Cheat (Karma Inc. Book 1) (8 page)

I
’d like
to go into detail on this particular scene. This was, of course, the crowning achievement of my budding Karma operative career. My first case had come to fruition. And quite well, if I had to say so myself. Even if I hadn’t gotten that orgasm. And this moment, this particular frame in time, would show if I had done my job correctly or had screwed up on an epic level.

This was going to be one of those moments Bishop looked back on throughout his life, and thought, is this what set my life in motion? Would it send him on the right or wrong path? That was up to him. The goal was the right path, but the thing about humans was they had free will. We could push them in the right direction, didn’t mean they were going to stay headed in that direction.

But, back to the scene.

There I was on the bar. My legs were propped up on the cooler, my dress jacked up to my neck. My bra cups were pulled down under my tits and they poked up all perky and pointed at the ceiling. They were good tits, even if they were a little too big. Brandon and his twelve-year-old boy big breasted mentality. I had gotten used to their larger size, but they were a bit much. I had to admit, though, large, perky tits, worked well for this situation.

Bishop was currently buried face first in my crotch. Both his hands were on the bar and he looked like he was dining in and enjoying every moment of it.

That was when the door opened.

Three people walked in, Bishop’s girlfriend Angela, his sister, Bev and the owner of the bar, Marshall. They had all been chatting outside for a few moments before entering and were still deep in conversation when they walked into the bar. Marshall was feeling guilty about having to come in here and fire Bishop, especially after seeing the pregnant girlfriend. But he was determined.

After getting the CCTV working, he had watched Bishop shove nearly three hundred dollars in his pocket tonight as Marshall watched from his phone. Three hundred dollars that should have gone in the register and an unknown amount of tip money that should have been split with me. This was cause for termination, something he hadn’t had to do in his five years of being a bar owner. It was making his palms sweat and his stomach churn. And now with the pregnant girlfriend, he was regretting his rash decision to throw Bishop out on his ass and pressing charges.

But not anymore. I read it all over his face when I looked in mock horror at the three of them. All three of them stopped and gaped at the scene playing out on the bar.

All their negative thoughts rushed through me as the strong emotions coalesced around them. It was freaky and something I had never experienced before. It sobered me quickly. The intense sexual excitement I had felt earlier was gone, replaced with determination to see this done.

Three people with very different thoughts stared at us. Bishop hadn’t even noticed and wasn’t complaining. His head was still between my legs as my thighs tried to close.

The sister thought it must be some mistake. This couldn’t be her brother. Cassidy the slut was getting it on with the bouncer, or someone that was vaguely Bishop sized and had his same color hair, or something like that, while her sainted brother Bishop was in the back stocking the beer. The girlfriend was morosely relieved. She had known this was happening and now she had proof. Now she could get mad. Now she could tell everyone he was a douchebag, that she was the victim. And maybe her parents would take her back in if they heard the story.

The bar owner’s thoughts were much darker than the women’s. He wanted to kill someone. And now he had to fire two bartenders. Two. He hadn’t fired anyone before and he had to fire two! Not to mention, hire two new bartenders under duress. It was hard enough finding quality bartenders, much less finding trustworthy ones who wouldn’t steal from you, or screw each other on the bar. And during Spring Break. He was about to give himself a stroke. He had to stop and press a hand to one of the support beams, panting, his anger was so intense. I had a moment of panic when his thoughts drifted to the .22 he had in the safe in his office. But it was a momentary black thought that blew away as quickly as it had come into his head.

This knowing what they were thinking was giving me the jitters. Brandon had told me I would have insight into what people were thinking when I was delivering the karma, but he didn’t tell me it would be this intense.

Bishop looked up from between my legs, his face was shiny. That was from me. A sudden burst of lust shot through me as I looked down at him. I was turned on again. I might be turned on more from the excitement of the scene, rather than from what Bishop was doing to me– even though he was very skilled. That didn’t bode that well for me being a good person. Probably why I had landed this job in the first place.

