The Killing Ground: A Foxx Files Thriller (7 page)

Jordan nodded toward the table. She studied Rebecca’s movements, imprinting them in her brain. Her movements were fluid, almost feline, with a calculated fluidity that made Jordan wonder if she hadn’t been a ballerina at some time. She watched her lean over the table, the stick held gently between her thumb and forefinger. She pulled back and sent the cue ball flying with deadly accuracy. By the time the break had come to a stop, she had dropped the six and thirteen balls respectively. Rebecca stood up and sent a devilish grin towards Jordan. “You’re in trouble.” She circled the table. “I’ll take solids. Two ball, corner pocket.”

“You didn’t tell me you were a hustler.” Jordan teased and watched her deftly sink the two ball. “So, you have four brothers, huh? Where did you fall?”

“Middle.” Rebecca lined up another shot and sunk her third solid. “We were all born pretty close together, and growing up, I just kind of thought of myself as one of the guys. If they played football, I thought I had to play as well.”

“And win of course.” Jordan’s eyes twinkled playfully. She liked this version of Detective Foxx. The sexy redhead was quickly making her blood boil. She stole a glance to see if maybe the feeling was mutual, but Rebecca was already lining up her next shot. After a particularly difficult bank attempt into the side pocket, she gave up the table.

“Guess I can’t win ‘em all.” Rebecca's face broke into a smile. She felt free for the first time in days. Jordan had a way of putting her at ease and making her forget, for a second, she was a cop. “So what about you? Any brothers or sisters?”

A cloud passed over Jordan’s face then disappeared just as quickly. “Nope. Just me and my mom, when she was around, which wasn’t much.” She lined up over the cue ball and sent it flying, smashing into the eleven and slamming it into the hole so hard it bounced up in protest before dropping with an obliging thud.

Rebecca wanted to push, but she sensed that subject was off limits. There was no mention of her father, which made her heart catch. Rebecca’s own father had been a huge part of her and her brother’s lives until he passed away two years ago from lung cancer. She felt Jordan withdraw and needed to bring her back. She liked the warmth and comfort she felt with her, and she didn’t want to let it go as quickly as she had felt it. “So, what brings you to a place like this? And no, that isn’t a bad pickup line.”

Jordan’s face broke out in a grin, and Rebecca could see where women would find her quite handsome. “Damn, I was hoping you were hitting on me.”

Her gaze seared through Rebecca, and she had to swallow the lump in her throat before she could speak without her voice shaking. “Not gonna happen, Agent Gray. I’m not interested in dating you.”

Jordan furrowed her brow then quickly pulled her eyes from Rebecca’s face. She wondered if she was not interested in her or not interested in women. It didn’t matter though, Jordan wasn’t interested either. At least, that was what she kept telling herself, although her heart pounded a little faster when the Detective was around. “Good. We won’t have to worry about our relationship getting in the way of working together.”

Rebecca hid her disappointment. She wasn’t sure what she had expected Jordan to say in response to that, but agreeing with her wasn’t Rebecca’s first choice. “Glad that’s settled.”

Jordan felt a tug in her chest again. She pushed it down. “I live right around the corner. It’s kind of been my haunt for the last few years. How about you? Is this your first time in here?”

“Nah, just haven’t been here in ages.” Rebecca took a swig from her beer and watched Jordan miss just to the left of the side pocket with her fourteen ball. “Normally, I hang out with the Jonesy and the guys at Stan’s, but tonight I needed to get away from work. You can’t there. I live right around the corner on Arlington.”

“No shit.” Jordan laughed. “I live on Halstead.”

“So let me guess, you’re here a lot?” Rebecca leaned over and lined up her shot and sent the four ball cleanly into the corner pocket. “This place suits you.”

Jordan quirked an eyebrow. “I’m not sure if I should take that as a compliment.”

Rebecca chuckled innocently. “It is. It’s uncomplicated…like you.”

“Guess that pretty much sums up my life.” Jordan smiled sheepishly. “Things were too complicated growing up and I like it much better this way. Keeps me from going crazy.”

