Bitter Black Kiss Page 4

  Another asked, “Are you going to hire a replacement?”

  Nicole leaned against the closest vanity. “Does anyone want to split her shift until I find someone else?”

  The girl in the thong and a redhead in latex hot pants nodded acceptance. The redhead added, “I’m glad she’s gone. She was weird.”

  The thong agreed, “Yeah, especially a few nights ago.”

  Nicole pulled her purse around to the front of her body and rummaged through it. “What happened?”

  The redhead continued, “She was crazy, that’s what. I think she might’ve been high or something.”

  “Yeah, and her legs were hairy,” the thong wearer added.

  Nicole raised an eyebrow. “Explain.”

  Thong woman shrugged. “Really, really hairy. I think she’s one of those wolf people.”

  The memory of Amy’s body twisted and sprouting gave her a case of the jitters. “Give me a call if any of you hear from her.”

  “Will do,” the new girl nodded.

  She didn’t want to deal with the loud music or the overwhelming amount of testosterone on the main floor, so she headed for the back door. It swung shut behind her, and one of the girls called, “Careful, there’s a stray dog or something out there.”

  Nicole rested against the brick wall for a moment and gathered her wits. Two nights had passed, and Amy hadn’t shown up. She watched the news for any sign that the dancer had met an unfortunate end, but thus far there was no mention of her or the attacker. Where the hell was she?

  She told herself that Amy Dahl wasn’t her responsibility. She’d hired the girl to dance at the club. She was only obligated to make sure that Amy did the work she was hired to do. No, she didn’t know her on a personal level, but she just couldn’t turn her back on her either.

  A breeze swept past. The reek of something stronger and fouler than garbage stung her nostrils. At first she didn’t think much of it. She was next to the dumpster, after all. Perhaps it was a curious cat who had given its ninth life. She gathered her suit jacket around her throat then pushed away from the wall.

  From inside the metal bin, Nicole heard a faint moan. “What the hell?”

  “Help.” The word was faint. The crackle of garbage bags and trash drowned out the wretched voice.

  Nicole’s step faltered. Could someone really be in there? “Hello?”

  “Help me.” That voice again. It sounded oddly familiar.

  “I’m calling the police.”

  “Please…”

  “Damn it.” She pushed the lid open then stood on her tiptoes to peer inside. A mountain of black garbage bags, cardboard, and discarded paper was piled high. A half-eaten plate of chicken wings and loose peanuts lay on top of the closest bag. She wished the security lamp was just a bit brighter.

  Another low moan came from inside the dumpster. There were words involved, but Nicole could not understand. She allowed her purse to fall from her shoulder then edged around the side of the disgusting dumpster.

  Flipping the latch on the side of the bin, an avalanche of waste tumbled out onto the pavement. The mound of trash rustled and crinkled. Something or someone moved beneath it.

  A hand pushed out from the heap of bags. Fingers coated in muck and blood latched onto her wrist. Nicole’s scream echoed through the alley. She twisted away, stumbled then fell on her rump. Deep scratches stung her arm and crimson welled in the gashes.

  Movement at the dark end of the alley snapped Nicole’s head up, and she scanned the darkness. Her heart thundered in her chest and forced the breath from her lungs in shallow gasps.

  The woman in the dumpster continued to cry and plead for help.

  “Shh.” Nicole scrambled to her feet and pressed herself against the bin and wall. A tremor shuddered up her spine, and she reached for the door.

  The knob twisted, but wouldn’t open. Shit!

  She cursed her stupidity. Unless you had a key, the door could only be opened from the inside, a safety precaution for the girls. Even if she beat on it hard as she could, they wouldn’t hear her over the sound system. She stood frozen, listening to the silence.

  Perhaps she had allowed her imagination to get away with her.

  She returned her attention to the girl in the dumpster. The smell of rot and soured whiskey was thick at this level. She was glad the light was dim in the alley because she didn’t want to know what had just squished between her fingers. Throwing bags aside, she uncovered an arm. Two more revealed Amy Dahl was lying naked at the bottom of the dumpster, covered in blood and rubbish.