If I could have, I would have taken a picture of his face right then. It was a little bit stunned, a little bit turned on, a little bit scared, and a whole lot of freaked the hell out. Karma had a way of rocking your world.

“Bishop!” Bev screamed.

“Get off the bar, you slut!” the girlfriend hollered at me. I was shocked that her anger at Bishop was now being directed at me. Like I was the one who had wronged her. Don’t bother that your man was just diddling another girl, that he was the one who was supposed to care for you. I wasn’t the one who had knocked her up, who had said I loved her. I wasn’t the one who had broken a promise. But, okay, blame the girl.

I pulled down my dress and did a quick kick and lift to get my leg over Bishop’s head and my wet crotch out of his face. It still ached for attention, but I was done with that. It was time to make a hasty exit, my job was done. I began inching farther away from Bishop, but Angela’s hate was in full attack mode and her eyes were on me.

“I hate you, I hate you!” she screamed at me. She was moving toward me as I was trying to get out from behind the bar. At this rate, we would meet in the middle where the counter opened near the back of the bar. I didn’t want to have a show down with a pregnant girl, no matter how much negative energy was swirling around her.

Bev had begun to scream at her brother, her words intertwined with Angela’s as they vented their frustration and anger. My head was about to explode under their negative feelings, but at least someone was directing their anger where it should go–at Bishop.

“I can’t believe you would do this! You have a kid on the way! What is wrong with you?” his sister berated him. She talked with her hands and was flailing them around for emphasis.

“Both of you are fired!” Marshall had to get in his two cents. His words jolted both women out of their tirades. Quiet descended over the bar. You could hear a pin drop as everyone turned to face the bar owner.

I had the urge to run, far and fast. I wanted to get the hell out of here. I had caused this shit storm, but I did not want to be in the middle of it.

“Why are you guys looking at me like I’m the jerk? Fired. Yes, fired, both of you! My bar is not some motel room! And don’t even get me started on the other stuff. Empty your pockets, Bishop! I know you’ve been stealing from me,” he went on, shaking his finger at Bishop, who finally looked like he had gotten his wits back in place. He was inching around the bar like he wanted to run too.

“Hell no! I’m not emptying my pockets. Whatever is in there is mine. I know my rights, man.” When Marshall stepped forward, Bishop threw up his hands as if to put a stop to all of this.

“Screw this, I’m out of here.” Bishop made for the door.

“Oh no, you’re not. You’ve been stealing from me for God knows how long. If you don’t return the money, I’m calling the police,” the bar owner shot back. Bev had begun to cry and the girlfriend was still glaring at me. I felt sorry for Bev, who hadn’t done anything wrong. The girlfriend, not so much. Yeah, the guilt of putting her into this situation should make me feel sympathetic, but her reaction was making it hard. But, if she had to hate me and blame me to form a better connection with Bishop, the father of her child, so be it. I tried not to glare back.

“Who drove? Bev, did you drive? C’mon, get me out of here.” Bishop grabbed his sister’s arm and started to pull her toward the door. Bev wasn’t moving. She dug her heels in and stood there crying and shaking her head.

“I knew you were up to no good, Bishop, I knew it. How else could you be paying for my tuition? No, we’re staying. You’re going to face the music for this decision and I’m going to help you pay everything back,” she said with conviction. I really liked this woman.

“No way, I’ll go to jail!” Bishop yelled and he moved to leave. He was going to leave his sister and his girlfriend to clean up his mess. This was my cue to go.

My part here was over. I was fired. There was nothing I could do to make anything else different. I also had a feeling it was going to get uglier before it got better. I didn’t want to stick around and watch it break down. Even though I probably should. This was the scene I set in motion, but they didn’t know that. They couldn’t know that. If I played the bystander, I would only be getting in the way and causing more drama.

“Stop, Bishop! Don’t go,” Bev pleaded.

He didn’t glance back. He strode to the door, not caring that he was ruining his relationship with the only two people who really loved him. He probably thought he could sweet talk his way back into their life like he did with every other situation. As he neared the door and reached for the handle, it opened. He fell back startled as a man walked in like he owned the place. It didn’t deter Bishop though, he almost took the man out trying to get past him.

