Chapter 34

Walking out into the night's chill, Kensei could not fathom what he was feeling. His body was burning for more. He swore quietly under his breath as he removed his keys from the pocket and unlocked his car. Bringing the engine to life he pulled the vehicle onto the driveway. He rolled down the windows as he craved some cool, fresh air. His mind was reeling with images of what had just transpired.

The beautiful dark skin…the motionless body…his lips on hers…his desperate thrusts, yet…yet he gained no gratification whatsoever.

He honked his horn in frustration, the blare reflecting his inner turmoil. He shifted uncomfortably in his seat as he tried to rid himself of his thoughts. Kensei drove onto the next major highway as he reached his hand into his jacket pocket and removed his Dunhill pack. He quickly manipulated it and put a cigarette in his mouth. Next he removed a lighter from his glove compartment and ignited his cigarette, taking a long and much appreciated drag. The taste of the tobacco on his tongue and the smooth caress of the smoke along his windpipe helped calm him somewhat. For the first time since he got into the car he actually heard the music emanating from his radio.

All of a sudden his eyes were drawn to the rear view mirror as the darkness was broken by the tell-tale rotating red and blue lights before the silence was punctuated by a short blast of a police siren.

"Son-of-a…shiiit!" Kensei's pulse began to race. Surely there was no way the cops could be on to him. He had covered his tracks. There were no more loose ends. How in heaven's name could they possibly...Guerrero? If that weasel so much as mentioned my name I swear I'll fuck him up so bad…

The fugitive really had only two options, head for the hills or abide with the law and pull over. He weighed his alternatives, then reached over the passenger seat into his glove compartment and pulled out his glock. Holding it tightly in his hand, the caramel-skinned man began to slow down, preparing to pull over. As he did so, his mind trained on the idea of a quick kill, the police car by-passed him and kept on going. Kensei watched the vehicle disappear down the road before he let out the breath he hadn't even realised he was holding. Damn, that was a close one, he thought as he placed his gun on the passenger seat and directed his vehicle back onto the road.

xxx

"Talk to me, Carlisle," Sgt. Brady said as he walked into the room on the second floor of the police station. The rugged ginger threw his jacket over a nearby chair as he went and filled a plastic cup with coffee.

"Sir," the young, eager officer began, "We've just received this package from the police department across town." He lifted the transparent plastic bag that had been resting on the table. "These belonged to that girl who was run over yesterday." Inside the bag could be seen a red handbag, some cosmetic items, a notepad and a cell phone. "The department had run the prints on the cell phone but none matched Kensei's."

"So we still can't be sure that he was the one who killed Eva, even though our gut tells us that slime ball is responsible," finished Brady, frustration evident in his voice. He took a sip of the coffee and grimaced. It was lukewarm and very bitter, but he'd make do with it. "Another dead end," he said as he took a seat.

"Not necessarily. The team and I checked out the messages on the phone, and we discovered some peculiarities." Officer Carlisle pushed the bag towards his senior together with a pair of gloves. "We've got a print out of the odd messages, but I don't think they'll do much good without the missing messages."

Brady, hand gloved, was already thumbing through the phone.

Inbox

Message 3: Don't fucking threaten me.

14/12

"Hmm." The sergeant thought they were onto something, but further scrutiny of the subsequent inbox messages proved to be nothing but regular friendly banter. He quickly decided to have a look at the outbox folder. Bingo.

Outbox

Message 1: Why'd you shoot him you bastard?

14/12

Message 2: Why won't you pick up? I don't want any funny business.

7/12

Message 3: Dude, you'd better put that key to use. I want to get back with Hoagie now.

4/12

Message 4: So how we'll we break up the happy couple.

27/11

"What the…? We've got evidence without having evidence," the sergeant said as he scratched his scalp.

"Yeah, what are we gonna do?"

"Somehow we've got to convince the DA to give us a warrant to go through the mobile networks records. Even then, if we do confirm Kensei and Eva were in cahoots, we still dunno where to find the son-of-a-bitch."

xxx

Abby's eyes were heavy as she struggled to open them. She squinted as the light burned her eyes, then she suddenly sat up with a jolt when she recalled Kensei attacking her. Staring blankly down at herself, she noticed she was wearing her panties. However, there was a small tear somewhere along the seam. Next she looked at her pants, which were still pooled at her ankles. Abigail didn't know what to think. She was numb at this point. She shifted to reach down and pull her jeans back up with her free arm.

