Red Silk Scarf (16 page)

Gooey sticky treacle
practically blocked Cassidy’s throat.
 
“Mine?”

“Is acting dumb another white
trick?
 
You mean men fall for that
shit.
 
Ben gives all his girl’s one after
the first time, especially if they’re good at pretending to be strangled, turns
him on,” grinning unrepentantly, “Oh, too bad, better luck next time.”
 
Satisfied with her deliberate goading,
Gretchen laughed fiendishly.
 
Oblivious
to Cassidy’s terror struck features she continued to prepare for the evening
and said no more.

Somehow, Cassidy fought off the
resulting anguish renovating her interior wondering how it was possible when
bile was eating her insides.
 
Most likely
because the part of her heart that Ben had touched was saying Gretchen was
lying.
  

At once, Cassidy wanted to rip
the scarf from her skin, shred it, set it on fire and wondered why it hadn’t
already disintegrated from the flames lapping at her heart.
 
Despite being close to hysterics, the Brady
in her made other plans.

____________

Think positive, Cassidy mumbled
repetitively, accomplishments outweigh setbacks.
 
Mulling over the past few days, she
concentrated on the successes.
 
With her
help, Pamela completed a resume done to perfection in answer to the employment
ads now littering the counter alongside a list of scheduled interviews and on
Monday, she’d begin business classes at a community college.
 

Thanks to a trip to the
library, Gourmet Cookbooks featuring World Renown Recipes now occupied Vera’s
days.
  
She always loved to cook, she
remarked with more enthusiasm each day, and, if Cassidy didn’t stop sampling
the items for her planned menu, forget fitting into the size two she now wore.

Yesterday all three went
searching for rental property suitable for opening a restaurant.
 
Afterwards, they ate lunch, and went to a
movie, a time when Cassidy slept due to insurmountable exhaustion.
 

Upon parting, Cassidy reminded
her friends of their solemn oath to keep the lid on everything so Patrick
wouldn’t flip his.
 
Although, deep inside
Cassidy believed upsetting Sullivan would be a perfect ending to a perfect day.

Unfortunately, limiting time at
the apartment to avoid Sullivan, didn’t allow searching his room, or any of the
others for that matter.
 
A plan Cassidy
needed to pursue soon so desperate was she to find evidence, anything that
would take suspicion off Ben.
 

Tid-bits offered by Pamela and
Vera weren’t much to go on, everything she’d learned said Sullivan was an
ordinary brother and son.
 
Fat chance,
nothing about him was ordinary.
 
Naturally, family would view him through rose-colored glasses.
 
Now if she could only quit doing the
same.
 
There was only one thing she
uncovered that raised her hopes of proving Ben’s innocence, and tonight she
planned to investigate further.

____________

Thinking positive worked until
the taxi arrived at the coffee shop, an establishment that under normal
circumstances she’d never consider entering.
 
Reeking of dirt, grease and cigarette smoke, no doubt it housed its
share of insects and rodents.
 
The strong
aroma of coffee did nothing to change Cassidy’s opinion, nor did the seedy
looking customers occupying the booths. Despite feeling she’d become consumed
by whatever might crawl from under the tables, or whoever might walk through
the door, Sullivan in particular, it was too late to change her mind.
 

Seated at the bar by the time
she finished a cup of coffee, disappointment practically oozed from Cassidy’s
pores when neither Mark nor Sullivan arrived as anticipated.
 
Considering her battered insides, resolve
washing over made her conclude maybe it was for the best.
 

The bar tender approaching only
lacked a bandana and an earring to resemble a pirate. “What else can I get for you,
Missy, a little of me perhaps,” he asked with a wicked grin.

A hand smoothing over Cassidy’s
backside at the same instant startled her before she could answer.
 
Shivering from the audacity required for the
stranger behind to paw her, she could only imagine what he looked like when
turning her anger on him.
 
She should
have known there was no escaping surveillance.
 
