Chapter 6
Chapter Six
I quickly walked over, practically gagging as I pressed two fingers against the pulse point in his neck. It was there, slow and strong.
“He’s alive,” I said. “Probably drugged, because I can’t imagine he wouldn’t have done all that he could to avoid wallowing in his own waste.”
“I’ll contact Jack or Betty or whoever is manning the line right now and get them to get everyone over here, then let the hotel know.”
“It’d be Betty at this hour.”
I dragged out my phone and quickly photographed the scene.
Then I carefully untied the gag, doing my best not to breathe too deeply as I worked on the ropes leashing his wrists and his feet.
They were freaking tight, a situation probably made worse by the godawful amount of fluids covering the lower sections of his body.
Thank god for gloves....
“Here, let me,” Ginny said as she came back into the room. “My claws are naturally stronger than yours.”
“I think it’s going to take a knife to remove the ones around his ankles.” I stepped back to give her room to get past me. “Did the information on Luke come with a photo? Is this our man?”
“It’s not, which does mean Monica isn’t a complete idiot.”
I frowned, not understanding the comment. “Why?”
She waved a hand toward his groin. “Well, does that look like the world’s largest dong to you?”
Despite the seriousness of the situation, I just about choked on my laughter. “No, but some men do get more impressive when erect. Or so I’m told. It’s not like I’ve had a whole lot of experience in that regard.”
“Yeah, and that is just insane. Good god, woman, your kid is probably having more sex than you are.”
I rolled my eyes. “Aside from the fact I have no desire to think about my son having sex, he’s young, and it’s natural for him to be active. Me, I’m old and drier than the Sahara.” A fact I knew for certain. “Now, can we just concentrate on the matter at hand?”
“I’d rather not. He stinks.” She paused. “His lips are puffy, and there’s bruising around his mouth, suggesting he was punched at some point, and his arms have newish-looking needle tracks. Maybe someone was coming in here to keep him doped up.”
If that was true, then the hotel’s security tapes might give us our first real lead. “Why not just kill him, though? It’s not like they’ve shown any reluctance to do so previously.”
“That’s assuming he’s connected to Monica’s disappearance. Until we can ID him, we can’t be sure.”
“You don’t believe this is a random event any more than I do.” I took a close-up photo of his face, then sent it through to Betty and asked her to run a facial rec. Her thumbs-up reply came back almost instantly.
I squeezed back past Ginny, then moved on to inspect the rest of the room.
There was nothing here—no suitcases, no clothes, no wallet.
If Luke and Monica had been staying here, then they’d cleared out the minute they’d finished trussing up the man on the bed.
Though again, why restrain and drug him rather than kill?
It made no logical sense—and probably wouldn’t until we knew what the hell was going on.
The earwig buzzed. I double tapped it, then said, “Don’t tell me you’ve got an ID already.”
“Hey, we don’t muck around up here in Queensland, you know.” It was primly said, but I had a suspicion she was smiling. “Your unconscious gent is none other than one Mark Marlowe, from the Paris line of Marlowes.”
“Fuck,” I said, looking at Ginny. “It’s Monica’s husband-to-be.”
“Yes, indeed,” Betty replied, obviously thinking I was speaking to her. “His immediate family arrived here last week for the wedding, and they’re staying with relatives in Canberra. Is he dead?”
“No, very much alive.”
“Well, that does make a nice change, Agent Kang.”
I snorted. “Did Jack have any success with the two searches I asked him to do?”
“We’re still waiting for the security tapes from Mr. Ashworth’s building, but we’ve uncovered nothing untoward in Glebe other than the old gent driving off that cliff.”
“Did we get an ID on the old gent?”
“We’ve put in a request to police headquarters for information.”
I frowned. “Surely a search through Births, Deaths, and Marriages would have been better. If he died, there would have been a certificate issued.”
“I daresay there was, but his name was not mentioned in any of the news reports and, until we have said name, we cannot request the certificate. Have you any idea how many people on average die each day in any given city in Australia?”
“Well, no, but—”
“You do your job, Agent Kang, and let me do mine. I will pass on anything we find the minute we find it.”
“Well, okay then. Thank you.”
I hung up, but before I could say anything else, I heard voices out in the hall. “That’s likely the medics. I’ll go get them.”
