Quintic (65 page)

Only on
occasions when Patricia locked the entry door had the team tacitly
agreed to keep away. He had not, though. No matter the reason,
every time she had locked herself in the joint, he had jimmied the
door. He had considered removing the locks, but cracking them from
the outside was such a small thing when compared to the reassurance
it seemed to give her. Hence, the locks remained.

He pushed
her into the room and locked the door. No doubt the guys were
prowling the hallway on the other side, but the toilet walls,
dating back to the construction of the building, were solid stones
and, for all intents and purposes, soundproof.

He
knew how she spiked her fiction with facts. Her
books were more fictional than factual, though, he had believed
until now. Had he been wrong all along, he questioned, the chapter
about the break-in and the cop incident at the forefront in his
mind? For the rest of the book, the J-character had obsessed about
it (as he had when he read it). Chapter after chapter, J, and Chris
right along with him, had wondered about that night, but the
girlfriend character, damn her, kept it a secret, teasing,
taunting, but never giving details as to what had
happened.

Chris
had read the book at the beginning of their
relationship. He barely knew Patricia then, or rather, barely knew
about her history.
Her
, he had recognised from the
start. The whole of her, mind, heart, soul and body, was sexy as
hell and drove him nuts. He
got
her
even then but had yet to learn about Joshua and
his lot. He recalled how uneasy that particular book had made him.
The storyline went from light to dark and turned downright gruesome
after that passage. She had a vivid imagination. For once, had that
gift of her served to lighten the facts?

Even then, a
knot had tightened in the pit of his stomach, and right now, he was
wound up so tight, he was afraid of scaring her. How could such a
dreamy woman write such things? Originality, creativity and
research, he had figured back then. Too much fucking research, he
thought now; the woman liked to do her research up close and
personal.

The book
didn’t tell more
besides an alarm had
gone off in the building, the cop had run out before other cops,
not as dirty, had shown up. The lead female persona had sneaked out
the J-jerk, each carrying the other. The king was still parked down
the street.

The loser’s
explanation went something like, “The dirty cops’ unmarked car
crept in from the adjoining parking lot. I didn’t see them until it
was too late.”

The
three would-be thieves had escaped and moved to
other ventures after that.

Back in the
real here and now,
Patricia was shaking
against his. Was she thinking about that fucking night in detail?
Details he didn’t have, details he feared.

A
gain, Chris thought about
killing Joshua. The guy was dead already, but fuck, he felt such a
deep hatred towards the jerk. Not only had Joshua not protected
her, failed to keep her out of harm’s way, but his actions had put
her in the direct line of fire. He had let that creep do whatever
to her. Moreover, he had not avenged her. Chris found it all
utterly unacceptable. Intolerable. Unforgivable.

He held her
tight, crushing her against his chest, trying to infuse his warmth
into her, his strength, his love.

“
Christop
her, I’m fine. You can
let go now.”

He didn’t
move. Cou
ldn’t let go. She was shaking
still. He wanted her to feel safe.
I’m going to take care of it, Darling of
mine
. Joshua hadn’t, but he would take
care of the creep and make her safe.

“
Christopher.
Please, let go, I
can’t breathe.”

He released
her. Some. Putting her hands flat on his torso, she pushed him
away. Trie
d to. He took one step back.
One little step. His hands still around her shoulders and middle
holding tight.

“
Christopher.
It’s OK. Really. I’m
OK. Really.” He took a deep breath. “Christopher, you’re holding me
too tight. Let go.” He couldn’t let her go. “Let go.
Now!”

He loosened
his grip
some, his hands lowering to her
waist.

“
Christopher, say something.
I
can’t talk if you keep looking at me like that.” The shadows
dancing in his dark eyes frightened her. She was not afraid of him,
never had been, but she was afraid
for
him, of what he might do.
That look convinced her she had been right to go after the dirty
cop without telling Christopher.
I’ll hunt the creep again, alone. I have to find him before
Christopher does
. She would prepare
better for their next encounter, that
last
face-to-face.

“
Tell me
what happened.” His tone sounded deceptively level and
smooth.

His voice
stirred something deep inside of her. She almost fell apart again.
How did she come to love him so? Unreasonably so. Wildly
so.

She cupped
his cheek lightly, stood on tiptoe and brushed a kiss on his lips.
“You already know what happened,” she mumbled, stepping out of his
embrace. “
It’s in my
J-man
book. I know
you’ve read that one.”

His hands
tightened around her waist, and he pulled her close once more.
“Yes, I’ve read the book,” he whispered in her ear. “Yes, I know
what happened in the fucking book. Tell me what happened for
real.”

“Nothing happened. For
real.”

“
Patr
icia! I’m not going to let
you walk away. I want to know.”
I need to know
. His hands shook
as he fought to keep his anger in check.

“
Christopher. Nothing happened. Honestly. Everything
happened like in the book, Big guy. All of it. It truly was all of
it.”

“Patricia.”

“
Christopher. Stop it. It’s all that went down. Yes, it was
a close call. Yes, he intended to rape me, but he didn’t. Are you
listening? He. Did. Not.” By now, she was yelling. “He didn’t have
time. Joshua saved me.”

H
is nostrils flared, like a bull
ready to charge, and he threw his arms in the air.

“
Christopher, he did.
Joshua
tripped the alarm; he must have done it directly through the
computer system right after the creep dragged me into the office
because I heard sirens less than ten minutes after being locked
up.”

She was
still fucking excusing that asshole Joshua even after all the jerk
had done! “Joshua left you alone with that fucker for ten
minutes?”

“Nothing happened.”

