Chapter 23
23
I nara
I drift in darkness, suspended by an unseen force. As soon as I question why, there’s a rush of wings, and I realize I’m flying. I’m a tiny, feathered thing.
The shadows below me flow together to form a giant, hulking shape. A warrior on a bloody battlefield. He strains upward, the powerful muscles in his arms and back working to rise, but chains are binding him to earth. And as I watch, they slither, living vines that wind around his arms and neck, choking him and filling his mouth so he can’t scream ? —
And then I’m chained, too. I’m underwater, and the light above seems so far away. Hands hold me, squeezing my hips and stroking between my legs. My belly is a balloon, and one more erotic caress will make it burst.
Sunlight slants over my face. I blink and focus on the fine detail of the blue wallpaper a few feet away. I’m back in the hotel room, lying on the luxurious bed. The bright light tells me I’ve slept late.
I go to flop onto my back and hit a huge wall. A living, breathing wall.
Rex. Only he would be lying next to me, his chest and abs solid as a brick barricade.
“You’re awake.” He passes a hand over my forehead. “You were frowning. Bad dream?”
I roll to face him. The morning light illuminates his face, and I’m hit with the full force of his beauty. The shadow of stubble emphasizes the perfect symmetry of his jawline and lips, and the black hair falling on his face is as glossy as a raven’s wing.
He’s irresistible like this, tousled and sexy. I can’t stand it. People who wake up looking gorgeous are annoying. “What are you doing here?”
“Sleeping.” He rolls and settles a heavy leg over mine, trapping me, and something huge and heavy pokes my thigh. I refuse to follow his prompt to look down at his morning wood.
“You own the hotel.” I squirm a little, testing to see if I can wriggle free. The movement makes his dick swell to outrageous proportions, and I give up. “You couldn’t get another room?”
“I like this one.” He slides a hand under the covers to caress my bare belly.
His touch awakens my body. My pussy pulses with painful need. I get a flashback of last night, his naked body on full display, as he jacked himself to completion over me.
“I carried you here last night. And you clung to me. The bed looked so big and cold, so I stayed.”
You clung to me. Of course I did. My unconscious would like nothing more to curl up in his arms forever.
“I like watching you sleep.”
I want to roll my eyes and call him creepy, but a part of me loves that he stayed and held me. I’ve never felt safer.
I take a deep breath to collect myself, and it only makes me more aware of his hand on me.
“And now that you’re awake, I want to finish what I started.” Don’t come, he ordered, and I obeyed. His fingers brush my lower belly and set my core throbbing. Tears prick my eyes at the ache.
No wonder I had horny, crazy dreams.
I grab his wrist. “You think you can just come here and seduce me?”
“No, little bird.” His deep voice does things to me. This is how he drags me down to the depths with him. “I know it.”
It takes a huge force of my will to drag his hand away. “I need to get to work. You know, my job? The reason I’m in this city?”
“I’m the reason you’re in this city. I studied your work out West and told Jordan. I put pressure on the brass to create your position, and the Roy Foundation funded it.”
He thinks he’s dropping a bombshell, revealing all the ways he owns me, but I’m used to it. I suspected something like this when he revealed he owned the townhouse. The job offer from NRPD had come out of the blue, and they worked hard to recruit me.
“Yes, you’re the god of the entire universe,” I say with all the sarcasm I can muster. “Got it.”
He leans back and laughs. His chuckle is a mini earthquake that sends aftershocks through me. I grip the blankets, ignoring the delicious happiness and the pride I feel because I made him laugh. It shouldn’t feel so good to be with him.
I talk over his laughter. “But now that I’m here oh lord and master, I’m going to solve crimes. There’s a serial killer out there, and I’m going to get him.”
“You already have him. Right here.” He throws off the blanket, and I can’t escape the sight of him. “I need you, Inara.”
I can’t hide the tremor that runs through me when he says my name. I let myself look my fill at his awesome body, then turn my face away. “I need to get going.”
His legs have moved enough that I can slide out from underneath him. I make it as far as the foot of the bed before he grabs me and pulls me to him.
I end up on my back in the middle of the king bed with Rex draped over me, holding his upper body up so he doesn’t crush me.
“Say it again.” I must look confused, distracted by his cock dripping precum onto my thigh because he clarifies. “Call me Master.”
“No.” It’s so hard to focus with his weight on my pussy. I could rock my hips a few times and steal the orgasm my body was screaming for. But I have to be strong. I can’t look at him as I say, “You’re not. . . that.”
