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I went over to where he lay and turned him over. He was conscious and held up his hands over his face.
"No, please!" he cried, blubbering like a baby. "Don't kill me."
I saw Celia's mom standing in the doorway, or should I say leaning there. She looked like a corpse, her skin grey, her hair a mess. She was dressed in a long nightgown and robe, slippers on her feet.
"What are you doing?" she whispered, seemingly unable to raise her voice up enough to really speak.
"I was just meting out justice," I said and gave Spencer a kick in the ribs. Not hard enough to injure him seriously, but hard enough to hurt. "He's lucky I didn’t kill him outright. He deserves it."
Then I went over to her, because she looked like she might fall over. "You should pack up your things and come with me."
"Who are you?" she asked. "I'm going to call the police."
"I'm Hunter," I said, surprised she didn't recognize me, but I'd been persona non grata for years. "Celia may have spoken to you about me before. I was Graham's friend. Celia's staying with me at my apartment. I'm protecting her. She wants you to come and get away from Spencer."
She frowned and backed away. "Spencer told me about you. You're with the mafia."
"There's a lot you don't know," I said, frustrated that she believed all Spencer's lies. "Celia's staying with me. Call her if you want. I can wait."
"I'm not coming with you," she said, shaking her head, her eyes wide.
I shrugged and went to the door, deciding to leave. Before I left, I turned to her. She was over beside Spencer, who had rolled over and was grimacing.
"I'm calling the police right now," she said and grabbed a portable phone off its stand.
"Don't call," Spencer said, holding his hand up to her. "I'll deal with this. You go back to bed."
She put the phone down and waited while Spencer stood up, a hand to his bloody nose.
That was how I left him, going to his sick and drug-addicted wife for comfort, who was herself barely able to stand up. I didn’t want to leave her there, but there was only so much you could do to help some people. They had to choose their own hell. She hadn't chosen hers—it had been thrust on her when her husband was killed in a car crash and she was disabled by chronic pain. Spencer had been right there, waiting to take over and she was probably happy to have a man look after her.
I walked down the street to my car, knowing that Spencer wouldn't be calling the police about the assault. He thought I had a tape of him molesting little girls, and would probably pack a bag and leave for Malaysia if he was smart. We’d see how smart he really was or if he was stupid enough to think he could talk or bluster or abuse his way out of the mess he was in.
I had a feeling I should prepare a room at the warehouse for Celia's mother, and soon. I knew Spencer's type. He was a coward, full of bravado when standing behind his desk or when in control over a child, but when faced with the reality of his crimes, he'd run.
It would be up to Celia—with my help—to clean up the mess he left behind.
I cooled down considerably on my way back to the warehouse. As I drove, I thought about what I would do, and how I would approach turning Spencer in.
Given the evidence of child prostitution I found at the cabin in Alexandria, I knew something would stick to Spencer.
He'd be arrested and charged with making child pornography at a minimum based on the tapes I found and collected—and who knew what else there was in that cabin. I had told my handler about it, and he promised to send a team out to collect evidence but it would take a while to get a warrant for search and seizure of evidence. I wasn't sure if the place would be wiped clean by then, but before I’d left that day, I had taken some evidence with me that I could use for leverage if I needed it.
The FBI worked at its own pace on cases, so I had to let things go and let them take care of what needed to be done to bring the guilty parties to justice.
By the time I got back to the warehouse, I was almost calm. I parked the vehicle at the rear of the building, checking in with the sentry who was responsible for the alleyway, and then sat in silence for a moment, thinking of what I'd do next. What was my move with Celia? Seeing her with wounds on her neck had almost made m
e homicidal. I knew she mattered more to me than just an easy fuck. That much was clear now. I tried to keep a distance from her, tried to treat her like a mere fuck toy, but that had obviously failed.
I wanted her.
I wanted her to be mine and not just to pay back a debt. Not just obeying my orders.
I wanted her to want me back just as much as I wanted her.
I was in deep.
Chapter 9