  “Amy!” Nicole crashed to her knees and tossed bags aside. “Give me your hand, I’ll pull you out.”

  Amy’s grip was weak. Her fingers curled around Nicole’s scraped wrist. The girl’s upper body landed in Nicole’s lap, the lower half on the cool concrete.

  “Oh Christ, what happened to you?” Cuts and bite marks were littered all over Amy’s skin. An injured area on her inner thigh looked infected and full of puss. Her nose and chin were lengthened. Her left ear was extended and narrow. The tip formed a point instead of a gentle curve and a delicate fringe of hair lined it. Her chest and shoulders were covered in wiry, dark hair. The right side of her face was an open wound.

  The fence at the other end of the alley rattled. A shadowy figure emerged out of the darkness. Brody Dunn’s hair was a mess, and he looked like he’d dressed in a hurry. To her, he appeared like a welcome beacon in a dark, stormy night.

  Brody knelt on the grimy pavement next to her and spoke into his cell phone. He informed the dispatcher where they could be found and even had the forethought to tell them there was a Lycan involved.

  “Had to hide.” Amy’s eyes fluttered shut. “He was gonna kill me.”

  She could see the flash of teeth and gums through Amy’s cleaved face. A ribbon of flesh hung from the side of her face and rested on Nicole’s forearm. She stared at the dumpster instead of the girl.

  Amy shuddered. “So cold.”

  Amy’s eyes snapped open, but didn’t focus on anything. Her voice was a mere whisper. “Don’t let him get me.”

  “I’m here. I’m with you.” Nicole laid her jacket across the girl’s damaged body. She deserved some humility in her time of need.

  Brody got to his feet and surveyed the alley. “Who did this to you, Amy?”

  “Don’t let him fool you.” Amy’s eyes turned toward Nicole. Her body curled in upon itself. A few labored breaths later, she was gone.

  Brody extracted Nicole from Amy’s body and pulled her up and against him. She turned to bury her face in his shoulder and clung to him. Her eyes shut and just for a heartbeat, she believed nothing could harm her in his embrace.

  His hand cupped the back of her head and held her against his chest. His heart drummed a steady, calm rhythm that soothed her frayed nerves.

  Hard soled shoes tapped to a stop at the open end of the alley. A figure stood beneath the light.

  Recognition flickered across Brody’s face. He almost looked annoyed by the intrusion.

  The newcomer moved with natural grace. Her dark hair was pinned back, and she wore no makeup. Her eyes carried a hard, wary expression. “I need both of you to step away from the body.”

  Nicole eased out of Brody’s arms and an immediate sense of vulnerability and remorse overwhelmed her. Brody didn’t seem to notice. He was too busy scowling at the woman walking toward them.

  “Keep your hands where I can see them.” It would be hard to mistake the contempt in her voice. She swept the burgundy jacket away to rest her hand on the butt of a service revolver.

  She must be a detective. To make things clear, Nicole thought she should explain. “I found her in the dumpster.”

  Two uniformed policemen entered the alley behind the detective. Together, they blocked off the entrance with yellow tape then joined the woman. Their patrol cars sat on the street, lights flashing.

  Turning to the uniforms, she instructed them to make sure Brody made it down
town. “I’ll need to get his take on things.”

  Brody pulled keys out of his jeans pocket. “I’ll meet you there, Eva. Want me to bring Ms. Riley?”

  “No. She’ll ride with me.” The detective dropped to one knee and checked for Amy’s pulse.

  Nicole watched Brody lope away and wished she could go with him. One of the cops followed. She turned her attention back to the woman. “Who are you?”

  “I’m Detective Vasquez with the Special Crimes Unit.”

  “Special crimes?”

  Irritation oozed from the woman’s voice. “We deal with Lycan affairs.”

  Vasquez rocked back on her heels then pulled a cell phone from her pocket. Her blunt tipped finger jabbed at the buttons. “We’ve got a body at The Wolf’s Den. Pull around back, no sirens.”

  The detective maneuvered Nicole away from the dumpster. Her nails pinched her arm. “Why are you back here?”

