9. Caramel Coffee Side Quest #2
“Sneaking off for a quickie, princess?” Killian says, coming up quickly from behind. His large hand lands flat on the door a moment before I arrive, and he pushes it wide open before standing like a personal guard.
I stop and stare at the rain coming down in sheets. I can vaguely make out the Hellcat and know I will be soaked by the time I make it into the driver’s seat.
“Just trying to grab a fancy coffee.” I’m not sure if my voice can be heard over the pounding rain, so I yell. “Can you watch Rex while I grab one? It will take ten minutes, max.”
“Must be an important coffee,” Killian says, barely audible over the sound of the torrent. “Yeah, of course I can watch Rex,” he says louder.
“Rex,” I shout, looking down. “Stay with Killian. I’ll be right back.”
Rex groans before sitting back on his haunches.
“Thank fuck,” I breathe before looking up at Killian, still holding the door wide. Spray from the rain bounces onto the linoleum floor, which will make everyone’s shoes squeak. “Thank you,” I say to him directly before ducking down and then taking off at a sprint for the Hellcat.
“I need a favor and you won’t believe the hell I went through to get this.
” I set the rain-soaked specialty coffee on Vicky’s desk.
Her office is a rectangular room littered with various computer screens and towers.
It’s not usually as packed full as today.
There is barely enough room for me to even place the cup.
Vicky looks up at me, her blonde curly hair falling in tight coils all around her bronzed face.
Her eyes are the color of amber and pierce my soul despite being housed behind a thick pane of glass from her cat eye frames.
She arches a perfectly sculpted eyebrow, and her cinnamon-colored lips pull into a tight line.
“But,” I pout, “coffee?”
“Does it look like one cup of coffee is enough for all this?” Vicky takes the cup from the table and uses it to gesture around the room before taking a sip. Her expression changes slightly and she looks back at me. “It is my favorite, though. Let’s see what you need first.”
“DNA extraction and hopefully, an ID,” I say, pulling the clear bag containing my underwear from my purse.
Vicky’s eyes widen.
“No questions. No trail. This isn’t for court.”
Vicky reaches up and delicately grabs the plastic bag, taking a quick moment to glance at the contents before grabbing a stack of paperwork to her right.
“No trail,” I reiterate, and she rolls her eyes.
“I need you to listen.” Vicky flops a clipboard onto the desk with the papers attached.
“I can’t send in a sample without instructions.
Hell, I haven’t even been working with this kind of testing since the hive bust. I’ll get the sample from the article, but then I have to hand the Miller—” she stops, pointing to the area on the clipboard where it asks for the case name.
She waits until I write Miller in the line. “—case off to Zac.”
“But I don’t know Zac,” I say, likely sounding like a petulant child, but considering the topic, I’m not thrilled to get another person involved.
“Zac is a sweetheart. Started a few weeks before the raid so at least he got his bearings before everything went to shit,” she says with a smile, and I get the impression Vicky is rather taken with the new techie.
“Put your badge number for contact so Zac sends you the results and as soon as you have everything you need, stop by for a visit and I’ll make the trail disappear. ”
“Thanks, Vicky.” It isn’t exactly what I hoped, but I don’t even know if Ghost would show up in the database.
“Hope everything’s alright.” Vicky gives me a half smile as she takes the clipboard back to her side of the desk. “Should take a week or two, depending on how badly the labs are backlogged.”
I sigh, but it’s not like I have any other options. I have a feeling, by the time I get the results back, it won’t matter any longer. I will have already decided.
“That was a lot longer than ten minutes,” Killian says as I approach his desk.
Rex is sleeping soundly next to my desk.
“I blame the weather. And I appreciate you.” I place a rain-soaked cup of coffee on his desk. It’s probably cold by now. “Glad he wasn’t any trouble.”
Killian looks taken aback by my token and reaches forward to take the lid off the cup. Like I predicted, there isn’t steam rising to the surface, but Killian takes a sip anyway.
“This is actually really good coffee. No wonder you went. Thank you,” he says before giving a curt smile.
I stand for a moment, unsure of what to do.
Something feels off, like unspoken words trapped inside an inopportune time.
I give up and go back to my desk. The strange mood only seems to follow me to the store after my shift ends.
Rex remained in the cruiser with the radio as company rather than come in to pick out his own bag of dog food.
At least I tried.
I wander through the aisles of the store while rain pounds against the metal roof, making me question why I’m not home where it’s dry like a sane person.
“Because I’m difficult,” I answer myself while hopelessly looking at the vast selection of fresh produce. I don’t even know how to cook most of this. “Fuck it.”
I grab a head of lettuce before crossing the space for a bunch of bananas.
“It’s a start.”
The rest of my shopping contains my usual items, but I grab a different brand of dog food for Rex to try. I avoid the alcohol section entirely, stocking up on soda and coffee to supplement. The hardest part comes when I want something to drink, and nothing sounds as good as the bite of vodka.