“
The guy
ripped your shirt, stripped your pants off, hit you, threatened
you, and what else?” She had written that much in the book and yet,
not the truth. The events of that night had tormented the
J-character; they must have tormented Joshua too. “What else,
Patricia? What the fuck else?” He was screaming too now.

“
Nothing.
Damn it, Christopher. Nothing!”

“
Nothing!
Joshua left you alone with the motherfucker for ten minutes. Ten
minutes! That’s a fucking long time. We had fucks that didn’t last
that long!” He took a sharp breath and rubbed his hair with both
hands, growling between clenched teeth, “Hell, I could get off with
you right now in less than one. Can always in less one with you.”
He glared angrily at her. “What else happened?”

“
Nothing.
Nothing else. How many times do I have to repeat it? Nothing.
Happened.” His fists clenched tighter at her third fucking
‘
nothing’
. “Compared to what he could have done, to what he wanted
to do, it was nothing. Nothing I couldn’t get over.”

Damn woman!
That was NOT nothing?! “‘Nothing you couldn’t get over’? That’s why
you kicked him repeatedly? Because you were over it?”

“
Ah.
Hum
. I might have had a small relapse.
But I’m fine now. Truly, I am.”

“
You are?
Really? Why the fuck don’t I believe you?” He took a deep breath.
Kicked, and broke, one of the stall doors, and then punched the
wall before closing his eyes for a beat. Two beats. “That doesn’t
explain about the scar, Princess.”

Damn
. She had forgotten about the
cicatrix. When Hamilton had described Lemieux’s opponent,
subconsciously she must have known who it was. Consciously, though,
she had not made the connection. A mind block perhaps? She had gone
hunting for the
salopard
at the strip clubs
secretly hoping the creep would turn up eventually, be it in a
month or a year. And Christopher knew it too, had known right away.
‘Coincidence my ass,’ to quote the Big guy. A couple of days was
too fast, though; she hadn’t been ready.

“Patricia. The scar. You said
you’d given it to him. How?”

“
The scar?
Ah yes. During the fight. At one point, I clawed at his throat. I
tried to choke him, but he defended himself, and all I managed to
do was cut his neck. Badly. He bled a lot. That’s what left the
scar.” A shaky explanation, even to her ears.

She
answered
straightforwardly enough, but a
question had preceded her response. The damn fucking question
indicated she was lying. She frowned at him, chin up and arms
crossed. Defiant.

“And that was it?”

“
Yes, Big
guy. Yes, that was it.”

“
And you
haven’t seen the jerk since?”

“No. I have not.”

The
assertive tone was her way of spoon
-feeding him her lie. He didn’t swallow it. “How can you
possibly know you made the scar?”

“
Well, it
has to be me. I mean, I
really
went for him, you
know.”

“But you didn’t see him
after?”

“No.”

“
So
y
ou can’t be sure, can you,
Princess?”

“
What are
you trying to say? I know the scar is there!”

“
He could
only have had a scratch on his neck. He could have nothing at
all
, couldn’t he? Could be he’s not
Lemieux’s fighter after all. Hell, could be he’s not your dirty cop
either.”

Nothing to
Say

S
hould she let Christopher think
the fat fellow from the club was indeed the creep? Or was it better
if the Big guy believed the fatso
wasn’t
the creep, and thus, she
had completely lost her marbles at the club
?
W
hich was safer? Number two was the d
efinite winner because then he would stay away from the
creep. Number two meant he wouldn’t get hurt.

“
Ah. Hum.
Yes, I suppose I could have made a mistake. I assumed he had a scar
but yes, like you said, maybe he doesn’t have but just a cut.”
After all, the shot had made more a gap than a bullet hole. Between
point-blanked range and contact shot, the blow had burned off a lot
of skin, but she could pretend it was a scratch. She damn excelled
at pretending. “And people do change a lot as they grow old, don’t
they?” Although, as they aged, dirty creeps only became older dirty
cops.

She had
admitted to her mistake and agreed
with
him way too fast, way too much hence was still lying, Chris
realised. “Princess, fuck. After all this time?” He shook his head
at her. “Why?”

“
I guess I
lost it. I’m sorry. I’ll talk
and
apologise to the guy.”
And
then I’ll kick him again and again. Then shoot him.

“No. An apology won’t do
it.”

What more
did the impossible man want? “What more can I do? I’ll apologise. I
apologise to you. I’ll apologise to Charles. What else do you want?
It was a mistake; the entire thing was a mistake. There, I’ve
admitted it. Are you happy?”

“No. Apologies won’t do
it.”

Qu’il
est enrageant
ce soir !
Most infuriating! “Christopher,
what else can I do! Damn it, I am not going to beg for your
forgiveness!”

“
No. Begging
won’t do
either. Telling the truth’s
enough, so start with that.”

“What?”

“
Princess,
after all this time, why? Why would
you
think you can lie to me? You may believe you have a valid reason,
but, Angel of mine, whatever your excuse, this time, it’s bullshit,
so stop and talk to me. Now.”

Hum, sticky
tricky. Since for now, she had no clue as to what part exactly he
didn’t believe, she didn’t want to tell him more than she had
to.

“
Tell me
a
gain, Patricia. How did he get the
scar?”

Damn,
she
had to find a way to enhance her scar
story enough to make it sound right.

If
Chris
hadn’t been so worried, if the
details weren’t so ghastly, if he hadn’t been so pissed, he might
have enjoyed toying with her. She did have a fascinating mind. And
she was good at acting. At lying. He could almost see the wheels of
her imagination spinning the story in her head. She chewed on her
bottom lip as she concentrated, trying to figure out how to make
him believe. Fuck, he wanted to bite that lip for her. Nibble quite
a few things on her. He could make her talk with the nipping and
tasting.