Picture This Page 26

  "It wasn't an order exactly, but more a request."

  "From Max," Rayne guessed and knew she was right. She understood now and, as angry as it made her, a part of her wanted to smile. Max's career meant the world to him, the men he now supervised meaning even more. She remembered how he had often spoken of Tripp Barrett with such reverence and respect. He'd often said Barrett could make any order sound like a simple request and the men on B shift never questioned, never protested, but stumbled over their own asses in their haste to do as asked. Apparently, in the short time since Max had taken over the lieutenant’s spot, he'd gained as much respect from the men as Barrett once held.

  "He didn't tell me anything and I didn't ask. I just, well, I told him I would stick close to you while we were away from the department." David looked around the interior of the car as if scoping out his surroundings and shrugged. "We're away from the department. I'm sticking close."

  Rayne slowed the car at the approaching intersection. A right would take them to the fire station, to her brother and to Cory, neither of whom she wished to see at that moment. A left would take them to the apartment building. While she didn't really care to drag David along with her, she wanted less to cause any type of scene at the station right now. She feared that was precisely what would happen if she came face to face with Cory any time in her immediate future.

  "Fine." She whipped the wheel left, taking the corner quicker and sharper than was truly safe, and bit back a devilish grin when David grabbed for the ‘oh shit’ handle attached to the ceiling over the passenger’s door.

  "Why do I get the impression you aren't too happy he asked me to stay with you?"

  "I'm not too happy about several things happening today. Don't sweat it. My unhappiness has nothing to do with you. You're just along for the ride, right?" She whipped the car into the parking lot of the apartment, parked, and flicked off the engine. Then she just sat there. Truth was, though, she'd probably rather chew on leeches right now than admit it, she did feel safer with David around today. That being watched feeling she couldn't quite seem to shake had grown more intense in the past several hours. And she had promised Ford she would try not to do anything or go anywhere alone. Although, hadn't he promised her he loved her? Her. Not the memory of an old, dead lover he was attempting to resurrect in her.

  Without so much as a word to David, she got out of the car. She fished for the key to Max's apartment that she kept on a separate ring in her pocket as she briskly made her way into the building. She didn't look back, but she knew he was close behind her. She heard the soft fall of his footsteps. She felt him too, his body hard against her back as he bumped into her.

  "What's the matter?" He caught her waist, held it for just a second to steady himself after their abrupt stop, and then released her.

  Rayne had halted at the top of the stairs as soon as she'd spotted the door to Cory and Ford's apartment standing wide open. Crap! She'd figured Ford would be at work. She really, really didn't want to do this now. She didn't want to explain why she'd ignored his earlier phone call, why she’d yet to listen to the voice mail he’d left her.

  "Nothing." She shook her head, moved to the door opposite the open one, and stuck the key in the lock. Maybe she could get inside Max's apartment and out again without Ford realizing she was out here. No such luck, she discovered as she twisted the key and pushed open the door.

  "Hey, looks like Ford's home. I'm going to duck in, say hi. Yo, dude, do you always leave….What the fuck? Who are? Umph."

  Rayne heard the punch, heard David's body slam against the open door, and turned in time to see him sink unconscious to the floor. "David!" A hand slapped over her mouth from behind, muffling her shrill. Her body jerked back hard against an unmovable wall. At least it felt like a wall, but she knew in an instant it was a tall, strong man with enormous hands and a putrid stench.

  "Shut your mouth, bitch." The snarling voice sounded as hard as the body it came from, the breath as foul smelling as the hand that covered her mouth and nose.

  In front of her, another man appeared in the doorway of Ford's apartment. Her heart slammed into her chest, a single and vicious punch that felt like the creature in Alien was attempting to burst through her breast bone.

  "Take her in there." The man stepped toward her and she felt her eyes grow wide. There was no mistaking that face. It was the suit from the picture she'd taken, the man who'd been standing with Deshan Minh, the man Ford had identified as Boran Roumduol.

  Oh, shit.

