Afterlife (8 page)

to go…” She was fast

losing the ability to talk, and the

policeman seemed to

realize it, because he curled a strong

arm around her,

rubbing her back in easy, firm

strokes.

“You’re going to come with me, calm

down and then we’l

talk and see what you want to do,

miss. For right now, you

take it easy.” He threw a glower at

Cyrus. “You tel Natasha

to keep her floor show inside from

now on. She damn wel

better have an acceptable vetting

process at her door by

tomorrow night, or I’l find every

possible freaking code

violation in this cesspool. I suppose

if someone’s

grandmother had pul ed up asking for

directions, you’d

have mauled her as wel ?”

“Fuck, she was dressed for it, Kel er.

Maybe not as

blatantly as—”

Rachel had her forehead pressed into

Officer Kel er’s

lapel, so she felt a hardening of

impressive chest muscles

that matched the sudden, deadly tone

in the cop’s voice.

“Trust me, Cyrus. Don’t go down the

‘she was asking for

it because of the way she was

dressed’ road. I’l run your

ass over.”

He didn’t wait for a response, not

that she ever heard

Cyrus give one. Though her teeth

were chattering, she was

cognizant of Cyrus thankful y

retreating to the door,

muttering. The officer helped her to

her feet, keeping a

supportive arm around her.

“Here we go.” He was directing her

toward her car.

“Ma’am, my name is Sergeant Leland

Kel er. I don’t have a

vehicle here because I just got off

shift. We’re near my

place, and I was picking up dinner at

that corner deli over

there. But I tel you what we’re going

to do. We’re going to

take your car to our precinct and I’m

going to get a cup of

coffee into you. We’l let you clean

yourself up and then we’l

talk, al right? And if you want a

female officer, we have

plenty of those.”

She shook her head. “Want to go h-

home.”

“Wel , you’re not doing that until I’m

sure you’re okay, so

there’s not going to be any arguing on

that point, al right?”

With that unrelenting assertion, he

took her keys from her,

stil somehow clenched in her fist, so

tight the metal had left

impressions in her palm. Opening the

passenger side, he

folded her into the seat, secured her

seatbelt around her

and then closed the door. As he

maneuvered his long

frame into the driver’s side, sliding

back the seat to

accommodate him in the little

compact, he gave her a

penetrating glance. “Besides, I don’t

think you want to go

home to your husband looking like

that.”

“Husband?” She fol owed his look to

her left hand, the

pale band of pigment that stood out

so starkly there. She

hadn’t put the ring back on once Jon

had taken it off, a

significant statement of its own.

However, at the sergeant’s

assumption, a hard spike of sobs

tried to choke her breath

again. “I’m not…married. Long

story…but not married. No

one. I have no one.”

It sounded so pathetic, said like that,

but she laid her

head back against the seat, too tired

to say anything else.

She didn’t want anything now except

numbness.

Mission accomplished, right? In

spades.

As Sergeant Kel er put the car into

drive, she stared into

the side mirror at the retreating club.

It looked like a demon

crouched underneath a moonless sky,

satisfied that it had

devoured another soul.

* * * * *

The police precinct was as cheerless

as she expected.

Dingy tile, fluorescent lighting.

Sidelong glances from jaded

eyes that had seen it al . Sergeant Kel

er continued to be

kind and attentive, however. Rather

than fishing through the

lost-and-found, he brought her a

clean T-shirt from his own

locker and a washcloth to use in the

bathroom. Once there,

she took one look at her face in the

mirror under the harsh

lighting—blood on her mouth, tear

tracks, smeared

mascara. Al of it accentuated the

crow’s feet at her eyes

and stress lines around her taut

mouth. She didn’t look

again, except to steal quick glances to

ensure she’d wiped

al of it away that she could.

She’d been so rattled she’d left her

purse at Leland

Kel er’s desk, but it didn’t matter.

Any touch-up would look

like clown makeup. Milo apparently

had a hand the size of a

tennis racket, for her cheek, eye and

lip on the right side

were swel ing. The blouse had been

stained with blood

from the split lip.

The cotton T-shirt fel to her knees,

almost hiding the rip

in her slacks. Because one of her

heels had broken in the

parking lot and the other had been left

behind, they’d also

given her a pair of sneakers from the

lost-and-found that

were only about one size too big. She

stuffed the broken

shoe in the trash along with the

blouse and came back out,

fol owing an officer’s direction to

Sergeant Kel er’s area.

He rose at the sight of her, gestured

her to his guest

chair. “You look better. Hot

compresses and a good bath

should help, a few aspirin.” He

touched her face, tilting it

away from him, and his jaw

hardened. The way he touched

her, so easy and confident, made her

go stil . Desperately,

she told herself it was a police thing,

the female perception

of safety, protection. Believing

anything else meant that she

was going to have to tear out her

mind, because it seemed

the only way to stop it from going

down this path over and

over again.

While she believed in Fate, karma

and the forces that

drove destiny, she couldn’t possibly

believe that suddenly

Doms were everywhere, like a damn

convention was in

town. She’d gone years without

meeting a single one

outside of the Internet, after al . It

was far more likely she

was starting to hal ucinate, like a

crack addict snorting up

everything from salt to talcum

powder, or ground glass.