“Hold up, man, what the hell?” Drake said as Bishop tried to force his way past the big man. Bishop wasn’t stopping, and when Drake didn’t step out of his way Bishop tried to push him out of the way. I saw Drake’s eyes flick to mine, then to the crying Bev, then to the angry bar owner now on his phone with the police and finally to the seething pregnant girlfriend. He didn’t know what was happening but he knew that Bishop shouldn’t leave. With a flick of his wrist, he deflected Bishop’s shove and had the man turned around and in an arm lock. He pushed him back into the bar as he cried out in pain as Drake put a little too much pressure on his arm.

“This has nothing to do with you,” Bishop cried out as Drake forced him into a chair.

“Sit down and shut-up. I don’t know what is going on, but it looks like you might want to stick around.” His eyes found mine. “I need to talk to you. Are you involved in this shit?” He looked at me and I felt my body tense up. What did I tell him? I had a sudden foreboding. I didn’t want to stay here, but I didn’t want to go with Drake either.

“No,” I said as Bishop’s lovely girlfriend shot out, a very confident, “Yes.”

“She has nothing to do with this. Get out of my bar, don’t come back,” Marshall said and I nodded. He didn’t have to tell me twice. I grabbed my purse and hurried toward Drake, the lesser of two evils, it would seem. He led me toward the door by my elbow.

As I walked by Angela, she swung out and hit me with her purse. It was a clunky thing, full of the crap women like to carry around. It hurt. I tried to deflect as she moved toward me; I didn’t want to hit her. I didn’t want to even touch her, but she was set on getting even.

I did a quick move. I don’t even know what to call it. I remembered how to do it as if in a dream. A quick move with my hands, a slight rotation of my hips. I sidestepped Angela and had her arms together in a tight restraint.

“I am not the one you need to be mad at, Angela,” I hissed under my breath. “You are a beautiful girl, you deserve better. Don’t let that piece of shit turn you into some jealous lunatic.” I kept my voice low so no one else could hear me. “It wasn’t just me, it was almost every night. You deserve better,” I repeated and tried to will her to calm down. Her eyes filled with tears and I let go of her wrists as they spilled out.

“What does that say about you?” she whispered, looking over my shoulder at Bishop. “What does that say about me?” she sobbed.

“Nothing. What does it say about him, is what you should be asking yourself. I’m leaving.” I stepped away from her, skittish, but confident she was done with her tirade.

I found Drake’s eyes boring holes into me. I was jumping from one fire into another. There couldn’t be a good reason he was here. He was supposed to have been done with me.

“
W
hat was going
on in there?” he asked me the moment the door shut behind us.

“Bishop was stealing from the bar,” I said, leaving out a few details.

“That looked like more than stealing. Why did you get fired?”

“We were screwing around,” I shrugged. “The owners CCTV cameras are working properly.”

“Got caught with your pants down, Ms. Hail?” he said through tight lips.

“Dress up, if you want to be specific,” I laughed morosely, flipping the material of my dress and rolling my eyes at him. I didn’t need more bullshit. I only wanted to go home and decompress. “Did you need something,
Drake
?” I emphasized his first name.

“Get in the car, Ms. Hail. I’m assuming you didn’t drive here, since I wasn’t able to track down a vehicle registered under your name.”

“Are you looking into me even more now?” I fumed.

“Yes. Get in the car,” he repeated and motioned to a sleek black muscle car idling at the curb. The windows were tinted so dark you couldn’t see inside. That couldn’t be legal. He opened the door and huffed impatiently when I hesitated.

“Where are we going?” I asked, suddenly very unsure. I didn’t know this guy. I didn’t know what he intended. Could I die again?

“I need to show you something.”

“I don’t trust you,” I said defiantly.

“I don’t trust you, either, Ms. Hail. But, there is something I need to show you.”

“Does it have to do with Cassandra?” I asked.

“Yes,” he answered, but gave me nothing more. My curiosity battled with my nervousness. Curiosity won.

