Unfair Advantage

CHAPTER FIVE



Dani sat upright with a fearful gasp. She sat on a hospital bed. Horrific deja vu sank icy talons into her.



At once she heard Detective Larkin bellow, "Doctor!"



She glanced about. She still wore street clothes. No IV or plastic bracelet. The detective stood in the door. Beyond she could see a bustling ER. Calming some, she took inventory. A dull ache ground through her temples. Other than that and fatigue, nothing wrong.



A small man in a white lab coat hurried to her side. "Don\'t get up, miss."



"What happened?"



Larkin stepped close, asked, "What\'s the last thing you remember?"



"That building."



The physician said, "You\'re body temp was ninety-four when you arrived. But your heart rate had hit one-thirty BPM. We should admit you for observation."



She could only think of escape. Meeting the detective\'s gaze, she appealed, "Please get me out of here."



Larkin nodded. To the doctor said, "Have my partner meet us at the car."

"Detective, she should at least have a wheel chair out."



"I\'ll take care of her." He lifted her into his arms, strode out into the triage area. Dani felt too weak to fight the things she knew would come. But, only his strength, concern and regret reached her. She put her face against his heavily muscled shoulder, closed her eyes.



She didn\'t open them until he put her in the car. Then, she saw Fielding come dashing out of the ER automatic door. His crooked tie and mussed hair made her wonder what happened while she\'d lain unaware. He fumbled with the door handle, sort of flopped into the seat.



"Holy shit! I mean, are you okay, Miss Richards?"



She had to smile. "Call me ‘DanI‘. I\'m fine."



Larkin climbed in, started the car.



Fielding buckled up, continued, "I\'ve never seen anything like that. Holy shit!" He shook his head. "Sorry. I can\'t quit saying that."



"What happened?"



In a tone that clearly meant his word was final, Larkin replied, "After we have you at your suite, we\'ll talk."



She took exception. "You have no right to withhold or even delay giving me an explanation for my waking in the hospital."



"I won\'t have you dropping like that again."



"No. You won\'t have me calling the shots in your case. That\'s the rub isn\'t it, Detective Larkin? It really chaps having me involved. Having to deal with me and my little paranormal carnival. Right?" Silently she dared him to deny it.



She could see his big, powerful, yet elegantly boned hands flex on the wheel. "Yes."



"So we understand each other," she leaned forward, "It makes no difference to me if the Pope himself offers me indefinite absolution for cracking this."



In the mirror those red-brown eyes flashed fire. That got his undivided attention. The bitch still living inside her had gone straight for the sensitive spot every good Irish Catholic boy possessed. She made the kill shot. "What I want is not have to see another burnt little body in the morgue. And for my part in this, I want anonymity."



"It\'s not recognition I\'m after. It\'s closing my eyes at night without seeing those kids\' butchered bodies." His raw tone revealed the toll this case took. "I owe it to them. I owe them justice."



Inner bitch melted like the Wicked Witch in water. "Apologies, detective. I stand corrected."



He stopped at a light, met her gaze in the rear view. "I\'ll accept yours if you\'ll accept mine."



"Done."



The remainder of the ride passed in relative silence. When they reached the Plaza, a valet took the car. Both men seemed very solicitous as they went up to the suite. Dani picked up the phone first thing for room service. Name first, then "I\'d like tea and coffee, sandwiches and pastries for three, please."



The British female voice replied, "That will arrive in fifteen minutes."



"Thank you." Dani hung up, took a seat and faced down the two men standing before her. "I\'m in no danger of \'dropping\'. May we discuss what happened?"



Larkin shot his partner a look. They sat at opposite ends of the sofa.



Fielding spilled at once. "You started saying \'No more\'. First in your voice. Then a boy\'s."



She faced Larkin. "Perhaps you heard wrong."



"No."



Dani wished she\'d never started this. But, she had. "I think the time\'s come to tell me everything."



Larkin nodded. "Until now we couldn\'t for fear of compromising the investigation. You\'ve proven yourself. I hope you can handle the whole truth."







