Unfair Advantage

CHAPTER THIRTEEN





After Tim and Larkin departed, Dani walked Buddy, crated him then spent three hours buying furniture. Her bedroom suit she arranged to have delivered later that evening. She’d chosen to make the place as modern as the cabin was rustic.



A black wrought iron bed for her room boasted tall posts and a canopy box. Very pale pink curtains embroidered with glistening dark red silk dragonflies created a dreamy, if dramatic statement. Shiny natural maple and black iron dresser, nightstands and armoire accompanied the bed. Bedding of pale pink sheets trimmed in cherry, a thick red comforter of lighter crimson on ruby print, and red velvet pillows trimmed with black beading added to the look.



Curtains to match the comforter, sheers in the same material as the canopy would arrive within the week. Dani purchased deep red candles in a luxurious Tudor rose scent for the room. Along with tall black iron stands for the pillars, a vintage pewter charger for the huge four-wicked candle, and a Tiffany bowl in splendid reds for atop the armoire.



She waited for the delivery men to finish setup, then accessorized.



For the bath she’d bought ten black bath sheets and wash cloths, three sets of black and tan towels, hand towels and washcloths. Also a black rug trimmed in tan and crimson, more of the special scarlet candles for an unusual iron stand that looked like a piece of twisted black willow branch to set between the sinks.



Tomorrow morning a painter would come to faux finish the bathroom walls to look like tan suede. In the water closet they’d receive a deep ruby shade.



For the living room she’d ordered an oversized love seat and chairs in a cream and chocolate stripe. Cornice boards covered in matching fabric with peacock blue trim would sit atop the French doors. A low maple and glass table, two matching bookshelves would come, too. For color she’d chosen bright cobalt accent pillows, same shade area rug, Lamp Berger. Also two original artworks depicting Manhattan scenes rendered in shades of blue and brown. They would all arrive at nine in the morning.



Dani stood inside the French doors, watched Buddy romp around the private yard lit by a bright outdoor light. He grew more confident with every day. Even as she considered that, he stopped, turned to gaze at her with his mismatched eyes. She found herself contemplating the world from his perspective.



What must he think about her? About this sudden change after only just coming to know the encapsulated little world she had resided in for the last year?



Dani decided he probably thought little beyond discovering his new turf. He trotted back to her, face upturned in intense canine regard. She knelt, took his wolfish face in her hands. Smiling, she said, “You’re going to break me of my species hubris. You’ll prove smarter than me.”



His body tensed. Gaze fixing beyond her, Buddy stared.



Vigorous pounding on the door told her what he‘d sensed.









Roarke wanted to pick up Dani and get on the fresh case. However, he remained off the clock. Off hours association looked unjustifiably suspect. It made him mad as hell having further restrictions clapped around him like shackles. He pulled into the short drive of his house, saw his mother’s International Scout parked on the street.



He parked his truck, walked up to the side door, unlocked it and entered. The smell of beef, bacon and beer stew filled the house. His mother, tall, dark and wild as a gypsy turned the corner from the kitchen.



“I’ve left six messages and your brother has come by twice looking for you.”



Roarke knew he had it coming. “I’ve kind of dropped off radar. This case has me in a strangle hold.” He hugged her, smelled the familiar soft scent of Bulgari. Brianna O’Riley Larkin’s one indulgence. As he released her, glanced around, he smiled. “You’ve been busy.”



“Don’t know what I did wrong with you three.” Her Irish lilt remained strong despite living stateside over thirty years. “None of you lot can keep a house.”



Roarke flipped her black braid over her shoulder. Unbraided, her curly hair hung to halfway to her slim waist. She swore she’d cut it when she turned sixty, or when she began going gray. Whichever came first. Roarke doubted she’d do it for either. It would break his dad’s heart.



“I work too much. What’s Brenna or Michael’s excuse?”



She pointed her finger. “You answer for yourself.”



He had no intention of going into detail about the last futile, guilt-filled six months. She’d tried before to cajole, wring and scold it out of him. But, he didn‘t want it touching his family directly by his involving them. “Just the job.”



“No job’s worth almost a half a year’s time keeping from your family. I know you’re a cop through and through, son. All the same, blood’s thicker than blue.”







Dani walked to the door, peeked out as the next knock sounded. Her heart nearly stopped. Behind her Buddy growled. She knew the dog sensed her rather stunned surprise.



The man standing in the hall, tall, athletic, thick coffee brown hair cut in the same short style, skin just as golden, had once aspired to become her fiancé.



She wondered how he found her here. As he knocked again, she inhaled, slid back the twin locks and opened the door. “Hello, Steven.”



He seemed to have aged more than a year. Doubtless he owed that to her. “I heard you’d stayed at the Plaza.”



“Word always travels fast in this town.” She didn’t step back in wordless welcome, nor invite him in.



“I -,” he glanced down, appeared ashamed, “called your parents and pretended to be one of the staff trying to return a lost credit card. They told me where to find you.”



Anger cut the nostalgia. “How dare you!”



He stepped forward, put up his hand to stop the door as she attempted to close it. “Wait! Please, Danielle! I’ve gone out of my mind!”



Her sympathy took a back seat to underhanded tactics. Guilt at having pushed him to them or no. “I resent your involving them. And I dislike your arriving here uninvited even more.”



“I didn’t know another way.” His blue eyes implored her. “When I heard you were back in town, I went kind of nuts. Like this might be my only chance to find out what happened.”



Dani relented a bit. “I’m not really ready for visitors.”



