.
“I know where to get lube.” He grabs her by the neck and spins her back to the wall, slamming her head hard against the plaster.
Star pushes against him, but it’s a clumsy effort. Patrick and I both know her skill at self-defense, and I wonder if she was injured just then. He’s back on her just as fast, and with a grunt, she pushes away again. Then she rears back and slaps him hard across the face.
The SMACK! echoes in the dark space, and my muscles tense up, ready to take action.
But everything stops.
Sloan steps away from her and turns to face our direction. He looks like a freaking psycho killer in the pale green light, and I swear I can see the wheels going as his eyes travel around the dark room.
Hidden in the small tech booth, neither Patrick nor I breathe. This fucker is smart. He wouldn’t have gotten away with his tricks so long if he weren’t. My stomach muscles tighten. I have no idea what’s about to happen.
He speaks into the darkness. “Where are you…” It’s a whispered taunt, and he takes a few steps toward us before whispering again. “I know you’re there.”
What the fuck? How could he possibly know we’re here? Maybe he really is crazy. My heart’s slamming in my chest, and tension pulls an ache between my shoulder blades. Patrick’s tense; the air is crackling.
“You’re playing with me, using my weakness…” My brow lines as I listen to his sinister coaxing. “You know I was there. I got to her when you were gone, and I’ll do it again. I’ll do it every time, any time I wish… She’s mine.”
Anger blazes low in my stomach, and I hear him. His message is meant for me, whether he’s certain of my presence or not. It’s a threat he’s sending out, and I know the only way to answer it.
I’m ready to answer it.
He waits a few moments longer. Star’s got her back to the wall, breathing heavily, watching him. Finally, he shakes his head, looks down, and turns to her. “You’re a beautiful woman. Everything I like in one neat package.”
A line pierces her forehead, and I can tell she’s as confused as we are by this change.
“Thank you?” She tries breathy-Marilyn as she watches him pace back and forth in front of her.
“You remind me of a past lover. One I remember fondly.” He smiles, and a creeping dread moves through me. “Would you like something that belonged to her?”
Star blinks rapidly, and I can tell she’s on edge as much as we are. Is he talking about Jessica? Can she handle it if he is?
It doesn’t matter. I’m just waiting for an opening, any excuse to make my move.
“A gift?” Her voice only wavers slightly. “But we barely—”
“Something everyone might find interesting.”
Patrick and I exchange a glance.
Sloan’s hand goes into his front pocket, and all three of us brace ourselves. The quiet in our small room is broken by the soft scrape of Patrick’s gun coming out if its holster. My partner’s ready if Sloan pulls out a weapon.
But when we see what has in his pocket, Patrick lowers the gun.
Sloan’s “gift” is significant only to me, and for a moment, I stare dumbfounded at the thin gold chain with the tiny heart dangling from his outstretched hand. Melissa’s necklace. He was there, and he took it.
His meaning is complete. Message received.
In that moment something in me shifts, and two things happen at once: I lunge for the door, and Patrick throws his body in front of me, blocking it. The two of us are locked in a power struggle that I’m about to win.
“What is it?” Star’s Marilyn-voice floats to us, unaware of the battle happening behind the glass.
“It’s what I would give you if you hadn’t already stolen it.” Those words drop a veil of rage over my vision, and I’m about to throw my partner out of the way.
Patrick’s legs are braced against the door. “Derek! Don’t blow this,” he grunts in a whisper. “Don’t let him bait you.”
I’m so fucking insane with fury, I can barely see, but somehow I mange to find control. I know Patrick’s right. We don’t have evidence yet, and Sloan’s fishing. If he knew for sure we were here, he would’ve already bolted.
It takes all the willpower I possess to step away from the door. I’m breathing hard, and I pace the small room, waiting. Just waiting. Counting slowly as I step—left, right, left… One, two, three…
Slowly coming down.
“It’s a heart.” Star takes the necklace from him. “I stole your heart? Are you joking?”
“Are you?” His voice is ridiculing again, and he shoves her back against the wall, his forearm pressing against her collarbone and throat. “Do you think I’m that easy to play?”
Her face begins to turn red, and her eyes squeeze shut. His forearm is right across her esophagus, and a gasping wail comes out. We wait on edge as he rams his hand in her crotch working her hard.
“You think you’re going to fuck with me?” His face is leaned close to her ear, and it looks to me like she’s fighting tears. “You like that?”
In an instant, Patrick and I are once again locked in a power-struggle for the door.
“Let me go, Patrick, it’s too much.” My voice is a strained whisper. I could overpower him, but he stops me.
“She can get out of that hold.” Patrick hisses back. “Don’t blow the job. Just give her a chance.”
She snorts louder, and the dim light catches moisture on her upper lip. My chest collapses. I’m not sure she’s getting out of this, and I’ll be damned if I fucking let him kill her with us steps away.