He settles a hand at my throat and wraps his long fingers around my neck, collaring me. “I could be. You’d look so good in my collar.”
My pulse is wild under his palm. “You talk like it’s a foregone conclusion.”
“I know you want it. You want me to take over.”
I go to shake my head, and he clamps down on my throat, forcing me to look at him. I’m reminded of our time in the pool. For a moment, I’m back there with the water closing over my head, staring up at him while he controlled whether I lived or died. He is my anchor and my god. My only resort was to surrender to him.
Surrender feels like victory. Like taking a breath after holding it for years.
I let myself relax in his grip and drown in the darkness of his eyes.
“You’re unhappy when I give you a long leash. You need someone to rule you, to keep you safe and happy. It’ll be so wonderful when you give yourself to me. Just think of it. . .” He lowers his voice. He holds me so we’re face to face, and he whispers to me like a lover. “Every morning, you’ll wake beside me, just like this. You’ll wear my collar and cuffs, and I’ll reward you for being a good girl. And every night, I’ll tie you down and belt you if you earned it. If you deserved it. I’ll give you my marks so you know you belong to me.”
My pussy throbs with potent arousal. If he tightens his fingers much more, I’ll come on the spot.
I can see what he’s describing like a vision, the clearest of my life. I wouldn’t need to think. I wouldn’t be afraid. There wouldn’t be any more striving to make a difference or struggling to eke out a life all alone. There’d only be him.
“Ask, Inara, and I’ll give you everything.” His lips brush my ear, and it almost triggers a cataclysm inside me. “Ask.”
It’d be so easy to give in to him. But I’ve never allowed myself the easy path, and I won’t start now.
This is why I need to find evidence of his crimes. Locking him up is the last chance I have to escape him. To break his hold over me. And with every passing day, the window of opportunity narrows. The light of day disappears, receding before the oncoming night.
A part of me wants to make an exception for him. But I have to fight for justice. I’ve dedicated my life to it, and as long as there’s a chance to uphold the law, I have to do it.
I have to wait until I can be sure moving or breathing won’t make me climax, but finally, I trust myself to whisper, “I want to leave.”
For a moment, I don’t think he’s going to let me. Then he rolls off me and stands aside. “Then go.”
I don’t wait. Even naked, he’s a menacing figure, prowling at the foot of the bed like a beast denied its prey. Everything in me wants to recant my words and go to him.
I grab a jersey dress out of the closet and escape into the bathroom. I don’t even bother to lock the door. Locks don’t stop Rex Roy. If I’ve learned nothing about him, it’s that.
I wet a plush washcloth, and I scrub the last traces of his cum off my breasts, all the while expecting him to burst in and stop me. My legs and belly bear faint pink slashes from the belt. I touch the tender marks but don’t press too hard. If I come now, he’ll know.
I tug the dress over my head. I don’t bother with underwear. This dress doesn’t need a bra, and my sex is too swollen. Panties would be a torment.
My hair is dry but unhappy to have been soaked in pool chemicals. It crackles under the brush. I pull it into a ponytail and pronounce myself ready. If I linger, Rex might come looking.
I push away the disappointment that he let me clean up and dress in peace.
When I exit the bathroom, he’s sprawled on the bed. I’m shaky from adrenaline and the desire to come, but he looks as calm and controlled as a lion lounging beside a fresh kill. A predator temporarily satiated from eating its fill. The white sheets frame his glorious body. His cock juts out from a nest of trimmed black hair, thick and proud. He looks so good I’m tempted to toss off my dress and have him for breakfast.
That’s what he wants.
I focus on putting on socks, boots, and my trusty leather jacket. I move slowly, aware of the all-consuming ache in my sex. If I get any hornier, I’ll break down and beg him for an orgasm.
I stiffen my spine and head to the door without looking back.
“See you later,” he calls.
“See you never. It’s over, Rex.” I can’t let this continue. I have to be strong.
It’d be so easy to let him devour me whole.
The door doesn’t close fast enough to shut out his final words. “Fly away, little bird. Next time you come to me, I’m keeping you.”
* * *
My dear Swallow,
Swallows fly thousands of miles to return to their home. I can sense you like you sense me. In a city of millions of people, you might as well be the only one. A beacon in the night.
I grow tired of waiting, even as I know our final connection will be the sweetest surrender.
Soon you will come to me. And I will make you whole.
BK
* * *
Inara
Every muscle protests as I step out of Hotel Magnifique. My body wants to return to Rex and the warm bed. It’s getting harder and harder to put space between us.
