Satin and Steel (19 page)

“Your sister will pay retribution in your stead, Cara. It is quite fitting. She will no longer be able to take such incriminating pictures without her hand. You will remain with me a little longer. Yes, you will be quite useful in my campaign to stomp out
The Phantoms
and take over their gun-running deals.”

Rhee’s mind swam as she processed what he was saying. As if in slow motion, she watched as Big Man approached Mickey. He sliced through one of her bonds and held her hand up, examining it. Then, Rhee saw the glint of a knife and realized what they meant to do. As Big Man held the knife to Mickey’s wrist, Rhee let out a bloodcurdling scream. Then, everything seemed to speed up as commotion ensued.

Drawing on her self-defense classes, Rhee’s instincts kicked in. She jammed her heel into Gloved Hands’ instep and he howled in surprise. Before he could react, her elbow crashed into his abdomen and then she was free of his awful leathery grip. She dropped to the floor and yanked the pistol from her boot. The man at the computer stood up quickly and pulled his firearm as Big Man turned and lumbered for Rhee. She hardly registered the surprised look on the computer guy’s face as she squeezed off a shot in his direction.

The kickback from the small gun was surprisingly hard. She was almost knocked off her feet, but Rhee dove in Mickey’s direction. She was unaware that the door was flying open. Then, there was a series of muffled shouts and a barrage of loud cracks rang out. Time slowed down as Rhee found herself staring down the barrel of a revolver. As he pointed his weapon at her, Big Man took several rounds in the chest, blossoms of bright red flowering on his crisp linen shirt. He went down with a thud. A loud bang exploded by Rhee’s temple, and the backlash nearly knocked her senseless but her mind was on one thing and one thing only.

Almost there, little sister…
Adrenaline fueled Rhee’s ability to army crawl along the cement floor until she was nearly face to face with the unmoving hulk that had been Big Man. Spittle oozed from his mouth and the metallic scent of his blood nearly made Rhee retch.
God, I’ll practically have to crawl over him.

Decision made. She lunged forward to conquer the mammoth heap of flesh. Then, a gloved hand gripped her ankle and Rhee was pulled back sharply. She looked back into Salazar’s irate face as he pulled her back towards him. Rhee kicked at the man to no avail as he pointed his weapon at her forehead. Her weapon was jammed between them, and she was unable to squeeze the trigger. Gloved Hands paused for a split second to whisper, “Such a shame…”

Rhee put her hands over her face as a loud crack deafened her, the heat from the firearm singing her arm. Then, she was crushed under a dead weight that threatened to stifle her remaining breath. She couldn’t move, her ears ringing from the blast.
Am I hit?!

Rhee opened her eyes amid the melee that whizzed all around her and looked right into the lifeless eyes of Gloved Hands. Just as she registered that he was dead, and that she in fact, was still very much alive, the man’s body was pulled abruptly off of her. Someone was yelling, but the sounds were muted now thanks to the shotgun blast. Adrenaline was pumping hard and heavy, prompting Rhee to move even as she gasped for breath.

Hands grabbed her, preventing her from crawling or moving. “Let me go!” She kicked wildly, to dislodge whoever was holding her. She tried to raise her weapon but it was removed from her hand with swift precision. Rhee shrieked in frustration as the distance between herself and Mickey increased. As the hands immobilized her, Rhee’s eyes fell her poor helpless sister who remained bound to the chair. Mickey hadn’t moved a muscle. She was in the same position Big Man had left her in, her wrist dangling just there.
Lifelessly.

“No!” Rhee flailed once more as she was hauled backwards and bodily yanked to her feet. A strong arm was around her middle like a vise, preventing her from doing anything other than wearing herself out. Exhausted, she summoned the strength for a final lunge away from those hands as men in black swarmed into the room. The man who held her wouldn’t let her go and Rhee went finally still, her energy reserves gone. More muted yelling followed, but Rhee’s eyes remained fixed on Mickey’s wrist that just dangled there. “Please,” she sobbed brokenly.

Rhee’s final vision of the carnage inside of that room would remain forever burned into her memory. A figure in a black uniform cut Mickey’s bonds, and her limp form slumped forward into his arms. The roaring in Rhee’s ears intensified and for a few blissful moments, Rhee went somewhere else inside her mind. She was eight years old and camping along the Potwisha with her parents and her sister, sleeping under the stars. The memory was of someone else’s life now, she thought morosely.
A life that never had a chance to begin.