“Fine.” I slid into the car. It smelled brand new and was lit up like a space ship. Finding stuff sure paid off well for Drake. I didn’t know much about cars, but this screamed expensive. I didn’t even recognize the icon in the center of the steering wheel, which was saying something. “What kind of car is this?” I asked.

“A Veyron.”

Like I knew what that meant.

“Toyota?” I asked and he laughed darkly. It was the first time I had heard him laugh. It was dark and guttural like the rest of him. I trembled.

“Where are we going?” I asked again.

“I need to ask you a few questions first.” He leaned over and helped me buckle the complicated seat belt. Everywhere his fingers touched burned. I felt the lust from earlier raise its ugly head and I tried to think disgusting thoughts to keep in check.

Cock roaches. Wrinkly old men. It didn't work and I saw Drake’s nostrils flare as he buckled the final belt around me. He sat back with a muttered curse and threw the car into gear.

The car tore from the curb like a race horse right out of the gates. I was pushed back into the leather seat with a gasp. I gripped my knees nervously, my palms were sweating.

“I want to know one thing, Cassidy Hail. You are still maintaining that you have no idea what happened to your friend, the one you hired me to find? Cassandra Mercier?” The way he said it sounded forced, like a script.

“Are you recording this?”

“No. Tell me the truth. You hired me to find this girl, this Cassandra Mercier, and I knew the name, even though I had to search it on the internet to remember why I knew the name. You didn’t think to search the internet, Ms. Hail?” I should have been nervous he was driving so fast, but the speed matched the racing of my heart and the man was much more dangerous than the speed. The city flew by and Drake didn’t even bother to stop for a red light as we rounded a corner near downtown.

“I don’t have a computer,” I lied. I couldn’t tell him that I was restricted from doing it.

“Stop bullshitting me, Cassidy. You have a damn phone!” He slammed on the brakes, using my first name for the first time. I glanced out the window. I was in over my head. I shouldn’t have gotten in the car. He knew I was lying. There was no way out of this. Even to me, my story was flimsy. I could have searched my own name on my phone and gotten all I needed to know. I couldn’t tell him I was forbidden from doing this without revealing what I was. I was screwed because Drake wanted answers. Answers I couldn’t give.

We had pulled alongside the interstate. I didn’t know exactly where we were. Somewhere in the middle of the city. Buildings loomed to the right of me, the interstate to the left.

“I’m not bullshitting you, Drake,” I said trying to calm the quaver in my voice. He grabbed my chin and forced me to look away from him, up and out of the windshield. I tried to fight him, tried to wrench my face away from his big, strong hand. He was too strong. And when I caught sight of what he was trying show me, I gasped in shock, halting my struggle.

It was me.

A picture of me. Of what was once me. Cassandra Mercier.

My smiling face looked down on the interstate from thirty feet in the air on a billboard.

Fifty thousand dollars reward for information on the whereabouts of one Cassandra Mercier. There I was. I remembered taking that picture.

“Smile, Cassandra.” My mom waved her hand at me from across the table. It was my twenty-first birthday and the last thing I had wanted was a family party. A party full of my mom and her friends and my cousins who were all decades older than me. All I wanted to do was take off my uniform and leave. I had a party to go to. I had things to do.

But, I smiled. I smiled for her. Smiled for what could be between us.

The picture had come out good. Even huge and distorted on the billboard it looked good.

“It was all over the news a year ago, all anyone could talk about. Missing police officer. They keep upping the reward money…but nothing.”

“I didn’t know.” It was the truth. I hadn’t known. I hadn’t even guessed.

“Cassandra Mercier is dead. Murdered.”

“Wait, how do you know this? It says missing?” I gestured to the sign.

“They never found her body, but it was obvious she was killed. Your friend, or whatever she is to you, Ms. Hail, was killed and violently from what I discovered.”

I was murdered.

I stared up at my face in horror. Someone had killed me and from the way Drake was regarding me, he was pretty sure I was involved.

He put the car in reverse and began to pull back out onto the street.

“Where are we going now?” I asked in a whisper.

“To the police station.”