Lup Teren (Wolf Land Series Book 1) Page 3

  “Sorry.” The cameraman crouched lower trying desperately to avoid tipping the garbage cans over again. “I guess stealth isn’t my forte.”

  “I guess not,” she agreed rolling her eyes, knowing the darkness hid her actions. Stan was a nice guy. He was always happy to lend a helping hand whenever the need arose and Raina was thankful he agreed to accompany her to sooth Janet’s unease. “Hey, I’m sorry for snapping at ya. I’m just irritated that our boss made you come here with me like I’m some toddler needing a hand-holding to cross the street or something.”

  “Don’t worry about it,” he snickered, peering out toward the platform leading to the ferries.

  The place was deserted. Not a soul in sight. Which made her extremely nervous.

  “Damn it.” A beep from her watch informed it was midnight. “Where the hell is Harry?”

  “Over there.” Stan pointed in the direction of the furthest vessel at the very end of the dock. Its dark body bobbing steadily on the choppy waves of the Hudson. “Is that him?”

  Straining to see in the surrounding darkness, Raina made out the New York Giants windbreaker that was her snitch’s trademark outerwear.

  “Good eye! I think that’s him. Be back in a flash. Don’t let him see you for Pete’s sake.” The man nodded and resumed a watchful stance. Taking a deep breath, she whispered, “Here goes nothing.”

  Before Stan could respond, she was jogging toward Harry, heart thumping loudly in her ears, pulse lodged in her throat.

  “Harry, you son-of-a-bitch. You’re right on time as usual…” Her words trailed off at the sight of a man who wasn’t Harry. The new bloke accompanied by a rather large Samoan-looking giant sporting a long, angry scar above his right eye and an even longer one beneath his left ear. She gulped loudly.

  “Miss Raina Jacobs?” the smaller man wearing Harry’s windbreaker asked, staring at her with an arrogant smirk.

  “Who are you?” She visibly tensed, backing-up a couple of steps. “Where’s Harry?”

  “Harry isn’t coming, love.” Another deep, male voice came from behind her making her jump. “He’s otherwise engaged.” The man’s Cockney drawl was harsher than hers.

  “Did you hurt him?”

  He shook his closely-cropped tuft of red hair. “I gave him a hundred quid and told him to bugger off. Said I’d take care of any dealings with you lot.”

  “Pardon? I’m here alone,” she blatantly lied, hoping he couldn’t see through her facade.

  “Stan, come out of the damn alleyway,” the man ordered. Stan did. The familiarity of his tone made the knot in her stomach suddenly triple in size.

  Staring at her companion, she asked, “What’s happening?”

  “Stan is my nephew, my sister’s kid. He helps me keep track of the goodie-goodies in this city. I had him infiltrate your newspaper when Harry told me you had a few solid leads on a story involving the dock workers and the union.”

  A betrayed snarl leapt from her throat at the man who only moments ago she believed a solid citizen. Turned out he was an overgrown rodent on two legs. Unbelievable!

  “Traitor,” she hissed making Stan smirk and making her want to smack his lips right off of his pale face. Instead, she stood her ground, hands balled into tight fists at her sides. “You’ve got me,” she said sweeping her surroundings, trying to find a quick escape route. “What are ya gonna do with me?”

  Stan’s uncle licked his lips. The indecent action made her skin crawl. The fevered look in his eyes didn’t help quell her anxiety either.

  “I haven’t been with a bird in a very long time, love.”

  “Sorry to hear that,” she said with mock empathy. “Good look’in bloke like you without a tender bit to cuddle…what a bloody shame.”

  All four men chuckled.

  “You could keep me company for a while. You’re a pucker piece of arse.”

  “I’m really not,” she stalled. “I’ve been told I’m an atrocious lay. I never know what to do with my hands or my mouth for that matter. One time, I swear to you…I almost bit a guy’s tender bits off.”

  As hoped for, all three men groaned and looked at each other, contemplating if it was worth even attempting. If she weren’t arse deep in shite, figuratively, she’d find the situation quite amusing. But since she was figuring her last hours on Earth would be spent pleasuring some old fart and his posse of degenerates, hari-kari suddenly seemed like a viable option.

