Tragic Desires (6 page)

If looks could kill, the one she gives me would shrivel me on the spot.
She huffs out a breath and says, “I’m treatment resistant. Why the hell do you think I’m a drug seeker?”

“Is that why I saw you buying at Red Skies?”

“Jeez, have you been spying on me? Are you here to arrest me?”

“No, I haven’t been spying on you
. I just happened to see you score your stuff. And no, I’m not here to arrest you for that, either.”

“Then what do you want with me?”

“You were drugged and two guys tried to abduct you. I prevented that, but in doing so, something else was set into motion. Seems someone is after you and we thought you might be able to help us find out who that is.”

We are interrupted by a knock on the door. When I look out the peephole, I see
it’s room service.

“Not a peep out of
you or I shoot the delivery guy. Understand?”

She gapes at me
and nods. I go back to the door, sign for the food, and take the tray. I put the food close to her on the bed. As we eat, I ask her to tell me about herself.

“Would you have really shot him?”

“Just make a sound during the next delivery and you’ll find out.”

She looks at me and then says, “I could always scream.”

“You could, but you see, the rooms all around us are occupied by my men, so it won’t do you a bit of good. Besides, if you get too annoying, a strip of duct tape can take care of that. It’s your choice. You can comply or make it difficult on yourself. It’s really that simple.”

Her nostrils flare, and then I can see her concede.

“So, tell me about yourself, Gemini.”

She goes through the basics
. I want to know when she moved to Austin.

“A
few months ago. I had my wreck last fall. I went out on a Saturday for a late morning ride. It turned out to be pretty sucky, actually. I crashed and then lost my memory and wandered around in the woods for a couple of days. I don’t remember much about it at all. Apparently I found some backpackers and crashed their campsite. They called for help and I was rescued.”

“You were alone?” What was she thinking go
ing out alone?

“Yeah. I ended up with some broken bones and such but it’s the head that really messed me up. It’s fucked up my life. It drove away my boyfriend too.”

“Um, this boyfriend, Nick Lowry?”

“How do you know Nick?”
She stops eating and her full attention swings to me.

“We’ve been trying to find out everything we can about you.”

“Why? That’s pretty creepy.”

How can I tell her what we know and have her remain calm? There isn’t any good way, I decide. “I know it sounds creepy, but you have to understand it from our perspective. Here we are, trying to investigate why women are disappearing
from Dirty Sixth—we think we have a lead when suddenly our case does a one eighty and you enter the picture. You’re unconscious, I have a group of men chasing me, and it’s obvious it’s you they want. So yeah, we needed to find out everything we could about you. That’s how we know about Nick.”

“So what about Nick?”

Her hand clenches her napkin and it’s only inches from mine, so I reach over and pick it up. “I’m sorry to tell you, Gemini, but Nick is gone.”

“What do you mean? Where did he go?”

“He was killed.”

“What? Killed? Oh my God! None of this makes any sense.
What happened?”

“I’m so sorry.” Then I tell her what we know. I also tell her about her house in San Angelo.

Her head is lowered and she doesn’t say anything for a while. Then I notice it’s because she’s crying. Not the loud, obnoxious sobbing, but the silent, valiant type that I wouldn’t have even noticed if it hadn’t been for her shaking shoulders. She must’ve loved this Nick guy.

Handing her some tissues, I ask, “When did you last talk to Nick?”

She shakes her head and shrugs. I’m not sure if she can’t remember or just doesn’t want to talk about it. I give her a moment, because eventually there will be questions.

She finally comes around and says, “The last time I spoke to him was when he left. He couldn’t deal with the way I
’d changed. Who is doing this and why?”

The muscles in my neck are tense
. I roll my head, trying to ease the tightness. “I don’t know. That’s what I hope you can help me with. Tell me about your family.”

S
he wipes her nose and tears. “I don’t have any. My mom died in a car accident when I was eighteen and I never knew my dad.”

“Do you at least know his name
? Maybe we can find him.”

“No. My mom never told me his name.”

That raises a red flag. In this day of full disclosure, the fact that her mom withheld that kind of information is a shock.

“And you never checked your birth certificate or wondered about that?”

Her lids drift shut, and I think she’s trying to shut me out. “My mom told me not to worry about him because she had more than enough love to go around. I heard that story forever so I never questioned her. I always assumed he died and that she loved him too much to want to talk about him.”

