Blood Sport (7 page)

“You tipping off your stupid cop boyfriend are you, lovely?” he laughed. “No point. I’m on a borrowed phone. You won’t trace me.”

“What do you want?”

“I wanted to make sure you were okay.” He laughed again. I could feel my blood pressure rising.

I forced myself to sound chirpy. “I’m
great
. How are you?”

“I know I shot you.”

“It was just a flesh wound,” I dismissed casually. “I didn’t even notice it.”

“Tessie, you are one sweet little piece of pussy, no doubt about it. You never give up. Fuck me, but I love that attitude in a woman. It’s so rare.” He paused. “Most of the women I play with give up way too soon. They’re no fun at all.”

God, I hated him. He usually beat those poor women so badly while assaulting them that they were forced to give up fighting or die in the attempt. The last attack he’d been sent to jail for was against a fifteen-year-old girl he’d met at a nightclub in Big Town. Her injuries had been horrific. He’d received a much lighter sentence than he’d deserved, because she had flatly refused to testify against him in court. And the judge, an elderly conservative man, had proven to be very judgemental of her behaviour and appearance that evening. Although her physical wounds had healed, she still hadn’t recovered from the psychological injuries Red had left her, despite it being nearly five years ago.

“Tessie?”

“What?”

“You’re not talking to me.”

“I have nothing to say to you. Why are you ringing me?”

“I told you, lovely. I wanted to make sure you’re still alive. But also, I wanted to let you know that I’m thinking of visiting you in hospital. Wouldn’t that be fun? Should I bring flowers?” His nasty laugh rang in my ears as I hung up on him.

The catchy song sounded immediately. It was the same number again. I turned to the Sarge, shaking my head, begging him with my eyes. “Please Sarge, I can’t. Not right now.”

“It’s okay, Tessie. You don’t have to answer it. Turn your phone off,” he said grimly.

“He said he’s thinking of visiting me.”

Without another word, he pulled out his own phone and furiously punched in numbers. He listened for a moment. “Ma’am, it’s Finn Maguire . . . Yes, she’s awake now . . . Everything went well, but . . . Yes, ma’am . . . No, ma’am . . . Ma’am, can I interrupt?” He listened impatiently to a tirade for a minute, closing his eyes and throwing his head back in despair. “Please listen, ma’am . . . No! I’m not accusing you of not being a good listener . . . No ma’am! Of course I’m not . . . No ma’am, don’t do that . . . Ma’am?
Ma’am?
” He turned to us. “Shit! She’s on her way.”

Jake bolted upright again and threw his legs over the side of the bed. “I’m out of here.”

“Jakey!” I protested, pulling on his arm.

He turned to me, desperation in his eyes. “Tessie, please don’t make me be here when she turns up.
Please,
baby doll.” He checked his watch. “And anyway my shift starts in a couple of hours. I have to get back to the prison.”

I relented. “Okay, but when will I see you again?”

He reached into his pocket to take out his phone, checking his diary. “I’m on duty all this week, including this weekend, so I can take next weekend off for my birthday. Sorry, babe.”

“Jakey,” I grumbled. “I never see you anymore.”

“I never see
you
anymore. Not alone anyway,” he retorted, throwing a bitter glance at the Sarge as if it was his, instead of Jake’s own awful family’s fault there was endless crime in Little Town. But I felt guilty, knowing that I’d had to bail on a few dates with him recently because there had been urgent police work to attend to. He’d been gracious about it, but there was an undercurrent of resentment building in him. We really needed the next weekend in Big Town to spend some quality time together.

“Bye, Jakey,” I said sadly. And although he gave me a spectacular farewell kiss and pressed his forehead against mine to tell me he loved me with a sincerity that made my heart blossom, it didn’t make up for him leaving. I slumped back on the bed and sighed out loud, before turning to the Sarge. “I suppose you want to disappear too before the Super gets here?”

He leaned back in the chair, stretched out his legs and laced his hands behind his head. “I’m relaxed.”

I laughed at his nonchalance. “Mr Cool, huh?”