  Foul Smell yanked her back, pulling her into Max's apartment. Her feet twisted in their haste to keep her upright and her right ankle screamed in agony as it smacked the door jam on the way in. "You scream and I'll snap your pretty neck. Do you understand?"

  Rayne nodded. Oh, God, oh, God, oh, God. No screaming. Got it. Her mind raced, tripped, and stumbled over her options. Too strong. Foul Smell was too strong. No way could she overpower him. And even if she could somehow get away, she wouldn't get far with Roumduol dead ahead.

  Dead, poor choice of words right now, Rayne. She had to come up with something quick or she might be just that, dead.

  "Where are the pictures?" Roumduol stepped into the apartment, closing the door behind him, cutting off her view of David. Christ, how badly was he hurt? She didn't know, couldn't tell, but she had a terrible sinking feeling that praying for him to wake up and help her anytime soon would be a waste of much needed energy.

  Roumduol's gaze was menacing, his lips curved into a leer she knew would haunt her nightmares from here on out. He nodded to Foul Smell, a small movement, but an obvious order and the guy holding her let go. His enormous hands fell from her mouth and waist, but her freedom was short lived. One hand fisted in the back of her hair and yanked her head back. Stars exploded in her vision as daggers of pain burned down her neck and back. She yelped. She couldn't help it. Tears welled and she willed them back. Pain or not, no way would she cry for these bastards.

  "The boss asked you a question." Foul Smell bent over her and, yuck, his face was as hideous as his stench. At least he was consistent. "Where are the pictures?"

  "What pictures?" Reflex, fear, and pain made her play stupid. It was the wrong thing to do. She knew that even before Roumduol hit her. The blow to her cheek would've sent her reeling if she hadn't been held in place by Foul Smell's extra large hands. Even with his grip, the slap slammed her against Foul Smell's unmovable frame. Tears welled as the pain exploded through the right side of her face. She'd been hit before—wrestling with Max, a couple of fights in high school, an ex-boyfriend who thought he'd use her for a punching bag to save on fees at the gym—but none of those hits ever sent her brain scrambling like this one.

  "I'm only going to ask once more." Rayne barely heard Roumduol's softly spoken warning through the ringing in her ears. "Where are the pictures?"

  "My camera." She licked the corner of her lips and tasted blood. The slap had split her lips and he hadn't connected anywhere near her mouth. At least, she thought he hadn't, but damn, everything from her mouth to just under her eye throbbed like a bitch. Had he broken her cheekbone? It sure felt like it. "And on the computer," she added. Maybe she shouldn't have been that specific, but she figured these guys would know her camera wasn't the only place she'd store the pictures. Better to avoid another hit like that if at all possible. It wasn't as though the pictures would do her a damned bit of good, anyway. Let them have the fucking things.

  Roumduol gave Foul Smell a curt nod and the oversized brut released her with no show of gentleness. Without his body to lean against, his grip holding her upright, she stumbled backward a few steps, barely managing to stay on her feet. Then when Roumduol's attention centered on her once more, she took several more steps backward, voluntarily and eagerly putting more distance between herself and this horrible man.

  "The cops have a copy of the pictures, too," she quickly told Roumduol who, as if in direct contrast to her rushed words, took a very slow, very minute step towa
rd her. She continued to back up until, damn it, her back brushed the wall. Stupid, stupid, stupid! Now she'd boxed herself in.

  "I am aware of this." Roumduol's gaze slid down the length of her and she fought simultaneous urges to squirm and vomit. Already, bile was rising in her throat, a direct result of the mixture of fear and the pain still pulsing in her face. She gingerly touched her cheek. Roumduol tsked. "Such a pretty face to be marred with such an ugly bruise."

  "You put it there." She couldn't stop herself from reminding him. How dare he make it sound as if it were her fault her cheek felt the size of a soccer ball. It probably looked the part, too, no doubt growing black and blue over the white of her flesh already.

  "You should have kept your nose in your own business," he countered and continued to advance on her. "That is the trouble with American's, always sticking your nose in where it doesn't belong."

  "I guess that's the part of me you intend to hit next." It felt good to snipe back at him, to be sarcastic and bold instead of weeping and cowering.

