Roughing, page 18
“What’s the plan, boss?” Briggs asked.
I was still angry at him regarding my rent but now wasn’t the time. I’d promised him if he ever interfered or tried to control my life, we were done. While he’d been paying for half my rent prior to that, he didn’t come clean when I did make my promise. The problem with issuing such ultimatums was that I had to either stick with them or lose credibility.
When I didn’t answer him, he gave me a quick glance, his blue eyes filled with concern. He knew something was wrong that went beyond a missing mom. “You’re upset with me.”
“Can we discuss this later? We have more pressing matters.”
“Okay.” He wasn’t happy, but he acquiesced.
Briggs cruised slowly down the street the Uni was on. I craned my neck for signs indicating anyone was inside. The place was dark except for the few lights that were always left on.
“Drive around to the alley.”
“Sure.” Briggs piloted the large truck down the narrow alley and stopped behind the building. All the visible windows were dark.
“His car is here.” I noted the black Prius. “Pull up next to it.”
Briggs frowned, not entirely comfortable with my request, but he slid his truck next to the Prius. “What if he sees us? You can’t tell if he’s looking out a window.”
“If that’s the case, he’s seen us already.” I hopped out before he had an opportunity to protest and peeked in the windows of the car. There was something on the passenger floorboard that caught my eye. I turned on my phone’s flashlight. It was a woman’s Coach purse. I racked my brain to recall the purse Trelika had been carrying the last time I’d seen her. I noticed fashion, especially when it was something I liked. She’d had a turquoise Coach tote bag—
—just like this one.
My blood ran cold, and I froze, unable to process any information beyond what was in front of my face. Right up until this very moment, part of me hadn’t believed Desmond was capable of such acts. Now I knew better.
With a shaking hand, I fumbled to open the Camera app on my phone and shot a quick picture of the purse. Frightened to the very depths of my soul, I hurried to the car and got back inside, locking my door.
“You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
“I think I have. There’s a purse on the floorboard of the passenger side. It’s the same color and type of purse Trelika was carrying when we met her.” I held up the image.
Briggs’s expression didn’t change other than a clenched jaw. “Let’s get some distance and call Carla. If Desmond sees us, he might kill his captive and cut his losses.”
I nodded. Briggs left the alley and parked a block or so down the street in a deserted parking lot. He pulled to the back so his truck would be partially concealed by shadows. We had a view of the alley and the front of the building. We should be able to see Desmond leaving as long as he didn’t go the opposite direction. The quickest way to the freeway was past us. If he wanted to escape or dispose of evidence, he’d most likely choose the fastest option.
“What do we do now?” Briggs waited for my next instructions, and I appreciated the faith he placed in my judgment, considering he was a bit of a control freak.
“I’m calling Carla.” I tapped on her number and waited for her to answer. The phone went straight to voice mail after one ring. I left a quick message telling her to call me back as soon as possible and also a text in case she never checked voice mail like me.
“Not answering?”
I nodded and texted the image of the purse to Carla.
“Now what?”
“We wait. She’ll call back soon. I’m sure of it.” As I was finishing my sentence, the phone rang. I filled Carla in on what we’d found.
“Where are you now?” she asked.
“We’re down the block where we have a view of the alley entrance and the street in front of the Uni.”
“Don’t move. Not one inch. Neither of you. But call immediately if circumstances change. Just hang tight.”
“Okay.” My throat constricted with fear. Every second we waited was one less second Trelika might have in this world.
Briggs and I exchanged glances. He took my hand in his large one and squeezed it. “I know you want to take action, and so do I, but we can’t. Neither of us is equipped to handle this situation, and our interference could jeopardize Trelika’s life.”
“Or we could save her.”
He gave me one of those looks.
I put my head on his shoulder, drawing comfort from this strong, enigmatic man, and wondered how I’d ever be able to break up with him. Or if I should.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Arrested
~~Briggs~~
I was a hockey player, not a first responder.
I’d never felt more helpless. Action was my middle name, and having patience rubbed against the essence of who I was. Worrying about Trelika but not being able to assist in her rescue was the hardest thing I’d ever done.
I stared so hard at the alley behind the Uni my head hurt. That bastard wasn’t sneaking away without us noticing. Keeping tabs on him might be the best we could do, but I wasn’t past tailing him or even tackling him if necessary. Whatever it took. Desmond was not getting away on my watch.
Michella’s head rested on my shoulder, bringing some measure of comfort. Her nearness spread warmth throughout my body despite my hyperalert status. I considered our options, such as ringing the bell at the front of the Uni and forcing him to come to the door. Then what? We’d be fools to go inside and put ourselves at his mercy. Desmond was most likely armed, and we knew he was dangerous.
“By the way, good game tonight.” Michella gave me a quick smile before refocusing her attention on the alley. While rehashing the game wasn’t a priority right now, I recognized her attempt to distract us.
“Thanks. That was the best complete team effort we’ve played to date.”
“Well, look at you, being a team player.”
“I’m trying.”