  “No offense,” she said backing up again, “but I don’t want to be your lovey-dovey and if you let me walk away, I’ll squash the entire article. Never bring it up again. I swear.”

  “I don’t think so, poppet. My nephew’s told me how aggressive you are when you go after a story and I just can’t take a chance you’ll change your mind. No matter how cute you are.”

  “For heaven’s sake,” she whispered as her back hit the wall at the side of the old harbor-front warehouse.

  She had survived a wild animal attack, being hit by a lorry, suffered through countless surgeries and physical therapy only to be rubbed-off by a man who looked like Barney Fife and smelled of kippered herring. Her life seriously sucked arse.

  Looking around the ground near her feet, she spotted several discarded wooden crates. An idea quickly formed in her mind.

  “I’m just a helpless woman,” she distracted. “I don’t want any trouble. Let me go and I’ll forget all about this little misunderstanding.”

  “Stop staling, sweetheart.” Barney crooked his bony finger at her. “Come here.”

  Steeling her nerves, she lunged forward, jumped like she was Dwayne “The Rock” Johnson in a wrestling match, hitting the man square in the chest with both feet. The force of impact causing him to fall on his arse, swearing a blue streak as he fell. Quickly, she reached over, pulled a wooden slat off of one of the crates and swung out, hitting Stan square in the stomach.

  That was all that was needed for Samoan-guy aka Andre the Giant to run toward her, arms outstretched like he was Frankenstein’s monster. Raina crouched low, knees bent almost under her chin, then pushed upwards as the man squatted to grab her. The top of her head met his chin with a resounding crunch and he wobbled, lost balance and fell to his knees. Another hit with her trusty piece of wood to the face followed by a swift kick to his groin assured her he was down for the count.

  As she turned to flee, Stan grabbed her around the waist, squeezing the wind out of her, making her dizzy from lack of oxygen.

  “Let me go asshole,” she screamed, hoping someone would hear and come to her rescue. But it was midnight on the docks in New York City and that was wishful thinking. “Get your damn hands off of me you prick.”

  “Shut up!” Stan ordered, shaking her body like it was an old rag. “You couldn’t leave it alone. You’re too stubborn for your own good. Ya know that? I’ve been trying to sabotage you on this story for weeks now, but you’re like a fucking dog with a bone…you just don’t know when to let it go.” He squeezed tighter almost making her eyes bulge out of their sockets.

  The pressure of his tightening arms continued to increase. Suddenly, Raina felt weak, lungs unable to fill with much-needed air as she hung like a ragged doll from Stan’s steel-like embrace. In a surge of panic, she threw her head back as hard as she could, feeling it land somewhere on his face. Fortunately, he dropped her like a hot potato.

  “My nose! Shit! You broke my fucking nose.” Blood dripped down his fingers where he held the broken appendage.

  Using Stan’s current state to her advantage, Raina ran like she was on fire. Her legs ached by the time she ran into a couple of flatfoots on patrol a couple of blocks from the pier. Gasping for air, she huffed out what had taken place, relief filling her as the constables followed her back to where the men had accosted her.

  What they found could only be described as…gruesome.

  *****

  “Fuck!” The tall, sandy-haired officer spat the expletive, his lips smashed together. “Did you do this?” he asked,
reaching for the gun holster on his hip. Raina shook her head in disbelief. Her heart pounding in her chest like a gong.

  “I swear to you…they were fine when I left them,” she whispered, the sound too loud in the unnaturally quiet space. “They were incapacitated, but they were,” she swallowed hard, “alive.”

  All three stared at the splattering of blood and intestines clinging to the side of the warehouse walls…the concrete walkway…and the light post.

  “Where’s his head?” the dark-haired officer groaned under his breath, the look of mortification unable to miss.

  The other officer pointed toward the back of the alley where she hid earlier.

  “I think,” he gulped, “it’s back there.”

  All three looked toward the round object thrown haphazardly into the filthy space.

  The large Samoan was an asshole, but no one deserved to die like that. She felt the world spinning on its axis as the horrible reality hit home. The monster had come for her.

