7 Degrees of Alpha (a collection of seven new BWWM, Alpha Male Romances) (9 page)

02:40 a.m. November 18, 2004

“Any news from forensics about that body we found earlier?” Doug asked, setting the coffee cup on the table next to Jones’ limp hand.

Jones grunted, not answering yes or no to the question. It had been nearly eighteen hours since Val had been taken.

“We’re
going
to find her. Don’t think about it or it’ll cripple you,” Doug continued.

“I shouldn’t have let her talk me into getting her a car. Otherwise, I would have been there. I would have fucking been there!”

“It’s not your fault. How could you know that someone would snatch her?” Doug asked.

“I know who took her though, Doug. I just don’t know where the fuck he is!” Jones informed him, pulling on his long, black locks.

Jones had a determined look about him, a look that said what he felt deep inside if he could get his hands on Damon. Damon was a step ahead of him. Whatever resources he had were fool proof, well organized, and he was clearly not working alone.

The desk phone rang, and Doug grabbed it before Jones had a chance to. Jones looked at him intently, as Doug listened to the speaker in silence.

“You’re sure?” Doug asked into the phone. Then he listened for a second and replied, “We’re coming down right now. You tell him because I'm not!”

Doug replaced the phone and began walking towards the door.

“Where’re we going?” Jones asked as he followed closely behind.

“Downstairs. Forensics.” Doug refused to say anymore.

“Speak!” Jones ordered Paterson, the police forensic officer, as they barged through the door.

“Hello to you too!” Paterson said, “Well, the victim was a missing girl from a few weeks ago. Missing persons has been searching for her for a while after her family reported her missing. They said the last person she was seen with was a Clyde Stevens. But nothing has been heard from him since then either.”

“Get to the point,” Jones ground out.

“
Patience
… Anyway, Clyde Stevens was identified as the victim from last week, the one who turned up in that abandoned car; the mutilated, drug-ridden body that was the assumed ritual killing. But this points to another angle.”

“And what angle is that?” Jones asked.

“I'm getting to that. The car that the body was recovered in was your girlfriend’s stolen car. Someone switched the plates, that’s why we weren’t able to match up the evidence,” Paterson confirmed.

Jones went cold with the realization that this was something that had been planned weeks, if not months, in advance. How it all connected to Val, he wasn’t sure, but his fear for her had gone up more than a notch or two. He
had
to find her and
soon
.

“Were there prints on the purse? Any evidence on the clothing?” Jones asked. The case was beginning to cause shock to inch up his spine. There was something about the case that niggled his thoughts and grit his teeth in denial.

“We’re still running tests on the DNA we found. But here’s the interesting thing; Clyde was running with a couple of guys that were identified as having links to drug crimes, money laundering, gun running, that sort of stuff. Now here’s the relationship between Val’s kidnapping this morning and that body we found…”

“What?” Jones grated out, anxious to have his theory proven valid.

“Damon Blake. That’s the link. Mr. Blake was best friends with Clyde. They did some bouncer work together. We have an unconfirmed lift of prints from Blake on the purse. It's being verified, because Blake doesn't have an adult record, and as far as we know, the only documented police fingerprints are juvenille records,” Paterson informed them.

“Blake was Val’s ex. They were living together until a month ago,” Jones supplied, “Any chance of getting hold of some CCTV footage?”

“Showing which areas?” Paterson asked.

“Are you talking about that night she was shoved around?” Doug stammered.

“I don’t know anything for sure,” Jones shot back, “Putney, the apartment complex where I live, and the street cams from around the Tate.”

“And why from around your apartment?” Paterson queried.

“Because that bastard held her up outside my apartment building a few weeks ago!”

“Interesting…” said Paterson, slowly.

“Get on with it, for fuck’s sake!” Jones barked.

“You’ll have to go upstairs to the CCTV monitoring room for that. We only deal with death down here. Sorry,” Paterson smiled at him, sarcastically.

