DutyBoundARe (34 page)

Gator tilted his head to the side, as if saying,
Is that all?

“I don’t like being peed on. Not my kink, thank you very much.” She dropped the quarters into the slots and pushed the silver dispenser in, paying for the wash cycle for first one and then the second load of laundry.

Something, a thump or distant boom of noise, echoed down the hall the moment before the wash cycle turned on, drowning out the noise with the rush of water. She turned toward the door, brows pulled down, waiting for someone to push it open. But no one did.

She tugged on the leash, urging Gator to his feet, and peered through the crack as the hair on the back of her neck rose. No one was in the hall.

Except.

A large rectangle of light bisected the hall. One of the maintenance doors had been opened. It made perfect sense. Of course the building staff would be around during the day, doing their job, fixing things, but she couldn’t shake the creeping sensation that something was wrong.

She glanced over her shoulder, half expecting to see Seth behind her. Being trapped in a dead end, alone, with nothing except the dogs was not a good idea. She didn’t want to leave the wash, but screw it. If the laundry disappeared, she’d make it up to Mathieu somehow.

“Come on, Porkchop.” She scooped the puppy and his sock friend up in her arms.

Peering through the crack once more, she saw a group of what looked to be three adolescent boys descending the stairs. She breathed a sigh of relief, but it didn’t mean she wanted to be downstairs any longer. With Gator at her heels and Porkchop growling at the sock, she pushed through the door and headed toward the group.

She passed the now open maintenance room and glanced in, but didn’t see anyone. There were lockers and large pipes she didn’t know the purpose of, and quite frankly didn’t care about right now.

The boys finally noticed her. They made some under-their-breath remark about the dogs, but let her pass without hindrance. Probably because they were playing hooky from school. She still couldn’t shake the feeling of being watched.

At the foot of the stairs she glanced over her shoulder. The boys weren’t watching her, so who was?

She didn’t like it, not at all.

Lisette climbed the stairs to the first floor landing, peering out to see if anyone, namely the landlord, was around to see her with the dogs. The coast was clear so she scuttled across to the wide staircase that wound round and round all the way up the building. As she reached the second floor landing, she heard a heavy thump.

She peered over the banister to the floor below.

A man was on the stairs now, one with dark hair. No, that wasn’t right. The hair was all the wrong color.

He glanced up and her heart leapt to her throat.

Seth.

He’d found her.

For the span of a second they stared at each other, his cold gaze boring into her skull, the promise of death written plainly across his face.

Lisette grabbed the leash, hauling Gator up the stairs faster, two at a time.

“Come on, boy, come on.”

Footsteps pounded on the wooden stairs behind her.

Gator began to growl while Porkchop curled against her, still for once.

How had he found her? Did it matter? Could she get back to the apartment before he got her?

Gator’s growls turned vicious, and he tried to pull her back, to face whatever danger had her running. She hauled the dog along with her, climbing the last flight and throwing the door open to the third floor. She sprinted to the apartment door while digging her cell phone out of her pocket. She hit the dial button and it auto-redialed the last number she called as sobs shook her.

Lisette glanced back as she shoved the key in the door. Seth calmly strode toward her, like something out of a horror movie.

Fuck this shit. She shoved the door open.

“Lissy?” Mathieu said on the line.

“He’s here,” she sobbed, dragging a growling Gator over the threshold.

She jerked him back, mentally apologizing to the dog, and set her shoulder against the door.

“Who’s there?” Mathieu asked.

“Seth.”

The door didn’t close. She shoved, whimpering and trying her hardest, putting all her weight into it, still clutching the puppy with one arm. Gator had his face almost between the door and wall, snarling and snapping.

“Lisette.” Seth grunted.

“Oh my God, I don’t want to die.” She bent, putting her whole force into shoving the immovable door.

The phone clattered to the floor. Porkchop whined and yelped.

Seth grunted and the door shoved inward. Lisette stumbled back, hitting the edge of the archway into the kitchen. She backpedaled as Seth filled the doorway, her worst nightmare staring her in the face.

She was going to die. This was it.

At least she’d told Mathieu she loved him.