“That’s me.”

A short, stout nurse with salt-and-pepper hair cut into a severe bob, bustled into the room, a wide jovial smile on her face. “Good to see you awake, love.” She noticed the Sarge. “Ooh, you have your own personal police escort. You must be important.”

I smiled at her, shaking my head self-deprecatingly.

“She’s very important,” contradicted the Sarge. “She keeps the entire Tim Tam industry in this country afloat single-handedly.”

“Sarge,” I groaned and threw one of my pillows at him with my good arm.

The nurse laughed. “I do my fair share of supporting that industry myself.” She looked at my chart and scribbled something. “Let’s check your vitals.”

We went through the whole rigmarole of poking and prodding and she scribbled something else on the chart, finishing with a flourish. “You’ll live,” she pronounced.

“I’m starving,” I said to her. I hadn’t had any breakfast and it was now mid-afternoon. “Any chance of rustling up some food?”

“Doubt it,” said the nurse cheerfully. “The kitchen manager used to run a boarding school kitchen and there’s absolutely no food provided outside the set meal times. No exceptions. And I’m sure as hell not risking my life by asking. She’s a bloody dragon.” She busied herself in tidying the bed for a moment. “Now remember not to move your arm. I’ll dig you up a sling for it.” And she departed.

The Sarge stood up, yawned, stretched and brought my pillow back to me, carefully tucking it behind my back. “I’ll fetch you something from the hospital cafe. What do you want?”

“I’ve had a terrible day,” I moped. “So what I really need is a meat pie with lots of tomato sauce and hot chips with lots of salt, followed by a chocolate bar. Oh, and don’t forget the Coke Zero. I don’t want to overdo it.”

“Gotcha. One tuna salad sandwich on wholemeal followed by an apple, coming up. Oh, and I won’t forget the orange juice.” He sauntered out the door.

“
Sarge!
” I shouted after him. “Don’t be so bloody cruel!”

Two seconds later, a blonde head poked itself around the door. “Well, fuck me with a prickly pear! I can see you’re still alive, judging by the racket you’re making, Tessie Fuller. I could hear you screaming down the fucking hallway. Anyone would think Jake Bycraft had you, panties down, up against the wall, banging your brains out.”

“Sorry, ma’am,” I blushed.

The Sarge had escaped just in time. It was the Super.

Chapter 4

Superintendent Fiona Midden, the most feared woman in Big Town, was medium height, rail-thin and fifty-something with a shock of straw-like bleached hair, brown leathery skin, a pixie face, bright blue eyes and a sexy, husky voice from her chain-smoking habit. She was hard, foul-mouthed and didn’t take any prisoners.

She was back in uniform again after recently being promoted from inspector in charge of the Big Town detectives to superintendent in charge of the entire station and the local district, including our small police station in Little Town. She was throwing a party tomorrow night at her house to celebrate her promotion and the Sarge and I were both invited. We hadn’t yet decided which one of us could go, but we both knew it would be me. She was boss to both of us, but she was also my long-time friend and mentor.

She picked up my left arm, twisted it around, frowning at the bandage before gently placing it back on the bed.

“Red fucking Bycraft,” she said with simple hatred, shaking her head. “Next time you have a date with him, you put the first bullet through his dick and the second one through his brain. Do you hear me, Tessie? That’s an order.”

“Yes, ma’am. It will be my pleasure. But hopefully I’ll be the one with the gun next time.”

“I’m told his gun had a
pink
handle?” I nodded my reluctant affirmation of that dire fact. Her voice was sorrowful, “Tess, I’m so fucking embarrassed for you. I really am.”

“Thanks, ma’am,” I replied dryly. “I’m feeling the love.”

She cupped my chin in her hand and examined my face. “Christ! You’re as pale as an anaemic vampire in a fucking
Twilight
movie. How much blood did you lose exactly?”

“I don’t know. I haven’t seen a doctor yet.”

She turned suddenly and bellowed. The good citizens of Big Town could probably hear her out on the street, let alone down the hallway. “
Bum?
Where the
fuck
are you? Get your arse in here, now!”

