“Jesus, fuck, Eden! Point that thing somewhere else,” Fields whisper-shouted at me, keeping hold of my arm until I pulled away. As soon as he saw the blood coating the blade, he peered around me, then started urgently questioning me. “Whose is that? Are you alone? Fuck, are you okay?!” He tried to reach for me, using the flashlight on his phone to see better, but I wasn’t quite ready to be touched. I quickly stepped back, wobbling when my heel caught a pit in the asphalt before catching my balance.
I could only stare as I tried to think of what to say. Even if I didn’t go to jail, there would be repercussions. Although that was already likely if Vinnie’s men really were dead. “Are you going to arrest me?” was what I finally blurted out, causing Fields’ brows to raise.
“Is there a reason I should?” he countered, then walked around me toward the still idling car, pulling his gun out as he went. “Who’s in the fucking car, Eden?” he snapped before shining his light inside.
“I-I don’t know. He didn’t tell me his name.”
“Was he forcing you? Are you hurt? Answer me, damnit, before anyone else shows up!” He kept his voice down, but the way he was scanning back and forth, from one end of the alley to other, led me to believe that he knew more than he was letting on.
“How did you find me?” My suspicion was blatant, and while he tore fabric from the man’s clothes and started wiping down the handles, I edged closer to the exit.
“I didn’t. I just got lucky. Please tell me if you’re hurt and anything you touched,” he pleaded as he shined his light onto the pavement. He let out a curse at whatever he saw. “Is this blood yours? Hey, wait, don’t take off! Seriously, Eden, I’m not fucking around.”
His warning didn’t mean shit to me. He’d been an ally in the past, but this was too coincidental. Not caring that my knees and scalp burned, or that I still held a murder weapon, albeit tucked close to my side, I raced down the sidewalk, hoping to find somewhere to hide until I could regroup. The street was thankfully empty because most people were in the bars or clubs if they were down here this late, so I only had to dodge around the occasional legs of a hobo or the drunks staggering to their next destination. The clack of my boots hitting the pavement was too loud in my ears, a dead giveaway to anyone following, but I was more worried about breaking one of the heels, and subsequently my neck, if I fell.
I made it two blocks before the shine of headlights made me dash between two buildings and cram myself behind a dumpster. With my hand over my mouth, I tried to calm my breathing, but it only picked up when I heard the rapid slap of footsteps go on past me. It was only a minute later that I heard a low “Fuck!” and watched Fields bend over to catch his breath with his hands on his knees. I couldn’t move, not without making noise, and I couldn’t do anything to shield myself from his field of vision when he inevitably turned around. There was no way I could outrun him. I might be in decent shape, but he didn’t have to avoid running into anyone else, which severely limited my ability to escape him.
The glow of headlights filtered in from the street, but they were taking forever to pass, and when Fields swore again, I realized they were going slow, too slow. I also realized I wasn’t the only one wanting to stay out of sight when the detective hauled ass back my way and slipped in beside me with a glare.
“You know, if you’d have just fucking helped while I cleaned up then come with me, we wouldn’t be hiding behind a goddamn dumpster.” He was irate, but his furious whisper lent credence to his complaint. We’re being hunted. Or at least I was. There was no other likely explanation. Before I could form a reply, the car sped up and flew past our hiding place; it looked much like the one the dead man had driven. “We need to go. They probably found Frank’s body. When they don’t find you, they’re going to bring in more men. Your little stunt tonight has Rodrigo determined to get his hands on you.”
“I’m not going anywhere until you tell me how you found me.” It wasn't a complete bluff; I was running the first chance I got, but not necessarily with him.
“I’ve been keeping an ear out since I got suspended, so I heard chatter that you were on the street and started cruising. This place is usually flush with hookers, yet they were cleared out tonight. Their pimps probably got word, and...it was an educated guess. I’m a fucking detective; finding people is part of my job. Or was. Can you just come with me? I’ll get you back to your precious mobsters. And you’d better keep your ass behind those gates until this shit is over.” Then he started muttering under his breath. “I cannot believe they actually had you come back, let alone dangled you as bait for that piece of shit.”