  Until she felt her nose break.

  Not a brain jarring slap this time but a balled fist punch. Her head snapped back, hitting the wall as blood streamed down her upper lip and into her mouth. Stunned, she didn't think to cry, to scream, to do anything but stare at him.

  "Well, that shut you up." He grinned, so devious and nasty it made her stomach churn. Or maybe it was just more a mixture of the pain and fear. At this point, she could no longer tell. "You think giving that picture to your boyfriend is going to help him catch me?"

  "I don't even know you." Rayne couldn't believe how level and strong her voice sounded when everything from her neck up was riddled in pain.

  "No, that's right. It's Minh you know." Roumduol smiled again and somehow this one seemed even more devilish and menacing. "Your boyfriend thought he'd use Minh to get to me. Your boyfriend was wrong. Minh is dead."

  Oh, God, oh, God, oh, God. Rayne blinked. It was the only reaction she let show. She didn't feel an ounce of remorse for the guy who'd once been her insurance adjuster. Obviously, he'd gotten what was coming to him, associating himself as he'd done with this guy. What she felt, however, was a renewed arctic blast of sheer terror. Roumduol had killed Deshan Minh. It was possible he'd killed David Karlston, too. And now, God help her, she would likely suffer the same fate.

  "What do you want with the pictures? If you already know the cops have them and you've k-killed," her voice choked on the word, "Minh, what good will getting the pictures do you?" What good will do you if you kill me, too? She didn't ask that, fearing the answer almost as much as the act. "It's too late to stop the police from finding out about you and your association with Minh."

  "You're right of course. Which is why I took care of Minh. It wouldn't have been too late if he'd told me about you, about the pictures he knew you took of us."

  "They weren't of you."

  "Ah, but you did get me and Minh in those photos. No?"

  "Yeah, but—"

  "He followed you. Minh," Roumduol qualified. "Did you know he'd been following you for days now?"

  Oh, yeah, she knew. That was why she'd been unable to shake the being watched feeling, because she'd in fact been watched.

  "I can see why." Roumduol's gaze trailed down her front again, lingering on her breasts before raking down to the apex between her thighs. "I think he wanted you. I think he had great plans for you."

  Rayne swallowed, the bile growing thicker in her throat and increasingly difficult to hold down.

  "Too bad for him, I killed him before he had the chance to enjoy you." His gaze met hers once more and he gave a low chuckle. "There is no need to fear I will do the same to you. Pretty though you are, I am after more there than a quick fuck from a whore."

  Rayne bristled at that, but kept her mouth shut. He could call her a whore all he wanted as long as he didn't rape her. Please, God, don't let him rape me.

  "Your boyfriend, he did a really stupid thing sharing those pictures with the DEA. It's not the pictures I want most now. It is too late to reverse the damage they have caused. But to cause a bit of damage in return. Yes, that is what I want now. You can think of this as a warning from the Phay cartel, a demand of the necessary respect."

  The necessary respect? Oh, shit. She'd heard of third world country drug runners and their plays for necessary respect.

  Foul Smell came from the back of the apartment nodding, her camera and the tower from the computer in his hands. Forget deleting files. The bastard decided to be safe and take the whole thing.

  "And you can give a message to Michael Cosmos, too," Roumduol told her. "Stay out of our way or we'll come for him next."

  The blow to her solar plexus dislodged the vomit she'd been struggling to hold in. Pain erupted, spreading through her like a disease. She made a sound she'd never before heard herself make and doubled over even as another blow struck her, this one to the right temple. She smacked the wall hard and blessedly the world went black.

  Chapter Twelve

  Cory put his soda can on the table in the kitchen of the fire station and snagged the seat next to Terri. He spun the chair around, straddled it, and propped forearms on the back. "How’d the shopping go?"

  “Hasn’t happened yet.”

  Cory chewed the inside of his cheek. “Okay, and how are things without it?”

  Terri glanced up from the magazine she'd been reading, her forehead creased and her lips curled in an almost comical expression of thought. "Weird." She paused and then nodded. "Yeah, that about sums it up, just plain weird." She snagged Cory's soda and drank deep.

