Chapter 28

Mac and Bruin ran, full speed, back the way they had come. When they reached the apartment they’d already been at, Mac laid on every buzzer until someone answered. “Police, open up,” he said, holding his badge up in case anyone was looking, still pressing buttons until the door buzzed.

“What are we doing here?” Bruin puffed inside the foyer. “Didn’t we already check this place?”

“Yeah, start again, but this time we’re looking for an older lady, tall if she weren’t so bent over, who likes colorful scarves and walks with a walker.”

“Ohhh,” Bruin breathed, but to his credit, he headed straight up the stairs.

Mac knocked on the first door in the foyer, the last one he’d hit up the first time they’d been there. The same lady answered, her face suspicious. But he charmed her better this time, and in just a few moments, he was standing in front of an apartment that had seemed empty the last time, no one answering the door. He called Bruin down to him, eyeing the heavy locks on the door. This was no restaurant bathroom.

“You think you can get in this one?” he asked. He could do it himself, but it had to be quick, in just one hit, and, shit, he knew the bear liked to be useful. He would call a locksmith, but if Rogue had gotten in from the outside, she might be in there right now. They didn’t have time.

Bruin nodded and backed up, leading with his foot this time, hitting the door square, splintering the lock area.

They were in. A quick check of the small rooms told him Rogue wasn’t there. He lingered over her black bedspread, his eyes tracing the pictures on the wall. There weren’t many, and they all seemed generic, like maybe they hadn’t been picked so much for what they were, but rather what they said. Normal. Nothing out of the ordinary here.

This wasn’t a place she thought of as home, and although it did carry her scent, it wasn’t strong enough to say different.

Feeling like a complete asshole, he started going through her things. The hair ties on the nightstand, the pile of clothes on the floor. Bruin stood in the doorway and watched, but didn’t try to help, and didn’t say a word. Good. Mac opened the drawer in the nightstand next to the bed, not surprised to find a gun. He shut it and opened the second drawer, then slammed it shut again.

Mac stood up, and turned around to look at Bruin. “Hey, ah, buddy, could you go out in the kitchen. Look through the drawers out there, tell me if you find anything of a personal nature. Numbers, notes, anything like that.”

“Got it.”

Mac turned slowly back to the nightstand and pulled the drawer open again, then reached his hand in and touched the purple vibrator that lay there with one finger. She wouldn’t come back for this. You could buy one of these anywhere, but he was suddenly certain she was coming back all the same. She would be here, he just had to wait around for her to show up. And this time, she wouldn’t get away from him. He would cuff her to him if he had to, whether it pissed her off or not.

He couldn’t afford to play games anymore.

He pulled the thing out of the drawer, mentally comparing its size to his own. He had it beat easily, so he had that going for him. She would never need one of these again. He made to toss it away, but had a better idea, his spirits still high.

He crept out into the kitchen until he found Bruin, back to him, hard at work going through the drawers there. Easy job, they were all practically empty. She didn’t even need a kitchen, just a card table and some silverware in case the takeout place didn’t provide chopsticks.

Mac turned the vibrator up high, then touched Bruin on the back of the ear with it. “Bees!” he yelled.

Bruin jerked away, slapping at his ear as he went. His expression said he wasn’t surprised at what it really was. “You should never joke about bees, Mac.”

Mac smirked, then hid the vibrator behind his back. “My mistake,” he said, then disappeared, returning the toy where he’d found it, ignoring Bruin’s whispered, “Blast him,” from the other room.

Ol’ Winnie couldn’t even swear right.

***

Two hours later, Mac leaned his head back against Rogue’s couch, where he was sitting next to Bruin. It was either that, or sit on the floor. Her tiny apartment didn’t have any other furniture. They’d found a safe behind one painting, but there hadn’t been anything of value in it, just some cash, a small, worn Swiss Army knife- like a child’s first knife, and a book. He’d flipped through the book, but found only a single word written in it. The word Amaranth printed on the cover in childish block letters, like a name.

Nothing in the place was her. Nothing told him any sort of story. Except maybe the vibrator, and if that story was that she didn’t have a boyfriend, it was one he wanted to hear.

Mac frowned, starting to worry that he’d been wrong when he decided she was coming back here. For what? Not her battery operated boyfriend. She could live without the five grand in the safe. If she was really as good of a thief as she seemed to be, she would have much more than that stashed away somewhere. The knife and the book? They seemed to be personal mementos, so maybe.

She certainly wouldn’t be coming back for him.

He spoke, even though he hadn’t had any intention of doing so. “My mate’s a criminal,” he said, his voice sounding exactly as miserable as he felt.

“A good criminal,” Bruin countered, as if that made it better. “Does it bother you?”

Mac thought for a long time before he spoke. “I don’t think so. It’s all she knows.” The room was silent for a long time before he finally was able to say what he was thinking. “But what now? Assuming we ever find her. Assuming I can get her to come back with me, what then? Am I gonna have to tell everyone to hold on to their wallets while she’s around?”

