Comments to imagineer47@yahoo.com
Valerie strolled nonchalantly to her usual spot at the back end of the bar. As usual, the eyes of every patron followed her on her way to her barstool. Unusually, the eyes of the bartender followed her as well.
Val ordered the usual. "Bourbon." ID flashed. The highball popped against the bar; orange-brown liquid dashed into it expertly. All the while the bartender's eyes were glued to her chest.
Odd. The bartender had always played it cool with her before; today he was just another pair of hungry eyes.
As a matter of fact, now that she thought about it, she'd gotten more attention than usual all day. She'd managed three on-the-spot job interviews, each one lasting over a half-hour. She'd noticed most of the businessmen in the office complex courtyard at lunch were taking long looks at her, some even forgetting to be subtle about it.
She recrossed her legs and rearranged the hem of her pale blue sundress across her thighs. Her high-heeled sandal dangled languidly from her toes. She straightened up, feeling the thin rayon fabric shift over her braless breasts. All this attention because she'd decided to wear something a little more relaxed and feminine today. Funny what men would do when they weren't afraid of you.
Though considering how she'd had her way with TJ, maybe they should be. Valerie shuddered, at once frightened and repulsed and... turned on at the thought of what had happened.
The bartender was still standing in front of her. Her eyes met his as he looked up from the narrow vee of exposed flesh between the halves of her dress; she'd neglected to button it all the way up this morning. "Thanks," she said. Suddenly embarassed, the bartender retreated and busied himself picking up empties and wiping down the booths on the other side of the room. He was kind of cute. Actually, he was very cute. And tall. Val noticed that he kept stealing glances back at her. Just as she kept stealing glances at his tight little butt when he turned back to his work...
Odd. If he didn't usually act this way, neither did she.
The TV news was on, but nobody was really watching. The half-dozen men in the bar all took turns ogling the lithe young woman in the corner. Valerie pretended not to notice. The room was darkly lit except for the corner where she sat; a mis-aimed tracklight intended for behind the bar bathed her in a warm glow. Had it always been like that? She felt like she was on stage. And she enjoyed the feeling. She shifted on her stool as she recrossed her legs, letting the hem of her thin dress "accidentally" ride up her thighs. The room seemed to get a little quieter when she moved.
Valerie idly flicked her fake ID back and forth against the bar. She liked to flaunt her fake ID, which added four to her nineteen years. Made almost two years earlier by a real pro with a credibly-bad photo and blanks stolen from the DMV, it dismissed raised eyebrows in a heartbeat. It was the only really expensive thing Valerie owned... until the sapphires.
The sapphires. Valerie regarded the belt made of old lockets linked together on a chain, where her three blue orbs had been since she'd "played" with TJ a couple of nights earlier. None of the boys had been back to her apartment since. And she hadn't taken off the belt since, except to take showers.
The sapphires. By all rights she should be rich right now, enjoying a much better drink in a much better bar. But she was determined not to be stupid about it. Fencing them as ordinary sapphires was just pissing away their profit potential. Besides, they'd saved her life twice, sort of. They were unique, powerful, amazing. Things just seemed... better when she had them with her.
You're not getting attached to them, are you girl? she asked herself.
No... but until she came up with a way to safely connect with the girl and arrange for a profitable exchange, it wouldn't hurt to keep them close.
In the mean time, she was still broke and couldn't find work. Maybe she could find some way to use the sapphires. Her index finger idly traced circles around one of the lockets on her belt. She was tired of the kind of bumbling high-risk low-yield muggings and con jobs TJ and Spence were always cooking up; she couldn't wait to be rid of them...
The TV caught Valerie's attention. "One man is dead and another fighting for his life this evening in a bizarre event at Nixon International Airport. Timothy James, a 22-year-old Maplewood resident, suddenly collapsed outside the terminal just over two hours ago. Paramedics pronounced him dead at the scene. Just a few feet away, another unidentified man also collapsed and is reported in stable condition at County General Medical Center. Investigators have as yet been unable to determine the cause, but airport officials report no signs of any threat to travelers, and all terminals remain fully open at this hour."
