Microsoft Word - FortunesFool.rtf (33 page)

shoes? Then he saw what she had in her hands, and tried not to lose his

shit entirely.

She held a tray. Arrayed upon it were several articles that shone and

twinkled in the flickering candlelight, including a chrome-and-leather

ball-gag—several sizes larger than the one Shannon had forced into

Leah's mouth—two ivory-handled filleting knives of differing lengths,

and the largest dildo he'd ever seen. The fact that this fake cock appeared to be made of stainless steel was only secondary to its massive girth. His entire body clenched as he stared at the tray, and then up into Leah's face, which wore a perfectly blank expression.

"Please arrange yourself on the bench so that I can fasten the

restraints." She didn't quite meet his eyes as she said it.

"You're kidding, right?"

She looked straight into his face then. "What makes you think any

of this is a joke, Detective?" A muscle in her jaw twitched. The tension radiating from her body was like a tangible force, pushing at him. "Do it, please."

"Hear how gracious is our little sparrow, Detective? How politely

she speaks? She is preparing to conclude her test of loyalty. Her mission is to make you suffer for three hours, without respite. To free your soul 214

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from its prison within your flesh and bone." Donnatella's voice dropped, and she spoke as if she were savoring the words. "And then she will help you make the ultimate sacrifice,
sí
? And you will be ready. You will be grateful, as your friend was grateful. In the end, he could not even

scream, so great was his gratitude,
sí
? It will be the same with you, I promise."

He glanced at Yugiya, who'd moved nearer again and stood at the

ready.

Fuck. This was really going to happen. They were going to torture

him to death.

"Please, Detective," Leah said. "Don't make me ask Yugiya to force you." Her eyes had filled with tears. He watched her blink them back, but she couldn't seem to do the same with her expression of pleading and

desperation. She stared at him so hard he felt her gaze drill into his brain.

Trust me, Marcus. Just a little longer.

He almost nodded, then caught himself and glanced over his

shoulder at Yugiya. She was watching them closely. He moved to the

bench and bent over it, placing himself in exactly the same position Leah had occupied only half an hour earlier. He caught a whiff of her scent,

musky and sharp, as he stretched himself over the leather.

"Do not forget to inject him, my sweet little Leah. We wish to let

the good Detective have the...how do you say it? The full experience,

sí
?" He started, every nerve in his body on red alert. No...not that fucking drug again.

Leah's voice came from somewhere behind him. "But, Madre, I

thought Shannon said—"

"Shannon is overly cautious in her zeal to serve." Donnatella's voice had grown cold and hard in the space of a second. "Inject him."

He stood, pushing away from the leather. Yugiya was at his side,

instantly, but she made no move to threaten him with her blade. He

watched as Leah chose a syringe from the scattered group on the floor,

and then an unbroken bottle of the drug. It glowed green and vicious-

looking in the soft light.

He could see her fingers shake and fumble the job of filling the

syringe. Could see how red her face had grown. She kept glancing at the

door. As if she were expecting something...someone, maybe?

As if on cue, the door slammed open and Shannon charged in. There

was blood on her face, running from a gash over her right eye. It looked 215

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deep, that gash. Deep and painful. Marcus loved that gash.

But his attention was instantly diverted by the rolling gray cloud

that followed the bleeding barmaid into the room. Smoke. And a lot of it.

Shannon slammed the door behind her. "What did you do, you

bitch?" She threw herself at Leah and wrapped her hands around her

throat, forcing her to her knees. Marcus moved instinctively, and had

nearly reached them when he felt Yugiya's blade at the back of his neck.

He ducked and did a quick spin. She wasn't the only one who had studied

the more violent arts.

He came up facing her. She held the katana before her defensively.

In the girl's black eyes raged a battle between fear and resolve.

"You're not going to kill me," he told her. "Back off, run away, while you've got the chance."

Her eyelid flickered, just the twitch of a muscle. She didn't move.

But behind her, on the other side of the room, Donnatella had finally

caught a clue.

"What is happening? Shannon? I smell..." The Madre's mouth

contorted, and her hands came up to curl into fists on either side of her face. "Is it smoke? Is it, Shannon?" The terror in her voice was almost as satisfying as seeing the barmaid bleed. A weakness. Finally. And a fatal one, if the amount of smoke flowing in from beneath the door was any

indication.

"Shannon! Help me!" She took a step forward and stumbled over

nothing, plainly caught out helpless by her own fear. Marcus watched as

her perfectly smug and controlled manner crumbled into confusion and

fear. He almost wished he could feel a little sympathy. It must've been

horrifying to think of flames coming near when you couldn't see to run

away.

He glanced at the pair to his right. The blonde's hands were still

around Leah's throat, but she was looking at Donnatella, indecision plain on her face. Finally, she let go and allowed Leah to fall forward, face-first onto the cement. Shannon darted to the Madre and took her arm,

steadying her. Then she turned to Yugiya.

"You stay here with them." She led Donnatella to the door and

stopped to look at Marcus. "Don't get any fancy ideas, cop. I'll be back to finish the two of you."

Donnatella had begun to sob. She clung to Shannon's arm like a

frightened child. "Please,
cara
. Take me out. Take me away from the fire."

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The door slammed behind them. He turned to face Yugiya through

the haze of smoke. "Don't listen to her. You can still run. You can get away. If you stay here—" The sound of sirens cut him off. "You hear that? They must be close—must be right outside if we can hear them

down here." He took a step toward her, and she lifted the katana. But her face was unsure. Frightened. And very, very young. He stared at her,

realizing for the first time that she couldn't be more than sixteen.

The Madre had much to answer for, including murder, but this? This

was the worst.