  “Hanson,” the older, dark-haired cop took control, “call back-up and give them a rundown on our situation.” He raked shaky fingers through straight locks before adding, “Let them know we need the coroner and someone to clean up the…” he gagged, “mess.”

  Feeling the bile rising in her esophagus, Raina looked around more carefully, willing her journalistic instincts to kick-in before asking, “Where’s the other body?”

  “Huh?” both officers responded together.

  She swallowed the lump in her throat before informing, “Four men attacked me.” Her upper lip began to perspire. “There are only three bodies here. Stan,” she said pointing to the first clump of mangled flesh and twisted bone. “Samoan guy,” she whimpered staring in the direction of the alley. Nodding toward the mangled corpse being held together by bright blue polyester she managed to stammer, “I t-think that’s the g-guy in the windbreaker, but Barney Fife isn’t here.”

  “Barney Fife…from The Andy Griffith Show?” the older cop asked, a look of confusion wrinkling his forehead.

  Raina shook her head in frustration. “The bloke looked a lot like Barney Fife…thin, goofy-looking, kinda awkward. He had a Cockney accent. I mean an English accent like me. He’s not here.” Dear Father! The rat had gotten away. “I’m not worried about him coming after me, but Barney was a right bastard.”

  “I can’t be certain how many bodies are here. He might be around here somewhere,” the younger man said staring at the putrid mess, his face turning a sickly green.

  And it was a mess. A sticky, smelly, gut-twisting…mess. The type of mess that made Antonio’s attack in the park seem like a tea party. Raina stood frozen. Flashbacks of the animal that made a meal of her best friend four years prior rushed back to her in streams of sickening techno-color. Against her will, her knees began to shake.

  “You okay, Miss?” Raina shook her head no. “Why don’t you go sit over there?” The blonde officer pointed to a bench a few feet away, closer to the pier. “Don’t worry. It’ll be okay.” She glared at him in horror.

  How was it ever going to be okay again?

  Chapter Three

  Raina turned the shower to full blast, the water scalding as she scrubbed her olive skin raw. Disturbing images battered her mind like a sledgehammer. She’d never get clean again. How much more of this could she take before her mind snapped?

  Over the sound of the spray, the bathroom door creaked making her jump. No. She’d closed it when she came for a shower. It was a habit. Pushing the thought out of her head, she resumed the task of getting the blood and stuff off. Another creak, much louder this time sounded making the hairs on her arms stand at attention.

  “Hello, pretty,” a muffled baritone came from the other side of the shower curtain causing her to stumble. Thankfully, the cold tiles of the shower wall braced her from a nasty fall. With sheer terror, her pulse began to thump, while her ears flooded with the sound of blood coursing through her veins. Not even the hot spray from the showerhead could warm her ice-cold body now. “I thought those coppers would never leave.” Barney Fife? Shite!

  “They’re right downstairs, mister,” she stated boldly, wishing she’d never told the officers she didn’t want or need protection.

  I can take care of myself, she had said, all Buffy the Vampire Slayer confident. For once, she wished she’d gone with her first instinct and let them station a guard outside her door. What an idiot!

  “Nah,” he chuckled, the sound like nails against a chalkboard. “I watched them go about an hour ago.”

  “They are coming back,” she stated more confidently trying to convince not only him, but herself as well.

  “You’re not a very good liar, love,” he educated, pulling back the shower curtain to reveal a feral smirk. “We’re alone.”

  Geez! How many different pet names could he think up to call her?

  “How did you get away?”

  The vein above his right eye twitched before he whispered, “Fuck’in shaggy, coppery-red dog came out of nowhere.” Barney gnawed the corner of his mouth nervously. “I’ve never seen anything move so fast and…and…ripped my guys to shreds. Malcolm almost got away, but it was too damn fast.” He paused, pushed up his sleeve and revealed a puffy red whelp marring his pale skin. “It scratched me. Bloody beast! It hurts like a mother,” he winced.

  “A dog did that?” Wrapping her arms around her bared breasts, she tried unsuccessfully to hinder his view of her naked, trembling body.