“There’s a martini lab just down the street.” The eagerness in his voice almost made her decline.



Yet, she felt he deserved an explanation. “Name?”



“Drench.”



She remembered the write up on this place listing that and several others as neighborhood social spots. “I’ll meet you there in twenty minutes.”







Brand sat in the corner chair in his bedroom, watching Mayan sleep. He’d kept her up most of the night. Morning, afternoon as well. Now she lie on her stomach, tangled in the black sheets. Her golden skin and golden-white hair contrasted sharply to their darkness by the light of a single lamp. He considered the smooth flawlessness of her flesh. Done properly, the practice of shabari left no marks.



Brand wished he knew what about her moved him so. Why her? The world teemed with beautiful women. Erotic, sensual women. What made him crave her again and again? He saw a hot female, thought of Mayan.



It piqued his temper. Made him hard and demanding.



He rose, walked to his closet, took out a bottle of imported almond oil, took it with him to the bed, and set it upon the table. He woke her by nipping the backs of her knees. Ticklish there, she gasped, jerked and turned over. Her big eyes stared at him. They held the combination of desire and vulnerability that fueled his lust like diesel to flame.



Brand climbed in beside her. The pulse at the base of her throat throbbed. He touched her there. She shivered. Her gaze lowered to his mouth. Brand leaned close, near enough to bring his mouth within an inch of hers.



Some strange sensation filled his chest. It made him want to stop it.



Hot wetness met his touch between her thighs. He teased her clit, had her hips lifting. She pushed at his hand when he moved on to her ass.



“No,” she murmured.



Brand moved over her. Pushed his finger inside her. He kissed her until she stopped trying to shimmy away. Then he lifted his head. “Let me fuck you like this.”



“No.”



He smiled.



A half hour later he was fucking her just the way he wanted while she moaned and trembled.







Dani walked into Drench. Steven sat at a high table in a back corner. He rose, came to meet her, pulled out her tall chair. It brought back memories of their time as a couple. If you could classify the relationship that way. She’d hardly committed herself.



A young girl, attired in the black pants and white shirt wait staff wore, stopped within seconds. Steven ordered a cognac martini, made light, twist of orange. Dani considered what she had come here to say, requested a double Grey Goose Cosmopolitan.



As the server went to get their drinks, Steven said, “Thanks for meeting me, Danielle.”



“Dani,” she corrected. “I go by ‘Dani’ now.”



She knew him well enough to recognize the hurt in his eyes. He nodded. “So much has changed.”



She felt she needed to unburden herself. “I want to apologize for filing a restraining order against you. All I offer in explanation is that I desperately needed solitude and saw no other way to keep you at a distance.”



“You kept sending me away.” He reached for her hand. When she pulled it back, he settled his upon the table, palm flattened. “Maybe that was the only way I could have understood.”



She wished the alcohol would come. Prayer answered. The girl arrived with them on a sleek chrome tray. Dani took a long sip of her drink. It tingled coldly, then mushroomed up into her brain in welcome warmth. Fortified, she decided to get it all out. “After the accident, I woke from a coma with the ability to see ghosts.”



His hand halted with the martini halfway to his lips. “Ghosts?”



She took a second, longer swallow. “I can see them, talk to them. And I have some kind of touch ESP. I have contact with a person, I witness bits of their past, feelings, thoughts.”



For a long moment he stared at her, then set down his glass. “Why didn’t you want to see me?”



“The only way I could cope was to totally change. What had happened would have crippled me in my old life. So I created a new one.”



Naked emotion erupted in his voice, his expression. “One without me.”



“Yes.”



“Couldn’t you have at least talked to me? Explained?”



She replied, “I didn’t know what had happened to me. Had no clue what I would do, how I would live. How could I have possibly explained?”



Steven shook his head, looked away. When he faced her again, his anger shone out, bright and brittle. “Do you have any idea what that did to me? I adored you, loved you. You broke my heart!”



Those final words cut the air. Fierce. Accusatory.



Around them heads turned.



Dani took a twenty from her purse, placed it under the base of her glass and pushed out of the tall chair. “I’m sorry for that.” She searched for something to let him know how awful it had been for her, too. “Believe me. Whatever the grief you endured, I suffered far worse.”



She didn’t go back to the apartment. Instead she walked aimlessly, lost in thought. As she past in front of a little deli, she realized she had nothing for dinner. She pushed open the door, setting off an old-fashioned bell chime. The scents of fresh bread, roasting meat and garlic permeated the small shop. Dani smiled at the little woman who stepped from the back.



In response the lady exclaimed, “It’s you!”



“Excuse me,” Dani glanced behind her, thinking someone had entered behind her. Facing the other woman, she asked, “Have we met?”



“You’re on the television! Channel Six!” She stepped to the side, pointed back into the kitchen area through a doorway. A television sat atop a counter. It’s angle prevented Dani’s fully seeing the screen, but as the commercial ended she heard the all too familiar reporter giving her story.



“Thanks, Ann and Terrence. I’m Peta Seymour reporting live on a story you’ll only see on Six. I’m in front of the precinct of New York City Police Department handling the cases thus far. The woman shown before, Miss Danielle Richards, is the psychic assisting detectives on this brutal and disturbing case.”



The blood drained from Dani’s body, left her cold with dread.



"This is the seventh victim of what NYPD still refuses to call serial killings. However, inside sources say that investigating officers believe one perpetrator responsible for these violent slayings. I’m Peta Seymour, live for Channel Six. More on this exclusive story on our eleven PM report.”