Brand posted the photos to his site. They looked great. He\'d changed the code on the background, set up this password and browser recognition-protected gallery for the high end clients only. Set the bidding to begin at midnight.



During logged-in viewing and bidding, clients were required to remain on video feed to insure they alone used the service they paid so much for. During the finale of the project, only those members who paid the final viewing fee would take part.



Finished until midnight, he picked up the phone, dialed.



Julia answered. "Hello?



"It\'s me."



A pause. "She may not wish to see you."



"Tell her I want her. She\'ll agree." He hung up, poured Stoli over ice, walked to gaze over twilight-draped Manhattan.







Mayan got into the cab. Despite the soreness between her legs, dampness already soaked her panties. So unfair. More and more, he inflicted mental rather than physical damage. Made her weep and climax at the same time. Beg for his hands on her. Pain or pleasure.



She gazed out the window, but saw him. His deep gold hair hung past wide shoulders. Features strong, princely. More riveting than handsome. Body to make a Greek god cover himself from shame. Worse yet, he so knew how to use it.



When she arrived, the doorman gave a chilly nod. She rode the elevator in a torment of self-loathing and anticipation. Emerging, she set down her purse. White candles lit the spacious great room area. She saw him seated in a chair.



"Come here."



Mayan trembled, could hardly make the walk. She stopped in front of him.



"Take off your clothes for me."



Hands fumbling, she did.



With him backlit she couldn\'t see his face. Still she felt his eyes.



"Do you know why I always want you?"



She shook her head.



"First, you have the body of a ballerina with the tits of a porn star. Second, you\'re so tormented by enjoying what I do."



Mayan sobbed.



He opened his pants. "I want to feel those tears sliding down my cock."



She knelt between his knees. Gave him that and more.







Dani listened to the detectives detailing of the case to date. They verified her impressions that they knew of from the first two. She\'d gotten the boy\'s name correct. As for the victim from the second scene, they revealed the coroner\'s belief he\'d suffered the longest. Tortured and sodomized for perhaps as long as three days. Finally crushed to death.



Originally they had a few young girls. Murdered, no trace evidence to speak of, or leads. When the killings seemed to settle into boy-oriented events, the FBI had swarmed in, smelling a hot case. The kind that fueled careers. In the face of immense lack of evidence, the team faltered. Deemed the cases unrelated. Not a single technique for profiling or clinical rule for mapping patterns applied. Race and age of victim varied, technique of killing and dumping changed almost as if he aspired to try something new. Not every victim suffered sodomy. But, at least they shared one thing now. Gender.



To make it worse, whoever did this knew forensics. They thoroughly washed and processed the bodies to prevent any but medical evidence.



When Fielding produced photos from a briefcase, she became ill, raced to the lavatory. After a bout of dry retching, she stood, ran cold water over a cloth, patted her face to ease the flush.



"Miss Richards?" Larkin stood outside the door.



"I\'ll be out in a moment." Her reflection showed the strain of the day. Red eyes, an unhealthy flush over pale skin. Her makeup had long since vanished. She folded the cloth on the sink\'s edge, rinsed her mouth and opened the door.



"You okay?"



"No," she confessed.



"You\'ve had a tough day. Fielding and I will return in the morning."



"I think that\'s best."



He nodded, studied her with those sharp, trained eyes. "Call me if you need anything. Just want to talk. Whatever. We\'ll see you around eight?"



"Fine."





Brand only had about an hour before he needed to work. Still, he found himself watching her sleep. Something about her made him want her again and again. Despite her vulnerability, he didn\'t kid himself. A ten thousand dollar call girl might fall in love. But, not with her best paying customer. She just had issues with her reaction to him. After the first time he\'d had her, she\'d arrive already wet and hot. That kind of reaction created a serious professional liability.



The thing that bothered him, his own reaction. Any time he could have taped their time together, made back a considerable chunk or all of what he paid to fuck her. He had not.



That didn\'t make sense.



Irritated at himself, he rolled on a condom went to the foot of the bed, turned on the tripod camera. Brand climbed onto the mattress, lifted one of her legs over his arm as he turned her onto her back. Her lashes fluttered, eyes flashed wide as he thrust into her. She felt exceptional hot and tight, a little swollen from what he\'d already done.