  Nicole squeezed her eyes shut and struggled to control her breathing. The last thing she needed was another lungful of putrid air. Amy had been a living, breathing being up until a few moments ago. Now she was downgraded to evidence.

  “Who is she?” Vasquez’s sharp voice demanded. “Can you identify her?”

  Nicole stared at the detective’s sensible brown pumps instead of the dead girl. “Amy Dahl.”

  Vasquez’s fingers relaxed their grip, and her voice took on a more considerate tone. She withdrew a penlight from her jacket pocket and aimed it at what remained of the girl’s face.

  Nicole glanced at the body, but wished she hadn’t. The entire right side of Amy’s head was a nightmare. The flesh had been torn away to reveal all the muscles and inner workings.

  The detective pulled on a latex glove and squatted beside the body. She used her thumb and forefinger to move the dead girl’s lips. This action revealed sharp upper and lower canines.

  “Did you know she was Lycan?” Though the detective didn’t look directly at her, Nicole had the distinct feeling that she was gauging her reaction.

  “I just found out.”

  A strange expression twisted Vasquez’s face. “You never said what you were doing out here.”

  “I work here.” That didn’t quite come out right. “I mean, I work for Sean Stone. Not as a dancer, but as a promoter for both his clubs.”

  Vasquez regarded her with an unimpressed stare. “Why did you put your jacket over her?”

  “She was naked. She deserved some humility.”

  “You fucked up the evidence.”

  Before Nicole could answer, Vasquez stalked toward the remaining officer. “Take her downtown.”

  “Wait! Am I being arrested?” Holy shit, could tonight get any worse?

  “Not yet.” Vasquez waved to the CSI guys as they pushed past the lookie-loos who had gathered on the other side of the tape. “We just want to ask a few questions.”

  ****

  Nicole shut her eyes and tried to think of anything but Amy’s horrific image. Still, Amy emerging from the trash battered and broken replayed on an endless loop in her mind.

  She repositioned herself in the uncomfortable plastic chair. The officers had already taken her statement. They’d taken her fingerprints and what they could from beneath her fingernails too. They couldn’t think she had done this—that she was even capable of doing something of this nature. Could they?

  If she craned her neck, she could see Vasquez and a uniformed cop. Vasquez had her hand on the door like she might enter at any moment.

  Finally, the detective came inside, bringing a folder and notebook with her. She sat across from Nicole. “Who knew stripping could be so dangerous?”

  Nicole stared at the detective in disbelief. She had held Amy’s mutilated body in the final throes of death, and this woman was cracking jokes about it?

  Vasquez’s gaze wandered toward the two-way mirror at their left. A slight smirk warped her face. She looked over the contents of a manila folder and tapped a pen against the table. “How well did you know this girl?”

  She laid the open folder in the middle of the table. A crime scene photo lay on top.

  Nicole’s back was stiff and straight. She leveled a hard glare on the detective. “I didn’t. I’ve spoken to her a couple times regarding work.”

  Vasquez ignored the response. “We found your fingerprints in her apartment. What were you looking for?”

  “I was looking for her! She didn’t show up for work, and I needed to talk to her.”

  Vasquez pressed her lips together to form a thin colorless line. “Which one of you tore the apartment up?”

  “It was like that when I got there.” Nicole’s frustration grew with each moment that passed. Would she look guilty in the detective’s eyes if she demanded a lawyer?

  “Someone else gave her the drugs then?”

  “Are you even listening to me?”

  Vasquez ignored her outburst. “Do you know what kind she took?”

  Nicole gaped at the woman. “How should I know?”

  “We found a crushed hypodermic and a shoe print on the tile. What size shoe do you wear?”

  She narrowed her eyes. “I didn’t see it until after I stepped on it.”

  “What was she like when you spoke to her?” Vasquez was calm and clinical.

  “She was messed up.” Her shoulders drooped. “It looked like she tried to tear her skin off. She said something was inside her.”

  “That didn’t worry you? You weren’t concerned that you might get bitten? You know, with the outbreak and all?”

  “It did cross my mind. Then the other one attacked and I witnessed her change.”