“It’s hard in this line of work.” Rebecca tapped the seven into the side pocket and studied the table. She walked around and stepped in front of Jordan to line up her next shot. She made the mistake of getting too close to Jordan, her breasts brushing across her arm. She tried to ignore the jolt of electricity that shot through her body. Suddenly, she was aware of their closeness, and she tried to back away, but she felt her bottom hit the edge of the table.

Her next mistake was looking up into Jordan’s eyes. Instead of her practiced air of nonchalance, there was a hint of desire, and it made Rebecca shiver. Jordan licked her lips and didn’t break the connection that crackled between. She leaned in closer, and Rebecca could feel her warm breath against her cheek. She smelled like whiskey and peppermint gum and something else she couldn’t quite place, but it reminded her of danger.

Jordan was enjoying this closeness too much, enjoyed making the Detective uncomfortable. She could have easily captured Rebecca’s mouth against hers, but she was enjoying the hunger that was building inside her even more than what she surmised would be a rebuffed advance anyway. She leaned in closer and when she thought Rebecca could take no more, she reached around behind her and grabbed the chalk.

She stepped back and heard Rebecca exhale the breath she had been holding since Jordan had paralyzed her with one glance. When she spoke, her voice was an octave lower and there was no mistaking the naked hunger in her husky voice or the silent challenge in her eyes. “I believe it’s your move.”

Five little words and Rebecca’s carefully constructed life started to tremble. It wasn’t the game Jordan referred to, although this felt like a game. Jordan was the hunter, and she was her prey. No, Jordan’s eyes spoke volumes and her carefully spoken words let Rebecca know that whatever happened next was indeed her move.

Jordan moved to the opposite side of the table, allowing her plenty of space. However, it took several moments of deep breathing before her heart slowed enough to allow her to even turn around and face her again.

Rebecca was certain she had gotten herself together, but when she leaned over to shoot, she sensed the slightest tremor in her left hand and when she shot, her line of fire was a hair off course. Her concentration was broken, from the game anyway. She was forced to admit it had found a new point to center its focus around. It was too much for her, and with a laugh that sounded entirely too forced, she set her stick on the table and smiled. “I think I’m going to call it a night.”

“Scared huh?” Jordan teased. “You should be. I’m better than you think.”

Rebecca walked away quickly, leaving Jordan shaking her head in disbelief. A thought had sprung from somewhere in her subconscious and had started to grow, until for want of saving her sanity, she was forced to run before she did something she knew she would regret. She was forced to admit that Special Agent Gray had overstepped her boundaries in work and in pleasure, and it made her uncomfortable.

Chapter 7

It’s bone—chillingly cold tonight. I lean further into the entryway hoping it will block the icy wind that is rushing around me. Funny that the cold manages to break through my senses and register at all. Normally, my mind is so focused on the hunt that little else matters, although tonight the cold hits me, and I shove my hands into my pockets to warm them. They brush against steel and my focus returns. Tonight is the night, the night she will die.

I mentally stop my body from shivering. My teeth no longer chatter loudly and once again, I can hear the voice talking to me.
Yes, tonight is the night. Tonight, she will pay for her sins.
I repeat the words again. Tonight is the night, the night she will die.

She doesn’t know that I’ve been watching her, many months now. I see her face clearly at the moment, the lights of the deserted street casting an eerie glow over her features. It isn’t long before my nostrils get the first hint of her scent. She smells fruity, cloyingly sweet, and oh so overbearing. A mere intake of breath and my stomach is sick with her smell. I blink and try to clear my head, as I hear the telltale staccato of her heels pounding against the cold pavement.

If she sees me, she dismisses me just as quickly, another soul looking for shelter from the frigid cold. Had it been a warmer night, she might have felt the evil around her, shuddered involuntarily at the darkness that enveloped her, but not tonight. Tonight, she is focused only on the streets she hasn’t traversed yet, and she takes no notice as I slip from beneath the shelter of the narrow portico and begin the hunt.

I am a lone wolf, a hunter in search of the kill. Only the taste of death can quiet the voice inside my head. He speaks softly now, not wanting to drown out my own thoughts. When he speaks, I have to stop and focus and listen, and this does not allow me to move, and I must move. Tonight I must kill.

