Magic Rising (7 page)

His stride stopped halfway across the floor. Like a hunter, he sensed her before seeing her. She waited, not wanting to do this like she’d been trained. There were better ways to deal with obstacles and hurting an old man seemed cruel. At least she thought so before he turned to her and fired.

Chapter Four

Detective Ryan Farmer parked at the corner, just out of sight of Deirdre’s house. She wasn’t home. He was nearly certain of it, but he hadn’t found her at the gym or her downtown office. She could stay away from the office for days, but she always returned home. This was her sanctuary, her little corner where she pretended to be normal. She enjoyed hiding in a subdivision like the successful family types.

His phone call this morning must’ve sent her scrambling. He smiled to himself, trying to imagine the tough demeanor fading. It was worth sacrificing his sleep in order to handle this situation with Deirdre. She had far too much power in this town. Even his superiors looked up to her because of her thoroughness and noted that she never sent a guy to the hospital unless he tried to shoot her. Despite hostile circumstances, the perpetrators’ injuries were never life threatening. Little Miss Perfect never screwed up, never brought down the wrong guy.

It took some digging and long hours on the road, but he found the little princess’s secret. Her clients would go scrambling if they knew that she was a product of a cult bent on political upheaval. If Stone House hadn’t burned, who knows how messy things could’ve gotten.

Ryan took a deep breath thinking about the liberals she provided protection for whenever their world grew difficult. Their suspicious nature would make them stop using her once they knew her past. A few might start trusting the cops with their secrets instead of some pay-by-the- hour bouncer service.

He glanced down the road, wondering how much longer she would be. He’d been put on administrative leave since the Shope shooting, so he had time. That was a cluster fuck. He had no idea how that man escaped, but one minute sitting behind a stalled car, and Shope was out on the streets. Ryan tried to implicate Deirdre but that wouldn’t carry far. Those damn videos always saved her ass.

Truth be known, he never liked Deirdre. She was too masculine for his tastes. He never saw her wearing dresses, only pants, tight pants that nicely displayed the curve of her ass. Deirdre needed a man on that ass, burying her face in a pillow while he taught her what it was like to be a woman.

His cock gave a half salute at the image. Deirdre wouldn’t be so bad if she acted more like a woman. From the things he discovered, he understood why Deirdre was so combative. Her upbringing made her that way. It also made her too dangerous for his quiet little town.

Fear crept up from the pit of his stomach when he thought about her training. Something about Deirdre had always frightened him. It was in her eyes, a primal power or hatred that made him afraid. Ryan hid it well, goading her, standing close to see if he could shake her up. Nothing had. He witnessed that woman stand down a man holding a submachine gun. She didn’t flinch. Everything about her stayed ice cold.

That’s not normal.

Ryan had to wonder if she’d cringed after their conversation. She should. He’d found a diary from someone identifying himself as a leader. He only answered to a man named Colinster. From the record, Colinster enjoyed hearing the details of the regimen and the tortures. There were several entries about Deirdre, only under the name Dragonfly, and the job where she was supposed to kill a government official. She couldn’t have been more than fifteen. Deirdre was bad seed from the beginning, a criminal from birth.

Like everything else, his lead came in the form of a tip. Someone left him a message with directions to Stone House and Deirdre’s name. He had no idea who had called him or why. The people working the phones didn’t remember anyone asking for him. It was like someone had walked in and dropped the message on his desk.

After trying for a year to find dirt on Deirdre, he wasn’t going to ignore a clue. He used plenty of anonymous sources but never one so mysterious that they were afraid to speak directly to him.

When his shift had ended that night, he followed the directions, driving to some god-forsaken stretch of land in the middle of the mountains. In the darkness, he nearly missed the turn but perseverance paid off. He’d found the remains of some kind of organization. The message even told him where to look for evidence. He found it. Under the beam of his flashlight he discovered the evidence in a pile of rubble near the door, he found a diary.