  “Other one?”

  Nicole nodded and gripped the sides of the chair. The memory of teeth, flashing inches from her face forced a shudder to run the length of her spine. “A white wolf. He tried to get at us in the bathroom. I smacked him with a towel bar, and he backed off.”

  Vasquez raised a brow. “Thank goodness for that, eh?”

  “Amy shifted right there on the floor. She ran from the apartment, and he followed.”

  “And you didn’t touch her? Didn’t harm her in any way? Not even in self-defense?”

  She tried to think back to that night in the cramped room. “I can’t remember.”

  Vasquez pointed the ballpoint pen at the new scratches on Nicole’s forearm. “You might want to get that checked out.”

  Nicole stared at her dirty arm. With the detective’s reminder, the sting where Amy’s nails had gouged her intensified.

  Vasquez regarded her notes. “You said you went out the back door tonight to avoid the crowd? Was Brody with you?”

  “No. He showed up after I pulled her out of the dumpster.”

  “Let me get this straight. Something was scratching around in the dumpster, and you took a look?” There was an expectant look on the detective’s face. Did she expect Nicole’s story to change?

  “Yes. She was pleading for help. I couldn’t ignore that.”

  “According to you, she was hiding from someone?”

  Nicole nodded again, tired of the repetitive questions. “She said he was going to kill her.”

  “Who?”

  “I don’t know. A lot of what she said didn’t make sense.”

  Vasquez studied her over the folder. “Why wouldn’t she seek help inside if someone were chasing her? Hiding in the garbage doesn’t make sense. She needed medical attention.”

  “That door doesn’t open from the outside.” She was sure she’d stumbled across something terrible in that alley. Thank goodness Brody had shown up when he did. “Maybe whoever she ran from followed her, and she couldn’t get inside. She had no choice but to hide there.”

  Vasquez considered this. “When did Brody show up?”

  Nicole scrunched her eyes shut, trying to remember. So much had happened all at once. “I pulled Amy from the dumpster and he just kind of appeared.”

  “Which direction did he come from?”

  “I think he
might’ve climbed the fence.”

  “Did Amy seem afraid of him?”

  “I’m not sure she even knew he was there. He called her by name.”

  Vasquez looked at her notes. “Why didn’t you go back inside the building? Weren’t you afraid whoever did that to her might still be out there?”

  Nicole groaned and rolled her head on her shoulders. “Amy needed help. Was I supposed to let her die in that dumpster? Brody was there and I—”

  “You what?”

  Her cheeks flamed. “I felt safe.”

  “I see. What do you know about the drug BST?” Vasquez peered at her through narrowed eyes. The pen in her hand was poised over the notebook. “Its street name is Beast.”

  “Just what I’ve seen on TV or read in the paper.”

  Vasquez nodded, seemingly satisfied with that answer. “It drives normal people crazy while it’s in their system. Makes them believe they’re a wolf. It’s also supposed to enable Lycans to shift faster, with less difficulty or pain. Sometimes they have a bad trip. That’s why it’s illegal.”

  “Why? Because it enables Lycans to shift or because it messes with people’s heads?”

  The dark-eyed detective flipped the photo over.

  Nicole pointed at it. “Are you saying she did that to herself?”

  Vasquez took her time coming up with an answer. “The night you found her in the apartment, you said she was tearing her own skin. Tonight, she tells you someone else did it. I don’t know what to believe. If you or Brody didn’t do it—that only leaves her.”

  Nicole sighed. Didn’t the detective see the bite marks? They weren’t human. There was no way Amy could bite her own back.

  “We just got toxicology back on that hypodermic. It’s a new, faster form of Beast. Did you know she took it?”

  Nicole had fallen into a black hole of confusion. “But she should have shifted instead of becoming self-destructive.”

  Vasquez tapped the pen against the table. “Maybe it’s a bad batch. Like I told you, it doesn’t always work as intended. Do you know who she got it from?”

  “No, why would I?”

  “Did you give it to her, Ms. Riley?”

  She straightened in the chair. “No! Absolutely not.”