When her vision cleared, Rhee was aware that she was still being half-dragged, half-carried out of the building. She struggled weakly. “Please, you-you’re hurting my ribs,” she managed. Her captor responded immediately and set Rhee on her feet, steadying her as she swayed dizzily from the adrenaline and fear. Tears streamed from her eyes and she struggled to focus on the man’s face. Somehow she knew it would have to be him. He had saved her not once but twice before.

“Third time’s a charm,” she whispered, a mad giggle forming in her throat.

Dax peered at her, his concern evident on his chiseled face. “Rhiannon?”

He sounded so far away. Rhee was shaking badly as she focused on Dax, his blond hair, his muscled chest, and his intoxicating smell. He had several drops of blood on his arms and she reached out to brush them away. Then, she became aware of a slick wetness sliding down the left side of her face.

“Am I bleeding? Or are you?” Her voice sounded like she was in a tunnel or underwater.

“You are, Rhiannon. It’s just a graze but we need to get you out of here. Can you hear me? Rhee?”

The mad giggle finally escaped her throat.
Wah wah wah wah wah.
Sure thing, Charlie Brown.
“Point me towards the exit, my good man.” Rhee managed one jittery step before she crumpled into a dead faint, falling into Dax’s arms seconds before she hit the cement.

Chapter Eighteen

A low hum of voices cut through her consciousness.
Wait!
Daddy, wait!
The voices receded. There was the sound of a door clicking shut. Rhee opened one gritty eye to find a man curled up in a chair by the door of a white, sterile room. His bald head and olive skin looked familiar but she couldn’t see his face. Then, she noticed the grisly tattoo snaking up his arm.
Hi, Wince.
Dammit, all of this is real.
An IV dripped into her vein. Her ribs and back ached. Rhee groaned.

Wince’s eyes flew open. “Rhee! Jesus are you okay?!” He rushed to her side. “Can I get you anything? Water?”

Rhee nodded stiffly. She sipped the water numbly as tears began to flow silently down her cheeks.
My sister is dead.
I failed her.
Again.
I am utterly alone.
The thoughts ran through her mind like a recorded message, hollow and impersonal. Wince held her hand and said nothing, as though he sensed she was overcome. She was aware that he pulled his phone out and sent some texts. Rhee lay there, silent tears sliding down to tickle her neck before they landed on her pillow.

A soft knock at the door signaled someone’s arrival. The man who came in was dressed in plainclothes but he was obviously a cop. He spoke in low tones to Wince, who shook his head vehemently. Rhee’s eyes flicked to the door and she was surprised to see a uniformed officer there, standing guard. She shut her eyes.
I can’t deal with this now.
I’ll just go back to sleep.
Maybe forever…

The plainclothes detective was arguing with Wince, who stood his ground. Rhee sighed tiredly and closed her eyes, for once welcoming the dark oblivion that beckoned her. Some time later, a familiar voice, tinged with concern, wafted to her ears and Rhee felt herself relax. A tension she hadn’t realized she had been carrying in her gut dissipated. A strong, warm hand took her own and squeezed softly. She gave an answering squeeze but Rhee couldn’t bring herself to open her eyes. She didn’t want to see the anger that was sure to grace Dax’s features. And she didn’t want him to see the pain and grief in her own eyes. There was a murmur and then the door clicked shut again.

“We’re alone.”

“Are you angry with me?” Her voice came out sounding so heavy and tired she very nearly didn’t recognize it.

“No. Yes. I don’t know, Rhiannon.” His voice sounded dull too.

“My sister is dead.” It was a statement rather than a question.

He sighed. “We’ll talk when you’re feeling stronger, Rhee.”

“Was she already gone? I mean, when I got there?”

“Rhee.” His voice carried that warning tone she was all too familiar with. Rhee emitted an answering sigh and let herself just drift off, the wetness of her tears warming her cheek.

