Red-Hot Ruby (7 page)

“Hey,” López said. “Feeling bad?”

“Yeah,” Carter answered. He ran his fingers through his hair and sighed.

“Wow, that bad?” López was surprised and not used to see Carter like that. “What’s she done to you?”

“Cuffed me to a fence,” Carter mumbled.

López couldn’t help laughing.

“Something funny?” Carter asked, obviously not in a cheerful mood.

“Well, you, a woman, handcuffs; I thought you liked that.”

“Only when
I
’m in control,” Carter growled.

López left him with his dark thoughts to serve other customers. Carter saw him look in his direction now and then, as if to keep an eye on him while working. Carter didn’t like that. He wasn’t a kid, and didn’t need to be told what to do.

“Hey, don’t look at me like that,” López said when he came back. “Are you angry with me too?”

“I don’t like the way you’re watching me,” Carter replied between clenched teeth.

“I’m not
watching
you, Reese.”

Carter didn’t say anything. He admitted to himself that he was perhaps being a bit mean. After all, López was his friend, and probably the only person who could help him trap Farrell.

“You didn’t tell me where she lives,” he said.

“You like her, huh?” López teased him.

“No, I hate her.”

“Then why do you want her so much?” he insisted.

“I don’t want
her
, I want my ruby,” Carter pointed out.

“Of course, you do.”

Carter suddenly caught a glimpse of someone he knew all too well. He turned his back to the man, quickly finished his drink, and got out of the pub as soon as he could.

Farrell found herself a seat in the crowded pub. She sat at the counter. She preferred the comfort of a table and chair, but they were all occupied. Farrell was humming to herself when López showed up. He gazed into her big dark eyes without saying anything.

“What?” Farrell asked.

“I’ve been told you handcuff people to fences. New hobby?” he said playfully.

Farrell laughed heartily. “He told you
that
? What else did he tell you?”

“You don’t wanna know,” López said.

Judging on López’s tone, Farrell could only guess. She chose to ignore it. “You should have seen the look on his face, though,” she said instead. “It was absolutely priceless.”

“Yeah, don’t tease him too much,” López warned her. “He doesn’t like that. And he does have temper issues sometimes.”

“Thank you, Rafa, but I can take care of myself,” Farrell assured him.

At the other end of the bar, Carter was spying on Farrell and López. The bartender could warn her all he wanted, it wouldn’t do any good. One thing Carter had noticed about Farrell was that she was the most stubborn and self-assured person he knew—that is, except for himself. She wouldn’t listen to a single word of López’s. All the better for Carter. The little girl would soon learn not to talk back.

Carter walked toward Farrell and grabbed a seat. He let his eyes linger on her sexy curves.

“You again?” she said.

“Yes. I don’t give up that easily,” he answered with a grin.

“How did you break free from the cuffs?”

“No handcuffs can resist me, little girl. I’ve had training,” he added with a suggestive look down her body.

“Don’t look at me like that,” she riposted. “I’m not a piece of meat.”

“Oh no, you’re much better.”

Farrell looked away in a despising manner. That was better than expected. In half a second, Carter discretely slipped the pill into Farrell’s glass. She didn’t see anything happen.

“What are you smiling at?” she asked.

“You’ll discover soon enough, little girl,” Carter said.

“Stop calling me that.”

“Yeah, well I can’t find anything better.”

“You could try my
name
,” Farrell said with a flash of anger in her eyes.

“I love it when you get angry,” Carter confessed. “It makes you even sexier. Yummy.” He gave her one more of his looks.

Farrell got up with the intention of making him regret his behavior, but she felt suddenly very dizzy. She first thought it was because of the alcohol, but she hadn’t drunk that much. Her world was now spinning around fast. She tried to walk. She lost balance and had to lean on Carter not to fall to the floor.

“Oops,” Carter said while catching her, “Losing balance, are we?”

“What… What did you do to me?” Farrell muttered.

“Nothing too bad, don’t worry.” Carter winked at her. A wink that meant, “Gotcha! You fell right into my trap.”

Farrell wanted to walk away from him, but after no more than a step, her knees failed her. Carter caught her just in time. He lifted her in his arms. People around them were making jokes about Farrell being drunk.

“Let me help you, little girl,” Carter whispered.

“I…” Farrell felt as if the whole pub was on a giant rocking chair. Despite herself, she clung to Carter’s shoulders. She had never felt so bad, so dizzy. She wanted to scream for help. But her voice failed her. Her wits failed her. Her eyes failed her. She lost consciousness.

Williams went back to see his informant, López. He hadn’t learned anything useful with his first visit, but he could tell that the bartender was hiding something. At the door, Williams had to step back because a couple was coming out of the pub. A familiar tall man was carrying a woman in his arms. She’d probably drunk too much. Williams might have been in a hurry, but he still recognized the man’s cold blue eyes.

“Carter?” he said.

Carter didn’t answer and kept walking. Williams lost sight of him for a second. He made his way past a few people standing by the door and went back to the street. He looked in every direction, but Carter was gone. Williams swore before entering the pub.

Forcing his way through the crowd, Williams finally reached the counter. He spotted the bartender and signaled him to approach. López looked surprised, and somewhat worried, to see him.

“Hello,” he said, “what can I get you?”

“Answers,” Williams commanded.

López laughed a light childish laugh. He was about to turn to another customer when Williams interrupted him by grasping his arm.

“I’m very serious,” he said with impressive composure. “Do you know where Reese Carter lives?”

“Reese Carter? Nope, doesn’t ring a bell,” López lied.

“Oh come on, do you really think I don’t remember last time.
And
I just saw him come out of here,” Williams added.