It seemed he’d been right to mistrust her. His detective’s instincts screamed a warning about the bombshell in a role that should belong to a man. This was no normal woman, but a trained killer. He had the proof he needed in the leather-bound book hidden in his apartment.

There was no room in this town for renegades, especially dangerous ones. If he played his cards right, he would have Deirdre packing for some other town where she could peddle destruction disguised as protection.

The plan could backfire. He never saw Deirdre hurt someone or terrorize a person who didn’t deserve it. Of course, he doubted anyone had threatened her personally. None of that mattered. She’d been trouble since day one and had caused his first disciplinary action. Deirdre might’ve even caused the death of that Shope guy yesterday in some round-about way. He wouldn’t put anything past her.

All official records on the woman started when she turned eighteen and had gotten a driver’s license. Nothing exceptional followed. She spent some time teaching self-defense. Her business license for a private security agency was granted six years ago, making Deirdre a business owner at the ripe old age of twenty. Rumor had it that she came to the aid of a wealthy elderly man. Her heroics spread through town causing her success story.

She was now twenty-six, drove fancy sports cars, had a staff, and hobnobbed with people who’d turn their noses up at him. It wasn’t fair. He’d worked his entire life to be a cop and this young bitch walks into town with no respect for the law and clients ready to trust their lives to her instead of the police. Deirdre had crossed his path too many times, gotten in his way, and worked above the law. She’d caused him enough grief. It was time for her to go.

He supposed Deirdre was the first person he truly hated. There had been enemies he made during school and in his career, but Deirdre was worse than any of them. She bested him at every opportunity. That one woman had nearly cost him his job and made him a joke among his peers until he earned a promotion to detective.

The first incident occurred nearly six years ago. Ryan had been new to the force. His partner was an old son of a bitch who didn’t get out of the patrol car unless he had to. They’d gotten the call around nine at night. A security agent busted a man breaking into the home of his estranged wife. That’s what she was called, a security agent, not “demon from hell,” just security. It sounded so innocuous, a bodyguard or some flunky that tended to the rich and needy.

Ryan had never been on a call like that. His partner had, not bothering to turn on the blue lights as they drove through town to the high-end house. Ryan could still remember the trip, the calm look on the old man’s face. There was the way he intentionally took his time so the neighbors wouldn’t be suspicious of any activity, and his behavior was only to cater to another star trying to keep bad publicity to a minimum.

“I bet this is Deirdre’s work.” His partner mentioned this casually as they drove. “Good security work. Deirdre should’ve been a cop.”

The words stung because his partner had looked over at him, demeaning Ryan in that way that drove him nuts. Ryan took the slight. He always took it without remarking or starting any trouble. He considered it paying his dues for a job he loved.

They parked in front of the house and stepped inside. Ryan could remember every moment. The smell of cigarettes hung on the air while a woman sat in front of a piano shivering. Another woman, younger and dressed from head to toe in black leather, stood next to her. Her spike-heeled boot in the square of the man’s back, a set of heavy handcuffs bound his wrists. The scene reminded Ryan of some BDSM game and he expected the leather-clad woman to produce a whip. Instead, she stepped back, looking the old man in the eye.

“Here’s your perp.” Her voice had been dead, flat and low in tone like she could be a sexual animal on a better night but tonight she was just bored. “I’m officially turning him over to you. She will give you the statement.” The surreal dominatrix pointed to the shivering woman. Her boots made sharp notes on the tiled floor, her hair swung softly, hanging over her small, but perfect breasts, as she stepped back.

“Deirdre.” The old man smiled warmly. “What charges are we looking at?”

Never once had his partner smiled that way at him or asked him a single opinion on a perp. Another insult passed down but what took Ryan by surprise was the way he addressed the woman with total respect.

“You did this?” he remembered asking, dumbfounded like some virgin boy staring at a naked woman for the first time.