05:20 a.m. November 18, 2004

Jones and Doug had signed out their guns. This situation was so dangerous that they had gone on high alert. For Jones and Doug to be carrying weapons, it was obvious that the situation had turned dire.

They had gone to the CCTV monitoring room after visiting Paterson and had seen the footage from outside the Tate and from the CCTV cameras on the streets around his apartment. The footage from the footpaths around the Tate, showed Val had been drugged and dragged to a waiting SUV. The picture unclear, but they had enough evidence to get a plate number. The car was registered to a Miles Stewart, who lived, ironically, also in Putney.

When Jones had seen the lifeless way that Val had been laying in Damon’s arms, his heart almost jumped out of his chest. He wasn’t sure if it was Damon because he’d never seen him properly that night, but Jones
knew
it was him.

He vowed there and then that he would make that fool pay. No one handled his woman like that. She wasn’t a sack of vegetables, for crying out loud, and the violent way he had thrown her across the back seat of the car, spoke of his assumed possessiveness over her. He would cut that shit out, today!

They were currently on their way to Stewart’s apartment. There were four cars following them, each bearing four armed officers. More were on their way. Helicopter support was on its way as well as other ground support. These murderous bastards were dangerous, and Paterson had just got back to them, confirming that the prints on Val’s purse were indeed from Damon Blake.

Stewart and Blake were more than dangerous; they were sadistic killers, considering the recent murder of Clyde Stevens and the woman from yesterday afternoon. The police now also had a lead on the four bodies from five months ago, which had similarities to the body found last month. The evidence from that case would be re-examined in light of recent events.

They pulled up around the corner from where Stewart’s apartment was, stepped out of the car, and formed a loose group around DCI Mackenzie who started giving orders. “Jones, no hero tactics, please. Doug, keep an eye on him.” He cast an unsmiling eye at Doug in warning, to which Doug nodded once.

“Now these guys are dangerous and ruthless. They will not hesitate to use force, so be aware of what's going on around you. There is a woman possibly being held hostage here, so remember, they can kill her just to keep themselves safe, so be careful. The last thing we want is any more dead bodies turning up. I don’t intend to inform any more families of loved ones taken before their time! Got that? Now, go!” The DCI strapped on a bulletproof vest, as he looked at his squad, turning a cold eye on Jones specifically, in warning.

Jones and Doug were instructed to stay outside, which caused Jones to grind his teeth almost out of his head. How the hell was he supposed to stay outside when Val could be up there? Plus, that bat shit-psycho maniac could be doing anything to her! He dashed the thoughts out of his mind and tried to concentrate. He would stay where he was told, only because he was a police officer, and that was his job, but he didn’t have to like it, and there would be hell to pay if he could have been up there doing what he knew he should be doing like getting his woman out of trouble, and kicking asses.

The first wave of officers would go in and secure the entrances, and then the second wave would move into the second-floor apartment, break the door and secure the individuals inside. It was easy in theory, but so many things could go wrong. Jones didn’t want to think of what could go wrong… not when Val was involved.

Once he got her out of this, she would be lucky if she got to leave his apartment for the next fifty years!

Val awoke, her limbs stiff and unresponsive. Damon had tied her to the bed, and she assumed that the lack of movement had caused her arms to seize up. She tried to move her right arm, hoping to ease the pressure from the awkward position that Damon had forced her into. Val had begged him, pleaded with him, not to tie her to the bed, but he had slapped her across the face and told her to shut up. She’d looked at him murderously while he laughed in her face and tied her tighter to the bedposts.

Val’s arms were stretched so widely across the bed that her fingers had swollen where the cord dug into her wrists, causing the blood to flow sluggishly around her hands. If she didn’t get free soon, she knew she would suffer significant damage; not just mentally, but physically.

When Damon came into the room, she didn’t know if he came to gloat or torment her. Either way, she turned her head away from him.

He laughed at her defiance. “You know you love me, Val.”

Val didn’t reply.

Damon shoved a plate at her. “Eat!”