He’s boxed me in and surrounded me like the consummate hunter he is. He’s behind, before, all around. Every step I take moves me closer to him.
Case in point: as soon as I reach the end of the long red carpet leading out of the hotel, Ivan rolls up in a black town car, and the hotel doorman opens the back door for me. I want to stick to my principles and ignore the gift of a car and driver, but my body is sore from last night’s impact and edge play. If I ride to work, I’ll get there much faster.
I slide into the back seat, suppressing a groan. I go to cross my legs, but the slightest brush of skin on skin will stoke my arousal. I smooth down my dress and cross my ankles instead.
I carry the marks Rex gave me, even as I try to leave him behind.
“Central precinct?” Ivan asks in lieu of good morning. I don’t know why he bothers giving me a choice. It’s clear Rex has already told him to pick me up and take me to work.
“Thanks.” Needing to come makes me grouchy. I shouldn’t take it out on Ivan, but he’s an extension of his employer. I’ll settle on being short with him but not rude.
I’ll save my rudeness for Rex.
“Mr. Roy wanted me to give you this.” Ivan hands me a thick manila folder.
“What’s this?”
“A little something I picked up this morning at locker six-nine-six-nine.”
That’s the locker number Mina gave me. I flip over the pile and spot the telltale label. A sticker of a demon-eyed kitten holding a smoking bazooka. KittyBang. These are the files of everything Mina’s dug up.
Rex figured out I’ve been looking for them and got Ivan to intercept them.
“How considerate,” I mutter. “How many of the files did Rex have you destroy?”
“They’re all there. I swear it.” We’re at a stop light, and he holds up his hands as if I’m pointing a gun at him. “Untouched.”
I don’t believe him, but it’s not his fault. I’d yell at Rex later, but that would mean breaking my determination to never see him again.
I rip open the seals and pour the papers onto my lap. Most are printouts of webpages or scanned documents with Mina’s notes in blue Sharpie. One sheaf is all about Rex’s family, the Roys, with a few pages dedicated to his guardian, Hamish Hitchcock, and various close employees.
I set that aside to dig into the thicker pile that covers his business dealings. There are photocopies of incorporation articles for various companies with a top sheet summarizing Mina’s findings. She’s drawn a spider web connecting over three hundred secret or shell companies owned by Rex Roy, not including Roy Industries or Knight Corp. She’s found Rex’s hiding places. From there, she’s been able to dig into a few of the secret companies directly. And she’s discovered his ownership stake in Club Empire.
More importantly, she has evidence of secret weapons labs that manufacture everything from specialized body armor to stealth surveillance equipment to weapons. There’s a report on a newly developed knockout gas that’s scentless, tasteless, and undetected on any chemical profile. The gas Rex used to immobilize Gregory Martin before tying him up and stabbing him.
This could be the evidence of everything Rex has done. It’s circumstantial, but I could paint a picture of an obsessed billionaire who had the means to surveil and kill three victims. I’ll have to convince the lead detectives to dig and maybe point them in the right direction, but they might come around if I offer a strong enough motive.
There’s one more piece I could add to the puzzle, one missing link. It would suck, but for my accusations to stick, I’d have to reveal what I know about Rex surveilling a fourth victim: me. Our run-ins, our private meetings, everything. It would lead to hours of uncomfortable questions, and I’d be removed from the case. My life and my privacy would be invaded and under scrutiny. And it would go on and on until the end of the trial. My career wouldn’t survive. Exposing myself like this would be like being skinned alive, but I’d be willing to do it. I’ll brave anything for justice.
But I’m getting ahead of myself. No use thinking about that painful step before I have to take it.
Bottom line: the papers in my lap don’t build a conclusive case, but they’re a start. Combined with the video I found of a masked man in body armor, they could lead to Rex’s downfall.
Why did he let me have them? He had Ivan intercept them. I’m used to his power plays, but this one is different. Rex is private. He’s threatened Mina, swatted her, and might have done much worse if I hadn’t asked him to stop. He’s only backed off for my sake. He doesn’t want anyone to know the details of his secret life. He works hard to maintain a bland facade, but it’s only a cover for what he’s really up to. Stalking and killing people. Hunting, as he calls it.
The only reason he would allow this information to come to me is if I couldn’t do anything about it. He’d get a thrill out of that.
But there’s another reason. He wants me to know him. He’s said before that I’m the only one who sees him for who he is. I thought that was his way of taunting me—the detective who can’t snare her quarry. And maybe it is, but he also gets a kick out of drawing me into his world. He wants to drag me down to the depths where he resides.