I sniff the air and the cold burns my nostrils. I am not close enough to cause alarm, but I can still smell her and her scent angers me again. She smells like her, and I hate her. My eyes have narrowed now. The only thing in my focus is my prey. A stranger bumps me as he emerges from a door, trying to catch a nearby cab. I can feel my blood begin to boil, but the voice speaks up, and I’m paralyzed.

He is not our prey. Do not lose focus of the prey. She must die and we both know why.

No, I know. I shake my head and reassure him that my focus has not been lost. I sniff the air once more, and I imagine I can smell her fear. She turned around at the sound of the scuffle and for a brief moment, I imagined a spark of recognition, but she turns around just as quickly, and I breathe a sigh of relief.

There will be no mistakes tonight, no interruptions. Tonight, my prey will die. I will make sure of that. She is close, and her life cannot continue. She cannot be allowed to give birth. She is not worthy. None of them are worthy. They are abominations, forsaking God’s natural plan for them.

Can’t they see it? Can’t they understand why they must die? Why God has chosen me to end their sinful lives? I am a hunter for God. He has chosen me and tonight he has chosen her for the sacrifice.

I can see her step falter. Perhaps she has finally realized that she is being stalked. I can see her speed up. My dear, you must know running is futile. I will catch you. You will be mine. My stride lengthens, and the gap between us narrows. The wolf is hungry tonight, silently stalking its prey. A low, guttural growl escapes from my lips and is carried off on the wind.

It is time. I can see ahead that she realizes what I am. I am death, and it is her time. She opens her mouth to scream and only air escapes. She is paralyzed with fear, and I feel my heart smile. She has seen my knife and knows that she cannot run, she cannot hide. I grab her around her bulging waist, and my hand feels the life within in her. A life brought about by her sin. She opens her mouth to scream, and I wrap my hand around her mouth to silence her.

She is fighting me. Her will to live has kicked in, and her will to protect her unborn child is strong. She wrenches away from me and starts to run, and I realize that tonight will not be easy. I spring at her with unearthly speed and let out a low howl. She tries to knee me in the groin, and I punish her with a backhand that sends her staggering to the cold ground below.

It is late, and the streets are deserted or certainly some unlucky passerby would hear us struggling. That last time this happened, he was punished for it. I cannot be deterred in my quest for retribution. I am kneeling over her, and the smell of her fear has made me hard. I can see her eyes that she knows what is about to happen to her.

“Do not be afraid. You are very special. You will get to atone for your sins.” My hand is clamped over her mouth, and she shakes her head from side—to—side with the fury of a trapped animal who knows it is about to die.

I brandish my knife over her and the low lights from the alley glint off of it. She sees the sharp edge, and her eyes widen, knowledge that these are her final moments dawning on her. She wraps her hands around her stomach, and I can feel her lips moving against my hand, begging for mercy. I am not the one whom she should ask for mercy.

I move my hand, and the edge of the knife slices along her neck, the first drops of blood steaming against her cold skin. I sniff the metallic scent and it lights through me like wildfire. I lean in closer and meet her scared eyes with my own dark gaze. A hint of recognition passes over her face. “Yes, you do know me. You must know now why you have to die.”

My weight on top of her and the life seeping out of her has made her tired, and she has stopped moving beneath me. Her eyes blink heavily, so I slap her with a gloved hand. “Oh, no, no. Don’t go to sleep. You won’t want to miss this. This is the best part. This is the reason you must die.”

I reach for the button on my jeans and pull it open hastily. The sound of the snap releasing echoes through the alley and hardens my erection. She has not made this easy. The bitch is wearing pants, so I am forced to my knees to slice them away from her body. She summons all her strength, and her fist flies and connects with the corner of my face. I punch her in response. My eye is pounding from the blow. “Do you know at all why I chose you?”

She shakes her head again. The fear is gone from her eyes. She has resigned herself to her fate. I rub her stomach, and I can see the hatred well in her eyes now. The life that she was given, her miracle and I have the gall to touch her. I reach in and pull my erection out and poise it outside her body. “You fucked up. Your baby, she is not a gift from God. You think that you can turn your back on God and get pregnant without a man? You are wrong, and you must give your life as retribution.”