Fractured Fear (The Devils of New York #1)

Chapter 23

CHAPTER 23

ZANE

I am done with today. Fuck these trafficking assholes. Fuck Cain. I can’t prove it’s him as of right now. I can’t even officially prove he exists. All I have on record are whispers of his name and Hank’s account of Cain’s tattoo.

How are we supposed to nail this guy when we can’t even get a description? Let alone someone who has seen him and lived to tell about it. Cain isn’t the fucking boogeyman. He can’t be who people dread will appear in their nightmares. Cain should be dreaming of us slicing his throat. He has to know we’re coming for him.

“Quite the day, partner.” Liam comments as we finish up paperwork.

“If you say so.” I’m being an ass, but Liam needs to get used to it. I need to get back to my touchstone. My Angel. She calms me in a way no one else has or does. Rio lights me on fire, but Spencer soothes the crawling beneath my skin, the buzzing in my ears.

When I get frustrated like this, very few things calm me.

One in particular, hunting those who shouldn’t be breathing anymore, watching their blood drain from their lifeless bodies. Unfortunately, that’s not an option right now. I have no leads, so I need to make my way back to her. Just a glimpse is enough.

For now at least.

My phone begins to buzz in my pocket. I answer as soon as I see Asher’s name on the screen. He’s kept us updated throughout the day, but his updates are one word answers. Rio asked for pictures, and Asher refused, said it’d make him feel like a creep. Too bad Rio and I are already there.

“What’s up, Ash?”

“Get here now.” I push to my feet and grab my keys. Heading toward the door I leave without saying goodbye to Liam. The ringing in my ears was already at an annoyance, now it’s out of control.

“What happened?”

“Just get here.” Ash ends the calls abruptly.

I wanted to ask more questions, asshole.

If there’s even a scratch on her, a single hair out of place, I will bathe the streets with blood. No one touches Spencer.

Speeding through the streets without a care isn’t smart, but I’ll do whatever it takes to get to her. She could tell me to jump and I really would answer with “how high?”

Rio says we’re obsessed, but obsessed doesn’t accurately describe how I feel. I’d consume her. I want her every thought, her every breath. They’re mine. She’s mine. I don’t care what I have to do to make her see it.

When I arrive, I double park and don’t give a shit. I normally don’t use the “I’m a cop” excuse, but now seems like the perfect time to use my privilege.

I take the stairs two at a time and don’t bother knocking. Asher is there at the front sitting on a stool with his Glock in hand.

“What the hell happened?” I scan the room and notice the box and a jumble of flowers on the counter. Spencer is on the couch staring out the window. She’s upright in the fetal position. The fear in her eyes makes me pause. I’m choking on the anxiety radiating from her. Her terror causes a fracture across my cold heart.

Ash gestures to the counter behind him. “It’s the flowers. I have to call it in.”

“What are you talking about?” The tension in my voice fills the space between us.

“When we came up here, there was a box in front of the door. After we got inside, she opened it and dropped the flowers. They’re purple hyacinths, Z.”

I know there’s a significance here, but I can’t remember why. Ash must read the confusion on my face because he answers my question before I can ask it.

“The killer I’ve been hunting. He leaves a purple hyacinth with the bodies.”

“Okay I see your concern, but like you said. Hyacinth . Singular. There’s a whole bouquet of them here. Serials don’t stray so far from their MO.”

“This guy is a preferential killer, and Spencer fits his victim profile. Brunette, low-risk, lives alone, mid twenties,” Ash whispers not wanting Spencer to overhear.

“You just described a good portion of the women in Manhattan,” I retort.

Ash crosses his arms and leans back in his seat. “I’m not wrong about this. My gut is screaming at me, she’s next on this fucker’s list.”

Ash is notorious for being stubborn. When he was still a beat cop he camped outside of a suspect's house even when he wasn’t on the clock to prove the guy was guilty. The guy was accused of raping eleven boys. He’d drug them on their walk home from school and bring them back to his house where he’d spend all night with them in his basement and then drop them off on a random curb the next day; the boys were all too drugged to remember much. Ash was right, he had the right guy. Trusting his gut is what moved him up the ranks so fast in law enforcement. He went from cop to detective to the FBI academy in the span of five years.

He’s been wrong only a few times, but Rio and I don’t like to remind him. I’m betting this is one of those times.

“Has she said anything?” I know I’m not going to change his mind so I might as well let it play out.

“She’s mumbled some things here and there, but I can't make out what she’s saying.”

Right then Rio obnoxiously bursts in. “I brought pizza!”

I cut him a glare and approach Spencer cautiously. Ash fills Rio in, and I tune them out. My Angel deserves all of me—needs all of me—so she’ll get all of me.

“Spencer? Are you okay?” She doesn’t respond to my voice. Another fracture. I sweep my finger over her arm and she flinches away from me. That’s the last time I’ll allow that to happen. I’ll do anything to take away her pain.

“Spencer, look at me.” Her eyes grip me in a vice, and I can’t breathe. The trepidation pouring from her soul drowns me. She should never have to experience this kind of debilitating fear.

Not my Angel. Never her.

“You shouldn’t be here,” her voice is hollow. “None of you should be here. You have to go.”

“What are you talking about?” Rio asks from behind me. He and Ash join us on the couch.

Spencer jumps to her feet. “You can’t be here! He’s going to find you! He can’t find you!” She’s close to being lost in her hysteria.

“Of course we’re going to be here. We’ll be here for you every time.” My voice is gentle.

“You can’t make promises like that. You don’t know,” she whimpers and tears begin to roll down her soft cheeks.

Unable to bear anymore of her pain, I clasp her hands in mine, willing her agony to flow into me. “I promise you, Angel. I swear it. We will always be here for you, and we will always come for you.”

Her face is ashen as she whispers, “I can’t let him find you.”

“Who?” Rio urges.

“My fiancé.”

Her what ?