“That’s not good enough for me, but we’ll let that slide for now.” I hear her suck in her breath, but I don’t give a damn. I need to figure out her attachment to
Aali Imaam, and if this is the way to flush it out, so be it. “So about last night. You were drugged by two men who we suspect are involved in human trafficking. We had Red Skies staked out and those two guys who wouldn’t leave you alone were the ones we think might be the culprits. When you disappeared out the back, I went out just in time to see them drug you. But as we were waiting for our team to arrive, my leader informed us that a different group of men were closing in. So I picked you up and ran. That’s how you ended up here. But what we wanna know is why those guys were after you.”

She stares at me. When she speaks, her voice is so
quiet, I have to lean in to hear her. “Why didn’t you leave me there? Maybe they would’ve killed me.”

“
Maybe. Maybe not. We don’t know what they would’ve done to you because we don’t know why they want you. Do you know why, Gemini?”

“
No, but maybe they would’ve put me out of my misery.” Her voice is raw and bitter.

“You wouldn’t say that for long.” I see that she’s earnest in her comment. She
doesn’t care if she dies. “Because if these people get you and don’t want you dead, your worst nightmare would begin. They’d bring new meaning to the word pain for you.”

Two
days and
she doesn’t stray from the same story. Her headaches are brutal. They debilitate her and she’s absolutely dysfunctional when one hits. One thing is solid, and that is her story has been consistent.

“You know, this might be easier on you if you just tell us what you know.”

“Might be easier on you too. You must be super dense because I’ve told you already that I don’t know anything. I don’t even know who you are or where I am. So if you think I’m gonna magically have this epiphany and get infused with all this information, then we’re gonna be here a long time.”

We’ve watched her on the video and see nothing to indicate that she might be anything other than Gemini Sheridan.

“Well, we could always withhold your medication.”

P
anic flashes over her. “Oh God, please don’t. Or if you do, just kill me instead. I don’t know what you want with me. Rape must not be what you’re after or you would’ve done that already. If you were going to kill me, I think you would’ve done that too. Either way, go ahead and get it over with already. I’ll beg if you want me to. If you want the sex, just go on ahead and take it. But please, don’t withhold my drugs.”

Later that night, I run through everything she’s said and I have to believe her. I’ve never had a detainee that behaved like she does. Most beg to stay alive. Most will say
they’d do anything to remain alive. Not her. She truly acts like she doesn’t care about dying. And from witnessing what she goes through, I can certainly understand why.

And her reaction to my remark about withholding meds
clenches my gut. She had that trapped look that made me feel like a shit. I realize there’s no way in hell I would ever do that to her.

I call Colt. “I’m pulling out. I need to go to San Angelo.”

“Are you sure about this?”

“She doesn’t know anything, or at least my gut tells me that.”

Colts groans. “Drex, my gut tells me you’re getting in too deep. Let me make the call.”

“No. If you do, I’m afraid something terrible will happen to her. That’s what my gut tell
s
me
. Trust me on this, Colt.”

“Your call. You’re the one with the connections.”

“Thanks. And good luck on finding your perps.”

H
ow can Nick
be dead? How is that even possible? What did he do to deserve this?

Tall, dark
, and mysterious is back and sitting next to the bed. He’s finally unhooked the handcuff. He was nice enough to get me some clothes and allow me to shower, though he most likely did it for selfish reasons. I was reeking up a storm. My mind reels with questions and I can’t just sit back and not know the answers.

“How did Nick die?” That question burns a hole through me. Nick, sweet
, gentle Nick, who would never be unkind to anyone. Dead.

The man looks down as if he doesn’t want to answer me.

“Please, you have to tell me. I need to know.”

His answer sickens me. “He was shot in the back of the head.”

It’s so shocking, I gasp. The first thing I think about is whether he knew it was coming or if it took him by surprise. Did he suffer first? So I ask him that.

When his head slowly slices up and down one time, it’s almost more than I can bear. My body crumples onto the bed. It’s a good thing I wasn’t standing or I would’ve face planted. Then something else hits me. How does this man know all of this? And who is he? Is he going to do the same to me? All those weird things my mom used to say rush back to me at once.

“Gemini, be careful around others, especially men. They’ll always tell you things just to get something from you. Never trust a boy. He’ll only break your heart and take your money.”

At the time, I didn’t know we had any money
—I thought she was being melodramatic. What I thought she was trying to tell me was not to let them get in my pants. But now … holy hell, I’m not sure about anything anymore.

