Soulburn - The Complete Edition (Frailty) Read online

  His agitation, coupled with the finger he pointed at her, proved Laura wrong. They stopped dancing, and she found herself reacting in her familiarly stern way. “Look, you can come willingly, or I can have you arrested. Or, have you forgotten you assaulted a police officer?”

  “What is this assault you speak of?”

  “You slamming me through a bed. And, how about you choking me out?”

  “Da. That.”

  “What are you smirking about?”

  “This was not assault.”

  “What?” Laura asked, exasperated. “You could have killed me!” Her tone escalated, and the disturbance had caused people around them to stop and take notice.

  “You had pleasure in it,” Roofy said.

  “What?” She could not believe how arrogant he was about the statement.

  “I could, how you say, “ Roofy leaned over and whispered in her ear flirtatiously as he finished, “smell it on you.”

  “We're finishing this conversation in private!” Shocked and appalled, Laura turned and walked with a purpose.

  Roofy followed. “Khorosho. We talk in room.”

  The two left the costumed party goers, abuzz with talk and speculation of what had happened, to their dancing.

  Near the stairs and bored, Constance sat on a plush, sofa-styled bench. A small table, with a drink on it, was positioned next to the seat. “Are we leaving?” she asked, perking up at Roofy’s approach.

  “We're going to the room,” Laura replied, not even glancing in the teen's direction as she followed the big Russian past the girl.

  Disgusted, Constance watched the two disappear up the stairs. “I guess I'll just hang out here, then.” She flopped back into the chair, her arms spread out to either side. “Great,” she said, deflated. This was the last time she would let the detective take him from her.

  38

  “Let's get one thing straight, you do not speak to me that way!” Detective Laura Stenks exclaimed, berating the Russian ex-wrestler as she slammed the hotel room door shut.

  “You know, you are bad actress.” Roofy made his way in to the middle of the living area.

  “That's it,” Laura said, flabbergasted by his cocky demeanor. “I'm taking you in. Turn around and put your hands on the couch.”

  Recalling the years of wrestling and training, Roofy grabbed the wrist of the detective's hand that was at the ready on her firearm, and twisted the arm behind her.

  For being such a large man, his speed had caught her off-guard. Laura winced as her arm was wrenched around and shoved way up her back. The big Russian's strength, coupled with the arm bar-like hold, forced her to bend over.

  Roofy grabbed her duty belt, ripped it off, the Velcro closure giving way to his power, and tossed it across the room. Still holding her in a prone position, he placed his booted foot against her butt and shoved.

  With a grunt, Laura planted face and shoulder first into the floor. Disheveled, she flipped over, leaned back on one hand, and wiped her mouth with the other, which was clenched in a fist.

  “Kukla, get up,” he smirked, motioning for her to bring it on. “Show me you want it.”

  He's toying with me and enjoying it, the detective had thought. Furious and humiliated, she came up from the floor swinging. “Son-of-a-bitch!”

  Roofy blocked the punch with ease, as well as the round house kick that she followed it up with. The big Russian caught the last punch in his hand. He followed that up with grabbing her by the shirt and yanking her up and off the ground. Holding her face to face, he flirted, “No good enough.”

  Laura gritted her teeth as she found herself being tossed backwards, landing with a jolt on her back and butt. She was in the big Russian's face long enough to have noticed a stream of blood that had started from his nose.

  “I said, show me you want it.” Roofy had found he enjoyed playing this game. Thinking back on it, he admitted to himself that he had also been turned on when he overpowered her in their first encounter. The line of thought was cut abruptly short by something catching the corner of his vision. He looked down to see blood dripping on to his shirt. “Chto?” he asked himself, panicking as he held up his hand and watched the drops pool in his palm. “Niet.”

  Despite the adrenaline pumping through her, Laura’s head stayed clear enough to have recognized that this was the second time she witnessed the big Russian having a nose bleed. At any other time, she may have been concerned, but now, Laura knew it had been an opportunity to go on the offensive against the distracted ex-wrestler.

