Honey House (17 page)

“So what’s the plan, Edwin? Will you please put that damn gun away? Shit, where did you get it, anyway? A twenty-two isn’t much good for killing anything except jackrabbits. You plan to stay out here hiding in the woods looking for werewolves all night?” I asked. With those few sentences, I gave Quinn as much information as I could about the situation. If he was still listening.

“No, we only need to stay for a few hours,” he said, slipping his gun back into his pocket.

He seemed nervous about the gun, and I suspected it was a new purchase. I wondered if he even knew how to set the safety, and indulged in a minor fantasy that involved Edwin shooting his own dick off.

“All I expect to be able to do tonight is get some full moon footage. Tomorrow, I’ll pull their business records and track down the CEO. He avoided my calls all day today on the pretense of the office being closed for the full moon.”

His breathing was labored as we hiked over the uneven terrain. Maybe if I picked up the pace some, he would pass out by the time we reached the office. Since I was now in the lead, I made the route a bit more circuitous than necessary. If there was a hard way, we took it.

The more he talked, the more out of breath he got, and the less likely he’d be to hear an approaching car.
Say, perhaps the sheriff’s car?

Of course, there was a downside. I couldn’t hear anything, either, except his voice and breathing. If something was following us with bad intent, we’d be dead before we heard it.

“What do you know about Raymond?” I asked, throwing auditory caution to the wind.

“No such person,” Edwin panted. “There are plenty of men named Raymond Martinez in Arizona, but none of them live here or match his description. I should have the results of a broader search tomorrow.”

“Do you know who all the people were that Jason interviewed? I mean did he actually talk to Raymond? Or Melissa over at Rapture?” I asked, even though I already knew the answer.

He didn’t say anything for a moment, just breathed harder. “Yes, both,” he gasped, “and someone at Vortex Infusion, and the grocers. Not sure who else.”

“Why come all the way out here? Can’t you just interview everyone again?”

“Because Jason had proof. A picture is worth a thousand words and all that drivel. I came out here to get pictures and I’m not leaving without them,” Merkham said. “Now shut the fuck up. You’re making too damn much noise.”

The trailer was up ahead, just beyond the dirt parking lot. I paused at the edge of the tree line, uncertain if it was better to stay here in the relative cover of the brush and trees or move under the dim security light of the trailer. There were no vehicles in the clearing, just the singlewide trailer that served as the office for TWTW.

When I’d come out here the other day, Raymond had headed me off before I could get inside, but I knew the typical layout well enough. There would be an open reception area with a desk and one or two small offices. Oh yeah…and a bathroom. I could really use a bathroom right about now.

Decision made, I moved quickly across the lot toward the steps of the trailer. I’d be a hell of a lot more comfortable sitting on the steps rather than leaning against a tree. Maybe in a sudden fit of chivalry Merkham would offer to break down the door so I could use the facilities. I smothered the laugh that threatened. I needed to focus.

When Edwin caught up to me, I noticed he had the gun back out, but he was so out of breath there wasn’t much he could do. He bent over, put his hands on his knees, and sucked wind.

What’s a girl to do under such tempting circumstances? Could it possibly be this easy?
I gave a swift roundhouse kick, and Edwin went down in a pile, his gun falling harmlessly away.

I breathed a silent prayer of thanks to all the martial arts instructors who taught me useful skills along the way. I might never have joined a dojo, but between the California penal system and the cruise line, I’d spent a lot of hours perfecting my own unique brand of martial arts. I had a black belt in badass.

In short order, I retrieved his gun, searched for more weapons, and then checked his pulse. I’d just straightened up when car lights bounced into the lot and shone a spotlight on us.

Quinn stepped out of the car, his weapon drawn and pointing.

“It’s okay—I’ve got his gun,” I said, and then set the gun down on the step and moved my hands so they were clearly visible to Quinn. Most cops didn’t like it when there were lose guns on a scene.

“Are you okay?” Quinn asked, his voice a little rougher than usual. I couldn’t make out his face in the glare of the headlights, but he sounded strained.

“I’m fine. Can I put my hands down?” I asked.

