Trained To Kill (7 page)

Isa held back a smile, he was
adorable. They threw down and he won.

“
Shit.” She hated to
lose.

They got into his cop car and Alex
took off. There wasn’t much traffic in his neighborhood at this
time of night, especially when it was five degrees outside. Isa
started fiddling with the controls on his dash, turning up the heat
and changing the radio station to one she liked.

“
Would you stop it?” Alex
slapped her hand away and turned it back to his classic rock
station. “It stays there.”

Isa sat on her hands to stop herself
from ripping the knob off. She didn’t mind the song, but she needed
something a little more classical right now to calm her
down.

“
Alright, here’s what
we’re gonna do. I’m gonna drive around to spots that would he would
mostly likely be. If I see anyone we can talk to we will. If I
don’t we’ll come back tomorrow afternoon when they’re more likely
to be out. I’m not knocking on doors. Not tonight.

“
Fair enough.”

He drove through the mostly still
night, taking short cuts down alleyways and slowing down to look in
the shadows. Isa was strangely comfortable sitting next to a cop in
the dark. He had a quiet confidence that she liked.

She was usually a bundle of energy
when she wasn’t at her desk researching, but sitting with him
behind the wheel watching the streets put her at ease. She felt
peaceful and right.

After about forty-five minutes of
cruising Alex broke the comfortable silence and said, “I’m not
seeing anything out here. It seems even the drug dealers go to
sleep.”

“
Yea, ok.”

He made his way back to his apartment.
Isa didn’t want the ride to end, but all too soon he was shutting
off the engine.

“
What time
tomorrow?”

“
About 3:00 pm.” Alex’s
grip on the wheel was tight, and Isa could see he wanted to say
more. He sat quietly though.

She nodded and reached for the
handle.

“
I want to know more about
you,” Alex spoke quickly, like he was holding himself
back.

She stopped and turned back toward
him. The cold was seeping into the car and her breath frosted in
the air.

“
Your past, how you threw
Axworthy around, how you hacked into my information.” He stopped
and she hesitated.

“
Are you asking as a cop,
or as a man?”

“
I’m both.”

“
You know what I
mean.”

He turned his head away and looked out
the window.

“
I want to know because
you interest me. Personally.” He said the word like it hurt shaking
his head. He looked back over at her and she could barely see his
face in the shadows.

She had no idea what to say. He left
her speechless. He interested her too. But for God’s sake, a
cop?

She couldn’t do that to herself or to
him. Drag him into her shit with what she had planned? He wouldn’t
understand or accept. Never. And she didn’t blame him. He was a
good man and good cop. She could feel it instinctively.

“
I should…go.” She
finished lamely.

He sat back with resignation. “I’ll
see you tomorrow.”

She nodded again and left
quickly.

Chapter 11

Isa walked into her apartment, all her
thoughts still on Alex so she wasn’t as prepared as she normally
would have been when arms grabbed her around the waist and neck and
hauled her up off her feet.

She didn’t scream, she was too well
trained for that nonsense. Kicking back with her boot heel, she
felt it connect with her assailant’s knee cap. His grip loosened
slightly around her neck when he grunted and she used the
opportunity to move her head forward. She whipped it back fast and
hard into his nose. She heard the cartilage crunch. He let out a
howl and dropped her.

Rolling fast to the left, she stood
slowly, putting the couch between her and the three men in her
house. She sized them up. They were waiting for her to move,
cautious now. This wouldn’t be the cake walk they had
assumed.

“
Come on guys, it’s late.
Let’s not stand around staring at each other all night.”

The skinny one on the right spoke.
“Mr. Santinez would like to see you.”

“
I don’t know Mr. Santinez
from Adam. Tell him to call me and we’ll set up a meeting like
civilized people.” She was talking to Skinny but she kept her eye
on all three. The one with the broken nose reached into his jacket
pocket and Isa prepared to dodge a bullet, but he pulled out a
handkerchief and held it gingerly under his nose to staunch the
flow of blood.

Skinny was still watching her and she
decided to put an end to it. Reaching behind the end table, she
pulled out her Browning 1911-22 Compact. Aiming it at Skinny’s
prized package she made the decision easier for them. Skinny jerked
his head and they filed out the door. Isa’s gun never
wavered.

Running over she hurried and locked
the door, arming the security. She hadn’t armed it on her way over
to Alex’s. Walking back over, she saw several drops of blood on the
tile floor. At least it wasn’t carpet. She went into the kitchen in
search of cleaning supplies.

Most people would start shaking by now
from the drainage of adrenaline in the blood, but Isa felt nothing
other than a sore spot on the back of her head as she gathered up a
bucket, bleach, rags and gloves.

She headed upstairs straight to her
office when she was finished and booted up the computer. She had
already emailed Alex her pick of the most likely inside man from
The Inferno, deliberately leaving Ben out. Now, she needed to do a
search for Santinez.

Setting it to run automatically, Isa
headed for the shower. She couldn’t sleep with that goon’s blood in
her hair. Stepping under the multiple heads Isa thought about Alex,
the goons from downstairs forgotten.

He was interested in her. Huh. What a
kick in the ass, she thought. Was the Universe playing with her?
She meets someone she feels something for (not sure what, but
something) for the first time in her life and he’s a cop. A cop for
God’s sake.

She shook her head and rinsed out her
conditioner. It wasn’t just his looks. She was attracted to him,
sure, but it was that look in his eyes. They held power and
kindness, intelligence and humor. She felt something in her stomach
when he looked at her and if she was being honest with herself, she
felt it in her heart. Interested wasn’t quite the word she needed.
Yearning covered it nicely.