All eyes followed Valerie, drinking in every last second of her curves as she hurried out of the bar.
Valerie didn't know what had happened to TJ and Spence, but someone was bound to show up looking for her, wanting to ask her questions -- or worse. She scurried about her apartment, stuffing various items into a large backpack.
Clothes. Just a couple days' worth. Shit, she should have done laundry yesterday, all she had clean was stuff she hadn't worn in a while. Her favorite pair of jeans, even if they were a little ripe. Deoderant. Her boots. Don't take too much or they'll notice stuff missing and know you'll be gone for a while. Wait, who cares? Just get out, figure the rest out later. To the kitchen.
Granola bars. Juice boxes. Hidden under the microwave, the sixty bucks she'd taken from TJ. Damn, TJ was dead now. Who killed him? Did *she* kill him? He'd looked pretty fucked up when she'd left him the other night, but he'd apparently been healthy enough to get out under his own power. Somehow, the sapphires? Maybe a delayed reaction? God, was it going to kill her too? Were they radioactive? She regarded her belt with worry, her hands lingering over the front clasp. Don't be silly, Valerie. You've had them for days and nothing bad has happened to you; TJ was only around them for fifteen minutes...
Val looked to the busted sheet rock on the wall next to the bedroom door, and to the corner where the tangled shelves and broken knickknacks still lay. "Looks like I'm not getting my deposit back." She replayed the struggle in her mind. "Damn, TJ would have really fucked me up if it weren't for the sapphires."
Come on, girl, just get moving. Lay low for a few days. You were gonna split this dump at the end of the month anyway. You can come back for the rest of your stuff then, when it's safe. In the mean time, maybe you can catch up with Nina...
Valerie found herself thinking warm thoughts about Nina. She hadn't seen Nina in almost a year, when she'd finally given up on the confused girl after being strung along for months. Valerie herself couldn't understand the difficulty -- either you liked girls or you didn't, and Val thought it was pretty clear from the way Nina's tongue worked that Nina fell into the "did" category. Did she ever...
Jesus, Val, get a hold of yourself! The cops or somebody could be here any minute, and you keep daydreaming about getting laid. You need to get out of here.
Val quickly looked out her bedroom window, up and down the street. No obvious police presence. Time to go.
The deadbolt snicked its retreat. The chain fell. The knob squeaked as it turned. The door creaked as it swung open...
"Hi! Can I come in?"
A man lunged forward, his hand instantly in Valerie's face. Instinctively she stepped back, arms coming up to protect herself from the surprise attacker, head pulled back and turning aside. The hand clamped down over her mouth; she smelled and tasted powdery rubber.
Valerie felt herself off-balance, driven backwards, her head shoved back and twisted by the hand over her mouth. She was being turned around, a hot rubber grip around her wrist, twisting her arm up behind her back. The door slammed shut. Painful force against her arm compelled her across the apartment. She screamed as she saw the broken sheet rock of the wall coming up on her fast...
The wall knocked the wind out of her; she felt herself being crushed against the wall, her twisted shoulder burning in pain.
Then she was pulled violently backwards, spun around by her arm. Something hard and sharp grabbed her free wrist and yanked it down; a metallic clicking greeted her ears in time with her pinned wrist being yanked down to meet its mate. She was spun and shoved, falling helplessly back-first, the whole room spinning until she crashed against against something cushioned.
It took but a moment for Valerie to regain her bearings. She was on her ass, her hands handcuffed behind her back, sunk deep into the busted couch, her knees awkwardly splayed. The narrow heels of her sandals didn't get much traction. As she struggled vainly to get up out of the couch she realized she was giving her attacker a good show. He raised an eyebrow and cocked his head in curious appreciation, then set off for the bedroom.
"Who the *fuck* do you think you are?" the adrenaline-charged girl yelled after him. She didn't like to be manhandled... though if she'd been honest with herself she'd have admitted her pounding heart and rapid breathing weren't entirely from fear or surprise...