  Cory snatched the can back. "Oh, how so?" He craned his neck to peer at the article staring back at him. Large, bold, block letters titled it as Dating Dos and Don'ts: How to get what you want without saying a word. When she sighed rather than answered his question, he asked another. "Learning anything?" He tipped his chin at the article and couldn't stop the grin from curving on his lips.

  Terri scoffed and shut the magazine. "It's total bullshit. Most of them are. Write-ups like this, I mean. I only read them to pass the time."

  "Maybe you should write one."

  She shrugged and leaned closer, lowered her voice. "Do you think he's gay?"

  It took Cory a moment for his brain to jump tracks. Back to Thad again, okay. He lifted a brow and waited a beat before he answered, "My, what do they call it these days, gaydar isn't exactly highly tuned to scope them out, but I suppose he could be." Although, thinking about it, he'd never truly gotten the impression Thaddeus Carter even remotely danced the same sex jig. Then again, he'd never thought of himself or Ford in that way, but they had kissed. Yeah, okay, that didn’t make them gay because Rayne had been in the center of that kiss. "I take it you haven't managed to get Thad into bed."

  "That sounds totally pompous of me, doesn't it?" Terri leaned back in her seat and squeezed her eyes tightly shut. "Sometimes, I disgust myself. I haven't slept with the guy. He hasn't made a single move to get me into bed though we've spent quite a bit of time together as of late. So he must be gay, right? Geez, that's pathetic!"

  "We both know that isn't how you meant it. You've spent quite a bit of time with him lately. And gathering from your questions and statements, the time hasn't been spent in bed." Cory wondered how often that had happened to Terri. No wonder she was freaking out, even to the point of thinking Thad might be gay. Cory never thought of Terri as a slut, but he knew several people who did. He'd always considered the term to be one of the worst in the English language. So what if a woman enjoyed sex? So what if she slept around? Men did it all the time. As long as it was done safely and between two consenting adults, who had the right to pass judgment? He sure as hell didn't.

  "Quite a bit of time is probably an exaggeration. I mean, we talk here and we hung out for about a half hour after the ball game a couple of weeks back." The ball game between the department A and B shift. Yeah, he'd seen her hanging with Thad in the parking lot of the baseball field
after the game. "And there were the couple of hours the other day when we ran into each other off shift."

  "Hmm, and what have you done with him? Besides talk, obviously?"

  "Eat an ice cream cone."

  She sounded completely bewildered by the statement. Cory laughed. "You ate an ice cream cone with Thad Carter? You dirty, dirty girl." Terri smacked him on the shoulder. He rubbed the spot and swayed away from her. "Ouch."

  "Oh, stop it, you big baby." She scowled, but her lips twitched. "We ran into each other at the dry cleaners of all places." She rolled her eyes.

  "Of all the places in all the city…."

  "Yeah, yeah, yeah. Anyway, we talked, went for a walk, he bought me an ice cream cone."

  "What flavor?"

  "And then we, huh?"

  "What flavor ice cream? Haven't you read the article about the different flavors of ice cream and their romantic meaning?"

  Terri angled her head and stared at him, suspicion alight in her eyes. "You're kidding, right?"

  "Actually, yeah, but I figured if there had been such an article, you would’ve read it." He nearly fell out of the chair attempting to dodge her second smack. "Hey! Okay, I quit. Stop hitting me. You ate ice cream together…"

  "And it was, well, nice." By the time she finished the short sentence, her words were barely a whisper. Still, Cory heard them and, damn, if he didn't know better, he’d swear she blushed. "What do you think?"

  It sounds to me like he's either trying to be your friend, courting you, or both. Cory opened his mouth to say exactly that, but the shrill of the emergency tones blared through the station house. He shut up and waited for the no-nonsense voice of the dispatcher nestled across town at the central communication office to assign the call.

  "Engine 1, Rescue 4, we have a report of a B and E with injuries and possible fatalities at 6348 Sleigh Avenue, the Meadow Heights Apartments building C. PD already in route. Proceed with caution. Time out, 1423."