She pushed at his hips, gasped as he moved roughly, pleasured himself. He watched her bite her lip. It angered him that cared about her reaction. So he used that tight slickness to drive away concern.



It didn\'t work. He paused, leaned down and kissed her. She made a soft sound of surprise. He plundered her mouth with his tongue, willing her response.



She turned her head aside, "This is extra."



He covered her mouth with his again, flexed his erection inside her. In minutes her hips began a restless shimmy under his. Her arms crept around his neck uninvited. Arousal streaked down his spine. "Tell me I can have anything."



Her inner muscles started the tell-tale squeezing, her moans became longer, her movements under him more intense. "Yes. Anything."



"You\'ll give it to me." His orgasm began to build, he hammered himself into her. She held him, clawed his back and ass.



"Yes. I\'ll give you anything." She clamped around him in a vise.



He smothered her scream under his mouth, rammed deep into the clasping heat and climaxed so hard he thought it might break him in half.



After he\'d removed the condom and returned to the bedroom, he rationalized maybe making an expensive hooker offer freebies did it for him.



Mood improved, he said, "I\'m finished with you."



After she left he called Julia to negotiate exclusive rights.







Roarke and Fielding arrived at The Plaza a few minutes to eight, took the elevator up. She answered the door first knock.



"Good morning, gentlemen."



Roarke caught himself looking too closely at her body. She wore short-sleeved sweater and jeans in the same shade of blue. Both skimmed her athletic, feminine frame. Not tight, tailored. A tan belt circled her slim waist. Matching leather shoes dipped low on her small feet.



Something about the amount of creamy skin displayed there struck him as erotic. On the streets you saw enough cleavage and bared bellies to last a lifetime. Seeing her pretty feet down to the start of toes seemed inciting for the innocence of it.



With effort he dragged his mind from that line of thought. "Did you get some sleep?"



"Yes, a little."



Thinking about what she told him the day they met in Havewick, he asked, "Nothing unusual in the night?"



"No."



The scent of coffee and bacon reached him. Fielding began sniffing the same second.



His partner commented, "Whatever that is smells great."



"It\'s waiting in the dining room. Shall we?"



They filled plates from a sideboard of selections kept hot with steam domes. Roarke set his down, pulled out her chair before sliding into his own. Fielding hammered away with questions about the paranormal. He\'d spent more time on the internet than sleeping since she came into the picture.



Roarke ate a few strips of bacon and a helping of Eggs Benedict, listened and observed her.



From the first moment she\'d walked into the precinct, he\'d begun an unwelcome ride on an emotional roller coaster. Yesterday the things she\'d \'seen\' had challenged his beliefs and he reacted badly. What happened at the second dump site forced him to believe her. Even if he might never understand.



Hard on the heels of that bitter pill, she scared the shit out of him by collapsing. After their candid exchange in the car, his feelings toward her involvement changed with unexpected swiftness. They needed her. She might actually be their only hope of preventing another death.



He watched her patiently answer questions. Even when doing so made her uncomfortable. A kernel of admiration grew. For the first time he put himself in her place, imagined what she must have gone through trying to help.



Something streaked through him. The urge to protect her, beyond as a professional resource. Suddenly over an elegant breakfast served on fine China, he faced an ugly realization. Not just his reluctance to believe in all this supernatural stuff had aggravated him. No. On some level he wanted her to turn out a dead end. Not just to preserve his perception of the world, keep everything black and white. To allow him to see her as he first had.



A sexy woman with a perfect heart-shaped ass.



That made him a world-class selfish bastard.







Dani sensed Larkin\'s intensity. She finished her eggs scrambled with herbs and Cheshire cheese, rose to pour a second cup of tea. Feeling his eyes at her back, she spoke. "Tell me, Detective Larkin, what today?"



"I\'ve told you to call me Roarke."



She turned. "And I\'ve asked you call me Dani. We\'ve both continued with formality."



"In public," he replied, tone restored to objective evenness, "we should all continue with professional address. However, the three of us might spend a great deal of time together. When it\'s just us, there\'s no need."