“Move, Patrick.” I push against him once more, but his legs are braced. His entire body is levered against mine, and I can tell he’s using all the strength he has to keep me in this room.
Sloan’s voice cuts through our struggle. “You like that, don’t you. Fucking cunt. I have all the power here.”
Star’s face is turning purple, and I’m about to lift Patrick off the ground when we both hear her mumbling. We stop fighting and wait, looking intently through the two-way glass.
Sloan also pauses, loosening his pressure on her neck. “Are you begging, my love?”
She mumbles again, repeating the word in a whisper. “Sangria…” Her knees buckle, and she crumples to the floor.
Patrick is weightless in my grasp, and I realize he’s off the door, spinning toward it. I follow him through faster than Sloan can react.
My partner’s headed for Star. Light reflects off the gold chain in her limp hand. I’m headed straight for Sloan.
The last words out of the bastard’s mouth are. “What the fuck?”
In one practiced motion, he’s in my grasp, both my hands on the sides of his skull. Heat radiates between his skin and mine, and I don’t waste a second doing what I know to do, what I’m trained to do.
To end this.
To answer his threat and protect her forever.
A swift twist, and a deeply satisfying SNAP! travels through the bones of my wrists, up my arms, over my shoulders to my brain. I release him, spreading my hands wide, and Sloan Reynolds drops like a stone, dead at my feet.
My breath is coming in pants, and my arms lower to my sides as I stand over him. The entire room seems to have moved out from me, and I’m alone in a space looking down on what I’ve done. Waiting to feel something.
Waiting.
Seconds tick by on the clock, and at last it comes.
Satisfaction unrolls like a slow wave in my chest, unfurling like wings through my arms and legs, down my torso to my fingers and toes.
In my peripheral vision, I register Patrick moving swiftly, his voice low. “Fuck fuck Fuck. Okay. Well, good riddance. Now we’ve gotta act. Fast.”
I step over and gently take Melissa’s necklace from Star’s weak hand. She’s breathing more normally now, despite the tears trickling down her cheeks. Still, she’s not weeping. She seems to be recovering, rebuilding her own tough exterior, getting the shield back in place. I’m familiar with that.
Straightening again, I watch as Sloan’s body twitches like a dead snake.
Patrick helps Star to her feet and gives her a hug. “Enemy combatant handled,” he whispers and pulls off one of his black gloves. Handing it to her, he gives a gentle order, “Take this. Wipe every place you touched him, and get those pants good and down, soldier.”
I can’t seem to move as they work. It’s not out of guilt, because I know with every ounce of certainty I possess I’d fucking do what I just did again and again.
A strong hand grips my shoulder. “Hey. Snap out of it and get the fuck out of here. We’re behind you.”
Patrick’s back to wiping everything with his one glove and Star’s slowly doing the same. “Go!” He hisses.
With a black-gloved hand, I grasp the outside door and wait, listening. The only sound is the two of them cleaning, punctuated by a quiet sniff every few seconds from Star.
I rub my hand up and down on the doorframe and handle, wiping it clean, but just as I’m about to step through it, a dull thud comes from behind me. It’s followed fast by another, and another. Whop whop…
Turning back, I see Star kicking Sloan’s dead body in the stomach hard. Her voice is cold with anger, and tears stripe her cheeks. “That’s for Tiffany, you fuckwad. I hope you’re rotting in fucking hell right now.” Then she lands a stomping blow to his chest, adding in a low whisper. “That’s for me.”
She pivots slightly and pulls back to make another blow, but Patrick catches her leg. “Not the head. It might fly off.”
Her eyes cut to me, and my brow is creased as I nod. I guess we’re more alike than I’d care to admit. I understand her primal need. I know the satisfaction she feels kicking him. She’d probably enjoy punting his head across the room.
Rubbing my eyes, I force these macabre thoughts to stop. I come back out of the rabbit hole, and continue out the door. Patrick’s right. We’ve got to go.
I silently make my way down the hedge-lined alley along the back of the hotel. We have a long stretch of conference-room windows to get past before we’re out of range, and I’m hoping Star’s recovered enough to walk normally by the time they make it to the end of our leafy covering.
Dark window after dark window, I’m moving fast, thankful it’s way after hours. Patrick and I are both trained for stealth, but our injured colleague isn’t. I hold up at the edge of the building, where the tall shrub ends and listen.
It seems I’ve made it, and I yank the black gloves off my hands, shoving them into my pockets. Looking back, Star’s leaning on Patrick’s arm as he basically carries her down the hidden path. He stops when he reaches me, and leans her against the wall. She watches as he pulls off his gloves and puts them in his pockets.
His voice is low. “We need to act as inconspicuous as possible. The Four Seasons is only a few blocks. Can you make it?”