Ginny nodded and continued working on the ropes. She had his feet detangled, but his wrists, contrary to what I’d thought, were proving harder.
I walked out and took a very deep breath of fresher air.
It cleared out my lungs, but the odious scent still clung to my clothes.
Three men and a woman who looked the managerial type were approaching.
As I waved the two paramedics in, the youngish-looking man tugged credentials out of his pocket and flashed them.
“Brett Johnson and Jamie Greer, forensics. What you got for us?”
“A man, unconscious, tied up.”
“You touched anything?”
“Just the ropes—we undid them.”
He nodded. “We’ll head in and examine the scene once the medics are through.”
“Might want to grab a mask. It’s pretty nasty in there.”
He nodded again, dug a small jar out of his pocket, then opened it and dabbed some of the thickish mixture under his nose before handing it to his partner, who repeated the process.
“It’s a stronger mix of camphor, eucalyptus oil, and menthol than what’s usually available in the stores,” Jamie said, obviously seeing my raised eyebrows. “Helps keep fouler scents away. You want some?”
“I am not going back in there.”
As they headed in, I stripped off my gloves, dumped them in the nearby rubbish bin, and waited for Ginny to appear. She did so a few minutes later.
“Wow, I desperately need a shower right now. That wretched smell is right through my clothes.” She handed me a sanitizing wipe and tossed the one she’d been using into the bin. “The medics say he’ll likely be taken to St Vincent’s.”
“You informed Betty?”
“Yeah. They’ll place guards on him at the hospital until he wakes and can be interviewed.”
“They’ll inform us when he does wake?”
“Yes.”
We headed down the stairs—it was either that or infect the lift with our ambrosial scent—then jumped in the car, keeping all the windows down as we drove back to the apartment. I collected my gear and climbed out before Ginny drove into the underground parking area, then headed up to our apartment.
As I approached the door, my phone rang, and I juggled various bags so I could grab it out of my handbag. The number wasn’t one I recognized.
“Hanna Kang speaking,” I said warily. “How may I help you?”
“I think it’s more a case of how may I help you,” came the deep and very sexy reply.
My pulse skipped several beats. René. “Well, you can start by answering at least a few of the many questions I have for you.”
“I do believe we agreed that could only be done over dinner.”
“We did. I’m not entirely sure it’s the wisest move I could ever make.”
It was dryly said, and his answering chuckle was decidedly sultry, which only emphasized my point. I unlocked the door, pushed it open with a foot, then went through and kicked it shut again. The sound echoed loudly through the apartment, but in the silence that immediately followed, I heard it.
The softest creak of a floorboard.
I froze, every sense prickling. The sound wasn’t repeated, but it didn’t need to be.
I wasn’t alone in this place. I couldn’t see their energy, but someone else was not only in this apartment, but in my bedroom.
I drew in a deep but silent breath and forced my feet on. “Can I ring you back? I need to put these parcels in the kitchen before I drop them and break things.”
He hesitated, perhaps sensing something was off. “Sure.”
I hung up, dumped the bags on the kitchen counter, then triple tapped the earbud, letting Ginny and control know there was a problem. Then I silently but quickly wound a leash spell around my fingers and crept back.
I was five feet away from the bedroom door when a figure barreled out of it, coming straight at me. I jumped back and released the spell, but his reflexes were lightning quick, and he leapt out of the way. I swore and flicked my spell around, aiming it straight at the back of his head.
It didn’t hit him. It hit the second man coming through the door instead.
Fuck.
The first man raised his fist and threw a punch. I dropped, felt the wind of the blow stir the top of my head, and swept a foot around, trying to unbalance him. The blow hit his shin, but he barely even wavered. He just grabbed my shirt, picked me up, and tossed me backward.
I hit the floor hard, slid along the boards a few feet, then collided butt-first against the wall.
Felt, rather than saw, the tremor of his approach, and quickly cast another spell, this time a cage one.
He laughed and raised a hand, a countermeasure dancing across his fingertips.
But before he could unleash it, the door crashed open and a feathered fury flew in.
He spun and raised his arms, but he was nowhere near fast enough.
Her sharp talons raked his face a heartbeat before my spell hit him.
He roared and threw another punch, undoubtedly trying to knock her from the air, but my spell now encased him, and it captured the blow before it could get anywhere near Ginny.