"I\'d like you to call me \'Tim\'" Fielding flushed a bit.



She smiled at him, liking him more and more all the time. "I\'d like that." She\'d noted the enthusiasm of his appetite. "Please, have another helping. Else it will go to waste. If you two will excuse me, I have a few calls to make."



Larkin took the white napkin from his lap, placed it on the table, and pushed back his chair. "Actually," a hesitation, "Dani, one of us should be present during them. As a precaution against future questions."



A dark cloud blotted her improved mood. "I\'ll be questioned every step of the way. Stand trial in the court of public opinion before any killer."



Muscles rippled along his lean jaw. "Yes."



She decided to lay out her concerns. "What about with you? Will I have to face that from you, too?"



"Not after what I‘ve seen. But, I don\'t pretend to understand whatever ability you have."



"That makes two of us. I\'ve made a tremendous effort to suppress them. Going to the morgue for Michael opened Pandora\'s Box. Now I have the great pleasure of waiting for the next horrific experience." Dani walked from the dining room to the sitting area, picked up her cell phone from beside her purse. She sat down, dialed Ashlyn.



"There you are. Did you get my messages?"



Dani tried to ignore Roarke\'s presence. "This morning. I don\'t know yet when I\'ll come home."



"Do you need me to check on the place?"



"It should be fine. I\'ll call you when I know something."



"Okay. Be careful."



"Thanks. Bye." Dani closed the phone. She rubbed her arms. Shivered. Impulse made her say, "I want to see where you found Michael."



Little over a half hour later Roarke stopped the car between two tenant buildings in fairly good condition. Dani had become so cold her teeth would have chattered. She clenched her jaw, fought it.



Climbing from the car she walked down the alley, to a garden between the cluster of four structures. Untrimmed bushes and weed-dominated beds made for a less than inviting space. Dani went straight to a weather-beaten wood and iron bench. She sat. Despite the sunshine, a chill permeated her bones. Her vision swam. She blinked.



Michael stood within arm\'s reach, staring down at the uncut grass.



A penetrating sadness seeped into her. She tried to speak, swallowed and tried again. "Michael?"



"I remember laying here."



"Where you\'re standing?"



"Yes." He looked at her. "I remember something tight around my neck before that. It choked me until I felt like I was swimming under black water." Emotion, so real and alive it made her almost forget how she knew him showed on his face. "The bad man killed me, didn\'t he?"



Her stomach churned, heart ached. "I\'m so sorry. Yes."



"Am I a ghost?" His childishly puzzled tone made the enormous tragedy even more unbearable.



Dani started to lie. Thought better. "I\'m not sure what to call it. Maybe this is just living another way."



He fixed her with sharp eyes. He seemed so real, flesh and bone. "Why haven\'t I seen Mommy?"



Her throat closed. Tears welled. "I wish I had the answers, Michael. I don\'t."



He turned his attention to a spot behind her. "Men like that stood over me here. Somebody took my picture."



Dani feared taking her eyes off him. Worried he\'d vanish. "That is Detective Larkin and Detective Fielding. They are trying to find the man who hurt you. I\'m helping them. We want to stop him from hurting anyone else."



"Can they see me?"



"I don\'t think so." Dani gathered her wits. So much depended on her. "Michael, how do you find me?"



His forehead furrowed. "It just happens."



"Where are you when you\'re not with me?"



"At the lake house where Grandma and Grandpa Allen live." His frown deepened. "They\'re dead, too. Right?"



She forced a smile. "They must love you very much to take you with them."



"She\'s calling me."



"Will you come talk to me again? Help us stop the bad man?"



He glanced over his shoulder. "Grandma\'s made cookies. I can smell them." Meeting Dani\'s gaze, he said, "I have to go."



Dani had the presence of mind to say, "Bring your Grandma next time. I\'d very much like to meet her."



Michael turned, walked toward a building. As he departed his solid form became transparent, then no more than a hazy column.



Gone.



Leaving her wrapped in sadness, and no closer to the identity of his killer.





~ Here you go. Another chapter today. Enjoy!