Relieved that someone came to her rescue, she almost blurted out her
rescuer’s name before he stopped her.
  

“Frank’s the name, sweet-lips.
 
I have fifty bucks and plenty of time.
 
What do you say,” he purred stuffing a rolled
fifty between her breasts before she could think rationally.

The disguise did nothing to
Michael’s eyes that held little warmth, yet were a kaleidoscope of colors, dark
one second, light the next, positively captivating.
 
Removing the fifty, flipping it onto the
counter, she responded, “Look, mister, I’m not what you think I am.”

Moving behind her, hands on the
bar, body leaning against her buttocks Michael made a grinding motion, the
smell of alcohol on his breath, a reminder that he frequently impersonated a
drunk.

“Maybe you just need a little
convincing,” he prompted.

Knowing the reaction he
expected, Cassidy shoved him away.
 

“Sit, Mr.!
 
Can’t you see the ladies not interested,” a
voice bellowed. “Besides, asshole, she’s with me.”

Though Cassidy could not see
the person behind Michael, she recognized the voice.
   

“There’s a booth over there
with your name on it, I suggest you take a seat,” Mark continued, his body
language intimidating, as well as the badge on the chain around his neck.
 

Temporarily mesmerized by Mark,
Cassidy thought that there was something unsettling about him that she couldn’t
put her fingers on.
 
Possibly the rogue
in him she believed one second, the next, more like the ring around his finger.

Lord, if Mark knew whom Michael
was Cassidy turned pale briefly then suddenly sick to her stomach as Sullivan
came to mind.
 
She didn’t need anyone
else interfering, let alone him of all people.
 
Although swiveling eyes were relieved when she didn’t see him, in
contradiction, a heart beating wildly signaled tremendous disappointment.

“May I buy you a cup of
coffee,” would have been a nice gesture if Mark’s eyes weren’t twinkling with
devilment.
 

Foolishly, Cassidy’s curiosity
over shadowed the inkling to decline.
 
“Sure, why not.”

If his gaze had stalled on any
other part of her body other than the scarf, Mark’s examination would have been
flattering.
 
Registering the reflection,
Cassidy knew it made him uneasy and that he must be wondering how she came in
possession.
 
So lost was she trying to
read Mark’s thoughts, she jumped when his hand dared to stroke the silk.

“New?”

“Yes.
 
A gift from a friend.”

Stern was his
expression, “A friend with a weird sense of humor, wouldn’t you say?”

“It was a
girlfriend.”

Sure, Mark
thought, wondering which prostitute gave it to her.
 
“Good thing, if it had been the killer, you
would be dead right now.
 
Don’t take any
chances, Cassidy.
 
Get rid of it.
 
There are crazies out there, everywhere, you
never know.
 
Then, like a switch, he
changed the subject. “Hope I didn’t spoil a trick for you just now.
 
Guys like him give me the creeps.”

“Oh no, I’ve
never seen him before.
 
My last trick was
exhausting, so I decided to take a walk to clear my head.
 
The next thing I knew, I was here.”

Knowing otherwise, Mark insinuated, “Quite a walk.”
                       

“Not from
where I was.”

Mark knew
Cassidy was lying; he’d spotted her exiting a taxi as their patrol car came
around the corner.
 
Apparently, Sullivan
did not or he wouldn’t have suggested stopping, particularly since he’d been
going out of his way to avoid Cassidy the past few days.
 
Presently, in the car on the phone with the
precinct, Patrick was reporting the results of an incident they’d just
controlled.

Alone with Mark made Cassidy so
nervous she was oblivious to the shaking hand responsible for spilling coffee
over the edge of the cup, or, was the nervousness caused by her riveted
attention on the door anticipating Sullivan’s entrance.

Aware that he was not the cause
of the tension, Mark thought about Patrick’s attraction to Cassidy, and
wondered if she shared the same fascination, most likely the reason for not
taking her eyes off the door.
 