Bruin snorted. “That would be hilarious. Imagine if she just stole shit from people. Like your chief.”

Mac smiled. “Maybe.” The smile dissolved. “But they won’t trust her.”

Bruin sat up straighter and twisted in his seat to look Mac in the eye. “I’ll trust her.”

“Why?”

“Everyone has some good in them. No matter what.”

Mac shook his head slowly. “She does. She really does. I can sense it. Smell it. Feel it when I touch her.”

Bruin bobbed his head. “See? It doesn’t matter what she’s done.”

Mac felt the stranglehold on his heart tighten, not loosen. “But it does. What if she has to go to jail?”

“Come on, Mac, she’s part of a battle for humanity. No one’s going to let that happen.”

Mac clutched at the couch cushion beneath him. He could see that. If she’d really only stolen from criminals, no one was going to be in any hurry to make her pay for it. “But what if she won’t stop?”

Bruin didn’t even sound worried. “She will. She just needs a good reason. You’re her reason.”

The door that no longer locked slammed open and Rogue strode into the apartment, eyes locked on Mac, her face an angry mask, her hands balled into fists, her shoulders and hips tight. She stopped two feet in front of him, and he imagined he could see steam coming from her ears, like in a cartoon. The old lady outfit was gone, and she was dressed all in black. Long black leggings, a black long-sleeved shirt that hugged her curves, and simple black boots. Her hair was loose around her shoulders, the ends curling around her face. Fuck, she looked good, even when she was angry. His cop brain took in the slight bulges at her inner forearms and the slim black pack around her waist, like something a jogger would wear, barely big enough to hold a phone and some keys.

Mac scrambled to his feet, so damn glad to see her he had the impulse to drop to his knees and hug her around the waist. But she wouldn’t have it. Wouldn’t have him. Instead, he waited for her to start chewing on him. He would take every bit of it, gladly.

Bruin stood up, too, slowly edging away from Rogue. “Ah, Mac, I’m going to head out for a little bit. You, ah… good luck with your handful.” He edged farther away. Mac kept his eyes on Rogue, who was staring at him like she wanted to mow him over, maybe throw him out a window. Bruin cleared his throat. “You need any help with bad guys with guns, or flamethrowers, or bombs, or whatever, you just yell.” Mac nodded, his eyes still on Rogue.

Rogue finally noticed Bruin. She turned her anger on him and Mac could see him shrink from his peripheral vision. She mocked taking a step at him, shouting “Boo!”

The look on Bruin’s face was classic, and at any other time, Mac would have laughed. He had six or seven inches on Rogue, at least a hundred and fifty pounds, but he knew damn well it wouldn’t help him with her.

Bruin hugged the wall. “Ok, just call me, you’ve got my number.” And out the door he went. Mac didn’t blame him. It was easy to face off with a man. You yell a little, maybe you fight. You kick ass or you get your ass kicked, and then it was over. But with a woman? They stored mean shit up like acorns, always knowing exactly what to say at exactly the time it would hurt the worst. And even if they hit you, you didn’t hit them back. Even when they were tough or deserved it. You never won a fight with a woman, so the smart males didn’t even try. They stood there and took whatever the lady wanted to dish out, or they ran.

Once Bruin was gone, Rogue didn’t even look around her place, giving Mac the suspicion that she already knew exactly what they had done there. Like she’d been watching them from somewhere. Watched them break in the door, go through her stuff, call the locksmith to open her safe.

“How dare you?” she shouted, her scent a flat, harsh orange-yellow. “You had no right.”

Mac pulled his badge out of his pocket, knowing it was a stupid thing to do, but it was better than not saying anything. He held it out. “This gives me the-”

She hit the back of his hand with the palm of hers, sending the badge flying across the room. “I’m not talking about you as a cop. I’m talking about you as someone I had a-a.” Her expression clamped down even harder, and she whirled on her back foot, moving away from him, pacing around the room.

“A what?”

She stopped and exploded at him, hands raised up to shoulder level as she gestured at him. “A connection! That’s what. How dare you come into my house and go through my shit when you’ve done nothing but try to tell me there should be something between us! It doesn’t work that way.” She stepped right back up in his face, dropping one more word between them. “Princess.”

She was hurt? So she was trying to hurt him? Shit, he still couldn’t keep his big mouth from popping off. “A connection? Is that why you left me in the woods? Refused to tell me your name? Snuck out the bathroom window? Is that why you’ve got a car full of your stuff somewhere close by and you’re about to take off and I’m never going to see you again?”

She didn’t say anything, but the way her face went all cool and smooth gave him all the answer he needed. “Yeah, that’s what I thought. Put that in your connection pipe and smoke it.” Lame-ass thing to say. He blamed all the time spent with the fucking bear, talking about bee’s elbows.

His brain was mush-ifying, and someone had to be to blame.