Feral Passion (13 page)

The face above him was peeled, the skin
missing in places. He struggled to pull away, but legs as sharp as
knives wrapped around his waist. Horror replaced his arousal, the
shout building in his throat.

“You will pay
,”
she hissed, the sockets filling with a green inner light. He tore
at her, hands pushing and tearing.

A clawed hand came up, dripping with what
looked to be acid.

For the second time in his life, he
screamed.

Chapter 21

Mary walked up to the court house, locking
her car door behind her. Clouds were covering the sun, a light
breeze causing the autumn leaves to swirl and dance around her. She
was about to open the great doors when a man in a brown leather
jacket threw it open hastily, almost throwing her to the side.

She barely caught herself as he scurried
away, not taking a second glance back. Mary frowned, but dismissed
the man and kept walking. The front desk was empty, but she already
knew where to go. She got to the small room where the prosecutor
sat with a suspect.

The Archaeos male saw her and lowered his
head briefly, respectfully. Instantly, she knew that whatever the
hell these people were thinking, they were insane. First off, why
was a human prosecutor handling this case? Obviously it was one
that should be maintained strictly by Acutos and Archaeos. Was it
too much to ask to have some order?

Mary swore that as soon as she had Ulrich and
her father together, she was going to give them hell. This could
have gone much easier had they picked the right race for this
case.

“Hello, Ms. Waters,” the prosecutor said,
holding out his hand. The suspect sat there, confused looking. The
more she looked, the more he seemed familiar to her, as if she had
seen him somewhere.

She shook hands with the bland man, who’s
brown hair looked a little to greasy for her taste. She subtly
wiped the sweat off from his hand onto her jacket, swallowing the
distaste.

“Hi, Mr. Ramsey. What do we got here?”
she asked, sitting down comfortably. She looked across at the
Archaeos that she could
smell
was innocent. It practically reeked off the man, clogging the
room. His nervousness was making her edgy, and it wasn’t even that
she was nervous, it just radiated so much from the poor man that it
was starting to affect her.

Ramsey cleared his throat, wary at her
unfamiliar attitude toward the situation. “This man was said to be
walking near the site the last couple of times,” he started.

She cut him off. “By who? Any certifiable
person, call, meeting, email? How did you find this out.”

He paced around the room in short strides,
shrugging, antsy. “Just someone who called in and gave a name.”

“Did you trace the number?” she asked,
tapping her fingers on her arms, which were crossed over her
chest.

“Well. . . We were more focused on getting
the suspect before he could strike again.”

“And where is his lawyer?”

The man interjected, recognizing that his
leader was on his side. “I’ve been asking to call him,” he said,
giving a glare to Ramsey.

Blue eyes spat fire at the man. “I heard no
such thing. This is between me and her—”

“If he is involved in the case without
a lawyer when he stated that he wanted one, he
is
involved and you infringed on his rights. How
many other people have you done that to?” she asked, eyes narrowing
dangerously.

The man's hands twisted at his sides, balding
forehead dampening.

“That’s what I thought,” she said briskly,
standing to her feet. “I would appreciate it if you would escort
yourself out.”

He sputtered. “What? You can’t do that—”

She smiled. “I can get the chief in here to
take you out if you would like. But if that happened, he might ask
about your infringements. . .”

With angry, jerky movements, Ramsey grabbed
his black case and left, eyes flashing impotent fire at them as he
slammed the door closed behind him.

“Oh, thank you. I thought I would never get
out of this hell hole.” He started to stand up.

Mary shook her head, sitting back down. “I
know you didn’t do this, but you can’t leave yet.”

He nodded in understanding, although his eyes
expressed his confusion. “Why?”

“Have to have you authorized first,” she
said, checking her time.

“Oh. . .” he said, still sounding
confused.

The room that they sat in was sterile, the
walls wood and warm.  Originally, they would have met at the
station. But with everyone rushing and the rooms filling up faster
than they ever had, Mary had asked that they meet at the court
house.