The man crossed in front of her on his way to check the kitchen window and the peephole in the front door. He moved with practiced faux-military movements, like someone who watched too many action movies. Valerie could only sit and wait. Finally, he grabbed one of the two chairs at the kitchen table, spinning it around so the back was toward the stuck girl and plopped down onto it, arms folded over the backrest.
His gaze started by meeting her icy stare with a look of cool confidence, then gradually drifted downward, checking out her chest, partially exposed by the way the top of her dress fell open -- it certainly seemed more gauzy under the harsh light of the old halogen lamp than she remembered it being earlier in the day. His casual look continued down her body, looking unashamedly right up her skirt -- Val fought the urge to close her legs, figuring it would just give him more satisfaction at her modesty than if she just let him stare. His eyes traced a path down her long legs to smile at her feet in their high-heeled sandals. Well, she *was* dressed pretty hot...
His eyes darted back up to meet hers. His smug look conveyed... ownership.
It was then that Valerie recognized him. The hair was different, and so was the brown-nosed-a-bear goatee, but that look was unmistakable.
"Miguel, you fuck... lemme go!"
"Tsk-tsk-tsk. That's 'Detective Rubio' to you. At least until you've answered my questions. Then you can call me 'lover' like you used to."
"You wish," she spat.
Police Detective Miguel Rubio. She'd first met him at age 14, just two weeks after running away from home. She'd foolishly gone to the police to file a complaint against a pimp who'd been harassing her. Then-Officer Rubio was the cop who'd taken her statement. He'd been nice at first, but as soon as he found out she was an underage runaway he turned on her. "I should call Child Protective Services right now and get you on the next bus back to your mom and dad," he'd threatened. "But I've got an idea you might find more appealing. I'll let you walk out of here and pretend I never saw a Miss Valerie Strain, Age 14. But then you've gotta do something for me." He'd made her act as bait to bust a crimelord with a weakness for ripe young girls. He'd given her trashy clothes to wear, told her where to go and what to say, and before she knew it the lecherous criminal had her tied to a bed, buck naked. Miguel had promised a task force would be waiting to take the perp down before anything happened, but the bastard had been lying through his teeth. Miguel had left her alone with her captor for over two hours before finally "stumbling" in on them and making the bust. And then instead of letting her go as promised, he'd let Child Protective Services get their hooks into her; she'd endured days of humiliating "counseling" sessions from within a locked cell before being planted on a bus headed for home. She'd ditched the bus and hitched back into town of course, but she'd never forget how Miguel'd used her. The SOB had made detective as a result of that bust.
And ever since then, Miguel had made a point of tracking her down and harrassing her every few months, whenever he found himself in a particularly sadistic mood. He was always trying to get something on her, some leverage so he could use her again -- and he always had a certain gleam in his eye that told her he was as interested in using her for his personal pleasure as much as for career advancement. But after that first time Valerie made sure she stayed out of his neck of the woods and kept a low profile. Miguel hated that he couldn't quite snare her again.
Miguel Rubio was the principal motivating factor in Valerie's recent attempts to distance herself from TJ and Spence. And now, just when she'd thought she could finally get free of those two clowns, here was Detective Slimeball.
"I assume from your travel bag there that you've heard the news. Looking to get out of town until the heat cools off, sweetie?"
"I don't have to tell you shit."
"Fine. Let me tell you what I see." He paused to stare at her nearly-exposed breasts for a moment. "Besides someone who missed her calling as a first-class call girl." Was that supposed to be a compliment? "Your two acquaintences mysteriously collapse not long after seeing you."
"I haven't seen TJ in three days, and Spence in over a week."
"So you say. One of them is dead, the other in and out of conciousness. Docs say they've been poisoned."
Val paled; had the sapphires somehow done it? But if it was, how did it affect Spence? Was it contagious or radioactive or something?
Miguel noticed her reaction; so she did know something. "Spence told me some interesting things about you."
Val quickly recovered. If the cops did suspect her, they would have sent uniforms to arrest her, not a lone detective. "Spence is full of shit."
"He said you beat up TJ after slipping him a mickey."
A mickey? Val wondered. Did anybody really talk like that? "TJ attacked me three days ago; it was self-defense."