It’s probably all these reasons and more. Nothing with Rex is simple. Every move is calculated to bring him maximum gain and narrow the options of anyone who opposes him. It’s more than 3D chess. It’s layer upon layer of traps, and I’m too deep in his web to untangle it.
Distance will help. I need to find ways to sever our connection, not continue it.
And there’s no reason my heart should sink at the thought.
“Coffee?” Ivan offers. I nod absently, and he keys something in on the tablet affixed to his dash. At the next light, he rolls down the window and accepts two paper cups from a street vendor. “Gino makes the good stuff. Do you need cream or sugar?”
“I’m good. Thank you.” The coffee is amazing, delicious, and potent. The caffeine starts working right away, making me feel a little better. I shift the papers to the side so I don’t spill coffee on them.
“If you get sick of reading all that, I also got today’s paper.” Ivan holds it up. I’m about to decline when I see the headline. Wealthy businessman’s murder solved is exclaimed in big, bold font. The coffee sloshes in my stomach, turning sour. I find a cupholder for the cup, grab the paper, and spread it out.
“CEO of Martin Shipping found to have ties to a local street gang,” begins the lede. There are full-color photos of Gregory Martin and the two other victims, Joey Daniels and Adam Devida, as they were in life. The article spins an elaborate tale of corruption, illegal dealings, and murder. According to this, Martin shared close ties with a bunch of thugs running a meth lab, and they stabbed him in a drug deal gone wrong. More gang violence that followed resulted in the deaths of Daniels and Devida.
It makes no sense, but supposedly there’s evidence; witnesses who claim they saw Martin meeting with gang members. There’s also a burner phone Martin supposedly used to contact the gang, threatening texts back and forth and everything, culminating in the night Martin was murdered.
The break in the case was finding the burner phone. “‘We discovered it in a special safe in Martin’s office,’ says Tony Cuccinelli.” The writers quote him as one of the lead detectives on the case.
Acid fills my mouth, and my face is numb, like I’m no longer inhabiting my body. Like none of this is real.
“Everything okay?” Ivan asks. I must look like I’m about to puke.
I can’t answer. I know Rex killed these men. He admitted it. I was supposed to gather proof. But now, out of nowhere, there’s all this evidence that Martin was killed by the same men who attacked me and that those men were killed by their own gang.
Bullshit. There’s just no way. This is Rex covering his tracks.
That window of opportunity just narrowed to the tiniest aperture, and with every word in this paper, I’m watching it disappear.
I keep reading, but it doesn’t get better. The article continues on page two with mug shots of the remaining members of the gang, now charged with the murders of Martin and two of their own.
“Did you read about this?” I hold the paper up so Ivan can see the headline in the rearview mirror. “The murder cases?”
“Uh, yeah. But not in the Times. The Post broke the story, too, and my old lady prefers to read that. And I saw a bit of it on the news.”
So, the media has swallowed the story. By tonight, it will be public knowledge.
The chance to nail Rex is gone.
“It was pretty bad, what that guy did,” Ivan says. “Trafficking those women.”
“What?” I flip the paper, and there it is, below the fold. The story of Martin’s ties to human trafficking. This article has a picture and the testimony of the woman Rex told me about last night, Iona Stipanov.
Rex has done it. He’s murdered three people and tied it up in a nice, neat bow. He planted evidence and probably leaked the story. Now that the truth about Martin is out, people will buy the story about him being tied to meth dealers. The gang will get blamed for everything. And I’m sure more evidence will turn up that will make the case against the gang members a slam dunk. They’ll all go to jail. And Rex will get away with everything.
You clean up the streets in your way; I do it in mine.
He thwarted the justice system in every possible way, pulling strings until he got what he wanted.
And I’m the only one who knows.
Damn him for doing this to me. Damn him for drawing me in, making me crave him. Revealing his secrets and leaving me as helpless as Cassandra, whose prophecies fell on deaf ears.
“Ms. Ramos?”
I blink and realize Ivan has called my name a few times. The car has come to a stop outside the police precinct.
“Yeah. Thanks.” I stuff everything, the newspaper and Mina’s files, into my bag. It might not matter if I spill coffee on the dossier after all.
I stride through the precinct halls and barely acknowledge the desk sergeant in my rush to get to the private room assigned to Gregory Martin’s case. I can feel everything I’ve fought for slipping from my fingers.
I arrive just in time to watch two grunts untack the last of the photos on the evidence board. Everything else pertaining to the case is gone. The room is empty except for the clean-up crew and some boxes they’re using to store everything.
I’m too late.
