Covet - A Novel of Fallen Angel Part 9

Vin was having a f.u.c.king ball.

It had been years since head thrown punches at more than a bag of sand in the gym, and head forgotten how good it felt to physically express his opinion of an a.s.sholea"directly in the guyas face. Man, it all came back, the stance, the power, the focus.

He still had it. He could still fight.

The trouble was, like all good things, the party had to come to an end and it turned out not to be of the knocked-out-opponent varietya"although given the way the college kidas pins were wobbling, if Vin had just a little longera But no, Jim broke up the fun, locking a heavy hand on Vinas shoulder and yanking him out of range. aWeave got an audience.a Panting like an fain bull, Vin glanced up the hallway. Sure enough, a guy with gla.s.ses and a mustache was staring at them all, his expression like head been witness to a car accident.

Before anyone could react, however, the back door to the club swung open and an African-American man came striding down toward the melee, looking like he was capable of tearing the front fender off a car. With his teeth.

aWhat the h.e.l.l is going on in my house?a Vinas dark-haired woman stepped out from the locker room. aTrez, the two in the skull shirts are the problem.a Vin blinked like a dummy at the beautiful sound of her voice, but then he refocused and muscled his kid face-first into the wall. aFeel free to finish what I started here,a he said to the clubas owner.

Jim pulled his loose bundle of frat boy off the floor. aThis one had the knife.a The Trez guy looked the kids over. aWhereas the weapon?a Jim kicked the thing over and the owner bent down and picked it up. aPolice been called?a Everyone glanced at the woman, and as she shook her head, Vin found himself unable to look away. From across the club shead made his heart pound; up close she made the thing stop dead: Her eyes were so blue they reminded him of a summer sky.

aI think these boys are done,a Trez said with approval. aNice work.a aWhere do you want them?a Jim asked.

aLetas take aem out back.a Look at me, Vin thought at the woman. Look at me again. Please.

aRoger that,a Jim said, and began hauling his load down the hall.

After a moment, Vin followed the example, pushing his guy along. When they came to the door, Trez opened the way like a perfect gentleman and stepped to the side.

aAnywhere you like,a the owner said.

Jim alikeda the brick wall to the left, whereas Vin preferred the opposite sidea"

Just as he dropped the kid on his a.s.s, he froze.

The security lights around the door shone down over the heads of the boys, casting a solid blanket of illumination all the way to their feet. So their shadows should have been on the asphalt. They werenat. Both of them had dark halos on the brick behind their heads, a twin pair of smoky gray crowns that weaved ever so slightly.

aOhaChrist,a Vin whispered.

The one head been beating on glanced up with eyes that were more tired than hostile. aWhy are you looking at us like that.a Because youare going to die tonight, he thought.

Jimas voice registered from a distance: aVin? Whatas up?a Vin shook himself, and prayed those d.a.m.n shadows disappeared. No luck. He tried to rub his eyes in hopes of wiping them awaya"and found that his face hurt too much from the punches it took to handle that kind of attention.

And the shadows prevailed.

Trez nodded over his shoulder to the club. aIf you two can head in, Iam going to have a word with this pair of s.h.i.t-heads. Just so that theyare perfectly clear on where things stand.a aYeah. Cool.a Vin forced himself to get moving, but as he came up to the door, he glanced over at the kids. aBe carefulawatch yourselves.a af.u.c.k you,a was what came back at him. Which meant they were taking it not as advice, but a threat.

aNo, I meana"a aCome on,a Jim said, muscling him back into the building. aLetas go.a G.o.d, maybe he was wrong. Maybe he just needed to get his eyes checked. Maybe he was going to get a migraine in another twenty minutes. But whatever the explanation, he couldnat go back to where head been with this s.h.i.t. He just couldnat handle that.

In the hallway, Jim took his arm. aYou get knocked in the head bad?a aNope.a Although, given how much his face was flaring up, that wasnat entirely true. aIam fine.a aWhatever. Letas give the owner a minute out back and when he comes in again, Iall take you to my truck.a aIam not leaving until I see thata"a Woman. There by the locker room door.

Vin headed for her, shutting all of his paranoid, wingnut head spins down and concentrating on her. aAre you okay?a Shead put a fleece on over her revealing getup, and the thing fell to her thighs, making her seem like the kind of woman you wanted to take into your arms and hold through the whole night.

aAre you all right?a he repeated when she didnat answer.

Her eyes, those stunning blue eyes of hers, finally swung over to his faceaand he felt it again, that high-bore charge barreling through him, enlivening him.