"There's plenty of evidence here to support that," Miguel gestured toward the shambles behind Val that had once been a living room. "Funny, you don't seem any worse for wear." He reached out and traced his index finger over Val's knee.
Val wasn't going to sit here and let this worm fondle her. She squirmed a bit, leaning over to get a better angle and dig herself out of the couch, but her movements only served to further dishevel her dress. A button popped off the bottom, growing the split almost to her crotch. Miguel's eyes followed the button as it bounced off the couch and onto the floor, rolling to a stop by his foot.
"I like the new look. Much better than the wannabe-biker-bitch costumes you've been sporting the last couple of years. You look much better as the helpless slut. Reminds me of when we first met."
Val snarled; Miguel smirked.
"Look, sweetcheeks, if you help me out I can make it easier on you. Tell me how you did it. Tell me who got you the poison. If you help me get them I can talk to the DA." He again reached out for her; she wiggled away, her dress riding up the backs of her thighs with her efforts. Miguel could see the folds of her sex clearly through the barely-there gusset of her panties. He licked his lips subconsciously.
Her revulsion made her bolder. "You don't have shit, do you? You have no idea what happened. Are you even assigned to the case, or did you just watch the news and remember seeing me with Spence and TJ on one of your illegal surveillance outings, and get a boner dreaming up ways to fuck with me on the way over? Do you even have a warrant? You better whip that shit out right now or you're looking at Breaking & Entering, Assault, and False Imprisonment. I'll make sure they bust your ass down to meter maid, you fucking slime-"
Slap!
The sound, more than the impact, stunned Val to momentary silence. Miguel stood over her, his arm raised, threatening another blow. His breathing was fast, his nostrils flaring, his face red. Val could see he tried to calm himself down. He studied her face, looking for signs of the mark; she could tell he was relieved.
"Is that all you've got?" she taunted. Her cheek stung; he must have really nailed her to feel it the way she did through the sapphires...
Miguel feinted another slap; Val didn't flinch. "Watch your mouth, bitch," Miguel said; his tone was ugly. "Who's to say TJ didn't get more licks in than he did?" He put his hands on his knees, leaning in until his face was inches from hers. "I *am* the motherfucker assigned to this case, and I *know* you're involved. Whatever happens here is your word against mine. Nobody's gonna believe your punk ass; after the beating you gave TJ I can even claim you attacked me out of nowhere when I stopped by just to ask you a few questions. So I expect you to give me a little FUCKING respect and cooperation, or-"
The front door burst open; Miguel jumped back in surprise. A man he didn't recognize was standing in the doorway, pointing something at him. Gun! Miguel reached into his jacket for his holstered Glock...
...and felt two pinpricks in his chest. An instant later his whole body seized up; he shook violently as he struggled to keep his feet. After two long seconds during which every nerve in his body fired in continuous distress, he collapsed, spasming uncontrollably before passing out.
Andrew tossed the spent tazer to the floor, the tiny wires dancing like a spider's legs. He watched the man on the floor for a moment to be sure he was incapacitated, then turned his gaze to the girl on the couch. Valerie Strain. The girl he'd been tracking for weeks. The girl who would lead him to Eric.
He could see why Eric liked her. Long-limbed, smooth skin, with big dark eyes. Barely-dressed in a pale blue summer dress and high-heeled sandals that were not in keeping with the attire he'd expect in this neighborhood, but certainly in keeping with Eric's taste for young and feminine.
Val took the opportunity to size up her defender. From her low position on the couch she couldn't judge his height, but he seemed to be of average build, in good physical condition. His cream-colored long-sleeved shirt looked expensively casual; his cargo pants fit well, no Old Navy specials to be sure; the boots had an authentic military-issue ruggedness to them -- Lugz they weren't. His light-brown hair was long on top, short on the sides, in a handsome-if-dated style. She guessed him to be thirty-one years old. The soft features of his face belied the hard-as-diamonds look that flashed from his green eyes.
Andrew noticed the girl checking him out. Sizing him up, no doubt. As he had her.
"You should really lock your door in this neighborhood." The stranger reached down and pulled Val up by the arm until she was standing on her own two feet.