“No, wait,” I gasp, swinging my bag onto the table. Today’s paper and Mina’s files spill out across the laminated wood.
The grunts pause, staring at me like I’m crazy.
“You have to stop.” I motion to the board and the boxes. “I have new evidence.”
“Ramos?” Burgess says, standing in the doorway. “What’s going on?”
“I have a break in the case.”
“This case? It’s over.”
“Where’s Bonds?” I look around, desperate for a bit of luck. Bonds will listen to me.
“He and Cuccinelli closed the case. They did a debrief for all of us first thing. Didn’t you read the paper?” Burgess picks it up and shakes it at me as if I missed the giant headline.
“That’s just it. They got it wrong.”
Everyone stares at me. I’ve committed a mortal sin, naysaying the lead detectives about a closed case. Heat crawls up my chest, sending spikes of flame to my cheeks. I sound like an idiot, but I hold my ground. Because when cops go after the convenient suspects, the real criminals walk free.
I hold out my hands, appealing to Burgess, to anyone. “I can explain?—”
“Okay, come on.” Burgess motions me out of the room. The grunts have already gone back to cleaning up the evidence board. They’re not going to listen to me, but Burgess is willing, so I grab the scattered papers and follow him into the smaller room, where I reviewed the footage for hours.
“All right, Ramos. What’s this about?”
“I read the paper. Martin wasn’t murdered by a gang. Neither were the other two.”
“Evidence says otherwise.”
“That evidence was planted,” I almost shout. “That burner phone?—”
“It was in the safe this whole time.”
“Because he put it there.”
“Who?”
“The real murderer.” I don’t know how Rex did it, but I’d bet money that he made sure the burner phone was placed in the safe for Bonds and Cuccinelli to find. Rex owns tech companies. It would be easy for him to forge a text conversation between two burner phones and change the time stamps to frame whoever he wants.
“Look.” Burgess takes on a fatherly tone. “I know you want to prove yourself and see this thing through. But the case came together overnight. Sometimes it works like that.”
“This doesn’t make sense.” I’m grasping for the threads of logic I intend to weave together. I thought I’d have more time. “Suddenly, all these cases are tied together? Martin has ties to this gang?”
“Yeah, turns out he was no saint.” Burgess flips the newspaper over and slaps the picture of Iona Stipanov. “Martin. If you ask me, he got what he deserved.”
I’ve never killed anyone who didn’t deserve it. Rex told me. And he’s tried Martin in the court of public opinion. Now that Martin’s sins are revealed, everyone’s willing to believe his murder was just.
“And the gang members? Why would they murder two of their own?”
“They’re gang bangers. Killing is what they do.”
“Then why did they leave Daniels on my doorstep?”
Burgess shrugs. “Some weird gang ritual. They were making a statement about cops getting involved in their business. Or maybe it was an apology. Who the fuck knows? Do meth heads need a reason to do crazy shit?”
“It doesn’t make sense.” I clutch Mina’s files to my chest. I haven’t brought them up, not yet. They’re too precious to waste on Burgess. “I need to talk to Bonds.”
“He’s moved on. He and Tony are already on the next case. Jacobs and Diaz, too.” The detectives who interviewed me about Daniels’ death.
Burgess is still talking. “Stroke of luck all these murders got solved together. Three birds, one stone.” He points his finger and makes a noise like a gun firing. “And they had you in the frame for that body on your doorstep. Guess that makes this your lucky day.”
I feel like I’ve been beaten, and not in a good way. Burgess notices.
“Not sure why you look like someone canceled Christmas,” he grumbles.
“What about the video I found, the security video outside Martin Shipping.” The video showed Rex in body armor. “How do you explain that?”
“Must have been a gang member.”
“Did you talk to any of them? Do they fit the profile?”
“They’re all denying they had anything to do with it. But they’re being held without bail, and the DA’s on the case now. He’ll offer them a deal to turn on the rest, and one of ’em will take it. We’ll get our confession.”
A false confession, not that it will matter. Rex murdered three men, and the wrong people will go down for it. “This is so wrong.”
“Look, kid.” Burgess claps a meaty hand on my back. “Chief wants this case closed. We did it. Everyone’s celebrating. We’re all going out tonight. You wanna come?”
Even through my leather jacket, his touch makes my skin crawl. I jerk away from him.
“Have it your way.” He leaves, taking his BO with him and leaving me with my files and the ashes of my dying hope.
Rex isn’t just ten moves ahead. He’s controlled the whole board from day one while I stupidly thought I could beat him. Maybe I can, but this is checkmate.