Stepping out of the shower, she
toweled off quickly and threw on some night clothes. She checked
her search before heading to bed. Nothing so far. She crashed into
bed rolling like an alligator, pulling the blankets with her. She
was out.

The dream came in the morning just
before waking. It always did. She heard the screams, could feel
them in her chest bursting free when she finally unfroze from the
shock. He had thrown her out the window. Isa bolted up in bed, or
tried to. She was mummified in her blankets which only added to her
panic. She took several deep breaths and calmly extracted
herself.

She sat on the edge of the bed for
several minutes waiting for her heart to slow. She was used to
these dreams. She got up and walked to the bathroom on unsteady
legs. Washing her face to wake herself up she tried to remember
what she had to do that day. She needed coffee.

Today must be Wednesday, she thought.
Renée had Saturday and Sunday off if she wished and Wednesdays. She
swung by her office first to check her search and found nothing
appealing. Must be a fake name. Damn. She hated going into battle
without information.

Finishing her trek to the kitchen Isa
made a pot of coffee. While it was brewing she went to pick up the
gloves and bleach from the night before to put them away and
noticed something that had fallen halfway under the coffee
table.

It was a chip, like in Vegas. Only it
wasn’t money. It had a picture of a skull with horns and an apple
in its teeth. Weird. It must have fallen out of one those goons’
pockets last night. She dismissed it and put it on the counter.
While leaning against the counter sipping her coffee, she thought
about food and forgot again when she suddenly remembered her
therapy appointment. She ran upstairs to get dressed.

Chapter 12

Dr. Maarten Jannsen was from the
Netherlands. He had a strong face, starting to wrinkle, but it
looked good on him. He topped off at 6’3”, and had arctic blue
eyes. He lived with his husband, Jorge, and their two Shar-peis. He
didn’t coddle, pity, or judge, which was exactly what Isa needed in
a therapist.

They had a standing monthly
appointment. It used to be weekly, but she had gone to London and
they had continued their sessions via Skype. This was the first
in-person meeting in half a year.

She was actually a little nervous,
since she had just returned from torturing and killing a man. Dr.
Jannsen was very sharp, and Isa didn’t want him sensing anything
off about her behavior. So, why do I keep talking to him, she asked
herself. She really couldn’t answer, except that he was the only
one she had ever told the whole story of her past too. Some, like
Ben and Renée, knew bits and pieces.

Jannsen was practical and logical and
he offered real advice and mental exercises she used every day. The
few therapists she had tried before had been too ambiguous and
touchy-feely for Isa’s taste.

His office was in the downstairs study
of his old brownstone on the Upper West Side. It was masculine in
style, but Isa could see some feminine touches in the flowerbeds
outside the window. The furniture was leather and the desk antique
walnut. His gold fountain pen glinted with the midmorning sun. He
made very good money. If Isa’s bill was any indication, he made
enough that he could easily afford a nice private office outside of
his home. He must like the commute, or lack thereof, because he
stayed.

During their interview phase he told
her he had been there for 15 years and he would never ask her to
talk about anything he wasn’t willing to talk about himself. Isa
had booked her next appointment immediately.

“
So how was London?”
Jannsen asked, getting settled in his leather wingback.

Isa never lay back on the sofa,
preferring to either sit in the club chair next to him or
prowl.

“
It was nice. I liked the
city a lot. Better than New York in fact.”

“
Are you thinking of
moving to be closer to your father?”

“
Not actively, but it’s in
the back of my mind.”

“
Well if you do, and want
a recommendation for a therapist, let me know. I know some good
ones in London.”

Isa nodded, and began bouncing her
knee.

“
How was it with your
father?”

Isa sat back in her chair forcing her
knee to subside, “It was…quiet. I didn’t see him much but I
expected that.”

“
And? Did you talk to him
about what we discussed?”

Isa looked away for those prying eyes
wincing, “Not exactly.”

“
Isa,” Dr. Jannsen sighed.
She exasperated him sometimes, she knew. “How do you expect to get
through it if you don’t talk to him about it? You said yourself, if
he hadn’t left you and your mother, you would never have been raped
by your stepfather. You would never have been abused or nearly
killed.” He paused to watch her reaction. “You said you feel anger
toward him for that. How can you expect to let go of your anger
toward him if you never talk to him about it? Get his side of the
story?”

“
I know. I just couldn’t
do it. He’s just so… conservative and….British. We barely even talk
about my mother, how am I supposed to bring up the fact that Thorn
raped me and pimped me out to his business partners?” she got up
and began pacing; she couldn’t sit still any longer. “You try
saying that to a 47-year-old, British, Barrister’s face and then
we’ll talk about how I’m a coward.”

“
I didn’t say you were a
coward.”

“
Well I am,” she stood by
the window staring at the colorful pansies in the flowerbox. “I
almost did. We were at the same restaurant where we always met. I
was going to tell him, so of course I had too much wine. I brought
up my mother and started to ask him why he had left, but he
interrupted me and started asking me about marriage and children
and how he knew a nice young man in his office that would be
adequate for me.” Isa turned around with a smirk, “Adequate. That
was the exact word he used,” she continued her pacing. “I couldn’t
bring it up again.”

“
Does he want you to move
to London?”

“
He danced around it. He
didn’t actually say it.”

“
Ok, so your father has
issues. So do you. So do I. It’s human nature. You have to get
around those issues and talk openly to him, or it will never get
resolved. Even if he doesn’t talk back, at least you know you told
him and that you tried to communicate with him.”