  Roofy covered his eyes and forehead with his clean hand and struggled to maintain control. With dread, the darkness closed in on him. “Niet.” He groaned intensively, “Ostanovit!”

  “Hey!” Laura demanded.

  The loud voice broke through to the big Russian. Lowering his hand and straining against the sharp pain, he opened his eyes in time to catch a kick to his testicles. Spots spun in his vision and ears rang, as he crumbled to one knee clutching his groin.

  “How's this?” Laura asked, nailing him in the jaw with a punch. As his arms flailed out to the side, she retaliated with a second punch, before settling back into a fighting stance.

  He was not sure what had happened, but it appeared her attack had snapped him out of the episode. His head cleared and, other than the pain between his legs and knotted stomach, control returned.

  “That's it? I'm disappointed,” Laura jibed, but she found the words rang true. For all of her posturing, she had anticipated their next meeting and hoped the outcome would have been different. Wasn’t that why she had allowed herself to follow him to the room? Wasn’t it more about fantasy, not bringing him in? The line had become so blurred to her.

  Drying blood smeared under his nose, the giant ex-wrestler stood and towered over his prey. “Many thanks. Let us, how you say, try again.”

  Laura braced for the attack she knew, from the mischievous grin, was coming. It did little to help.

  Roofy clothes lined the detective, sending her fleet flying into the air as he connected.

  With a loud grunt, Laura landed on the floor hard. Disoriented, she could do nothing as he reached down for her.

  Pulling her forward by the hair and leaning over close to her face, Roofy stated, “Show me you want it.” He grabbed her by the shirt and lifted her to a standing position in front of him, holding her there.

  “Wait,” Laura pleaded weakly, pulling at his massive arm.

  The word went unheeded. Roofy scooped her up and body slammed her through the small coffee table that had been situated in front of the couch.

  The wood splintered, as the table caved in half and legs broke off.

  Laura, lying on her side and shoulder in the debris, cried out in pain. Trying to speak, the strength escaped her. She did not think begging him to stop would do any good at this point anyway, not that she really wanted him to.

  Roofy grabbed her by the collar and dragged her over to the bed. With little effort, he tossed her, face down so she hung over the end. The Russian lifted her skirt up and braced one hand against her lower back. With the other hand, he had slid her panties down her legs and off. “I know what you want,” he said confidently.

  As hard as she could, Laura shoved with her feet. She managed to knock Roofy back and rolled over to face him, using the bed to brace herself up. “Not done yet.” With the little surge she had left, she lunged forward to attack, wanting him to have to overpower her.

  Roofy had already recovered his balance and easily countered the assault. He scooped her back up into his arms. Dropping her body weight down, he delivered a back breaker, across his knee.

  She hung there, moaning, as pain intermingled with lust.

  He rolled her off into the floor at his feet.

  Disregarding the false pretenses of frustration, anger, and humiliation she had convinced herself were the reason she had allowed the situation to escalate in the first place, Laura accepted the act was over. She admitted that she had gi
ven up on apprehending him the second she saw him again. Getting him back to Richmond had become a far second objective. Desire had taken complete control. She wanted him to dominate her again. Laura grabbed his wrestling tights and pulled herself up just enough to be able to look at him. “I want it. Oh please, I've wanted it.”

  Roofy draped her over the end of the bed and, again, lifted up her skirt, exposing the naked skin underneath. Pulling his wrestling pants down, he took her firmly by the hips and slid up inside of her. As he pleasured her, he pinned one of her arms behind her back and wrapped the other large bicep around her neck and tightened.

  “Oh, God, yes,” Laura sighed, letting ecstasy, and the enclosing darkness, claim her.

