Read Online In the Teeth of the Wind by Charlotte Boyett-Compo - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Charlotte Boyett-Compo
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the black man
heard because the bastard threw back his head and laughed.
"That's it, pretty boy," he heard the black man crooning. Conor relaxed his leg so his captor could find
a good vein. "Just like that. Here we go, now. Better hang on for the ride!"
The needle went in and the burning rush began.
"That's good shit, ain't it, baby boy?" The black man ran his rough hand over Conor's leg. "Pretty
soon, you'll do anything we say, huh?"
Conor blocked out the man's words and the hideous feel of the hand stroking him.
He thought of Rhianna; of her sweet face and laughing eyes. Of how much he loved her and how little
time he had had with her. Of how he wished he'd been able to take her in his arms, to his bed, and show
her what she meant to him. He longed to explain that the women he'd bedded had meant nothing to him.
He wanted her to know they had been a substitute for her because he'd respected her too much to ask
for such a sinful thing from her. He thought of all the little things she did that made her special. All the
wonderful things that set her apart from the women he'd known, that had made him love her in the first
place. The uncanny way she had of anticipating things he was going to say and do never failed to amaze
him. As his world began to shut down, he smiled. Rhianna's eyes followed him into the dark and, with her
there, he felt safe.
____________________
*Chapter Eleven*
Cortesio put his arm around Rhianna's shoulders. "What can I do, Marek?"
Rhianna didn't answer. She put the contents of Nolan's desk into a cardboard box, not even bothering
to look at what she was holding in her hands. She was afraid if she examined the Irishman's belongings
too carefully, she would break down and start crying all over again. A week of that had gotten her
nothing but a trip to the ER for the migraine from hell.
"We won't stop looking," Cortesio told her. "I promise you we won't."
"A little too late for that." Rhianna pushed his arm off her shoulder.
"Leave her be, Joey," said Triplett.
When Cortesio glanced around at him, Trip shook his head.
"He was my partner," Cortesio said to no one in particular.
"Is your partner." Rhianna slammed the desk drawer. "He's alive and that bitch knows where he is."
Fullick, Donne, and Corbettson looked at one another then resumed writing the reports on their desks.
"I'll find her," they heard Marek vow. "No matter how long it takes, I'll find her."
"You don't even know who she is," said Cortesio. "Or what she looks like."
"Someone does." Rhianna hefted the cardboard box, snarling at Cortesio when he made to take it
from her. "Just go back to your neat little world, Joey, and leave me the hell alone!"
The detectives watched her storm out of the squad room. No one spoke. What was there to say?
Nolan had simply vanished without a trace and during the month he had been missing, Rhianna Marek
had grieved.
"You think he's skipped?" Corbettson asked, looking around him.
"Yeah," Fullick replied, quietly. "I think so."
"Marek doesn't," said Donne.
"You know what they say about a woman scorned." Corbettson laughed, but no one joined him. He
hid his embarrassment behind a protracted cough.
"What if she's right?" Trip asked. "What if there was a woman and she had something to do with Irish's
disappearance?"
Donne looked up. "You guys remember that woman from the Witch's Brew?"
"Myra?" Fullick snorted.
"No," Donne said with disgust. "The one that bumped into him that night."
Fullick shook his head. He hadn't been out to the Brew since his old lady had read him the riot act.
"The blonde?" Cortesio asked. He nodded slowly. "Yeah, I remember her."
"You remember how she was lookin' at Irish?" asked Donne. "Man, she looked like she could gobble
him up where he stood."
"Worth a shot," said Cortesio. "Any of you remember her name?"
"Rogers," Rhianna said from the doorway. "Felicity Rogers."
Donne blinked. "How the hell did you remember that?"
Rhianna shrugged. "A
heard because the bastard threw back his head and laughed.
"That's it, pretty boy," he heard the black man crooning. Conor relaxed his leg so his captor could find
a good vein. "Just like that. Here we go, now. Better hang on for the ride!"
The needle went in and the burning rush began.
"That's good shit, ain't it, baby boy?" The black man ran his rough hand over Conor's leg. "Pretty
soon, you'll do anything we say, huh?"
Conor blocked out the man's words and the hideous feel of the hand stroking him.
He thought of Rhianna; of her sweet face and laughing eyes. Of how much he loved her and how little
time he had had with her. Of how he wished he'd been able to take her in his arms, to his bed, and show
her what she meant to him. He longed to explain that the women he'd bedded had meant nothing to him.
He wanted her to know they had been a substitute for her because he'd respected her too much to ask
for such a sinful thing from her. He thought of all the little things she did that made her special. All the
wonderful things that set her apart from the women he'd known, that had made him love her in the first
place. The uncanny way she had of anticipating things he was going to say and do never failed to amaze
him. As his world began to shut down, he smiled. Rhianna's eyes followed him into the dark and, with her
there, he felt safe.
____________________
*Chapter Eleven*
Cortesio put his arm around Rhianna's shoulders. "What can I do, Marek?"
Rhianna didn't answer. She put the contents of Nolan's desk into a cardboard box, not even bothering
to look at what she was holding in her hands. She was afraid if she examined the Irishman's belongings
too carefully, she would break down and start crying all over again. A week of that had gotten her
nothing but a trip to the ER for the migraine from hell.
"We won't stop looking," Cortesio told her. "I promise you we won't."
"A little too late for that." Rhianna pushed his arm off her shoulder.
"Leave her be, Joey," said Triplett.
When Cortesio glanced around at him, Trip shook his head.
"He was my partner," Cortesio said to no one in particular.
"Is your partner." Rhianna slammed the desk drawer. "He's alive and that bitch knows where he is."
Fullick, Donne, and Corbettson looked at one another then resumed writing the reports on their desks.
"I'll find her," they heard Marek vow. "No matter how long it takes, I'll find her."
"You don't even know who she is," said Cortesio. "Or what she looks like."
"Someone does." Rhianna hefted the cardboard box, snarling at Cortesio when he made to take it
from her. "Just go back to your neat little world, Joey, and leave me the hell alone!"
The detectives watched her storm out of the squad room. No one spoke. What was there to say?
Nolan had simply vanished without a trace and during the month he had been missing, Rhianna Marek
had grieved.
"You think he's skipped?" Corbettson asked, looking around him.
"Yeah," Fullick replied, quietly. "I think so."
"Marek doesn't," said Donne.
"You know what they say about a woman scorned." Corbettson laughed, but no one joined him. He
hid his embarrassment behind a protracted cough.
"What if she's right?" Trip asked. "What if there was a woman and she had something to do with Irish's
disappearance?"
Donne looked up. "You guys remember that woman from the Witch's Brew?"
"Myra?" Fullick snorted.
"No," Donne said with disgust. "The one that bumped into him that night."
Fullick shook his head. He hadn't been out to the Brew since his old lady had read him the riot act.
"The blonde?" Cortesio asked. He nodded slowly. "Yeah, I remember her."
"You remember how she was lookin' at Irish?" asked Donne. "Man, she looked like she could gobble
him up where he stood."
"Worth a shot," said Cortesio. "Any of you remember her name?"
"Rogers," Rhianna said from the doorway. "Felicity Rogers."
Donne blinked. "How the hell did you remember that?"
Rhianna shrugged. "A
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