Except . . . why would his mother believe that Marcus would be targeted again? Instincts prickling to alertness, Scarlett left the question for later. ‘And then?’
‘The hit knocked me flat. On top of her.’ He touched his finger to his chest, then held the finger up for Scarlett’s inspection. It was dark red. The black fabric of his shirt had hidden the stain. ‘Hers. When I got my breath back, I pushed off her. Then I saw . . . I saw what he’d done. I tried to go after him, but by the time I got out of the alley, he was gone again. I circled the block, but everyone had scattered, including the shooter.’
‘So then you came back to meet me?’
A one-shouldered shrug. ‘To meet someone. Either you or the first responders.’
Who’d now arrived, a cruiser coming to a screeching halt at the far end of the alley.
Scarlett glanced at the cruiser, then looked back at Marcus’s face, needing the answer to one last question before the officers arrived. ‘You said you were going to leave once I got here, when she was still alive. Once she was dead, why did you come back? There was no need to continue first aid, and the shooter might have come back again. Might have realized you were still alive. Might have tried to shoot you again. Why did you come back?’
He looked down at the dead girl, his expression stark. ‘I couldn’t leave her alone in the dark.’
Cincinnati, Ohio
Tuesday 4 August, 2.52 A.M.
Chest heaving, he took a quick look over his shoulder, then slid into the passenger seat of the waiting car and slammed the door. ‘Drive.’ He leaned into the cold air coming out of the AC vent, took in huge lungfuls as he tried to slow his breathing. If he’d run that fast on the track last year, he’d have a roomful of trophies.
Frowning, Stephanie pulled away from the curb. ‘Where is she? And why are you so sweaty?’
They were moving at a damn crawl. ‘Just drive, for God’s sake.’ Gripping Stephanie’s knee, he shoved it down, sending the Mercedes lurching forward in a squeal of tires.
‘Fuck!’ Stephanie slammed on the brakes, taking them back to a crawl. ‘You want to get us arrested? Where is she?’
He focused on the side mirror, watching for flashing blue lights. I should have shot them both when I first saw them. Together. His gut still twisted with fury. ‘Back in the alley.’
‘So I was right,’ Stephanie said with contempt. ‘I knew something was up. The bitch was two-timing us. You shouldn’t have left her there all alone. God only knows what she’s doing with Styx. He’s butt-ugly but he’s got the best shit around. He’s probably got her on her back right now.’
She was on her back all right, he thought grimly. And it served her right. ‘Yeah. Probably.’
Putting on the left blinker, Stephanie shot him a wary glance. ‘I’d have thought you’d be more worried. Styx can’t be clean. I’m betting he has every disease in the book. If she’s doing him for free party Chex, he’s polluting our pool as we speak.’
‘We’ll just have to find another place to swim,’ he ground out through clenched teeth. He grabbed the wheel when Stephanie started to turn left. ‘Just where the hell do you think you’re going?’
Stephanie blinked. ‘Back to get her. We can’t just leave her here.’
‘I said drive, goddammit.’ He could hear the sirens now. ‘The cops are coming. Get us out of here.’
Stephanie hit the brakes so hard they both pitched forward. ‘The cops? What did you do?’
He met her frightened eyes with a cold, hard stare. ‘She’s dead. So if you don’t want to go to prison, you will drive like a bat outta goddamn hell.’
‘Dead?’ Stephanie’s mouth opened and closed like a fish. ‘You killed her? You killed Tala?’
‘I never said that.’ He had, but he was never admitting it to anyone. ‘But we’ll be blamed. So get us home or so help me God, you’ll end up just like her.’
Hands shaking, Stephanie obeyed, heading out of the city. ‘Why did you kill her?’
‘I didn’t say I did.’
‘So you found her there? Dead?’
‘Yeah,’ he lied tonelessly.
‘Did Styx kill her?’
‘It’s possible, I suppose.’
‘Oh my God. This is terrible. This is just . . . Oh God. Mom and Dad. They’ll know. I’m gonna be . . . Hell. They’re gonna know I took her out.’ Stephanie was breathing hard, nearly hyperventilating. ‘They’re gonna find out. They’re gonna kill me.’
‘They’re not going to kill you, because you are going to pull yourself together. Nobody’s going to find out anything.’
‘Because you say so?’ Stephanie cried. ‘Don’t be a fool. She’ll be on the news. They’ll report a body on the news. My parents watch the news.’
In her current hysterical state, Stephanie was a neon sign screaming GUILTY. Calm her down, he thought. Take a breath. Take the tension down.
‘So?’ he asked, his tone now level. Reassuring. Convincing, even. He shrugged carelessly. ‘She got out. How can they possibly know you took her unless you tell them? She was an addict. She wanted to score some blow. She crossed the wrong dealer and he blew her and her boyfriend away.’
Stephanie went still. ‘Her what?’
‘Her boyfriend. She was with someone, there in the alley.’
A shuddered-out breath. ‘Who?’
‘I don’t know. Some old guy.’
‘A cop?’
‘Don’t think so. Doesn’t matter now anyway. They’re both dead. Neither of them is going to say a word.’
‘But what . . . ?’ It was barely a whisper. ‘What if he was a cop? If she was talking to a cop . . . maybe she was telling him everything. Maybe the cop told his partner. Maybe she told them about my family. Maybe the cops will—’
‘Maybe you’d better concentrate on driving,’ he interrupted, his tone still calm. Still smoothly menacing. ‘We wouldn’t want to have an accident.’
‘No,’ Stephanie whispered, and she seemed almost dazed. ‘We wouldn’t want that.’
She was blowing it all out of proportion. It was more likely that Tala was turning tricks in that alley and the guy was a simple john. Or maybe even a pimp. Tala was far too scared to say a word to anyone. But just in case Stephanie was even a little right . . .
Even if the dead guy wasn’t a cop, if he’d told anyone about Tala there could be trouble. He needed to find out who the guy was, how the asshole had met Tala, and who he’d talked to about her.
Cincinnati, Ohio
Tuesday 4 August, 3.35 A.M.
Scarlett Bishop was watching him.
Under normal circumstances, Marcus O’Bannion might have welcomed the openly appreciative stare of a beautiful woman as he lounged, shirtless and sweaty. But these were not normal circumstances and Scarlett Bishop was no ordinary beautiful woman. She was a homicide detective.
Sitting in the back of an ambulance having his vitals taken by a paramedic was about as far from lounging as a man could get. And the detective’s stare was not appreciative. It was watchful. Worried. Wary.
Because Scarlett was smart. She should be a lot more than worried, he thought. She should be scared. Because I am. Not of the fact that the bullet could very well have ended him, but because, for just a moment, he wished it had.
I’m tired. Tired of the greed and the violence and the twisted perversion going on all around him. He was tired of seeing the hopelessness in the eyes of the victims. He was tired of being too late. Because even if he could save every victim, he couldn’t erase what had been done to them. Tonight he hadn’t even saved the victim.
Tala was on her way to the ER, where they’d pronounce her DOA. Because she’d reached out to him for help. I should have been paying attention. I should have kept her safe.