Her lips lifted in a small smile. aThe question is moreaare you?a As Vin frowned, she made a motion around his face. aYouare bleeding.a aIt doesnat hurt.a aI think itas going toa"a Two other women bubbled out of the locker room like a pair of yappy dogs, talking a mile a minute, hands waving like tails, the gold chains around their waists bouncing and chiming like tags on a collar. Fortunately, they were all over Jim, but then again, they could have popped skirt and mooned Vin and he wouldnat have noticed.

aIam sorry about those guys,a he said to the dark-haired woman.

aItas okay.a G.o.d, her voice was lovely. aWhatas your name?a The rear door to the club opened and the Trez guy strode over. aThanks again for taking care of things.a Conversation sprang up, but Vin wasnat interested in anyone but the female in front of him. He was waiting for her to answer him. Hoping she would.

aPlease,a he said softly, atell me your name.a After a moment, the dark-haired woman turned to the owner. aMind if I clean him up in the locker room?a aGo right ahead.a Vin glanced back at his comrade in harm. aYou okay to hang out, Jim?a The guy nodded. aEspecially if it means you wonat bleed all over my truck.a aI wonat take long with him,a the woman said.

Not a problem, Vin thought. As far as he was concerned, she could take forevera"he stopped himself. Devina might have stormed off, but she was in his house, in his bed at this very moment. He owed her more than the way he was going on about this other female.

At least, you think you know where Devina is, his inner voice pointed out.

aCome on,a the woman said to him as she opened the locker room door.

Vin looked back at Jim for some reasona"and the expression he met was all about the watch-yourself-my-man.

Vin opened his mouth, prepared to be reasonable and get a grip.

aIall be right back, Jim,a was all that came out.

s.l.u.t. Wh.o.r.e. Prost.i.tute.

He couldnat believe it. She was whoring herself out. Selling her body to men who used her for s.e.x. The reality was incomprehensible.

At first, he hadnat been able to fathom what appeared to be going on. Bad enough if shead been a bartender or a waitress or, G.o.d forbid, a caged dancer in a club like thisa"but then head seen her walking around with her b.r.e.a.s.t.s on display and her thighs bared to the eyes of other men.

And she got what she deserved for doing what she did: Those two young guys had tracked her like prey, treating her exactly as men treated women like her.

Head followed along as the pair had trailed her into the hallway, and watched as that fight had erupted. Head been unable to move, so great was his shock. Of all the things he had pictured her doing, of all the a.s.sumptions he had made about what her life here in Caldwell was like, this was not it.

This was not happening.

As the hara.s.sers got pounded in the corridor, he backtracked through the crowd and tore out of the front of the club in an urgent haze, having no idea what he was doing or where he was going. The chilly night air didnat clear his head or his confusion, and he went around to the parking lot with no plan whatsoever. When he got into his nondescript car, he shut himself in and breathed hard.

That was when the anger hit. Great waves of fury poured through his body, making him sweat and shake.

He knew his temper had gotten him in trouble before. He knew this boiling rage was a problem, and he remembered what head been taught in prison. Count to ten. Try to calm down. Call to mind the safety imagea"

Movement by the back of the club brought his head around.

A door opened and the two kids whoad been stalking her were dropped like bags of garbage onto the pavement by the ones whoad come to her rescue. A black man stayed out in the cold and spoke to both of the offenders for a moment and then returned into the club.

From behind the wheel, he stared hard at the young guys.

The lightning strike hit him as it always did, wiping everything out of the way: His rage condensed and then crystallized, locking on the pair by the back door, all the anger and the sense of betrayal and the fury and the confusion that woman had created getting trained on those two.

Moving in a daze, he double-checked that the false mustache and the gla.s.ses were where they were supposed to be. Chances were very good there were security cameras on the back of the club, and having been caught by the likes of them before, even in his rage he knew enough not to do this in front of prying lenses even with a disguise.

So he waited.

Eventually, the college kids got stiffly to their feet, one of them spitting out blood, the other holding his arm as if he were afraid it was going to drop off his torso. Facing each other, they argued, whatever harsh words they shared nothing but mute theatrics because he was too far away to hear what they were saying. But the fight didnat last long. They fell silent fairly quickly, as if theyad lost their collective will, and after some looking around, they lurched into the parking lot like drunks.

Probably because their heads were spinning from the beatings theyad taken.

When they pa.s.sed by his car, he got a good look at them. Fair skinned, light eyed, both had an earring or two. Their faces were the kind youad see in the newspaper, not in the criminal section, but under the header College Sports.

Healthy, young, with a lot of life ahead of them.

There was no conscious thought at all as he reached under the seat and then got out from behind the wheel. He shut the car door quietly and fell in behind the young men.

As he moved silently, he was action and nothing more.

The pair went to the last row in the parking lot and took a rightagoing into a tight alley. With no windows.

If he had asked them to find some privacy, they couldnat have possibly been more accommodating.

He tracked them until they were halfway down the buildings, right in the middle of the double block. With smooth control, he leveled the muzzle at the strong, young back in front of him and paused with his finger on the trigger.

They were up ahead a good ten yards, their sloppy strides cutting through the slush, their shifting torsos presenting moving targets.

Closer would be better, but he didnat want to wait or risk spooking them.

He pulled the trigger, the loud pop! followed by a messy scramble and a thump onto the ground. The second of the pair wheeled around.

Which meant the kid got dropped by a bullet right through the front of the chest.