Val snatched back the first response that hit her tongue, deciding to show him it was impossible for her to comply, due to her bonds. She shook her flaccid hands at him, causing him to sigh and remove a blade from his pocket. Val drew back in fear as far as she could go, which wasn’t far with her strapped down position, making Damon laugh at her as he cut the ties holding her to the bed.

“I never imagined you to be like this, Damon,” Val told him quietly.

“What? You thought I was a nobody? I'm a somebody, Val. You just didn’t wait around long enough to find that out.”

“Sorry, I don’t do Criminal Minds trivia. I don’t do criminals either, for that matter.”

“Poor, Val!” He shook his head at her as he stood over her, looking at her in disgust. “You don’t know shit! You think you're intelligent, but you're just like all those other bitches; good for nothing more than a quick lay, only ever good enough on your backs. Man-strife; that’s what you women are. Only ever giving a man trouble.”

Val rubbed her wrists, trying to encourage blood to move through her aching fingers. She wouldn’t answer him. His words could only hurt someone who gave a damn, and she didn’t give a fuck what he thought of her; her only goal was to get out of this shitty apartment.

“D!” Miles shouted, “Time to get the fuck out. 5-0!”

Damon looked shocked for a second, scanned the area in the bedroom before darting over to the window, and then moved the curtain away swiftly.

“Shit. We’re gonna have to call off our little party for now, babe. Time for your man to leave.” He leaped across the bed, grabbed Val by the hair, and pressed his mouth over hers aggressively. Val struggled against his hold. Clamping her teeth together against the intrusion of his tongue.

“Later, babes. I thought that we could be together forever, but seems like it’s not to be. It was nice knowing you. You know what they say about burning bridges, well, I’m all for burning my bridges, I hope it doesn’t hurt too much.” he laughed as he ran out the door.

She heard scuffling, but stayed where she was. She had no idea how many people were in the apartment or what the hell they were doing, but by the sounds of pounding on the door and the shouting from within the apartment, she was staying put.

All of a sudden, she heard an explosion. Val ducked her head, hoping to avoid whatever had happened. She had no idea where in the apartment the explosion had come from. Val pushed herself off the bed, opening the door tentatively. She smelled gas and burning paper. The fire was ahead of her, and the apartment was quickly filling with smoke.

Shit!
The outside door was obviously ahead of her as well, but she’d have to go past the kitchen where the flames were now billowing, along with thick black, cloying smoke.

Val started coughing as she shut the door, closing herself into the bedroom. She had no hope of getting out of the apartment that way, and she had no idea where Damon and his friend had gone. Val saw smoke pushing its way under the bedroom door and searched for something to block it out. She grabbed a jumper out of the closet and stuffed it into the gap under the door.

She took a thin shirt out of another drawer and draped it over her mouth and nose. She wouldn’t last long, the heat was warping the bedroom door as she watched.  Val tried not to panic, knowing that would only make the situation worse. She searched for an escape, looking over at the window. Val grabbed the drapes, pulling them back violently. She looked back at the door, the inside browning with the increased heat. Val forced herself not to scream; it wouldn’t help her either. She pushed at the window, but it appeared to be locked. She fumbled at the lock, breaking her nails on the awkward fitting.

She was going to die here, because of some stupid shithead who thought it would be a good idea to snatch her off the street to try and prove some ridiculous crap to everyone. Val looked back at the door, which had started to smolder and bubble. She knew she had minutes before the fire burst through the door and devoured her, along with everything within the apartment.

She couldn’t understand how the fire had spread so fast, unless Miles and Damon had used some kind of propellant, and she wouldn’t put it past them for doing that. They were obviously into drugs and any number of other major crimes, judging by the way they’d drawn guns so readily. Any hood-rat could get a gun if he wanted one.

She looked for some way to break the window but saw nothing that would help her, as her fingers returned to the futile struggle they had with the lock. There was no way that she was going to die like this. She wouldn’t allow this to be the end of her!