| |
RUBBING HIS EYES ONLY made them feel worse. The irritation in his eyes made the throbbing in his temples quicken. Boucher regretted his decision to tie one on and not end his evening with a promising new conquest until the wee hours of the morning. He consoled himself with the fact he’d had enough sense to call an Uber to get himself home, leaving his car locked and tucked away in the parking lot of the gated complex where his new lady friend resided.
Garcia’s smug grin wasn’t helping matters.
“Heat will be here in a minute. Has a witness for us.”
“Whatever,” Boucher grumbled, gently rubbing his temples and then pinching the bridge of his nose.
“You’re getting too old to be doing that,” Garcia pointed out.
“Am not.”
“Okay, you’re getting too old to be doing that and then getting up and coming to work early in the morning.”
Boucher considered the idea for a moment. “You might be right. No more mid-week sessions like last night might be a good policy for Mamma Boucher’s little boy to adopt.”
“Mamma Boucher? What happened to Missus Boucher?”
An evil stare from bloodshot eyes was all the response Garcia received, delighting him further. "I see how it is," Garcia said, shaking his head with a sad expression. "Tsk, tsk, to think a grown man, in his peak, sexual prime, wants his mamma to come and baby him.”
"Now look here," Boucher growled. Fighting words had been uttered, and Elijah Boucher had fought many a man over insults of a lesser nature.
“Really. You two are sad.”
Both detectives looked up to see Heat standing next to their desks. Next to him was a stunning young woman, dressed in a form-fitting green dress with a man's windbreaker draped over her shoulders. Boucher promptly leapt to his feet, smoothed his hair with a well-practiced motion, and flashed his bleached white teeth in a broad smile. Garcia, despite being happily married, did likewise. Both men extended their hands to the attractive blonde.
"You two are incorrigible," Heat commented. "That one is pretty safe," he informed the young woman, pointing at Garcia. "Detective Garcia here is married with kids, and his wife would skin him alive, slowly, if his eyes, let alone his hands wandered."
“This one,” Heat added, directing his finger at Boucher, “this one, you stay away from.”
"Heat," Boucher protested, "you've done me wrong!" His broad smile still on display, Boucher made a sweeping motion with his right hand and bowed, feigning humility. From his bent position, Boucher glanced up, still smiling, and spoke, "Detective Elijah Boucher, at your service. Heat and I go way back. We're both from Louisiana, in case you hadn't noticed from our accents." Boucher stood up straight, grinned at his partner, and whispered, "Harmless, Garcia, that's what Heat said about you, harmless."
Blondie giggled and moved a little closer to Heat. She liked flirting, and Boucher looked like he'd be fun. Cops and police precincts, on the other hand, made Blondie nervous, and she hadn't forgotten why she was there.
“Miss Blondie would like to make a statement about Wolf,” Heat informed the two detectives.
—-
“DID I DO OKAY?”
Blondie’s sudden comment broke Heat’s chain of thought. The pair hadn’t spoken a single word once they’d left the police precinct’s parking lot.
Exhausted and emotionally drained, Heat grunted a gruff “yes.”
Silence reigned again while Heat finished driving to the office building where his office was located. Two blocks off the I-10 Katy Freeway in the Energy Corridor, the older, white brick building was hidden by oak trees and strategically placed shrubs. Despite its age, the owners maintained the building well, and the turnover of tenants was low.
Parking his truck next to his Honda Pilot, Heat turned the engine off and glanced over at Blondie. A picture of misery, the pretty blonde’s makeup needed repair, her hair was a mess, and she looked exhausted.
“Let me see your arm,” Heat ordered. Blondie frowned and pulled his windbreaker around herself. Not in the mood to display patience or tact, the detective grabbed Blondie’s arm without warning. Using his left hand, Heat got a strong hold on Blondie’s left arm, preventing her from pulling away. With his right hand, Heat repeatedly squeezed the young woman’s arm, starting at the wrist and continuing up to her bicep.
“Owwwww,” Blondie shrieked, twisting so she could strike Heat with her free right hand and kick at him with both feet.
Releasing the agitated Blondie, Heat glared at her, frightening her into silence. Blondie seemed to physically shrink in front of Heat, her eyes wide in terror as her lips quivered. "Don't hurt me," she whispered, pleading with her entire body. "I'll do you, right here. Anything you want."
Disgusted, Heat unfastened his seatbelt and opened the door to his truck. He sat there, staring at Blondie. “Get over yourself. Not all men think that way all the time. Now get out, be quiet, and follow me.”
Terrified by Heat's sudden change in demeanor, Blondie did precisely as instructed. Taking her cue from Heat, she ignored the stares of the other workers entering the building. All it took from Heat was a single, pointed stare, and the others waited in silence for the next elevator.
Turning to the right after exiting the elevator, Blondie noted Heat walked past three office doors before opening the fourth and barging in.
“Amy?”
From the hallway visible from the small reception area, a woman's voice answered.
“Heat, no need to bellow. I’ve got the coffee started.”
Despite her suddenly developed fear of Heat, Blondie felt a twinge of jealousy as a beautiful, young Amerasian woman stepped into the reception area. The girl stood all of five feet and one or two inches and weighed perhaps a hundred pounds. Jet black shoulder-length hair fell down to the woman's shoulders, framing her symmetrically perfect face. Exotic brown eyes peered at Blondie, and just like the blonde, the woman Heat called Amy was taking stock of the competition.
Expressionless, the woman stared directly at Blondie, and without looking at Heat, the woman spoke. "New client, Heat?"
"No, Amy." Heat glanced at Blondie and, taking note of the expressions on both women's faces, chuckled out loud. "Put the claws away ladies, I'm not worth it."
—-
“I’M SORRY, HEAT,” AMY informed her boss.
“Just be mindful, okay. We need to keep Blondie in one piece and, well, you know the drill.”
"I do, but she's got to want to, or there's nothing either of us can do, Heat."
Heat wrapped his arms around Amy, hugging the young woman close in a paternal manner. From deep within his core, waves of emotion began to well up despite his best efforts to tamp them back down. Tears ran down his cheeks, falling on Amy’s face.
“I’m sorry,” Heat mumbled, releasing his grip. “No problem, Heat,” Amy mumbled back, hugging him still. “Wolf was my friend too. I’d be dead or worse if it weren’t for the two of you.”
Hugging Amy again, Heat rested his chin on the top of her head. “Talk to her. Help her see there’s a chance to get out of the life. You’ve come so far, Amy. Make Blondie see that she can do the same.”
“I’ll try,” Amy whispered. “But I can’t promise anything.”
Holding his receptionist at arms-length, Heat frowned. “I squeezed her left arm.”
It was Amy’s turn to frown. “I told you to quit doing that.”
"Yeah, well, she's still feeling the effects of the last beating he gave her. I could feel a ridge on her radius from a break that didn't heal properly. If nothing else, we're going to keep her from going back to the monster doing this to her."
Her face turned pale, and Amy looked away. Heat knew she was recalling memories of the nightmarish days Amy had spent as a sex slave, rented out to whoever was willing to pay the owner's fee.
“Just keep an eye on her for now, let her clean up and sleep.”
“I will,” Amy promised.
“Thanks for agreeing to take her to your place.”
Wiping her cheeks dry, Amy displayed a weak smile. “It’s your dime, Heat.”