"I was moving out anyway," Val responded as she turned around, looking over her shoulder at her handcuffed wrists.
The stranger dipped to his knees, searching the still-shaking Rubio for the handcuff key. "Come on, Valerie, we need to get you out of here," he said as he unlocked the cuffs.
"Who are you?"
"My name is Andrew. I'll tell you more when we're out of here. Grab your bag and let's go."
Valerie stepped to her backpack, picking it up without taking her eyes off the stranger. "Why should I go with you?"
"Because your boyfriend's gotten you into really deep shit, and I'm the only one who can get you out of it." He stepped toward the door, motioning her to follow.
Things were happening so fast... Valerie had trouble thinking. What was she doing before all this happened? She looked down at Miguel, still twitching occasionally. She looked up back to the ransacked living room. She was leaving. Because somebody was coming to get her? Who? She didn't know.
And here was this... *handsome* stranger who came out of nowhere to rescue her from that prick Miguel. Was he the one after her? But he said her boyfriend had gotten her into trouble...
What kind of trouble? What did Bobby have to do with all this? He'd always seemed so meek, except in bed. Maybe it was an act. He was gone a lot, and he'd been hanging out with TJ and Spence a lot less lately... now that she thought about it, she didn't really know anything at all about him...
Was this about the sapphires? It had to be... but this Andrew hunk didn't say anything about sapphires, just Bobby. If he was here to do something to her, why would he have taken off the handcuffs?
She was going to split anyway; why not split with him? He said only he could keep her safe...
And he *was* *cute*...
"Okay," she said with a shrug of her shoulders. Andrew noticed a button fall off the front of her dress; as she strode a little unsteadily toward him he got a glimpse of a narrow sliver of skin almost all the way to the waist. Hmm, no bra.
Her escort's arm reassuring around her shoulder, Valerie walked out of her apartment for the last time.
They were halfway across town before she thought to ask any questions.
"So what's Bobby into?"
"Eric. Bobby's just an alias. One of many." It occurred to Andrew that this Valerie could be playing him; after all, he knew she had the sapphires; indeed, she'd already started shopping them around.
"Okay, so what'd he do?"
"He took something that doesn't belong to him."
"He does that all the time. Wallets, watches, cellphones... unlike TJ and Spence, he's actually a pretty good pickpocket." Valerie felt all warm and tingly, like she was drunk. But she'd only had the one bourbon; even on an empty stomach, she usually held her liquor better than that. "So what'd he take that got him into so much trouble? And what makes you think he's after *me*?"
"I think you know."
"What do you mean?"
"The big fat sapphire you've been shopping around."
Val's heart sank. It was about the sapphires after all. But how was Bobby involved? And why didn't this guy just take them from her? He certainly had the chance. Heck, at this point he could almost talk her into it just by flashing those gorgeous green eyes at her. Val knew he could talk her into a few other things, anyway...
"Bobby didn't *give* me tho- that sapphire," she protested, changing "those" to "that" in midstream -- maybe he didn't know there was more than one. "I *earned* it." Only after she said it did she realize how that might sound.
Andrew stifled a grin. He wondered if she realized how that sounded. Of course, judging from her flirtatious behavior, maybe it was just like that. He looked over at her; he could just see her right nipple as that side of her dress billowed loosely forward. As a plan grew in his mind, something else grew in his pants...
"Okay, Valerie, look. Technically, I'm supposed to try to recover the sapphires. That's right, honey, there's more than one. But the sapphires are nothing compared to the damage Eric could do if he's not neutralized." Whoops, he was throwing jargon. "Eric is a spy. One of ours. Or at least he was before he disappeared. We think he's gone rogue." Jargon again. "If what he knows got to the wrong person, it could seriously jeopardize America's foreign relations, maybe even start a war." Stretching the truth a bit, but whatever worked... "So I need your help to catch him."
Valerie's hormones were raging out of control as the three sapphires, unfocused and nearly expended from a full day of exposure, rapidly decayed into full-feedback. But through the thickening sexual fog she recognized a familiar request. Miguel had asked for basically the same thing years ago. Only this time she had an advantage. The sapphires would protect her. The sapphires would empower her. In a way, it was an opportunity for revenge. He was letting her keep the sapphires, wasn't he?