Old, replenished, and regal as ever, the
court house was the bane of her existence. So many fights and
deals, cases and lives, had gone through this very court and half
of the people in the city knew what it was like to be in here.

Her phone buzzed in her pocket, pulled it
out. “It’s Waters,” she said into the phone, eyes on the man who
sat in front of her.

“Ramsey just called me,” Romero started,
voice a growl.

“Oh, no! Did he really?” she asked, feigning
shock.

“Yes. What the hell was that about? You know
you can—”

“Romero, did you bother to ask him why he was
off the case?”

“I didn’t bother to because it isn’t
official.” The snap in his voice almost had her wincing. She never
liked to get yelled at over things that she knew were right.

“Maybe if you knew how amoral his questioning
was, you would re-think that,” she said, crossing her legs, feeling
the man’s eyes on her.

“What?” he asked, the growl still there but
underneath all of the bluster was confusion.

“He was withholding the right to an attorney
when I walked in. Several times the man had asked for one, and even
if he had, Ramsey was entitled to get him one anyway.”

Silence rang on the other side of the
line.

“Fuck,” he cursed, the words after it much
more clear and more. . .offensive. Because of Ramsey’s actions, the
police could have been sued, so Mary understood Romero’s fury

“My thoughts exactly,” she said smartly, a
grin playing on her lips proudly.

“Damnit, Mary,” he growled as if this were
all her fault.

“Don’t you go cursing me,” she warned,
starting to scowl.

“Let me call your brother and the judge and
see if we can get another prosecutor and a better lawyer for this.
Has the man called in his yet?”

She shook her head. “Nope, but I’ll have him
do it after I’m done talking to you.”

“Alright. I’ll get back to you soon enough.
Bye, Mary,” he sighed.

The call ended.

“Do you have your cell phone on you or did he
take it back in lock-up?” she asked, closing her phone and handing
it over.

“I have it,” he said kindly, giving her a
smile with a shake of his head.

How Ramsey could have even thought that this
guy could be a suspect amazed her. Everything about him screamed
innocent. But, then, Ramsey was a mere human with under average
knowledge.

“I’m so sorry about Ramsey,” she apologized,
grimacing.

“If you’re worried about me suing or having
any complaints, don’t. It was him, not you guys.” He opened his
phone and pressed a couple of buttons, then the muted sound of
ringing started from the phone.

“Hey, it’s Erickson. Been a while,” he said
with an easy laugh, handling the man on the phone easily, as if he
owned the world and could care less.

“Nah, just some problems in Iowa. Mind
meeting with me? I’ll add a bonus for the flight expense because I
assume that you aren’t in town right now.”

Muffled words responded, then the man said,
“No, I don’t mind. Just get over here as soon as you can, some
people are wanting to question me and I have to get back to
business.”

Mary looked the man over as he talked
casually to the lawyer on the phone. He didn’t look like anyone too
important, dressed in form fitting jeans and a dark blue Under
Armor shirt. There was no coat around him, which was slightly
stupid because it was starting to get chilly out, no matter the on
and off weather.

Black hair flopped over his eyes, large set
eyes curiously knowing. He had the muscular build of someone who
fought, of someone who could easily over take an attack with a
seconds notice. What business was he talking about, she wondered.
Again, he didn’t look like anyone important.

Although looks could be deceiving.

“I haven’t yet been introduced,” she
commented when he hung up the phone.

He looked at her blankly, then held out a
hand with a charming smile. She couldn’t help the errant thought
that she much more preferred Jaques’s smile and eyes.

“Matt Erickson,” he said almost sheepishly,
while she returned the hand shake.

“Mary Waters. Are you from around here?
I don’t think I’ve seen you before, but I know you're in my
pacchetto
,” she said,
confused.

“I am indeed,” said Matt. “I don’t come in
town very often, my grandmother has me out in Manhattan running a
production line for her half of the time.”

“What’s that?” she asked, referring to the
production line comment.