“Come here,” he growled, his voice a dark caress.

As soon as I reached Quinn, he pushed me roughly against the hood of his car. “Assume the position, I know you know it.”

“What?” I managed to squeak out, just before he kicked my feet wide apart.

Quinn frisked me thoroughly and then jerked my hands behind my back. He chinked the handcuffs in place and pushed me into the rear of his Tahoe. I sat in stunned disbelief and watched while he went to check on Edwin. He lifted the big man as easily as if he were a doll. He strapped the still unconscious editor into the front passenger seat and we left TWTW Ranch with the lights flashing.

****

“You can go,” Quinn said quietly. He wouldn’t meet my eyes.

The words I’d spent the night rehearsing threatened to choke me in my effort to get them all out at once. “You goddamn prick! I was kidnapped at gunpoint and managed to call
you
for help. I disarmed and subdued the kidnapper and
I’m the one you cuff?
You arrest me and leave me alone in jail overnight? No phone call? What kind of a back ass idiot are you? I want my phone call. Shit. I need a bathroom!”

I’d been locked in a small holding cell, the type used by small towns before they transport a suspect to the county lock up. They weren’t designed to keep anyone for more than two or three hours.

Quinn had steadfastly refused to speak to me last night, refused to answer any of my questions or acknowledge my insults. He’d silently removed the handcuffs, pushed me through the cell door, and left me there alone all night. No water, no bathroom, no guard.

“Bathroom’s right over there.” Quinn pointed. “No charges are being filed,” he added softly.

I’d wanted to say so many things, but Mother Nature would have her way. When I finally emerged from the small bathroom, Quinn was gone and Owen was waiting for me.

“Owen,” I choked, my throat tight with relief.

“Come on, KC, let’s get you home,” he said. He swung an easy arm around my shoulders and led me out the door.

I blinked into the bright sunlight of another perfect Arizona morning, feeling unsteady by the torrent of emotions raging through me. Owen listened as he drove, letting my temper roll off him. He knew I wasn’t angry with him. He nodded, hmm’d, and kept both hands on the wheel as he took me to the Honey House.

He climbed out and walked me to the front door, where he planted a brotherly kiss on my cheek.

“Owen?” I asked. “Will you come inside and tell me what’s going on?”

“Ahh, KC. If only I could.” Owen brushed my hair back from my face. “This is between you and Quinn. I gave my word I wouldn’t interfere.”

“But you came to get me. How did you know?” I asked.

Owen looked at me for a long moment, as if deciding exactly what he should tell me. “I need to get back to Gregory; I left him shorthanded at the store this morning.” He turned and glided toward his car. Opening the door, he paused with his hands on the roof and looked very seriously at me. “Some things are better just left alone, KC. I know that’s not easy, but it’s true. I’ll talk with you later.”

I watched him drive off and felt very alone.

David had checked out yesterday and Merkham would be long gone by now, so there was no real hurry to set out breakfast. First on my “To do” list was a long hot shower and then I would figure out my next steps.

I’d vowed to do something noble about finding Jason’s killer, and I’d meant it at the time. But spending last night in jail had changed things. I’d spent six years confined by the California Youth Authority. I’d only been thirteen when I’d entered, a very young thirteen. Sure, I’d lied to help my foster parents run scams, but I was innocent in the ways of real bad people. I’d not been raised around others my age. I’d never been exposed to what teenagers could do to each other, never been exposed to the ways an adult could really hurt a child. I’d gained a lifetime of experience my first night in confinement. Experience no girl should ever have.

I was half way down the hall before I realized I wasn’t alone. Quinn was sitting at his usual spot, sipping coffee and reading the paper. He raised lazy eyes to me, and quirked an eyebrow as if daring me to say something.

Arguing with Quinn was more than I had in me at the moment. I turned my back on him and continued to my apartment. His presence changed nothing. Unless it was to remind me that I didn’t belong here.

Dropping my clothes to the floor, I stepped under the beating spray and let it wash over me. It was time to face the hard truth. I’d fucked up. I knew the rules, they’d been drummed into me since I was a child.