“Sullivan
should be here any second now,” he prodded.

Mark’s insight brought
Cassidy’s cup with a click against the saucer splattering hot coffee on her
chest.
 
Grabbing a hand full of napkins,
Mark was out of his seat before she realized what happened.
 
Despite burning skin, eyes frantically
flicking to Michael warned him not to move, to remain calm.

Mark’s hands were everywhere,
dabbing, rubbing.
 
A woman knew when a
man’s mind was elsewhere, and Mark’s wasn’t on the emergency, but the body
parts his eyes were ravishing.
 
Surprisingly,
it wasn’t his behavior taking her breath away, but wondering how Sullivan might
react if he entered right this minute.
 
Then again, a smidgeon of her would love to find out.

Cassidy’s hands finding Mark’s
thick wrists caressing then slithering up his forearms intentionally hauled him
closer.
 
“I’m all right.
 
I just need a little fresh air.
 
Is there someplace we can go?”
 
Her hot breath against his lips, the
insinuation her expression revealed enough to cloud any man’s better judgment.

“Sure,” one lust crusted word,
before Mark had her out of the booth and into the back alley.
 
As soon as the door closed, his body pressing
hers against the wall allowed his hands and lips to caress parts of interest as
feet inched hers apart.
 
A fast and thorough
worker, easily aroused, he needed little time to locate the zipper of her
shorts.
 
Heaven help her, other than
revealing Michael’s identity, Sullivan was her only means of rescue.
 
The sound of another zipper made her heart
beat double time.
  
Holy shit, she was
about to have sex with a married man, become the person defined by her
disguise, a reflection that would have made her vomit if not for. . .

In a flash, Mark was on the
ground, the scarf no longer around her neck.
 
Pushing her so hard her teeth mashed, grabbing the finery Sullivan
ripped it from her neck and crumpled it in his fist.
 
Pain shooting through her shoulder caused
from smacking the wall stole her mind, her breath, yet what little remained of
her wits somehow placed her between the two raving maniacs
screaming
curses face to face, flailing arms in the air one second, shoving chests the
next.
 
Shifting her body frantically from
side to side, Cassidy tried to pry herself between Mark and Patrick, a
worthless effort considering she was invisible in their eyes.
 

Without warning, pain shot the
length of her jaw; her eyes rolled, and like lightening, sparks began to
flicker.
 
A frightening darkness brought
her body to the ground with a jarring thump.

Remembering his arms well, it
was Mark on his knees holding her.
 
Sullivan on the other hand was too busy kicking garbage cans toppling
them over littering the alley worse than it already was.
 
She swore she saw a rat, hoped she
didn’t.
 

With nothing left to take his
frustrations out on, still wringing and shredding the scarf, Sullivan towered
over them addressing Mark, his eyes so red Cassidy was convinced that they were
leaking blood.
  

“You son of a bitch how can you
do this to Margie, the kids?
 
Tell me
this is not what it looks like. Tell me you weren’t going to screw her.
 
Where did the scarf come from, Mark?
 
Tell me, God damn you.
 
Get up and face me man to man so I can beat the
crap out of you.”
 

When Mark tried to assist
Cassidy to a standing position, Sullivan yelled, “Leave the bitch where she
is.
 
I’ll take care of her later.”

A reflex reaction made Cassidy
swallow a big whatever it was in her throat, most likely, all the imaginings of
what Sullivan planned to do “later.”

Indignantly Mark barked, “Jesus
Christ, Patrick, you actually think I’m the killer?” He was on his feet every
fiber of him rebelling from the implication, just as Cassidy was from thinking
how close she came to becoming victim number six.
 

Giving Cassidy a thorough once
over, noticing her lipstick on Mark’s mouth, her zipper fully open, Sullivan
turned his furry on Mark again. “You Bastard did you already fuck her?
 
Add her name to the list.”
 
His anger so terrifying Cassidy was convinced
that any moment his jugular would rupture.