“Lisette? Lisette!”

Officers stopped in their tracks, staring at Mathieu as he yelled into the phone. All he could hear were Lisette’s sobs and Gator’s snarls.

What had she said? Was it Seth? Where were the damn cops put on the building?

He glanced around until he saw a familiar face, the lanky cop he’d been talking to over the map. He pointed and crooked his finger.

“Where’s your patrol car?” He needed something with lights. He needed permission to run the siren. He needed a God damned tank to put Lisette in while he ripped Seth limb from limb.

“Here.” The officer gestured to a car at the curb.

Mathieu rattled off his address and got in the passenger seat. The officer moved, not questioning him, and climbed in the driver’s seat.

A scream tore through the speaker and a man’s guttural yell followed. There was clanging, the sounds of a scuffle.

“Run the lights.” Mathieu gripped the handhold on the roof as the officer navigated out of the neighborhood with all haste, lights flashing.

“What the hell is going on?” Officer Ballenger was printed on the label across the back of the computer mounted to the dash.

How did he answer that? Mathieu’s jaw worked as the sounds grew quieter. Was he listening to Lisette die? Was that what was happening?

“I think a witness was just compromised. I think he found her.” His voice broke as he spoke. Lisette wasn’t just a witness, she was the woman he loved. The one he’d never stopped loving. The woman he was meant to live for. She couldn’t die now. Not when they’d found each other.

“Fuck.” Ballenger flipped the siren on and muttered a prayer.

They needed permission to run the siren, technically, but if heat came down, Mathieu would take the blame.

Ballenger radioed in their destination and a request for back-up. At least one of them was thinking, because Mathieu’s only thought was to get to Lisette. She was all that mattered.

The blocks sped by as they pushed the limits of how far they could exceed the speed limit. There wasn’t any more sound coming from the phone now. Just silence.

“What’s going on?” Ballenger asked. His white knuckled grip on the wheel belied his calm voice.

“I don’t know.” His voice cracked and he covered his mouth with his hand. He wanted to ask if they could go faster, but knew the answer was no. They couldn’t risk the lives of pedestrians or other drivers just to answer the call of another.

Even if it was Lisette.

Lisette backed into the kitchen
, Seth prowling after her.

Her head reeled. She’d caught a leg of the coffee table with the crown of her head, unable to move out of the way fast enough before he threw it at her.

“I’ve gone to an awful lot of work to find you,” Seth said, his voice low and slightly rough.

“Don’t do this, please, don’t.” She knew there was no reasoning with him, that Seth was a man with a mission. He’d done this before, not just to her, but to women before her, she would bet. And someone cleaned it up for him. He was a killer, a kept murderer. Would her life be considered part of the costs of keeping him leashed?

“You don’t get it, but then again you’re a dumb cunt anyway. I would have thought you’d like this. Doesn’t it get you off to get smacked around? I bet you came when I broke your arm.”

“You’re sick, Seth. No one wants that.” She backed up into the kitchen though she told herself to hold her ground.

She put Porkchop down in the sink and groped on the counter for the clean dishes she’d done that morning by hand. The half-wall hid her goal as her hand closed around the handle of the large chopping knife.

“You do. You wanted it.”

He came around the corner and reached for the puppy.

“No!” Lisette reacted, lunging forward and slashing with the knife.

Gator went with her, sinking his teeth into Seth’s thigh and clamping down. She slashed at Seth’s arms, her only thought to save the puppy.

Seth yelled, his eyes bulging, and shoved her back. Gator went with her, backpedaling as Seth’s full attention was on her.

Lisette took the chance and turned, dashing through the open door, still clutching the knife.

“Help! Someone help me!”

She pounded on the neighbor’s door, the one after that and the one after that. She kept glancing behind her, but didn’t see Seth. Where was he? Why wasn’t he chasing her? Not that she’d mind him giving up, hell, if he just went home and left her alone she’d be happy as a clam, but she doubted that.

No one was home. Not a soul.

She scampered to the staircase. Not the main one, but the smaller one. Mathieu had said something about this one, but she couldn’t remember what it was.

Seth stepped through the doorway, a gun in his hand.