He released her at last, gave her a

nod. “Yeah, you’l be

al right. That would be Milo’s

handiwork there. They’re a

hardcore pain club, miss. They dish it

out without causing

ER visits or police reports, mostly,

but they sure as hel

don’t observe enough of the rules for

the things they do. It

results in what you experienced

tonight, among other

things. I know you were pretty upset

when I found you. Were

you checking out the club…or were

you lost and seeking

directions?”

He asked it with a careful y straight

face, giving her the

out for her dignity, but she thought

lying to a cop would be

far more humiliating. “I was checking

it out. I thought…” As

her voice quavered, he pushed a hot

cup of coffee into her

hands. She clasped the warmth to her,

inhaling the familiar

scent of coffee beans. Something

normal. “I made a

mistake, is al .”

“That’s as may be, but a mistake

shouldn’t lead to this.”

He gestured to her face and general

state. “I wasn’t just

trying to spook Cyrus, miss. You

have every right to file

assault charges. They didn’t ask you

for your consent, did

they? Didn’t have you sign anything

coming in the door or

go over any safety restrictions, health

issues?”

She shook her head. “He asked for

twenty dol ars. I gave

it to him. I guess a court would say

that was consent. It

doesn’t matter anyway. The fact I

sought out a club like that

would tel a judge or jury everything

they’d want to hear. I’m

not stupid, despite the fact I did

something very stupid

tonight.”

“Now, miss—”

“I overheard two of the female police

officers talking

about me when I went into the

bathroom.” She made herself

say it aloud. She needed to hear it,

needed to write it on

every mirror in her house, to remind

her of the way it had

felt, the way it al felt. “‘Stupid bitch

wanted a man to beat

her like a dog, and then chickened

out. I’d have left her

there.’”

Drawing a breath, she straightened in

the chair, though

every bone in her body wanted to

slump in defeated

dejection. But she managed to sound

calm, meet his gaze.

“I have no desire to expose my life to

public ridicule, and

this is the kind of story that court

reporters love to stumble

upon, don’t they?”

Leland’s eyes had flashed, his glance

snapping toward

the exact two female cops, alarming

her. But registering her

tension, he spoke mildly, his

shoulders easing a fraction.

“They shouldn’t have said that. It’s

just that a lot of people

don’t understand what it is you’re

seeking.”

She nodded wearily and rose,

fumbling for her purse. “I’m

one of them.” Drawing her pride

around her as best she

could, she extended a hand. “Thank

you for your help,

Sergeant Kel er. I don’t care to file

charges, and you won’t

need to rescue me from such a place

again. I can promise

you that.”

He rose as wel , clasping her hand

rather than shaking it.

He had golden-brown hair to go with

those golden-brown

eyes. He reminded her of a bear. A

handsome, appealing

bear, capable of impressive ferocity

but also tenderness,

like his touch now.

“I’ve tucked my card in your purse. If

you need anything,

or reconsider, you give me a cal .”

She nodded again, but she was

already pul ing away.

The need to get to her haven, to close

the door on the

whole world, was a steady cord

reeling her toward home.

She’d take a couple days off, have

her backups fil in for her

appointments and classes. She’d give

herself forty-eight

hours under the covers, with the

drone of daytime TV and

the stifled sound of her own sobs,

and she’d pul it together

again.

Then she’d renew her personal vow

to herself. She’d

never, ever go down this road again.

She’d known better

from the beginning.

* * * * *

After the pretty blonde left, Leland

sat back down at his

desk. It wasn’t exactly protocol to go

through a victim’s

purse, but when he’d tucked his card

into the side pocket,

he’d seen another card. He’d been

bothered by her broken

admission that there was no one else

in her life, and so

he’d sneaked a glance. After tonight’s

events, it was the

last name he would have expected to

see there. When he

dialed the number, Jon picked up

before the second ring

finished.

“Leland. What the hel ? You know

it’s one in the morning,

right?”

“Don’t hand me that shit. You’re in

that mad scientist

home laboratory of yours, breaking al

sorts of hazardous

material laws to figure out how to

turn the universe inside

out. Or tuning up a device to give a

woman so many

orgasms in one go you’l never lack

for pussy again.”

“Been there, done that.”

“Oh yeah? Which one?”

“Both, of course. What’s your excuse

for being at work so

late? Shouldn’t you be in that dump

apartment of yours,

drinking your once-a-night beer and

eating your

convenience store nacho package

before you go to sleep

to ESPN recaps? Can’t imagine why

some woman hasn’t

snapped your exciting ass right up.”

“Blow me. No, I’m up because I just

pul ed a woman out

of a tricky situation. A woman

carrying your card in her

purse. Rachel Madison?”

Jon’s tone went from lazy insult to

sharp attention, a knife

striking stone. “Is she al right? Where

is she?”

“She’s fine. Gone home and wil

likely sleep it off.” After a

considering pause, Leland gave him

the immediate details.

There was the code he observed as a

cop, and the code