  Slowly, he nodded, staring at the white tiles beneath his sneakered feet. “Not just any dog. A fuck’in massive beast,” his words a whispered proclamation.

  “Why didn’t it kill you?” Curiosity got the better of her, as well as the need to stall him while she figured out a way out of the dangerous scene she was in. Being naked and alone in the bathroom with a man she was certain was a vicious derelict was never a good idea.

  “I ran you twit!” His eardrum-bursting yell almost shattering the glass on the medicine cabinet door.

  “This is embarrassing to say the least.” She clutched her chest tighter. “But we both know I am fully capable of kick’in the snot out of you. I’m naked at the moment and would rather you not get any ideas. So why don’t you turn around and go before I make you leave via ambulance.”

  “You’re right.” His villain-like chuckle made her even more jumpy. Contemplating her words, he finally admitted, “Hand-to-hand you’d probably put my bollocks in a sling. You’re strong and fast,” he complimented as he reached into his jacket and pulled out a handgun, “but you’re not faster than a bullet, sweetheart.”

  Pressing herself more firmly against the tile, she tried unsuccessfully to put more space between them. Uncertain of what he was going to do first, rape her then shoot her, or shoot her then rape her. Either way it sucked to be her right now.

  “Listen, we’re both reasonable people.” She gave a skittish smile then added, “I’m sure you don’t really want to kill me and I certainly don’t want to die. I’m willing to call it a night. If you go now, I won’t even call the coppers on ya. Deal?”

  Without so much as an arched eyebrow, he lunged forward, grabbed her by the hair, and yanking her out of the shower to the cold, hard floor. Her knees and shins immediately protested as they made contact with the unyielding tiles.

  All of his rage and animosity focused on her as he kicked her, hard…hard enough to make her cry out. Instinctively, she thought of curling into a fetal position, but she fought the urge and instead looked around for her discarded jeans.

  A breath of relief rushed past her lips as she spotted it. Her pepper spray. Nestled in the pocket of her jeans on the bathroom floor. She needed to get to it. Fast.

  But before she could reach it, Barney grabbed the back of her neck and pulled her back a few feet away from her target.

  “Bitch!” he snarled. “I lost my nephew today.” The furious man glared at her. “He wouldn’t have been in that situation if it weren’t for you,” he accu
sed landing another blow to her left hip. “Couldn’t leave well enough alone?” Another impact was felt on her exposed elbow. “Couldn’t drop the fuck’in story and find something else to write about in that piece of shite newspaper of yours. This is your fault. All your fault and I’m gonna make sure you get your comeuppance.”

  Running on pure instinct, she grabbed his ankle and pulled him closer, sinking her teeth into the exposed flesh. Blood…hot, sticky and disgusting filled her mouth causing her to gag.

  “Dirty stink’in bitch!” The vehemence in his tone terrified her, giving her the extra motivation to catapult herself onto her stomach with as much force as she could gather. The swift movement slid her closer to her jeans and pepper spray.

  Thank goodness!

  On hands and knees, she crawled to her jeans ignoring the man who stood above her leering at her naked arse. Quickly, she grabbed the garment, shoving her hand into the pocket, pulling out the thing she’d come to view with reverence. At that moment, the damn pepper spray canister seemed like the cavalry.

  “What the hell is this?” Barney smirked, tearing the canister out of her fingers.

  The sound of snapping bones and undeniable pain lancing through two of her five digits told her he’d broken them. The blood-curdling scream that tore from her lungs sounded more like a howl than a scream. The animalistic sound startled Barney enough that she made it to her knees, grabbed the canister again and tried to press its nozzle.

  “Gimme that,” he snarled, tearing it out of her other hand and spraying it into her eyes. Laughter echoed between the walls of the small space as she screamed again, frantically rubbing her eyes. Tears of pain and anguish began rushing down her face.

  Before she could make another attempt to retrieve her spray, Barney grabbed her again, this time by the upper arm right below the shoulder. Just like Basher taught her, Raina hit him in the solar plexus as hard as she could. The force of the blow making him clutch the injured area. Through her panic, she heard the clank of metal hitting tile and scurried toward the sound.

  She may be dead soon, but she wasn’t going down without a fight.