Satisfaction made him soar, though his feet stayed on the asphalt. The free expression of his anger, the p.r.i.c.kling, o.r.g.a.s.mic release, made him smile so wide that the frigid wind registered on his front teeth.

The joy didnat last. The sight of the two lying side by side and moaning doused everything that had bonfired his brain, leaving a whole lot of rational horror: Head just f.u.c.ked himself. He was on parole, for G.o.das sake. What had he been thinking?

He paced around as they writhed in slow motion and bled red. Head sworn head never find himself in this situation again. Sworn to it.

As he stopped, he realized both his victims were looking up at him. Given that they were still breathing, it was hard to be sure whether they were going to die or not, but more gunshots were not going to help the situation.

He tucked his gun into the small of his back and took off his parka, wadding it up into a pillow of Gor-Tex and down. He went over to the taller one first.

CHAPTER 14.

He was beautiful, Marie-Terese thought.

The man whoad protected her was absolutely beautiful. Thick dark hair. Warm brown-toned skin. Face that even with its bruises was stunningly attractive.

Fl.u.s.tered by so much, Marie-Terese pulled out one of the stools in front of the makeup counter and got ahold of herself. aIf you sit here, Iall get a washcloth.a The man whoad thrown down for her looked around, and she tried to ignore what he was seeing: the kicked-off, scratched-up stilettos, the torn miniskirt hanging from the bench, the towels strewn here and there, the pair of thigh-highs draped on the edge of the lighted mirror, the bags on the floor.

Given how amazing his black pin-striped suit was, this kind of cheap chaos was clearly not what he was used to.

aPlease sit,a she said.

The manas gray eyes came to rest on her. He was about eight inches taller than she was, and the width of his shoulders was easily two of her. But she wasnat uncomfortable around him. And she wasnat scared.

Man, his cologne was delicious.

aAre you okay,a he said again.

Not a question, but a quiet demand. As if he wasnat going to let her do anything about the shape his face was in until he was certain she wasnat hurt.

Marie-Terese blinked. aIamafine.a aWhat about your arm? He locked on pretty d.a.m.n hard.a Marie-Terese tugged up the sleeve of the fleece shead put on. aSeea?a He leaned in and his palm was warm as it wrapped around her wrist. Warm and gentle. Not grabbing. Not demanding. Notaowning.

Kind.

Abruptly, she heard that college kidas voice in her head: You are not a woman.

The nasty crack had been said to be cruel and to wound, and it hadabut mostly because it had become what she felt about herself. Not a woman. Notaanything. Just empty.

Marie-Terese pulled her arm away from the manas touch and tugged the sleeve back in place. She couldnat handle his compa.s.sion. In some weird way, it was harder to bear than the insult.

aYouare going to have a bruise,a he said softly.

What was she doing? Oharight. Washcloth. Clean him up. aSit down here. Iall be right back.a Going into the shower room, she took a white towel from a stack by the sinks, grabbed a small bowl, and got some hot water running. As she waited for the stream to warm up, she looked at herself in the mirror. Her eyes were wide and a little crazy, but not because of the pair whoad been so grossly inappropriate and disrespectful. It was the a.s.s kicker with the gentle hands sitting on the stool outsideathe one who looked like an attorney, but fought like Oscar De La Hoya.

When she came back to the makeup counter, she was a little calmer. At least until she met his eyes. He was staring at her as if absorbing what she looked like into his body, and what made her uncomfortable was not how he regarded her, but how she felt as he did.

Not quite so empty.

aHave you seen yourself?a she asked, just to say something.

He shook his head and didnat seem to care enough to turn away from her to the mirror behind him.

She put the bowl down and snapped on latex gloves before stepping up to him and dipping the washcloth. aYou have a gash on your cheek.a aDo I.a aBrace yourself.a He didnat, and he didnat flinch as she touched the open wound.

DabadabadabaThen back to the bowl, a little tinkling sound as she rinsed the cloth out. Dabadaba He closed his eyes and parted his lips, his chest rising and falling evenly. Up this close, she saw the five-oaclock shadow over his straight jaw and each of his long, black eyelashes and all of his trimmed, thick hair. Head had his ear pierced at one point, but only on the right side, and it had obviously been years since head worn anything in the hole.

aWhatas your name?a he asked, his voice guttural.

She never gave johns her real fake name, but he wasnat just a john, was he. If he hadnat come along when he had, things could have gotten ugly for her: Trez had been away from the club, the bouncers had been breaking up a skirmish out by the bar, and the hall led directly into the parking lot. Work of a moment and those two beefy college types could have had her in a car anda aYou have blood on your shirt,a she said, going back to the bowl.

Great conversationalist, she thought.

His lids lifted, but he didnat look down at himself. He looked at her. aI have other shirts.a aIall bet.a He frowned a little. aDoes that kind of thing happen to you often?a With anyone else, she would have shut the question down with a quick of course not, but she felt as though, given what head done in the hall for her, he deserved something more truthful.