Lifting my head, I look up at him
suspiciously. “How do you know all of this? Are you ever going to tell me who you are?”

He shrugs. “My name is Drexel Wolfe and I’m a private investigator. I was hired by the FBI to look into the disappearance of young women from the Dirty Sixth Street clubs. We’ve suspected human trafficking but then as I told you, things shifted since we ran into you.”

“Why a private investigator?”

His elbows rest on the
chair arms, his fingers joined in a perfect steeple. He examines me before he answers. “Good question. The field agent in charge called me in on this because he needed an extra pair of feet on the ground.”

“
Show me your ID.” I try to mask my fear with anger.

He smirks and then reaches into his pocket and pulls out what I’m asking for. He shows me his ID, a temporary FBI ID
, and his business card that reads
DWInvestigations
. Like all this is supposed to comfort me. It doesn’t. At all.

“Pretty smart to ask for that.”

My head lists to the right and in the snarkiest tone I can muster, I say, “I’m not stupid, although it may appear that way. And just so you know, if I weren’t in such a bad way with these blasted headaches, I would be doing everything in my power to get away from you. The only reason I haven’t is because I know it’s hopeless. You got that?”

The tears elbow their way past my lids again as thoughts of Nick move into focus. The last weeks we
spent together were awful. I would lose my temper and yell at him for no reason, other than the stupid fact that my head was splintering. He would try to soothe my tattered nerves, but I was so distraught I wouldn’t let him. That proverbial cycle continued until one day, he simply looked at me with regret and sorrow and then told me he couldn’t deal with it anymore. With slumped shoulders, he walked away and I never saw him after that.

Now he
’s dead, a bullet in his head, which truly should’ve been in mine. Where’s the justice in that?

Lord
, I have to stop thinking about him. If I don’t, these thoughts will drive me to the brink of insanity. How the hell did all this happen? My head falls onto my arms crossed over my raised knees.

Then his voice startles me. I’d almost forgotten he was here.

“Gemini, we have a big mystery to solve and I need your help.”

“I need some
Lortabs.”

He fetches me some from the bathroom
. I take them without a word.

“How many doctors have you seen for this condition?”

“Enough. Not that you would give a damn. None of them helped. I’ve given up on doctors.”

“You didn’t see the right one.”

Who the hell is this guy? “Thanks, Einstein. Do you have any idea what I’ve been through?”

“
Matter of fact, I do. When I was in Afghanistan and Iraq, I knew a lot of guys who were victims of IEDs. They suffered from severe concussions and headaches, hearing loss, that sort of thing. But right now, we need to figure out why those men went to your mom’s house.”

“It’s
my
house. I inherited it from her when she died.”

“Okay, your house. So why would they go there?”

“Hell if I know. I haven’t been there in two years. I just have someone take care of the thing.”

Now he turns brusque. “Tell me everything you know.”

“I already have,” I snap as we glare at each other. My temper is short secondary to pain.

His eyes are beautiful. Not blue and not gray, they’re fanned with thick
, dark lashes. His lids have a way of drifting to the half-closed position, giving him a very sexual look. I’m not quite sure if he’s trying to achieve this or if it’s a natural thing for him. Whatever the case, it’s ridiculously hot. Why the hell I would notice this now baffles me. This dude is holding me prisoner. He’s probably trying to trance me into developing a bad case of Stockholm syndrome. That’s all I need. My fingers pinch the bridge of my nose.

“Stay with me, Gemini.” His voice is stern and he’s losing patience.

“Can I lie down while you talk to me?”

“Ye
s.”

Why must
he always be so brusque? “Um, what did you say your name was again?”

“Drexel,” he
says. “You need to understand something. I need solid information from you
now
or your case is going to be turned over to Homeland Security or the CIA or both. Then I’m not sure what will happen.”

S
omething in his voice stirs me. Moving the ice bag aside, I sit up and lean on my elbow. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Somebody wants you, Gemini, and whoever they are, they sent a number of men to get you.
Here’s the tricky part: when I went to your apartment, it was being watched. And when I left, I was tailed. Our men intercepted the tail and we suspect them as being part of the terrorist group known as Aali Imaam.”

What is he saying?
That terrorists want me? Why would they want
me
? How do they even know me?

“
Wait a minute. You’re talking about the same terrorists that destroyed the World Trade Center? Why do they want me?”