We met each other’s gazes before she turned away. I sighed, frustrated with this feeling something wasn’t right between us. I could blow it all off and blame the weird vibes on our immediate situation, but that wouldn’t explain how she’d subtly distanced herself emotionally. I’d done something wrong in the past several hours and damned if I knew what. The last time we’d talked, uh, had video sex, everything had been fucking fantastic.
I wanted so badly to push the subject and find out. I wasn’t necessarily a patient man, and all this waiting made me itchy and irritated. Michella wouldn’t be pressured. She’d resist, and I had no choice but to wait until this situation was resolved and she was ready to talk about whatever else clouded those brown eyes of hers.
I saw movement out of the corner of my eye. Both our heads snapped in that direction as an unmarked police car cruised leisurely past us and around the block.
“The cavalry is coming,” I whispered as if Desmond might hear me.
Another car passed, followed by a van. We were so busy watching the gathering of police vehicles we jumped when someone tapped on Michella’s window. It was Carla.
Michella rolled down her window.
“Move your truck. They don’t want you interfering in what’s going down.”
“Where should we go?” I asked.
“Follow me.” She walked back to her car. I started the engine and followed her a block farther down the road to a parking lot for a boarded-up strip club. No one else was in the area except for a homeless man sleeping in the doorway of the derelict building.
We had a clear view of the front of the Uni but not the alley.
Carla parked and came back to the window. “Briggs, if you’re going to make surveillance a side hustle, you might want to get a less conspicuous vehicle.”
Michella and I exchanged confused glances before Carla snickered. Only then did we realize she was giving me shit about my big-ass truck.
“I’ll take that into consideration.” I winked at her.
“Are they going to arrest Desmond?” Michella asked.
My mind went through what little I knew about capturing criminals from crime shows, which was pretty much nothing and probably not at all accurate.
“He has an outstanding warrant. They’ll bring him in, then use the purse as probable cause to conduct a search of the building.”
“An outstanding warrant for what?” Michella’s shocked tone indicated Desmond was nothing like she’d pictured him.
“Traffic tickets, but it works.”
“They need to hurry. Trelika has a little girl who needs her.” Michella swiped at a tear that escaped down her cheek. I squeezed her hand.
“I understand. It’s out of our control. All we can do is sit back and watch.” Carla was sympathetic but matter of fact. Her phone buzzed, and she moved away to talk privately.
“I’m worried. What if they don’t get to her in time? What if he notices all this activity, panics, and kills her to destroy his witness?” Michella’s worried gaze hurt my heart, but I didn’t have the power to make it better in this situation.
“You heard her. It’s out of our hands, babe. We have to trust the professionals.”
“I’m the one who discovered the purse,” Michella pointed out, and I rushed to make amends for my mistake.
“I know. You are, and you’re one of the reasons we’ll get this guy off the streets.”
“I ignored what was right in front of my face and made assumptions.”
“You’re learning.”
“I swore it was Gordon. I let my stubborn beliefs cloud my judgment. And I’d been considering going for my PI license, but maybe I don’t have the right stuff.”
“Don’t sell yourself short. You’re naturally inquisitive. You’re good with a computer, and you care about people. You can learn the rest. You’d be a damn good PI. Don’t let anyone tell you differently.”
“You’re my biggest cheerleader.”
I snorted. “I don’t think I’ve ever been referred to as a cheerleader before, but I thank you for the sentiment.”
“You’re welcome.” Her smile was genuine but laced with worry. Maybe I was off the hook for whatever she’d been pissed about earlier. I hoped so.
“Something’s happening.” I pointed toward the building two blocks down. We couldn’t see much, but there were more cars and a commotion near the front door of the Uni.
“I wish we’d brought binoculars. The first rule of surveillance is don’t forget the binocs.”
I nodded, distracted by the ruckus and squinting in an unsuccessful attempt to see what was going on. Multiple vehicles blocked our view.
“Wait, is that him?” Someone was being escorted down the sidewalk and to a waiting police car. Several uniformed cops surrounded him as they led him away. In a few seconds, he was in the car, and they were gone.
“That was him. I need to help find Trelika,” Michella said excitedly. Before I could stop her, she leaped out of my SUV and ran toward the Uni.
Her quick escape caught me off guard, and I was several steps behind before I gave chase. Carla appeared beside me as we sprinted down the sidewalk. She was pissed, but I wasn’t concerned about her. I was concerned about Michella. Desmond had been removed from the premises, but Michella would be in big trouble if she interfered in an investigation and compromised a crime scene. I knew this because I’d seen it on TV.
I was fast and Michella was no match for my speed, especially considering the impractical shoes she liked to wear. I caught up to her just as a couple policemen moved to block her way. I grabbed her around the waist and clamped her to my side. Carla halted next to us, panting from the exertion. Most likely, in her position, she didn’t chase down bad guys often.
Before either of us had the opportunity to chew Michella’s ass, the stunned expression on her face made us both look that direction.
“Oh my god.” Michella ceased struggling to free herself and collapsed against me. I was as stunned as she was. Trelika staggered out the door with a police escort on each side. She looked worse for wear, but she was alive, if not somewhat rough compared to the perfect, fashionable woman I’d last seen.