A heavy tread approached the room at double-time before a gigantic shape filled the doorway. I groaned when he stepped into the room.

“Ma’am, why did you have to bring
him
along? He’s making me feel worse already.”

She patted my hand consolingly.

“Sorry, ma’am,” Bum said. “There was this real pretty nurse at the desk and I just –”

“Bum, you peabrain!” she shouted. “If you could stop thinking about your over-wanked microscopic dick for one second, you might actually help your colleagues solve some fucking crime in this district. Wouldn’t that be a novel experience for you? Now get your fat head in here and get your notebook out of your arse and make yourself useful for once.”

“Hi Tessie,” he said calmly, taking out his notebook and pen, unfazed by the Super’s rants. He’d heard it all a million times before.

“Hi Bum,” I acknowledged unenthusiastically.

Detective Constable Burn Grunion, or Bum Bunion as we all called him, was the less-than-incredible hulk. A fanatical bodybuilder, his muscles almost burst through the business shirts he wore as a plain clothes detective. He was as massive a presence as Uluru and almost as smart as a big, red rock. Almost.

For some reason the Super had given him the job of being her driver since she’d been promoted. She claimed it was because driving was the only thing he was any good at, which was probably true, and even then according to her he drove more erratically than a blind taxi driver on meth. However, I’d always suspected that she had a soft spot for him that she went to great lengths to hide. That was assuming of course that she was capable of any feeling that was quite so human. I had many lingering doubts.

“You still seeing that Bycraft scumbag?” he asked me.

“Yes,” I confirmed bluntly. “And Jake’s not a scumbag. He’s a wonderful man.”

Bum was convinced that I was secretly in love with him, but he couldn’t have been more mistaken. We’d attended the police academy together and I’m mortified to confess that I’d actually been lonely and desperate enough to go out with him once. And once was more than enough. He’d talked about himself the entire night, stiffed me with the bill at dinner and then, when he’d walked me back to my room at the academy, made a lewd suggestion on my threshold about how we could finish the date, his hand reaching under my skirt. But instead of what he’d hoped, we’d finished the date with me brandishing my knife and threatening to cut off a vital man part if he didn’t get the hell away from me immediately. He’d done what I suggested, a frightened look on his face. Incredibly though, he’d asked me out again two days later.

Bored, the Super said, “
Bum!
Tessie’s not fucking interested in a soft-cocked, dim-witted numbnut like you when she’s got a burning hot root like Jake Bycraft making her scream twice a night.”

I would have taken issue with her discussing my sex life so openly, but she was spot on about Jakey. One night it had even been four times.

The nurse returned, eyeballing my new visitors warily, fitting me with the sling without a word. The Super hovered over her shoulder, watching her like a hawk to make sure she did everything properly.

“I liked the other guy better,” the nurse commented quietly to me, before departing with haste.

“Did it hurt getting shot?” Bum asked me idly, scratching the inside of his ear with the end of his pen.

I cut him a scathing look. “No Bum, it tickled.”

“Oh,” he said, clearly surprised. “That’s unexpected. I thought that it would have hurt. You know, with the blood and everything.”

The Super and I glanced at each other in disbelief. “Bum, sometimes I wonder how you manage to muster up enough brain cells to keep breathing,” she muttered, shaking her head wearily.

The Sarge returned to the room, gave a polite “ma’am” to the Super and nodded at Bum, before solicitously rolling my table closer for me. He deposited the threatened sandwich and juice.

“There weren’t any apples, so I grabbed you a banana instead,” he smiled, placing that piece of fruit precisely on the table next to the sandwich.

“Thanks, Sarge,” I said ungratefully, not bothering to hide the disappointment in my voice. And as the Super barked out questions to me, I munched unhappily on the sandwich, extreme hunger causing me to gobble my late lunch with little decorum. I unpeeled the banana, explaining to her that I couldn’t see the colour, make or model of Red’s car, let alone the number plate, because of the darkness and then the heavy rain.