“Ever heard of Fine Beauty Inc.?” he
questioned, leaning back comfortably.

The name took a bit, but then it finally
registered and her jaw dropped. “I love their clothing!” she said,
surprised.

“Well, yeah. That’s me. I run some business
out there for her, she’s getting too old and I get to inherit it,”
he said with a sort of dry humor.

“And that’s a bad thing?” she asked,
shocked. “I would
love
to be
involved in something like that. The problems I have to go through
here are too much sometimes.”

“If you run it out there, what are you doing
back here?” she asked, tilting her head. It was easy to forget that
she was in a court house with death cloaking them all as she sat
here, talking to Matt.

If only she could talk as comfortably with
Jacques, without all of those dirty thoughts in her head.

“Marketing,” he said, shrugging. “I don’t
like doing things over the Internet, such as email. I much prefer
getting a firsthand experience of where the clothing might be. Bad
representation really takes a chunk out of profit, you know?”

She nodded, thinking his words over.

“There is a store out here that sells some of
your—”

Her phone rang, cutting her off. She sighed
while he laughed, answering it.

“The judge said he was just pulling up to the
court house when I called him, so he should be there by now. He
knows what Ramsey did and I don’t think that man is going to get it
easy.”

In spite of herself, she giggled/snorted. “I
want to see this,” she said, standing up.

“Well, hurry up and get to his office. He is
expecting both of you to be there in less than five minutes. Also,
tell the man that he is free till something else comes up. Ramsey
isn’t liable anymore, so we have to wait to see if the new
prosecutor and lawyers will call him back.”

A grin played at the edge of her lips.
“Okay,” she said happily, knowing that the judge would have the
moral and political sense to realize that she wasn’t in the wrong.
Plus, the man was Acutos, and wouldn’t dare make a fool of her.

And didn’t that just make her happy

Chapter 22

“Hi! My name is Jenna and I’ll be taking your
order for you. What can I get’cha?” she asked, a light hint of a
southern twang in her cheery voice.

Chase looked up at her, then his menu, then
pulled a quick double take. Raffaele watched as Chase’s eyes took
on a new light. “You can get me some of that—” he looked pointed at
the woman in front of him—”a hotel room, and some good ole—”

Raff smacked the man before he could finish.
Hard.

“Pancakes and an orange juice please?” he
asked the blushing waitress with an apologetic glance.

“Sure thing,” she stuttered, looking back at
Chase. Eyes shooting daggers at Raff, Chase mumbled his order and
then she was off, practically running from the table.

“If I get kicked out of this restaurant
because you got the hots for the waitress, I swear you will never
live to see day light again,” he growled, threatening.

“I doubt she will complain to anyone,” he
started, smirking. “If anything, I’ll have her number by the end of
breakfast.

His eyes crossed. “I’ll stab you,” he said,
deadpan.

Chase rolled his eyes at him, snorting.
“Yeah, like you have the right anymore.”

And for that Raffaele was grateful.

He quieted, taking a drink of his water,
eyeing the people around him. Jared was ready to be released, so
they were having a quick breakfast before they went to get him.

Now that he was
pacchetto
leader, and had been for some time, he
was forbidden to go back to his old job. It had been more of a
torture than a job though. The thought of ever going back to that
sent him into a feral rage, something that had once caused the
death of an entire—

Raff took a calming breath, eyes closing.

If it had been a different situation, a
different time and place. . . It would have been fine with him. In
truth, he had actually enjoyed the killing. Had enjoyed the screams
of fear and the knowledge that they pissed themselves when they
found out that
he
was their
nightmare.

His family, on the other hand. . . God, he
could still remember. Raffaele rubbed his hands over his eyes and
could have groaned. The hate, the betrayal. . .

Hannah was trying to help, slowly and
unsteadily. Some therapy sessions, anti-depressants, things that
didn’t really help at all. Only one time had he gone to therapy by
her command, and when the woman had tried to get him to talk about
what had happened, he had burst out, almost killed everyone in the
office.