“Boy, show some brains.” His partner gave him the look of repulsion, one Ryan had grown accustomed to. “Cuff the guy and take him to the car while I take a statement.”

Ryan had obeyed orders taking his partner’s cuffs and an extra set they’d brought. After he cuffed the man on the floor, Deirdre leaned down, her long silky hair brushing his arm as she removed her set of handcuffs and clipped them to her belt.

He brought the man to his feet, both of them watching Deirdre. His prisoner held as much disbelief in his expression as Ryan felt. They walked back through the house, to the foyer, and out into the night.

What happened next was Deirdre’s fault. He’d been dumb struck by her, so much he didn’t hold the prisoner tight enough. When the front door shut behind them, the man leaned back hard, slamming the back of his head into Ryan’s face. Stars filled his vision for a minute and the snapping sound filled his head while his nose burned and he tasted blood in the back of his throat.

Ryan tried to hold on to the prisoner, but the man was big, too much for one officer to detain alone. He rolled Ryan to the ground and ran down the dark drive with his hands still cuffed behind him.

There sat Ryan in the driveway, not wanting to go back in and tell his partner what had happened. A tiny woman had apprehended the man, and he couldn’t hold onto him. A woman named Deirdre who couldn’t weigh more than one twenty or thirty. A long lean piece of work, a female brought down a man and a trained police officer couldn’t manage to put him into the backseat.

Needing to call in backup, Ryan went to the car. The lighting from the house didn’t touch the driveway. Shadows engulfed him so it was doubtful that anyone inside had seen much. He was certain of it when Deirdre emerged, sliding onto a black motorcycle, hiding her long lustrous strands in a matching helmet. She never paused, only sped away. Ryan had hoped that the prisoner wasn’t on the main road anymore. Losing him was bad enough, having Deirdre bring him back would be hell.

Fifteen minutes passed before Ryan was able to call in the escape. He didn’t go back inside and tell anyone, only waited to be berated by his partner. It was procedure to begin an immediate search but Ryan had felt like an ass. He couldn’t confess to the homeowner what had happened and he wanted to wait as long as possible to tell his partner. It was a rookie mistake and things only got worse because of it.

The next time he saw Deirdre, she walked into the station. Her eyes held murder. In her hand was a newspaper. Her client’s death had made the front page. She walked up to him, slammed the paper on his desk and stared him in the eyes.

“I want to see your supervisor now.”

She jerked him out of his seat in front of everyone. He would never forget it. Deirdre pulled him up in one clean motion, one hand at the back of his neck, the other holding his arm, half twisting it behind him. No one told her where to go. She already knew, hauling him like a naughty child down the aisle to the offices in back. It was the single most humiliating moment in his life and not one officer tried to stop her. A few laughed, many looked shocked, even more pretended not to see, and no one was going to bring up charges against her.

That day only got worse. The Chief listened to her. She wanted him fired and so did his partner. It was his first major mistake so he was suspended and a permanent mark left on his record. The big bad cop was chastised by a civilian woman while his partner hung back nodding at every word.

Ryan was ten years her senior. He’d gone to college, then went back to get his police training. He was a thirty-year-old rookie, but a rookie all the same. She should’ve treated him with more respect. Mistakes happen. Citizens didn’t decide when an error in judgment had occurred. That should be left to officers, not punk-ass bitches. Charges should’ve been brought against her for touching an officer, but no one dared.

On the steering wheel, his hands turned to fists, gripping both sides of the plastic like he could rip the thing apart. He had several more altercations with her during his rise through the ranks. He made detective this year, surpassing all expectations and gaining commendations from his superiors. For all his accomplishments, he couldn’t get over Deirdre. She still looked at him like that rookie she took to the back of the station.

Who was she kidding?

Now he had found a few things. It might be enough to chase her out of town. That was all he wanted, her gone. He hoped there was fear in her eyes when they had their confrontation. Something had to hurt that woman.