She felt nothing, physically. No pain. She had no memories of anything. That was a good thing.

Also, maybe, hopefully, no pain meant nothing happened.

She stopped maneuvering her jeans around her hips long enough to peek into her panties. She sighed and pulled her jeans up to wear them properly. Having buttoned her pants, she pulled on the chain that was barring her movements. Of course it hadn't become any looser than the last time she checked. Abby lay herself down on the chaise lounge and shut her eyes. A solitary tear escaped her eye and run across the bridge of her nose onto the other cheek. Her eyelids were burned with the image she had just seen; the small red stains on her panties.

xxx

David had completed his minimum number of practical hours needed to graduate. He was now busy traversing from one office to another; the Dean to the Registrar, the Library back to the Dean, the student council office and everywhere else in-between as he sought to fill in and finalise the paperwork that would enable him to graduate.

As he walked out of the School of Sciences his eyes were gloriously assaulted by the girl whom he could not stop thinking about. She was heading for the School of Arts, her arms filled with two huge course texts. Deciding then would be as good a time as any to take a break from his not-so-interesting current activities, Dave quickly yet quietly followed behind Genviève till he was right behind her.

"Hi," he whispered into her right ear. Startled, she swiftly looked over her right shoulder, but there was no one in sight. Well, no one near enough to have spoken into her ear. Deciding her mind was playing tricks on her, the young French woman turned to face the direction of her destination only to end up bumping into someone.

What David could only assume was some French expletive was followed by 'so sorry' before Genviève realised who she had just walked into.

"Ah, David," she said in surprise. "Idiot," she said with a wry smile. "Making me think I'm going mad."

"Well, hellooo to you too," he replied with a grin as he rubbed his chest where her books had knocked him. "May I?" he asked as he offered his hands to Genviève. She gladly deposited her books into his willing arms before giving him a tight hug.

"I have missed you," she said as she finally let go, looking up at him.

The young man smiled down at her. "Me too. Four weeks is a long time, considering we had thought we'd see more of each other." The last time they met they had had a quick lunch 'date'. It wasn't so much a date as it was two friends having a meal together.

As the two continued to walk down the path, Genviève asked what Dave was doing in school. He told her all about his paper signing and whatnot, and that's when she dropped the proverbial bomb. "I'm going home next week. Tuesday."

The poor fellow stopped dead in his tracks. "Why?" he asked, stunned. In retrospect, he realised that was a stupid question to ask. Everyone needs to go home some time.

"Because my time here is up. I was supposed to be here for a semester and a half. I've done the time. I need to hand in my written assignment to my professor back home on Friday." She could see how shocked the man was by the news. Trying to console him, she laid her hand on his upper arm. "Don't be so sad, David. We'll be in touch, won't we? We will write each other, no?"

"Yeah," he scoffed. "It's just…yeah, fine." Struggling to change his mood, he continued with a sharp tilt of the head, "Come on, you'll be late for class."

Too bad come the day of her departure Dave was so busy at the hospital he didn't manage to bid Genviève farewell.

xxx

Three days after Kensei's near run-in with the cops, he got a phone call from an unregistered number. He scowled at his cell phone, debating whether or not to pick up. On the fifth ring he answered it, speaking cautiously, "Hello?"

"Hey, hombre," came the response. "What the hell you been upto since we last dealt together man? Face all over the news…"

"Guerrero, where've you been?" Kensei asked harshly. "Why didn't you return my calls? If you're planning to sell me out – "

"Chill out homes," Guerrero interrupted in his distinct Mexican accent. "You know me, always busy. Just got back this morning. So what can I do for you?"

"I have to get out of here ASAP. Need a plane; two passengers. Japan."

"Ok, no worries. But all my planes are currently 'occupied'. The earliest I can sort you out is Sunday."

"Shit. But I need to get out of here NOW," said the biracial man in a slight panic.

"Sorry homes. Sunday, otherwise you find someone else to help you."

A long pause, then, "Fine, Sunday. After dark?"

"As always," replied the Latino .

A/N: Forgive the long hiatus. Busy and mind-block is a crap cocktail.