  END – PART THREE

  PART FOUR – BENT & BROKEN

  39

  Something jolted Detective Stenks from her sleep. It would have been cause for irritation, except that whatever had woken her up had done her a favor. She had been stuck in the nightmare that had plagued her since the horrible incident the night she had watched the Amazing Woman television show as a teenager. At least this way, there was no screaming and drenching sweat. Unfortunately, her skirt and blouse had still suffered, having been left on during her snooze. I should have slept naked and taken the nightmare.

  Clearing her head, she found Roofy, distressed, standing in the hotel room doorway, still clothed in his blood stained wrestling attire. He said something, but she could not understand him through the thickly slurred Russian accent. “Whoa. Slow down and repeat yourself.”

  “The girl. She is missing.” he stated, taking a deep breath and speaking as slow as he could in his excited state.

  “Are you sure? Have you looked everywhere?” She jumped out of bed and looking for her things, which were scattered about the room. The pain in her back and side slowed her movements. Small price to pay for the rapture she had experienced at the big man's hands.

  “She is not in room. She is not down the stairs.”

  Laura tucked in her shirt and slipped on her heels. “Maybe you just didn't see her because of all of the people at the party,” she reasoned, hoping it would calm the big man down.

  “Party is finished.”

  “Whoa! How long was I asleep?” she asked, concerned, as she secured her duty belt.

  “For some hours.”

  Finished pulling her hair into a ponytail, Laura grabbed her purse and started for the hallway. “Shit! Let's get downstairs and question some people. Someone must have seen her.” Brushing past the big Russian, the fact that he was still wearing his wrestling tights jumped out at her glaringly. It certainly was not the way to go unnoticed out in public. “Put some regular clothes on over that.”

  Roofy retrieved some jeans from his travel bag and sat on the edge of the bed to put them on. “I already talk with people who are working here. No one has seen her.”

  Laura hung on to the door frame with one hand and kept the door pushed open. “Then we go to the local police. Get some help,” Laura said, walking away.

  Roofy followed her down the hallway, as they headed for the main stairs. “You are thinking it is this person that you spoke of?”

  Rounding a corner in a hurry, they started down the long flight of steps. “I hope not,” she said, more to convince herself than the Russian, because she knew it was a real possibility. “Dammit! How could I let this happen?”

  Crossing the lobby with a purpose, the two exited through the main hotel entrance.

  “Have you checked your car yet?”

  “Niet.” Roofy's long gait took him into the lead, and he headed straight for his car.

  Laura thought she was going to have to begin jogging as the big man zigzagged through the maze of vehicles.

  “Proklyative! She is not here!” Roofy exclaimed, stopping at the red Mustang.

  Laura, breathing heavier due to the quick pace, scanned around the packed parking lot. “Okay. We need to get to the nearest station. You drive.” She rounded the car from the trunk end, heading for the passenger door, but she stopped abruptly as something caught her eye. “Hold on! Don't touch anything!” She knelt to take a closer inspection of the back bumper. “What's this?” Dried blood was smeared on it, as if someone had some on their hand or clothing and came into contact with the car.

  She investigated further, following the line of sight, along the red fiberglass tail piece, towards the driver's side of the car first and then back to the passenger side. The detective noticed a small electronic device attached to the underside of the rear quarter panel, so she reached down and pulled it off. “What the hell?”

  “Police Officers! Don't move!”

  Laura whipped her head around in the direction the words, which she had used many times, came from.

  Two Las Vegas Police Department officers stood nearby, guns drawn and at the ready. “Stand up and put your hands on your head,” the lead officer ordered. His partner removed a set of standard issue handcuffs from a belt pouch. The first officer continued to bark out orders. “Alright big man, put those hands on the side of the car and relax.”

  Displaying her badge, Laura stood slowly, careful to conceal the item she found. “Look, I'm a detective from the Richmond P.D.” Acting like she was adjusting her purse, she deposited the electronic device into it. “I'm here on an official investigation.”

  The second officer cuffed Roofy, while the lead officer, still tentative, addressed Laura. “You know the drill. Gotta run this,” he said as he took her badge, which was in a leather holder that also contained her department ID.

