FullDisclosure (28 page)

She barely had a moment to think and was stifling panic when Rufus returned. He was wearing his police uniform and was, predictably, furious.

His eyes cold with fury, he hauled her off the couch. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”

He was so close, she could smell the garlic that he apparently used to brush his teeth. “I’m sorry, but I’m going to need my hands in the bathroom,” she gulped, “aren’t I?”

He smiled slowly. “Not necessarily. I thought I could handle the…details.”

She shuddered. “Please. I really need to go.”

“All right. Let’s do this.” He pointed to a door just off the kitchen and shoved her in that direction. “There. Go.”

She shuffled as quickly as she could to the washroom, feeling his presence like a greasy shadow all the way. She stopped in front of the commode and turned around to find him standing in the doorway watching her. “Okay, then. You’ve got your hands. You do it.”

She focused on what she needed to do, trying to block out the fact that he was watching her. It was difficult enough with her hands bound so tightly together. She thought she’d never manage to get her jeans down over her hips, and was suddenly grateful that she had lost so much weight. She ignored the lewd comments and whistles that came from the doorway as she settled on the commode and relieved herself.

Using toilet paper in this position was another challenge that made her feel incredibly inept and vulnerable. Not to mention the fact that she had no doubt given Rufus a nice view of her pussy.

When she stood and reached down to pull up her panties and jeans, however, he stopped her. His hands were on hers and he stood inches from her. She was naked from the waist down—and she was terrified.

“You worried?” he asked, his breath thick and hot. “Worried that I’m gonna touch you here?” And then he did the unthinkable and brushed his fingers across her vulva.

“Please,” she whimpered. “Please don’t.”

“So smooth,” he said. “Who you shaving for, anyway?” His fingers probed deeper and she had to stifle a cry.

Instead she said, “Aren’t you supposed to save me for your boss? Isn’t that part of the deal?”

The words must have struck a nerve because suddenly he stopped, withdrew his hand and glared at her. “Not that you’re worth saving for anybody. Fuckin’ whore.”

But rather than molest her further, he grabbed her panties and jeans and tugged them up to her waist.

She had a renewed moment of panic—what if he felt the screwdriver hidden in her boot? But his movements were too quick. He didn’t have time to notice.

She had finally done up her jeans and was just trying to figure out how she’d find a way to actually use her weapon when he surprised her yet again. “Now. On your knees.”

Startled, she glared at him. “What? What do you mean?”

He unzipped his fly. “You know what I mean. This is thanks for my not taking what was my due.” He cupped her chin again. “One last BJ for old times, okay?”

She wanted to fight him, to scream and protest and try to run, but the shackles on her feet made that impossible. And then she realized, this might be exactly the opportunity she was waiting for.

Her brain buzzing, she nodded and slowly sank to the floor in front of him. He pulled his cock out for her. It was already hard, and he held it out for her mouth to take.

He tasted horrid, like sour milk and sweaty socks, but she did her duty with gusto. She glanced up and noticed that his eyes were closed. He was completely lost in the motions of her mouth and the ecstasy of having complete power over her. He didn’t notice as she shifted her feet and slipped the screwdriver from its hiding place.

She considered her options. She didn’t have a lot of them, as her hands were still bound and she couldn’t reach very high. Her best bet was the femoral artery.

And that’s what she aimed for. She plunged it into his inner thigh as hard as she could, ramming it up high and rejoicing in the scream of pain that followed her attack. But she couldn’t get away fast enough. His knee came up reflexively, catching her in the chin and sending her flying. Her teeth raked along his dick as her head flew back and she tasted blood, but the satisfaction was short-lived. Her head hit the vanity behind her hard enough to stun her but not knock her out. And when she came to and got her faculties about her enough to think about scurrying away, she saw that she had failed.

He was bleeding, but not gushing like you would expect if the femoral artery had been pierced. He was holding a towel to the wound and standing over her—his face a storm of rage.

“You fuckin’
bitch
!” The first blow sent her skidding across the floor back toward the living room. “You’ll pay for that.”

And pay she did.

“Oh yeah. I know him. What a sleazeball.” Jenny tossed a look over her shoulder at the owner of the diner who had been watching them for the past few minutes, his glare frankly hostile.

The owner had refused to help Jake and Evan. He’d turned antagonistic and uncooperative the moment they’d mentioned Sadie’s name. He’d started spouting off in some Eastern European dialect, and Jake had gotten the distinct impression that he hadn’t taken kindly to his best waitress’s defection.

He’d used some sort of hand gesture that they hadn’t recognized and stormed off into the kitchen, warning them that they had better buy something if they intended to stay.

They’d obliged when Jenny, one of the other waitresses, had approached them after overhearing some of their questions. They’d purchased coffees and two pieces of pie to soothe the owner’s ego and to buy some time to talk to Jenny.

“Do you have a name?” asked Jake, taking his first bite of pie. It had looked questionable, but now that it was in his mouth and despite the fact that his appetite was iffy at best, it actually wasn’t too bad. Evan, however, had yet to touch his. “Any way for us to find him?”

“Only a first name, hun.” Jenny’s gaze was frankly appraising. She was titillated either by Jake’s physique or the promise of a wallet heavy with cash. He just wasn’t sure which.

“Would you mind sharing it with us?” prompted Evan.

“I dunno, honey. He hasn’t come in as much since Sadie’s gone, but he could still make life miserable for me. I’m not sure I should get involved.”

Evan was the one to reach for his wallet. He pulled out two fifties. “Would this help convince you?”

She practically salivated at the sight. “Uh yeah.” She smiled slyly as she pocketed the cash. “By the way, you guys single or what?”