She put on her best little-girl voice, which came easily in her aroused state. "S-so I get to keep the pretty blue diamond?" she asked, batting her eyelashes.
She was playing right into his hands. He'd seen better acting in a porno, yet somehow this PYT was more compelling than Jenna Jameson. Damn, Andrew, this girl is way over the top. She thinks she's got you wrapped around her little finger. He felt his cock twitch. He'd like to wrap her little fingers around something... Just don't let your hormones get in the way of the objective. Fuck that, hormones *were* the objective. He could work a girl when he needed to. Better than that bastard Eric. It would be especially sweet to turn his own little toy against him.
"If you promise to help me. Can you do that?" It was bullshit of course; he was under strict orders to recover the sapphires. But he was also expected to do so in a way that made it look like they were lost. Standard company procedure -- keep anything of value and sell it later through untraceable channels to supplement the operating budget. And this girl might be the easiest way to "lose" them.
"I don't know," Valerie cooed, "what if he finds out I've crossed him? I'm scared..." she leaned across the big car to rest her head on his shoulder, her long graceful arm across his chest, slender fingers tracing lines down his neck.
"Don't worry, I'll make sure you're safe. You need to be convincing, but the minute he shows up my team will be all over him." They were at his place; he turned off the engine. Andrew looked down over her body. The powder-blue sundress she wore was so thin it was practically transparent. And seated like she was, and fidgeting like she was, the hem had crept almost all the way up her thighs. He looked into her eyes, flashing a smile of tender reassurance. "Can you do that? Can you be convincing?"
It was a loaded question.
And Valerie was trigger-happy.
"I don't know, can I?," she giggled. Her hand slid down his chest to settle in his lap. She gave his dick a gentle squeeze.
Andrew fumbled with his seatbelt latch. "Come on up," he said, suddenly out of breath.
His nervous hands fought to hold the key still enough to shove it in the lock. Finally it was in! He turned the knob and hurried her inside.
Valerie staggered inside. These sandals are hard to walk in when I'm drunk, she thought. Suddenly a strong arm encircled her waist and pulled her down to the bed on top of him. She felt his hard shaft against her inner thigh, threatening to burn a hole through his pants. She slid down, sitting on his thighs, her legs tucked under her to either side of him. Her fingers frantically worked at his belt, zipper, tugged his pants and underwear down over his ass. He thrust his knees up, tossing her forward, sliding down his thighs to nestle her unshrouded clit up against his hot dick; she cried out at the touch.
She reached down between her legs to tug her panties to one side, but felt his hands run up under her parted skirt and rip the skimpy garment apart from behind. He tugged at the shredded pieces until there was nothing left between them.
Valerie took control, lifting herself up and guiding his thick cock between her parted lips as she slowly lowered herself back down... Andrew's hands found their way up to her breasts, twin cones of sensitive flesh. After a moment of satisfied stillness, Andrew's pelvis tilted upward, prompting Valerie into a slow, undulating motion.
"Nnnngh." The lithe young woman's rhythm was compelling, grinding away all rational thought, squeezing his rock-hard resolve. Andrew struggled not to let thinking slip away; he had to focus on the mission...
"So how do you get a hold of him?"
"Oh... fffuck! Yeah, that's it!... he calls me, or he drops by... sometimes I go see him..."
"Y-you know where-" how could he think when she did that thing with her hips? "Wh-where he's staying?"
Val was puzzled; why was Andrew surprised? And why didn't he just shut up and fuck her? Men... always *working*...
"Yeah, he's staying inn- ngh, ohhh! -in this guy's house while he's in Europe."
"Is that why you s-s-s-shit, yeah, baby! --s-stopped talking to him online?"
"Ohh- ohh- ohh- onn-line?" She was confused. Like with a computer? Bobby didn't know the first thing about computers. Even Val knew more than he did...
"Y-yeah, in ch-ch-chat! Chat! Chat!" His hip thrusts had become small, staccato stabs, struggling to keep pace with her frantic rocking.