Rule number one was never leave enough rope for them to hang you. Last night I’d been in a bit of trouble. So what? I’d handled a lot more trouble than that before. Eventually I would have gotten the opening I needed. Hell, I
did
get the opening, and I’d cleaned Merkham’s clock with one swift kick. It would have been easy to leave in the bastard’s car and get away. Instead, I’d called the cops just like any other mope. I’d stood there and practically begged to be arrested, given the sheriff everything he’d needed.

That was nothing compared to what I’d nearly done to rule number two. Violating rule number two was what made people victims. It was the rule that defined my life. Don’t get attached, because you can’t lose what you don’t love.

I’d very nearly fucked up and started to care for this place, for these people. Very nearly allowed myself to believe I could have a life that was any kind of normal. Last night had been a timely reminder.

There was nothing that could redeem me in the minds of decent, upstanding citizens. I was an ex-con and the sheriff wasn’t about to let me forget it. I’d spent last night alone in that cell, reliving the nightmare of my first night in the CYA and the many nights that followed. Quinn believed the world was safer protected from me.

I would always be the one he’d haul off to jail first, no questions asked. I would always be the one some enterprising young journalist could threaten to expose. I would always be an oddity to bring out at a dinner party. “KC has done so well for herself, considering her history.” Leaving the Honey House and Juniper Springs in my rear view mirror was looking like my most attractive option.

I scrubbed until my skin was raw, but I couldn’t wash away the ugly.

Chapter Fifteen

Bright moonlight bounced off the tops of the trees, but very little light managed to spill onto the path in front of me. Wind whispered through the trees, a chorus of spiteful voices taunting me. I quickened my pace, flinching when branches brushed against my skin, reaching for me. My breath caught in my throat. I would not panic. It was all a rumor, they weren’t real. There was nothing to fear.

I was nearly there. The security light glowed pale yellow through the woods, a beacon calling to me, guiding me to the headquarters of TWTW. If I could just get to the trailer, somebody would let me in and I would be safe.

The pounding of my own heart was loud in my ears but not loud enough to drown out the sound of harsh breathing that was coming from somewhere nearby.
Oh God.
I couldn’t stay calm. The chase might excite the monster behind me, but I couldn’t help it. I swallowed a scream and ran.

The branches whipped at me, punishing me for my panic, scraping my skin. Small drops of blood seeped along the abrasions. I could smell the metallic copper over the scent of juniper.

Dear God, the blood, I knew it would come after the blood. I ran full out, screaming, screaming.

Just as I finally reached the edge of the clearing, the door to the trailer crashed open. “Run, KC! Come this way!” It was Raymond. Oh God, help was so close.   

A growl rent the night air behind me and I ran faster. I risked a look over my shoulder. A giant gray wolf was threading through trees, gaining on me. It wasn’t werewolf, just wolf, but there was no time to feel relief. I could see the fur bristling on the scruff of its neck, saliva dripping from its maw. It snarled and leapt forward, closing the distance.

“Raymond,” I screamed and I turned away from the wolf, looking toward safety, toward the trailer. I looked to the man I thought was there to save me, and he was gone.

In his place was a giant black wolf.

I woke myself with a scream.

****

The cruise line had been happy to take me back. It was one of the more appealing characteristics of the job in the first place. Transients like me were always welcome. This was my third cruise in as many weeks, and I was supposed to pick up another as soon as we docked today, but I was sick. The pain and the nightmares hadn’t gotten any better. In fact, they were worse.

The doctor’s exam had been cursory, we’d been here before. Migraine. He gave me a shot of something and ordered me to bed. It was only a few more hours until we docked in Long Beach. I could survive until then. I wobbled my way along the deck, heading for the small elevator tucked next to the ballroom that would take me far below deck to my tiny cabin.

“KC?” a woman’s familiar voice asked.

I leaned against the wall, and raised my eyes just enough to confirm my suspicions. “Amelia,” I said and promptly threw up. Or I would have if there had been anything left in my stomach.

Amelia snaked a surprisingly strong arm around my waist. “Come with me, KC,” she said grimly.