López seemed to hesitate. He knew every person in the pub, but it was difficult to say if he was actually close to them. Yet, Williams felt that Carter was important; López was covering up for him and he couldn’t hide his nervousness.

“Don’t lie to me, Rafa,” Williams warned him. “Carter is a dangerous person. I need to find him. And I know you can help me, so do.”

López was still pondering the matter.

“Obstruction to an investigation is a crime, you know,” Williams continued. “You could get in trouble.”

Finally, López gave up and wrote Carter’s address on a napkin. Williams thanked him. As soon as he was out of the bar, he called for back up. Looking up the address on his smart phone, he found out with delight that it was only a block away.

When Farrell woke up, she felt dizzy just as if she’d drunk all night. She blinked a few times to get her eyes used to the light. The place was completely unknown to her. There was a fridge and a cooker in front of her, and a TV and couch further on her left. The room was lighted by two simple lamps hanging from the ceiling. Farrell noticed a door on her right, which looked like the entrance to the flat, and another one behind her, probably leading to another room.

She tried to move, but soon found out that her wrists were solidly bound behind her back and to the chair. She breathed in and tried her best to calm down. Carter had drugged her, and this was no doubt his place, so she was expecting the worst. Perhaps it had been a bad idea to underestimate him after all.

Farrell kept looking around while considering her options. She saw her gun lying on the table in front of the couch. Which meant that, even if she was to break free from her bonds—which would already be a little miracle—she’d have to cross the room, get her gun, and only after that make it for the door. It wouldn’t be such a bad plan if she knew where Carter was, or if she could actually free herself. Because although she tried to move her hands, the bonds were so tight, she couldn’t do anything to even move just half an inch.

Suddenly, the door behind her opened, and Carter showed up topless and wet. Farrell cursed herself for thinking he was hot. What was that; Stockholm syndrome? No, she couldn’t allow it. He was the antithesis of everything she liked. Or at least, that’s what she told herself. While she was having this internal fight with her conscience, he just looked at her. He stood in the middle of the room and kept staring at her, to the point that she became (even more) uncomfortable.

“Are you ready to tell me where you hid the ruby?” he asked.

Farrell didn’t answer. She looked down at her feet.

“Oh I see you’re putting up the act of the strong heroine,” Carter said with irony.

“It’s not an act,” she replied firmly. “I’m stronger than you are.”

“Oh really?” Carter grinned. “Tell me why
you’re
the one tied up then?”

“Because you drugged me. That’s no proof of strength, it’s plain manipulation.”

Carter was obviously trying to find words to answer her, but nothing came out for a while. “Enough chit-chat, little girl,” he finally said.

“I already told you to stop calling me that,” Farrell interrupted.

“That’s what you are: a frail, weak, little girl, not knowing who she’s up against.”

“
Whom
,” she corrected. “And you don’t know me either.” Farrell let the silence hang for a little before making Carter’s self-confidence crumble. “Try this: stop considering me a woman, and start considering me a rival thief.”

Carter seemed to be thinking about the alternative. “You’re good, I’ll give you that.”

“Thank you,” she said with a smile.

Carter’s phone rang. “Your timing’s terrible,” he said to whomever was on the other end of the line. “What is it?” His eyes widened. “WHAT?” he yelled. “Okay. Right. Well, thanks for the info. See you later.”

He hung up and walked toward Farrell, grabbing a knife on the way. She held her breath, and moved agitatedly despite herself. She didn't care about hiding her fear at that point. Her time had come; he was gonna kill her tied to that chair. Except he didn't. He leaned on her and she felt the proximity of his bare chest. She could smell the perfume of his hair, still wet from the shower. She felt the knife on her wrist, but it didn't hurt. Instead, the bonds fell to the floor and her hands were free.

And yet, she didn't move. Neither did he. He was breathing down her neck. She couldn't help but feel attracted to this strong muscled body leaning on her. He caressed her arm with his fingertips, just like he'd done it before at the musical. She closed her eyes to savor the touch. She was getting wet.

Carter knelt in front of her, and slid his hands along her thighs and under her t-shirt. The feeling was a delight. She ran her fingers through his hair, slowly brought his lips to hers, and kissed him. It was a long, wet kiss. An exploration of lips and tongue, caressing, possessing, obsessing his mouth with passionate moves. She bit his bottom lip and heard him moan. His hands were all over her. She was wet with desire.

Farrell knocked off the chair and pushed him to the floor. Then she moved on top of him to feel his hard cock against her body. Even through the jeans, it was delicious. She took off her shirt and leaned on his chest. She bit his ear. He slapped her ass as a reply. She pulled back to look at him. Carter rode his tongue along his bottom lip with a very suggestive wink. She was about to undress further when they heard someone pounding on the door.

“NYPD…”

“Oh not now,” Carter whispered.

“… OPEN UP!”

“Is there another way out?” Farrell asked under her breath.

“Yeah, my bedroom window.”

They both got to their feet and quickly picked up their shirts. Farrell looked for her gun, but Carter was already slipping it into his right shoe. She’d have to find a way to get it back. But for now, she had more urgent preoccupations. They walked on tiptoe to the bedroom while Williams was still pounding on the door. Carter and Farrell heard the door crash open just before they got out through the window. Farrell was out first, but she waited for Carter.

“Waiting for me? Wow, I’m flattered,” he said.

“Actually, I just need directions. Where are we?”

“You know this place, been here often.” Carter took her hand and walked to the main street. As she was behind him, Farrell spotted his gun secured by his belt in the back of his trousers. When they arrived on the main road, she recognized the place at first sight. She pulled him to her, and embraced him.