There'd be a period of time that I’d be inhouse, doing paperwork, maybe talking to IAD. I might even have to talk to them about my Dad's case. That was fine. It wasn't like IAD didn't know who I was.
But most of the department didn't know how deep I was. Not when I was working. Only Samuels and whoever he answered to.
So he was the one I needed to talk to.
"Knox?"
"Yeah?" It came out kind of a question, not because I didn't know who I was. Because I didn't know who he was. He wasn't Samuels. A second later I had it. "Charlie?" Tad Charles, big, buff, black and beastly, everyone said. I thought he was a pussycat but maybe only because he actually liked me.
"Damn, girl, you've picked a bad time to resurface. You wanna stay low."
My heart started thudding hard in my chest. Charlie was talking low, trying not to draw attention, though honestly in the PD that probably drew it more than anything else.
"What's going on?" My voice came out harsh and demanding. I was standing on a corner in Portland, not wanting to look too closely at the impulse that had led me to call in while I was still three hours away.
"Clusterfuck," he said. "This one came home. Loot's still in charge, but there's been some rearranging the furniture."
I considered pulling the phone away from my ear. Instead I sighed. "You want to tell me this in English?"
"Not so much," he said, but his voice cleared, and he stopped the hoarse whispering. He must have been alone. "Samuels is out."
That actually made me stagger back a step, my back catching against the wall of one of those bus shelter things. "What? Why? How?"
"Maybe 'cause he's dirty?" Charlie said. "Maybe because he didn't bring you in but hung you out. Don't worry, Annix." That was Charlie's weird nickname for me. "Admin can figure out why you needed the time but they're not saying anything and that means you're still true blue. You're not the first that got her dick wet."
I laughed aloud at that. "And that translates to?"
I could hear the smile in his voice fade. "You okay? I'm not gonna say why I'm asking. I think you know."
I swallowed hard several times and looked out at the Portland day. "I know. They know?"
"They suspect, and that's different. Nobody's bringing anything to your door. Not about that. You've done a lot of good. You come back healthy, they'll let it slide. But Samuels – you worked with him. So give it some time."
That was all he was going to say about it. Honestly? That's probably all I needed to know. Fucking Samuels had fucking sold me to that maniac St. Martin. I couldn't be sorry he was gone, just frustrated I was hung out here until the month ended. With the rising anxiety and everything going on in my life, a month felt like a threat.
It felt dangerous.
4
Cole
The girl on the bed was close to bleeding. The ladder on her ass, up her hip, down along her thighs, was bright red and already trying to bruise. There were flecks of blood along the edges. I'd have to discard the cane afterwards. Maybe force her to take it with her.
She'd like that.
Her name was Marilyn. She was tall and strong and took care of her body. Every bit of her was toned and sleek, hairless and shiny. Whatever it was she was atoning for, she'd been coming to me since we met in a bar three months ago. There'd been a break when Annie was first in residence and I needed to concentrate on her, but now Marilyn was back. Back and screaming against the gag, lunging against the restraints that held her up on her knees, on the bed, her arms tugged back behind her. It wasn't an ideal position for caning but I'm damned good at it and it had the added benefit of being horribly uncomfortable for Marilyn.
I was striking where I meant to hit. Laddering her. Leaving stripes so close together there'd be no safe place for her to sit tomorrow.
Three last strikes, so close together she didn't even have time to catch her breath. She screamed hard against the gag, thrashing in the restraints, and I moved up behind her, rolled on the condom and took her from behind. My hands went round and pinched, punched and slapped her breasts, making them bounce against her thin frame. There was nothing of kindness in anything I did and nothing but acceptance from her.
The image of Annie, angry, fighting, filled my mind. I thrust it away. There'd been no contact like this between us. I had never had the pleasure of caning her but I would when I brought her back.
Her freedom was temporary and she was a fool if she didn't know that already. There was no way Annie Knox was ready to face the world beyond my compound. She was wounded. She'd been too long undercover and now she was as much a victim as the real victims of the gangs. There had been so much stress on her, she'd caved. I thought she was stronger than she thought. I thought if it hadn't been for either of the things happening to her father, or Jesse being killed, or the Chinese turning on the buy, or any one of half a dozen other stressors, she might not have broken.
Using fet, a career cop using, that was breaking.
My actions were not noble. I was not putting her back together out of the goodness of my heart. That idiot Samuels selling her to me sealed the deal on his getting fired. I couldn't risk him being around to report what I did on a regular basis, and definitely not what I had done this time.
Buying a cop with bribes is one thing. It's so common that sometimes there's a bidding war. But buying a cop as property? That would be a problem. I was safe enough in that, with records of what I did poised to go out to every media outlet possible if anything should happen to me, the evidence led right back to the police. But even billionaires can be brought down.
Thrusting hard into Marilyn, I made her beg through the gag for me. I pounded into her and I fought to keep Annie's face out of my thoughts. Her face, her slim hips, her curls. Her eyes, so expressive. She wanted something. Something she'd die to find. Something she might die if she didn't find.
How soon could I bring her back? I knew where she was. I knew what she was facing. Samuels hadn't been the only cop I was paying in Seattle.
Annie would break soon. I'd be there when it happened. To pick up the pieces before I broke them again. And again. And again.
Until she was healed.
Or broken for all time.
Until she was mine.
Marilyn writhed under me and I came, pushing her down on the bed before she could do the same.
Then I turned and left her there. She could find her own way out.
I wanted to know where Annie was. I'd figure out then whether or not to bring her back.
5
Annie
When Mark and I were first together, long, lovely Sunday mornings at a pancake house, or stretched out on the couch reading the Sunday paper together over OJ and bacon, or tumbled back into bed, half making out, half sleeping, like puppies cuddling together – those were the things my fantasies revolved around. Actual mornings I then dreamed of for the rest of the week.
Then Mark graduated and went into his internships and residencies and I went undercover with the first wave of high school deaths from fentanyl. Things changed. Not all at once. But gradually. Mark was always gone, always on shift, and he was exhausted when he was home.