The next week passed in a blur. When she finally got out of the hospital, Rhee’s bruised ribs were giving her more trouble than the stitches in her scalp. Dax and Hawk coached her a little about what to say when she gave her statement, but there was really nothing she had to leave out. Rhee and Mickey were the main players in the saga that had played out with Victor Salazar, not
The Phantoms
. Detective Carter seemed nice, if not a little overly interested about Rhee’s involvement with
The Phantoms.
Dax was there for all of the questioning, so she assumed he really couldn’t say much. Carter’s tone, and how his eyes flicked from her to Dax, belied his underlying suspicions.

Dax expressed that his main concern was Rhee’s safety, but Carter confirmed that the boys upstairs had handled everything. Rhee and Mickey’s names were both wiped from the department paperwork so the two girls couldn’t be connected to Victor. After hours of exhausting and painful questioning, Rhee was taken to the local morgue where she steeled herself for the second most difficult sight of her life.

Rhee had identified her mother and stepfather after the crash and the sight of her mother lying there, battered and broken, had fueled her nightmares for years. She tried to stop herself from wondering just how much pain and terror the bastards had put Mickey through.
I hope she went quickly.

Having been under the impression that nothing could surprise her ever again, Rhee had the shock of her life when they lifted the white sheet to reveal the bruised face and reddish brown hair of the dead girl beneath it. She sagged against Dax, her head swimming. Rhee took a few shuddering breaths. Then Dax’s arms tightened around her and her feelings of breathlessness increased.

“I’m so sorry, sweetheart,” he said, and she was surprised to hear Dax’s voice catch as they gazed at the lifeless woman before them.

Rhee turned to him, her eyes bright with newfound hope. “Don’t be sorry, Dax. It’s not her. That’s not my sister!”

Carter was all over it for the next few weeks. The waiting was pure torture and the unanswered questions nearly drove Rhee crazy. Who was the dead girl? Where the hell was Mickey? When they finally got a call to come in, Rhee was nauseous with anxiety. Her stomach churned violently as she and Dax sat in precinct waiting for the detective.

“Who was she?”

“A runaway. A junkie. She had overdosed hours before you got there, Miss Blake.”

“So everything I did was in vain. You still have no idea where my little sister is. Or even if she’s alive!”

“It wasn’t in vain, Miss Blake. Because of you, and Dax, we stomped out a real threat to this community.”

“I need to know where my sister is.” Rhee’s voice hinged on outright hysteria. Suddenly, she wanted to fling Carter’s paperweight through the glass window of his office.

“Look, Miss Blake.” Carter lowered his voice. “I’m going to tell you something that is not a fact, it’s just something I suspect. I got a weird vibe from the special agent assigned to Salazar’s case.”

Rhee leaned forward in her chair expectantly.

“It may be that Michaela Blake is in protective custody. Her disappearance seems too neat. Agent Romero got pretty tense when I brought up re-opening her missing persons case. He insinuated that it would be best for all of us to leave it alone.”

“But what if she’s not in witness protection?!” Rhee felt another, stronger wave of nausea.
I feel so helpless!

“Look, I’ll poke around. I’ll clue Dax in if I find anything. Until then, don’t push your luck, Miss Blake.”

Rhee caught the meaningful glance that Carter shot Dax. “Wait! The drive. I want to see what’s on it.”

“It’s evidence…”

“Fuck that!” Rhee was practically shouting with frustration. A niggling little feeling told her that there might be something on that card that told her where Mickey was.

Dax whispered low in her ear and Rhee took a deep breath, composing herself quickly. “I’m sorry, Detective Carter. I’m just so tired. I’m sure you understand. Thank you for your help.” Rhee’s words tumbled out in a rush and she stood up so quickly she practically knocked over the chair. “Please hurry, Dax.”

An hour later, Rhee was hugging Wince tearfully. “I’m so thankful you made a copy!”

“I’m glad it helped,” he said, a proud smile lighting his features as he returned her embrace.

They left her alone as she scrolled through picture after picture. Rhee was amazed at how much Mickey’s talent had developed.
With her photography and my graphic design skills, we could have made a helluva team,
Rhee thought wistfully. The photos were good. Really good. They told a story too, if you knew what to look for.

The image of a white rose might represent Mickey, before she was tarnished by her experiences. The stripper’s heel and the seedy bar told the story of innocence lost and of corrupt men. The faded red rose spoke about love lost, or a broken heart. The photos of Mickey on the blue Harley were close ups, the scenery in the background indiscernible. The final photos were what had gotten Mickey and Rhee into this mess, and they were hard to look at.