  Receiving confirmation back through his two-way radio, he holstered his gun. “I have to say, this is quite a coincidence.”

  Laura took her badge and ID and dropped them in her purse. “What's going on?” she asked, playing dumb to get whatever information they may have received, without tipping her own hand.

  The first officer inspected the vehicle as he spoke. “Anonymous tip. We have word that this man was involved in a homicide.” He pointed at the dark, crimson stain on the bumper. “And having, what appears to be, blood on this car gives us probable cause.” He motioned to the other officer, who was holding Roofy by his cuffed hands. “Let's get this trunk opened.”

  The second officer retrieved the keys from Roofy's front pocket and tossed them to the first officer, who opened the trunk cautiously.

  “Holy shit!” The first officer grabbed his two-way from his shoulder, where it was attached by Velcro. “I'm going to need forensics down here at the Rio, asap!”

  “It is the girl?” Roofy asked frantically, lunging against his holder. “It is the girl?”

  “Keep him over there!” the first officer demanded, but it was all his partner could do to keep the giant Russian detained.

  “Roofy!” Laura, waving both arms, yelled at him, hoping she could get him to calm down before they used force. “No, it's not her.”

  It may have not been Constance, but someone had gone through a lot of trouble to make a convincing imitation. The young female had been dressed in the teen's costume, bound, and gagged. “That means he has Constance,” the detective said solemnly, and given the amount of blood caked in the once white outfit, she worried what the stranger had in mind for Roofy's young friend. Whoever had done this had watched them the whole time, knowing precisely when to strike.

  The first officer checked the girl's vitals. “She's dead. I'll get the pathologist and tape off the area. You take these two to the car,” he said to the second officer, before turning his attention back to Laura.

  “I don't know what's going on with you two, Detective, but we're going to find out.”

  40

  Detective Laura Stenks was greeted with a handshake outside the open door to the Las Vegas Police Department Captain's office by a tall, clean-shaven man with short, curly, and sandy blond hair.

  “Captain Kennedy Almas. No relation to the actor. Come in, Detective.”

  She followed him into his office, which was clutt
ered with various files, cabinets, and a disorganized bookcase. A shrink-wrapped portrait of the Las Vegas skyline hung on the wall behind his desk, which he made his way around.

  “Ma'am, you've got some explaining to do.”

  He was obviously an transplant to the area, given his heavy Texas twang. If that were the only quirk to his speech, Laura would not have minded. There was, however, a hesitated pace to his dialect, and she was sure it was a deliberate tactic he used when sizing people up. It was easy to understand where it would be unnerving.

  The Captain sat down, his wiry frame looking out of place in the large, leather chair. “I understand my men found you in the company of the suspect,” he said; his cowboy boot heels thumped against the wood as he propped his feet up on the desk.

  “Sir, I know what this looks like...”

  “What it looks like is that you were assisting a possible criminal,” Captain Almas interjected, rubbing his chin.

  “Captain...”

  Once again, he cut her off. “I've spoken to your Chief.” He leaned forward, cupped his hands, and rested them on the desk, like a school teacher addressing a student. “This man, Roofy Reiner, is also wanted for questioning regarding murders back in your neck of the woods.”

  The way he spoke had really begun to irritate her, and the constant interruptions were not helping. Placing her hands on her hips imposingly, Laura spoke more firmly, but it did no good. “Sir, I...”

  “And, you were sent here to take Mr. Reiner home, correct?” Captain Almas interceded again. “You see where I'm going with this, Detective?”

  Wanting to smack the self-righteous grin off his face, Laura breathed deeply and regained her composure, hands clasped behind her back at attention. “Sir, he didn't kill that girl. I think someone is after him, and this is an attempt to frame Mr. Reiner.”

  “And, how do you know that?” the Captain asked curiously, leaning back in his voluptuous seat.

  Laura felt uncomfortable. She knew it was a very slippery slope she had started down. “Well, sir, I was with him all night.”