“Wrong team, honey,” quipped Jake as he grasped Evan’s hand. “Sorry.” He was pleased both by her sigh of disappointment and by the fact that Evan didn’t pull away. In fact, a ghost of a smile haunted his lover’s lips. If not for the situation, that would have given him enormous pleasure.

“That’s too bad.” She sighed again.

“The name?” asked Jake.

“Roofy. We all called him Roofy ’cause he like a bad drug. All of us but Sadie, that is. She never quite picked it up.” She shook her head sadly. “Sadie was a sweetie. She didn’t deserve that rap she got for offing her hubby. And Roofy took advantage of her something awful. I liked Sadie. I hope she’s okay.”

Despite the sentiment, Jake was getting impatient. “But that’s just a nickname?”

“Yeah. I’m pretty sure his real name was Rufus. That’s what she called him, anyway.”

“Awesome.” Evan slapped the table. “That’s great. There can’t be that many cops with this beat named
Rufus
.” He hesitated. “Can there?”

“Nah,” said Jenny. “Leastways, I’ve never met one.”

Evan pulled out a twenty and threw it on the table. “Great. Now that we’ve got something, let’s get on it. We’ll have to check in at the precinct. See what they can tell us.”

As he and Jake were squeezing out of the booth, she added, “And there’s something else. I just thought of it. Might be important. I don’t know.”

“Yeah?” asked Jake. “Anything would be helpful.”

But she just stood there. Waiting.

“Oh for Chrissake.” This time Jake pulled out a couple of twenties and handed them to her.

Her grin widened. “He used to brag a lot. Liked to think of himself as some big shot. Always said that he didn’t really
need
the cop shop job. He had another more
lu-cra-tive
sideline.” She drew out the word as if it was in a foreign tongue.

“Oh? Like what?”

“He never got real specific, but he talked about the guy he worked for. How he was some rich big-shot from Rosedale. Has some big estate down there, apparently. And runs a fancy shmancy company down on Bay Street. And he pays Roofy real good to look after his ‘interests’.” She shrugged. “Whatever the fuck that means.”

Jake blinked. Looked at Evan and realized they were thinking exactly the same thing.

Cyril’s house was in Rosedale. And his company offices were on Bay Street.

“Shit!”

They were out the door like a shot.

“Hey!” Jenny called after them as the door swung closed. “You guys come back for lunch some time. You’re good tippers!”

Sadie was back in the trunk, only this time she was in no condition to look for a way out. Her lip was bleeding, one eye was swollen almost shut, and she was pretty sure she had a bruised rib or two—if not cracked. He hadn’t shot her kneecap, thank God, but she’d been terrified that he would.

She’d made her bid for freedom and she’d failed. She barely had enough energy to breathe, let alone plot, scheme or fight her way out of a metal box.

But at least she finally understood what this was all about. As Rufus had beaten on her he’d also ranted and raved. He’d raved about the man who was responsible for all this—the one whose interests he was serving. And that man was Cyril Ballantyne.

Of course. She should have known. Why hadn’t she seen it immediately? Who else had cause to harm her? No one.

It was no doubt thanks to Karey’s sniffing into the insurance policy. Cyril had felt threatened and had sought to eliminate the threat. She should have known better. Sadie wished for the thousandth time that she had been more firm with Karey—and with Evan and Jake. She may be
entitled
to that money, but she didn’t want it. The price was too high.

Philip had paid that price as well. She’d believed it the day they arrested her, and now she
knew
. Cyril had been behind it. He’d been behind everything. Even Rufus.

She should have known! But then again, how could she? Rufus was the antithesis to everything Cyril stood for. Where Cyril was tall, handsome and well-groomed, Rufus was short, shabby and smelled of liquor and smoke.

Where Cyril was smart and savvy, Rufus was dull and brutish. She would never even have guessed that Cyril could stand being in the same room with someone like Rufus, let alone do
business
with him. Of course that was exactly why he was perfect.

She sighed, closed her eyes and tried to focus on not knocking her forehead against the lid of the trunk as it went over every bump and around every curve. Rufus was furious with her and anxious over his inability to contact his boss. She couldn’t share his concern. She hoped Cyril had disappeared for good. Because when they finally found him it would all be over. It was just a matter of time. She had resigned herself to that—but that didn’t make it any easier.

The car squealed around a corner, sending her skidding inside the trunk. Her head slammed into the side of the car, there was a flash of pain—then nothing.

Rufus couldn’t see straight. Pain and rage had settled over him like a red fog. She had stabbed him! The goddamn bitch had actually had the nerve to pull out a screwdriver and
stab him
! The fact that a woman had had the gumption to stand up to him was bad enough. Add to that the fact that he knew she had come damn close to shutting him down completely. She’d been aiming for a femoral artery. He was no fuckin’ medical genius but he knew that much. And he knew just how close he’d come to bleeding out all over his own bathroom floor.

He’d never come that close before. Not as a prison guard, or a cop, or even during his youth spent delivering drugs for the neighborhood dealers. He’d never been caught as a kid, always managed to avoid the scuffles as a guard, and knew which calls
not
to respond to as a cop. One of the biggest reasons he’d taken Cyril up on his offer of employment was precisely because of the low risk factor. Because he’d be dealing with the weak and decidedly unsavvy crowd of Bay Street execs and their candy-ass wives.

Sadie’s timid, diminutive nature had been particularly tasty. She’d been afraid of her own shadow, afraid of saying one thing out of turn. She’d been an easy target—easy to intimidate and easy to manipulate. But this—
this
had come out of nowhere.

It was no doubt thanks to her association with those two downtown assholes. A plan started to brew in Rufus’ mind. Something unique and individual—an original idea. And Rufus didn’t get ideas. Ideas got you into trouble. If you followed orders, did what you were told, you tended to stay under the radar and out of harm’s way. But not this time. This time he was pissed. He had been directly threatened and he didn’t take kindly to that.