I’m proud of my restraint as I shove the bags onto the passenger seat through the driver’s door. I soak the cab but shut the door before puddles form. With the press of a button, the car navigates us home while I wipe the sheet of water from my face.
My phone vibrates and I shift things around until I finally find my purse and drag my phone from it. Heat rushes through me and I pause when I see a text message from an unknown number.
Did the poor kitty get wet on her trip out?
I’m not sure if I can reply, not only because I don’t know what to say but also because the message bounced last time. There isn’t any harm in trying again. It’s not like I keep a kit on me.
Are you waiting for me at home?
I watch the spinning icon until a green check mark pops up to verify the message was sent. I release the air burning in my lungs. The windows fog, but it doesn’t bother me since the car and its safety equipment will keep me far safer than I could in this storm.
My phone vibrates in my hand, feeling like a bolt of electricity through my body. I unzip my coat and fan the edges apart while focusing on my breathing before deeming myself ready to check Ghost’s reply.
What do you want, Kira?
A thousand answers pop into my mind, listing everything I ever believed my soulmate would solve in my life. I wanted him, my soulmate. For him to fix everything wrong with me, erase the curse of being mateless. To make me feel like I am worthy of love.
I want every little thing I dreamed of before I became…
this. One of the mateless, an unloved fuck-up of society.
I want the fucking house and someone to come home to.
Someone to go on adventures with and drive around in the Hellcat.
The thought made me smile before more images screamed out at once, tearing into my chest until it felt like my heart would burst and just as quickly, I was left in absolute silence, staring at the keyboard, not knowing what to say.
I want to know why it took so long for you to tell me you exist.
I take a deep breath, wishing that I had at least bought a few of the single serve bottles for moments like this. My blood feels like liquid electricity and my eyes sit glued in anxious anticipation of his reply.
I didn’t want to.
The words make my chest ache while my head fills with voices from the past. I shouldn’t have allowed myself to think for a moment that I could actually have any of the dreams that popped into my mind as he asked that question.
Ghost is a killer. My future with him would likely look like being chained in a basement while he took out all his energy on me. Either that or I would have to spend my life looking to the side every time he added to his other body count.
Sorry to be such a disappointment. What changed your mind? Did you get tired of having to tie women up to keep them from running away from you?
I’m breathing heavily as I look over the words, watching the icon spin.
Unable to send.
“Fuck.” I throw my phone across the front seat. It lands somewhere amongst the bags.
Rex whines and I turn toward the back seat to see him sitting up, his head cocked to the side, as if questioning my sanity.
“He drives me fucking crazy,” I tell the dog, not helping myself to feel any more sane.
Rex appears to smile, lopsided and loose, before laying back down on the seat for the rest of the ride home. He hurries through the door, pushing it open wide as I waddle in with the groceries plus Rex’s bag of food slung over my shoulder.
“You could make yourself useful and learn how to shut the door,” I say, using my foot to show the dog.
Police dog training might be amazing, but it wasn’t enough to make Rex get up from his spot in front of his empty bowl.
“Give me a few,” I chastise as I pass to haul the groceries onto the counter.
Rex patiently waits for the ten minutes I take to put everything away, but the reward of a heaping scoop of the new food disappoints him.
“I told you, you should have come in to pick it out yourself.”
The dog looks up at me with his large, soft, brown eyes while the darker fur above his eyes moves in a humanlike expression. Concern. Rex whines, looking at the new chunks of food inside his bowl, before turning around and heading straight for the couch.
With a sigh, I grab his bowl and pour the bits back into their bag before getting a scoop of his old food.
He watches me through side eyes but doesn’t get up from the couch when I replace the bowl.
I understand how the dog feels as I look over the new foods fresh from the store and still choose to put a frozen pre-made meal in the microwave.
Oh well. It’s like the saying; Atlantis wasn’t built in a day.
I am having a hard enough time drinking enough soda to quell the burning in my throat. Ghost’s messages run through my head, and I grab my phone out from my purse to read through them once more.
I can’t help it; I’m drawn to the pain.
I sigh. Yet again, the entire message thread is missing. I should have known. My body takes over the routine task of eating while I’m left with nothing more than my memories of the encounter while I try to sort through and figure out where we stand.
Not we. I. I need to sort where I stand.
I refill my glass of soda before heading into my bedroom, deep in contemplation over a subject that should be simple.
He didn’t want me. He kills people. He’s psychotic.
Maybe he expects me to kill people with him.
Did I kill him or did you?
The names he has encouraged me to give him. He’s been training me since the moment he started communicating. Bloodthirsty kitten, that’s what he had called me, and my love starved body had reacted like a thirsty bitch.
I might be fucked up, but I’m not that kind of killer.