“T
hat’s what we want to know … what we keep asking ourselves. They’re tailing you for a reason. Either you know them or you have something they want. They’ve taken out your boyfriend and now your house in San Angelo has been worked over. What are they after? My FBI buddies are over your shit and ready to hand you to the CIA or Homeland Security and let them fight over you because this is out of their jurisdiction and frankly, it’s out of mine, too. So Gemini, I’m at the end of my rope here trying to figure out your game. Are you ready to go to Langley or Colorado Springs? Because that’s where you’re gonna end up if you don’t start giving me answers. What’s it gonna be? Are you gonna dig up something for me? Or are you just gonna lie here and keep on whining about your dead boyfriend and your fucking headaches?”

He’s successfully scared the crap out of me.
Even though my head throbs, I sit up.

“
Go to hell!” How dare he make light of what happened to Nick and how can he be so unfeeling about it and my headaches? But then, what if he’s right and those guys want me dead? For the first time, I take a long look at Drexel. I should be frightened of him, but I’m not. Drexel Wolfe is hard. Everything about him screams it. His clipped, precise actions tell me he doesn’t mess around with crap or take it from anyone. He’s tall, muscular, and looks as though he could kick serious ass. But he hasn’t laid a finger on me since I’ve been here. So I start to vomit information.

“My mom was very overprotective. To the point of ridiculous. I always wanted to do everything the other kids did, like go to camp, stuff like that. But I never got to go. She was worried I’d get hurt. Or so she said. Maybe she knew something. Or maybe it’s my dad. But I’m screwed all the way to Sunday on that. I don’t even know his name.”

He thrums his fingers on the table. “Did your mom have any friends?”

“None that I know of. She never hung around other women.”

He mumbles
something.

“What did you say?” I ask.

Shaking his head, he says, “She’s the typical profile of someone in the WPP.”

“What’s that?”

“Witness Protection Program. Changed ID, no friends, stays clear of everything. Maintains a low profile and completely flies under the radar. That’s your mom.”

What the
hell is he talking about? That idea is so preposterous. I’d be more inclined to believe him if he told me she was the Tooth Fairy. “No. My mom wouldn’t be anything like that.”

“We
’re going to San Angelo.” Just like that, he drops the bomb. He moves about the room, throwing things in a duffle.

“What do you mean?”

He turns and his eyes drill into mine. “How can I be any plainer? I need to check out your house. We need to go in the dead of night. When no one would suspect or see us.”

He taps his phone and a few minutes later, he’s chatting with someone named Huff.

“I need the Lady Belle in San Angelo.” Silence. “How long?” Silence. “Huff, that won’t work.” Silence, except for the drumming of his fingers on the table. Then his hand plows through his dark brown hair. If he’s not careful, he’s going to yank it out by the roots. “Can’t do that. I don’t want any rental records.” Now he stands and paces. “Then do that. Two stops should do you. You’re about a thousand plus miles away. Flight time of maybe six and a half hours. Bring someone. Your choice. You’ll need help. And then you’ll have to catch a flight home, unless you want to hang with me. Get there as soon as you can. We’ll be heading out shortly and I’ll be in touch in case we need an extraction somewhere else. Thanks, man.”

“What’s
the Lady Belle?” I have a strong feeling I’m not going to like this.

“It’s a helicopter.”

“And why would you need that?”

“For a getaway. Do
you not get what I’m telling you? Terrorists want you. I’m pretty fucking sure they want to take you or possibly even kill you. And they don’t play nice. Now get your stuff, because we’re heading to San Angelo.”

“I don’t have any stuff, remember?”

“Right. Hang tight for a minute. I need to talk with the team leader. I’ll be back in a moment.” He leaves and I think about everything. And then my mom’s words crash into me again. I don’t know him from the man on the moon. For all I know,
he
could be the terrorist, acting like the agent. I haven’t seen this team leader or anyone else. And he expects me to trust him. The only thing I trust right now are my mom’s words and myself. I decide it’s time for Gemini to skedaddle.

I quickly search for my apartment key and find it on the
bathroom counter, along with my medicine. I grab them and anything else I think will help. I spy my wallet with credit cards and ID, my cell phone, and a bit of cash. I snag those too. Then I bust through the door and hit the hall at the closest I can get to a sprint.

T
he elevator isn’t my best option, so I head for the stairs and trip down them as fast as my Lortab-addled legs will carry me. My chest burns as my heart pounds. It’s obvious my lack of exercise coupled with my excessive reliance on drugs these last few months have taken their toll.