Still Yugiya held fast, her blade aloft and ready. Marcus turned his

head slightly, just enough to see Leah from the corner of his eye. She lay motionless on the floor, but he could hear her breathing quicken. He saw her hand twitch and curl into a fist.

And then she rolled, catching Yugiya by surprise. She took the girl

out at her knees. Knocked her down. Kicked away the katana, all in one

rapid movement. Even in the chaos of the moment, he had to be

impressed.

He watched her crouch over the now-cringing girl, grab her by the

hair, and look straight into her terrified face. "Run," she said, clean and sure and not even very loud.

She gave Yugiya a shove and the girl was on her feet, sprinting for

the door. She opened it, and smoke billowed in. More of it than he'd

expected. The room had begun to grow warm.

He took Leah's arm and pulled her to her feet. "Where's the fire?"

"First floor bathroom. I decorated it with paper towels and toilet

paper, then set it on fire with this." She coughed into her fist and held up a lighter—tiny, pink and plastic. The kind you could buy at the grocery

checkout. "When Shannon came in to see what was taking me long, I

clocked her with the heel of my shoe."

The pounding of footsteps down the hall saved him from asking if

that had been her scheme all along. Because if it had? He might've been

forced to kill her. Both their lives at the mercy of those bugfuck crazy bitches, and she'd planned to save them with a lighter and a pair of heels?

As it was, he kissed her much harder than was strictly necessary.

Three firefighters appeared in the doorway, and the next little while

was all about getting out of the building. Then they were sitting on the curb, watching Hotel California's soggy swan song, their matching

nakedness covered by blankets. Marcus got the attention of a passing

uniformed cop.

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"Did they get everybody out?"

The cop shrugged. "They only found the two of you. If there was

anybody else, they found their own way out."

Leah looked at him, her eyes wide. There was a smudge of soot on

her cheek and another on the end of her nose. She opened her mouth to

tell him something, but an EMT interrupted by insisting she join him in

his ambulance for a quick exam.

"I'll be right back," she said.

He made sure he was gone before she could make good on her

promise.

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She knew he was on his way four days before he showed up at her

door. Dreamed about him three nights running. Saw him standing there

in the hall outside her apartment, with his hands shoved into the pockets of a brand new leather jacket and a smirk on his face. Looked like maybe he'd gotten a haircut, too.

That morning—a full two weeks after the fire that took out the

entire back half of Hotel California and ended with the city demolishing the building—she woke early and made a pitcher of sangria. She bathed

carefully, dressed herself in a blue silk kimono she found in the back of her closet, lit some incense, and sat down to wait. When he hadn't shown up by noon, she began to wonder if the dreams were wishful thinking.

She remembered what he'd said. "If we get out of this alive, I'm

gonna track you down and fuck you stupid." Not the most romantic

proposition she'd ever heard. And maybe the fact that he'd already fucked her negated it. But a girl could hope.

She got up off the sofa and poured another glass. The phone rang.

She didn't bother to look at the caller ID.

"Hi, Gram."

"Is he there?" Her grandmother sounded excited. It was a little disturbing, to tell the truth.

"Is who where?"

"Don't be coy, Leah. It's unbecoming in a woman of your age."

Leah sighed. She'd been doing that a lot lately. "No, he's not here. I don't think he's coming."

"Yes, he is. In fact...go fix your hair."

"What?" She set the glass on the counter and ran a hand over the loose bun at the nape of her neck. "Why?"

"He's on his way up. Be sure to call me after and tell me everything.

And remember, Leah—destiny is all in the details."

What the hell did that mean? Leah didn't have time to ask, because

her grandmother had hung up.

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She stood in the kitchen and waited, knowing Marcus was in the

elevator. Because Gram might be a pain in the ass, but she rarely got

stuff like this wrong. Leah counted to ten...and then kept counting.

Twenty. Thirty. Thirty-five and...

The sound of the bell made her jump. She set the sangria—which

she'd managed to splash down the front of the kimono—on the counter

and tried not to run to the door.

In her dreams, he hadn't brought flowers, but now he was holding a

dozen blooms of the purest white.

"Innocence and truth? You really think so?" She stared at him over top of the bouquet he'd just handed her. Yeah, he'd definitely gotten a

haircut. And now, minus the heavy stubble on his jaw, he looked a lot

less dangerous. Funny how he didn't feel any less dangerous to her

heightened senses.

He looked confused. "Huh?"

"White roses. They symbolize..." She shook her head. "Never mind."

"You don't like them? Here, let me—" He reached for the flowers and she stepped back, forcing him to move into the apartment.

"I like them fine. Come on into the kitchen."

He followed her. She could feel his gaze on her back and wondered

what he was thinking. She didn't look at him again until the roses were

safely stowed in a vase on the counter, and she'd poured him a drink.

"You weren't easy to find," he said, and drank half the glassful in one long swallow...which made her think he might be just a little

nervous. So good to know she wasn't the only one. "All I had was your first name and the fact that you're an English professor."

She shrugged. "I would've given you my number if you hadn't...you

know...disappeared."

"It wasn't anything personal. I had a lot to do."

She nodded. "Of course."

"Listen, I had to check in with the Chief and give a full report." He was frowning, and his jaw was set in a tight line. "Then make sure there was an APB out on DeTagliera and Shannon—"

"You have nothing to justify, Detective. Frankly, I'm surprised

you're here. It can't be easy..." She let her voice trail off and took another sip of sangria. All at once, she wished she hadn't answered the door. Or that she'd gone with straight tequila instead of this fruity red sludge.

Then at least she'd be halfway to numb by now.

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"What can't be easy?"

Great. Now he sounded defensive to the tenth power.

She shook her head. "Nothing. I appreciate your visit. Is it official business?"