She nods barely, and it does nothing to ease the adrenaline surging through my veins.
I don’t know how to place what I’ve done, where to put it in my mind or how to wrap my head around it. I’ve had to kill before, but in this case… What I’ve done is something outside the law. It’s vigilante justice, and it’s a cold fact that I’m not sorry.
How can I ever explain this to Mel? What will she think? She says I’m a hero, but I don’t know if she can love this side of me. The side that won’t back down, that will kill without hesitation.
I can’t worry about that now—it has to wait, and we have to move. I step out from behind the hedge, walking straight, hands in pockets. I don’t slow or look around.
Bodies pass me, but nobody appears to pay attention to another random person heading to his hotel. No one knows what I’ve done. I keep going straight. Patrick will wait several minutes before following me out, and we’ll rendezvous at the bar and decide what to do next.
Years seem to pass before we’ve got our drinks and are secreted away at the small back table.
Patrick takes a long hit of vodka before cutting the tension with his usual levity. “I think it’s safe to say that did not go as expected.” He pauses, studying our shell-shocked expressions. “And shit, I will never fucking get used to that sound.”
My eyes cut to him, but I can’t answer. Breaking bones is a sickening sound. Only this time, for me it was a sick satisfaction.
“We’re lucky that prick’s parents are dead,” he continues. “He ran Melissa off, and apparently he killed the only remaining person who loved him. I need another drink.” He turns to Star. “You okay?”
She nods, and we’re both silent as he leaves us alone again. My eyes are on the amber liquid in my glass, and I feel her eyes on me. No telling what’s going through her mind right now. We don’t even try to address it. We’re both in that place of trying to sort out what just happened, how we feel about it, and what to do with it.
It seems quick when Patrick’s back, dropping into his chair, slapping me hard on the shoulder. “You are one strong-assed motherfucker, you know that? At one point, I was sure I couldn’t hold you any more. I should’ve known I wouldn’t be able to stop what was coming.”
I shake my head and actually laugh. It’s kind of a loose laugh, but Patrick is such the fucking little brother I never had.
At last, Star speaks, and she’s back to her normal low, smoky contralto. “What happens now?”
Her question snaps me to attention. It’s time for me to shake it off. Man up, and be the leader I am. Scooting forward in my chair, I reach for her hand. Our next steps have been circling in my mind since we left the Bridgestreet.
“The best thing would be for you to go to the police. Tell them you were hooking up with some guy you just met, robbers broke in and attacked you both. You ran away scared—don’t even mention you know what happened to him.”
“If I don’t know what happened to him, why would I go to the police?” She’s not challenging me, just curious.
“She’s right.” Patrick leans forward on the table. “I think we should lay low and see what happens. If she thinks he’s alive, why would she involve the police? She could get herself in needless trouble, and I wiped everything I could find.”
For a moment, I press my lips together and think like a cop. I replay the whole scene in my mind again. “I ran my gloves over all the door handles. Unless he’s got her DNA on him somehow.”
“He hit me, but he didn’t scratch me.”
“He had his hands all in your snatch, in your ass…”
She chews her lips, and her eyes drop to her glass.
“That’s okay,” Patrick cuts in. “He’s in a place he shouldn’t be with his fucking pants around his ankles and his dick out. Nobody at his company’s going to want that publicity. They’ll cover that shit up, you watch.”
I glance around the small bar, and for now, we’re the only ones in it. Is it possible we could get away with this? I’m still calming my thoughts, but it seems like we might actually walk.
“The best way for a crime to be discovered is to have more than one witness.” My gaze travels from Patrick to Toni, a.k.a., Star. “Patrick and I have done things; we have experience keeping things to ourselves…”
Toni’s eyebrows shoot up. “Are you saying you don’t trust me?”
I work to even my tone. “There’s nothing stopping you from one day using this—”
“Other than the fact I’d be incriminated as well. I can’t fucking believe you.” She pushes her drink away and sits back in her chair. “Look, I’ve had to sit on crap. Shit, I’ve probably got more garbage locked in the vault than you with all your battle scars. You don’t have to worry about me. I told you I was in this for Tiffany. As far as I’m concerned, you’re the Angel of Justice.”
I exhale and polish off my scotch. “There’s no such thing.”
Toni shakes her head and stands. “I’m taking off. You don’t have to worry about me. I think you did the right thing. The only thing.”
Patrick calls after her. “I’ll check in with you in a few days.”
She keeps walking, and we sit for a moment in silence then I look up at my partner. “We’re finished here.”
He tips his glass and kills his vodka. “Fuckin A. I don’t think I’ve ever wanted to see Elaine this bad since I’ve known her.”
Remembering my tension all those weeks ago and how good it felt to find Melissa waiting for me in my condo, I know he’s right. The best thing to soothe this pain away are her sweet arms, the reason I’m here.
My love.