“My baby! Where’s my baby?” she cried out. “I need to go to my little girl and let her know I’m okay.”
Beside me, Michella dialed her phone and reached Heidi. “They found her alive. Yes. She’s okay. Hang on.” She turned to the policeman warily watching her. “Can you please let her talk to her child? She’s on the phone now.” His stern expression faded, and he nodded with a ghost of a smile. He took the phone and delivered it to Trelika.
She spoke for a few minutes with tears streaming down her cheeks before handing the phone back to him. She waved weakly at us. “Thank you, oh, thank you so much.”
Both Michella and I smiled back as they escorted Trelika to a waiting ambulance.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Startling Declaration
~~Michella~~
Professional Hockey Player and Girlfriend Thwart Serial Killer and Save His Latest Victim.
This headline was embarrassing. We did no such thing. If anyone should get credit, Heidi should, and Carla. Briggs and I did what had to be done. No more, no less. Carla didn’t agree.
But dealing with my recent celebrity was the least of my problems.
I faced a dilemma—whether to be true to the pledge I’d made to myself or to let Briggs off the hook. If I compromised my convictions once, would I do it again? I’d accepted Gordon’s apologies and excuses over and over. I’d promised no man would ever control or deceive me again and still be in my life.
But here I was. In a huge conundrum with a man who was nothing like the others I’d dated in some ways but similar in others.
Be true to yourself.
Or not?
If I accepted what would ultimately be his apology, was I being true to myself and how I deserved to be treated? Heidi thought I was being ridiculous and that Briggs’s gesture was sweet. He’d been paying half my rent before we’d established any kind of relationship other than booty calls. Wasn’t that a little stalkerish and controlling? Or was I gun-shy based on past experience? He surely had only meant to help. Or he’d meant to keep me under his thumb by making sure I had a deal on an apartment in his building that was too good to refuse.
Instead of torturing myself with speculation, I should talk this out with him. I was worried if I didn’t get my thoughts organized, he’d bulldoze over me, and I’d betray myself for allowing it.
After we’d left downtown, we returned to our building. I’d refused Briggs’s invitation to join him in bed and went to my own apartment. The disappointment and confusion on his face had almost forced me to run after him, but I didn’t.
I had my pride.
Throughout the next day, I spent time at the police station and the rest at work. I ignored Briggs’s texts and phone calls. Because I’m a chickenshit, I finally requested that he give me some space for a few days. He did.
That time away from him was supposed to provide clarity, but it didn’t. I was more confused than ever, and I missed him. I missed his macho gruffness that hid a soft, vulnerable interior. I missed that slight smile that tugged at the corners of his mouth. I missed his rare laughter that lit up my world. I watched him play hockey with dynamic energy and focus, reminding me of how he was when we had sex.
When I arrived home from work a few days later, Briggs sat in the lobby, waiting for me. I managed a hesitant smile, and he smiled back. His pensive expression was punctuated by how nervous he was. Briggs rarely showed nerves, but he wrung his hands and tapped one foot.
“What’s going on with Remi?” he asked, pointing toward the empty couch where she always sat. “I haven’t seen her in a couple days.”
“Trelika picked her up on Sunday morning after she was released from the hospital. She’s done being an escort and through a generous offer made by a mutual friend, she’s been offered a job.”
“What generous friend?”
“Everly, Dash’s wife. She’s going to be working for the Icehawks. She’ll start out in the coffee shop at the practice facility and work her way up in the organization.”
“I’m happy for her. What about Pria? Have they found her?”
“Desmond isn’t talking. He’s getting perverse pleasure at giving the detectives the runaround. He admitted to killing multiple women, but he refuses to reveal the locations of the bodies.”
“What a fucking dickhead.”
“I know.”
“He had us all fooled.”
I nodded, knowing I was the biggest fool of all.
Briggs followed me to the elevator and stepped inside, not punching the button for his floor. I glanced questioningly at him.
“We need to talk. You’re not being fair. I don’t know what the fuck I did wrong. If we talk in my apartment, we’ll end up in bed, and nothing will be resolved.”
I sighed. I’d put off this moment longer than necessary. Now was the time to have it out with this man.
Together we walked to my apartment. Briggs sat down on the couch while I made us a couple cups of Pumpkin Rose Captain Dash coffee blend. He took a sip when I handed him the mug and made a groan of pleasure.
“This is incredible coffee.”
“Did you think your captain would settle for anything less?”
“I hadn’t really thought about it. Nor do I care. What I do care about is you and me and what’s going on.”
“I know the truth.”
He blinked a few times, his confusion evident. “The truth?”
“You’ve been paying half of my rent.” My anger rose to the surface and my tone became accusatory.
He sat back and shook his head as if unable to get his footing. “I, uh, I…”
“You didn’t think I could pay it on my own?”
“Rent’s outrageously expensive in Portland,” he said lamely.
I stabbed him with an indignant glare, and he wriggled like the insects I’d pinned to Styrofoam for my sixth-grade science project.