The need to defend the guys was immediate since they had been so very against my involvement at all. “Wasn’t their idea or their fault. They can’t move, and, well, I don’t one hundred percent trust your ass right now, so that’s all I have to say on the matter. Get me out of here and back to the estate, and I won’t shove this somewhere vital.” I flashed my bloody knife in warning, making his eyes widen.
“Are you insane? Get rid of that! Who the fuck packs around a murder weapon?!”
“I’ll ditch it later. Right now, it’s the only thing I have—” I stared at him aghast as he disarmed me before I could blink, even with the tight quarters. He stood and opened the lid to the dumpster, the pungent aroma of rotting trash not so bad in the cold night air, and fished out a ratty piece of what appeared to be an old shirt. After he wiped the knife down with it, he threw both items in and eased the lid down so it didn’t bang shut.
“That’ll have to do for now. I’ll give you a new one once we get to my car.” He eyed my stiletto boots with disdain. “Not sure you’re going to make it in those, but bare feet would be worse.” He edged out from our hiding place, keeping close to the wall as he made his way toward the street. “Get ready to run.”
It was an anxiety-ridden, panic-inducing game of hide and seek all the way to Fields’ car. My body was covered in both the sweat I’d worked up racing from shadow to shadow under the detective's careful direction and the cold sweat only shot nerves could produce. And I really needed to fucking piss, but I hadn’t had a good opportunity to pop a squat, and there was a distinct lack of clean material to wipe with. Hopefully the trip back was quick because I doubted it was safe enough for a pit stop.
“Don’t slam your door,” came from Fields as the locks disengaged, momentarily distracting me from my over-full bladder problem.
“No shit,” I snarked back, getting in and closing the door softly. Of course the fucking thing didn’t latch all the way, so I had to yank at the handle until it settled into place. As dire as the situation was, Fields’ muffled laughter was contagious, and I had a hard time fighting a grin. I was sure I looked ridiculous, trying to get it shut with my tits about to escape my top, but… “Shut up, asshole. You could have gone around and bumped it for me.” My rebuke had a distinct lack of heat, yet he sobered all the same.
“Keep your head down. I’m going to try my damndest to get us out of here.” With that grim proclamation, he started the car and eased out onto the road while I slouched down in my seat until I could barely see out the front and side windows.
We made it past Cherry Baby, neon lights washing the interior of the car with their usual red hue as if it were a portent of what was to come, without a hiccup, and beelined through the backroads to get into Carlotti territory. Both of us lost a bit of our tension, but we weren’t out of the woods yet. We wouldn’t be until we were much, much closer to the estate. As we hit the highway, I thought we’d made it, that my silent bargaining to never do something so stupid and brazen again had worked. Until the bubblegum lights lit up behind us.
“What the fuck, Fields. Were you speeding?” I demanded, my high-pitched voice revealing my fear.
“Don’t be an idiot, Eden. You know I wasn’t. Lean over here, make it look like you’re giving me head.” He didn’t even look at me, his eyes trained on his rearview mirror as he slowed the vehicle before pulling over.
Knowing I had no way to explain my torn up stockings, destroyed makeup, and ratty hair, not to mention I probably had blood on me somewhere, I kept my head low and leaned over the emergency brake. With shaking hands, I got his pants open, then partially down, when he lifted to help me, but when his soft dick came out, he grabbed one of my wrists.
“Do not touch my dick! Better yet, try not to breathe on it.” As if realizing how harsh and judgmental he’d sounded, he apologized. “I didn’t mean… I’m sorry, just, I can’t do that.”
“It’s okay,” I said, drawing my own conclusions due to his lack of erection. “I’ll keep away as best I can. You could have just told me you don’t swing that way. Although, if it comes down to sucking you off to get out of this, you’re going to have to take one for the team.”
“Pray that it doesn’t come to that,” was all he muttered before putting the car in park and rolling the window down. The crunch of footsteps on the loose gravel heralded the officer's approach, but a bobbing light played through my window as well. Loudly, while fisting my hair, Fields snapped at me, “Did I fucking tell you to quit?!”
I made slight head motions, hoping it would be good enough since I was trying to avoid getting too close to the now marginally interested appendage.
“Evening, officer,” he popped off like getting head while being detained was an everyday occurrence for the police, though around here, maybe it was.