"We've never done that. I don't even h-h-have a c-c-cum... pewter!"
She could tell he was getting close... he suddenly had that same pale look TJ had.
"Wh-wh-whu...huh?" He opened his eyes and looked down at her, as if seeing her for the first time.
Oh, ffucckh, it's not her... but... how? Who? The gemstones...?
Andrew noticed in the dim light of twilight, the space between them took on a bluish hue... the belt slung around her waist seemed to be glowing... he feebly fingered one of the lockets. Sapphires! One here... and another there... But... sapphires don't glow...
Just as she realized this was all some kind of bizarre mix-up, Val felt him slacken beneath her. "Oh no, lover, don't you give up on me!" She leaned forward, her sweaty tits sliding up and down his chest. His eyes rolled back; she was losing him... but she was already over the edge herself...
Val screamed as her whole body shuddered in orgasm; her pussy clamped down on Andrew's cock, her uncontrollable shaking rubbing the head against the roughness of her g-spot; it responded with a life all its own, erupting inside her and eliciting one last pelvic thrust as it seemed to drain all remaining will right out of the man.
After several minutes spent gently squeezing Andrew's softening member with her muscles and nuzzling her tender clit in his fuzz of pubic hair, Valerie pushed herself up off the weakened man's chest.
"Looks like Valerie Strain was too much for you, Andy baby... Hope you have better luck catching your man."
"No!" Andrew cried out, scaring himself awake. What a nightmare... oh, fuck. Andrew tried to get up off the floor, but his limbs failed him; he felt dizzy, nauseous, weak.
Fuck. He'd lost her. She'd slipped him something, somehow, and... "distracted" him long enough for it to take effect. And now she was gone.
He was fucked.
Andrew's arms and legs flailed in furious frustration.
"Fuck!"
Fang Manxie stepped into the apartment, slipping past the half-open door.
There on the floor lay a man. Mid-thirties, tanned skin, dark wiry hair, possibly Hispanic, perhaps South American. Not-quite-right goatee. He was mumbling something. A pair of wires were stuck to his chest; Max pulled them out quickly. The man was coming to.
Max bent down to help the man to the couch. He looked around the apartment; it looked like a fierce fight had taken place here.
"Where is Valerie?" he asked.
Miguel Rubio rubbed his chest. God damn it, those tazers *hurt*. He looked around. The girl was gone. He was sitting on the couch. Some Asian guy dressed all in black was standing over him. Tazer Guy? No, Tazer Guy was white.
"Where is Valerie?" Max repeated.
"I dunno. Some guy came and helped her escape," the man grumbled. He seemed stiff. Sore. He was clearly on the losing end of whatever had happened here.
"Who are you?" Rubio asked pointedly. "How do you know Valerie?"
Max felt the amulet vibrating. He put his hand in his pocket and gripped it tightly. He noticed the man stiffen when his hand slipped into the pocket. He probably suspected a weapon. Max put his hand reassurringly on the man's shoulder...
The image hit him suddenly, but wasn't as disorienting as before. This man had come in contact with Valerie very recently. He saw a long-limbed girl sitting rather ungracefully on a couch -- this couch. He felt anger, fear, excitement, arousal? The feelings were vague; perhaps they had not had much contact. Then one last flash -- another man. Green eyes. Wires. Burning. Then nothing. The amulet was still. "There is nothing worth remembering here," he intoned.
Rubio felt queasy; that tazer had taken a lot out of him. He looked up at the... wasn't there a man standing right there a second ago? How long had he been sitting here? Damn, now he was seeing things.
Rubio pulled out his cellphone. The display was all black. Damn. He got up unsteadily and reached for the phone on the kitchen counter.
"Dispatch. Rubio here. I checked out that lead on the James case. Nothin' worth rememberin' here. I'm headin' home now, I'll file first thing in the morning. Tox screen won't be ready until then anyway. Yeah. Bye."
Rubio pulled out an evidence bag and dropped the tazer in it. He didn't know who Val's accomplice was, but he was going to find out.
But first, he needed to get something to stop the pounding in his head...