For a second they stared at each other, blood rushing past Lisette’s ears as she stared at the black gun, taking in his soulless eyes.

She wouldn’t go down, not without fighting. Or running. Running seemed like a really good option.

Lisette grabbed Gator’s harness and fled down the stairs. If she could get on the second floor, maybe she could get help. Or something.

As she reached what should have been the second floor landing, she glanced around for a door.

Nothing.

More stairs.

“Lissy, I’m coming for you. This would be easier if you’d just stop running. It’ll hurt less.”

She plunged down the stairs, Gator at her side.

There was an emergency exit door at the foot of the stairs. She flung it open and sprinted to her right—almost face-planting into a dead end.

They turned onto Mathieu’s street
and he tapped the seconds by with his foot.

“This is it up here on the right. The one on the corner.” Mathieu put his hand on the door. He didn’t wait for the car to come to a full stop, but got out when it was still rolling.

“Hey, wait, man!” Ballenger yelled at him.

He didn’t wait. Mathieu charged into the building, taking the stairs three at a time, drawing his handgun as he went. He kept it trained on the ground, his finger off the trigger as he reached his floor, heart pounding. He almost stopped breathing when he saw the front door to his apartment standing open. His focus narrowed to that space between the walls.

He stepped into the apartment, taking in the overturned furniture, the absolute wreck of the place. His gaze darted around, looking for a body. He did a fast walk-through, but she wasn’t in the bathroom or the bedroom.

Thuds, footsteps echoed down the hall.

A dog whined.

Mathieu stepped into the kitchen, at a loss for where to go. Where was Lisette?

Porkchop stood on the counter, ears slicked to his head, back arched. A red mark was smeared over his white fur.

“Mouton?” Ballenger stepped into the apartment, his service gun in hand and pointed at the floor.

“I don’t know where she is,” he replied.

Lisette’s phone lay on the floor, the call timer still ticking away.

“Mouton, I’ve got blood over here, it leads down the hall.”

Mathieu glanced at the blood on the door and followed the trail. He had a bad feeling about this. The whole building was fucked up, and this staircase only led out to the alley.

They descended, doing their best to stay out of the blood. There was a lot of it. He tried to not think about who it was losing it.

“Mouton, back-up is almost here,” Ballenger said behind him.

He didn’t care. There was no way he was waiting for them while Lisette could be dying.

They reached the bottom of the stairs. Mathieu pushed the door open, peering out toward the street. A dog growl had his head snapping around so fast he almost got whiplash.

“Seth—Seth, no.” Lisette had her back up against a dumpster, one arm thrown up to shield herself, gripping a knife, and the other holding onto Gator’s harness as he snarled, showing more teeth than Mathieu had ever seen from the dog before.

Seth stood maybe six feet away. His arms were scratched and his left leg bloodied. His hair was darker, but that was just cosmetic. What nearly stopped his heart was the six-shooter he pointed not at Lisette, but Gator.

He didn’t think, though the scene processed through his mind in the couple of seconds it took for Lisette to protest.

Mathieu raised his gun.

Lisette’s life was in danger.

He brought his gun up, aimed, and squeezed the trigger.

The report of the shot split the air. Seth grunted and his body went slack. Lisette yelped, dropping the knife, and Gator’s snarls rose to a full on bark as Seth collapsed onto the ground.

Mathieu and Ballenger rushed in, Ballenger going for the gun and Seth’s prone form while Mathieu put his gun away and stopped outside of snapping range.

“It’s okay, Gator. Gator!” The dog snarled and snapped at him, pressed up against Lisette’s legs, his tail between his legs. He was a fierce protector, even when he was terrified.

“Gator, I’m okay. We’re okay.” Lisette’s voice shook as she stroked his fur.

Gator whined, twisting toward her, licking her hand.

“Easy, boy.” Mathieu took a step toward them. His hands trembled, wanting so badly to take Lisette in his arms.

Gator’s head swung back toward him, snarling, except this time he registered who it was the dog was snarling at. The vicious sound turned to a pitiful whine; he tucked his tail between his legs and dropped to the ground, belly crawling toward Mathieu.