Page 18 of Abra's Acquisition
Rey stirs in my arms and pushes away so she can face her brother while I straighten to my full height. I wrap my arm around her waist when she leans against me.
“I don’t think this is his style,” Rey says, looking up at me. “What do you think?”
“I don’t know Erickson that well; we’ve spoken a few times. He wouldn’t have done this. It doesn’t mean he didn’t hire someone to do it, but I don’t see him being this crass. Plus, what would he have to gain?”
“What is the deal with Erickson. You said he kept you against your will. Why?”
Rey shrugs. “He thought I stole something from him—a small figurine. I guess someone broke into his house and took it the same night I was there for a meeting. He assumed we were working together.”
“Who did he think you were working with?” Max asks, his eyes shifting to me.
“Me,” I admit. “Erickson has it in his head that I stole from him. I don’t know why he’s fixated on me. He’s accused me of theft before. I think it’s because of my past career.”
“As Lucifer’s Heir?”
I nod.
“He showed me the security feed of the man who stole the item. The thief was dressed entirely in black and wore a mask. I couldn’t tell who it was, which is what I told Erickson. He was adamant that it was him. I think I managed to convince him that I wasn’t involved in the theft.”
I internally grimace at her statement. I doubted very much that Erickson had anything to do with this attack on Rey. It seemed too emotional, too personal. Erickson may be a greedy bastard, but he has a cold temper. He isn’t one to lose his cool and physically attack someone in anger. Mostly because he’s a wuss, he’d hide behind someone stronger. He might send someone to trash her apartment to put a scare into her, but he wouldn’t tell them to write those disgusting slurs on the walls. That’s just not his style. No, this was personal.
I reengage in the conversation between Rey and her brother with the intention of sharing my thoughts, but they’ve moved on from Erickson.
“You think it was Dontel, don’t you?” Rey asks Max.
“Don’t you? This is exactly the kind of bullshit that bastard would pull. You said he was angry with you after the break-up.”
“Who is Dontel?” I ask.
“Dontel Trapper. He’s my ex-boyfriend,” Rey says as she paces away from me. I frown as I watch her wrap her arms around her waist as if she’s feeling ill. She’s clearly agitated by this Dontel person.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN: REY
I immediately regret pulling away from Abra. His warmth and strength were calming me. However, I can’t stop myself from pacing. It isn’t just the dead cop downstairs and the fucked up mess that used to be my sanctuary. No, it’s the sinking feeling I have that Max is right about Dontel being responsible. The destruction of my things and those words painted on my walls sound like him. He was furious when I broke things off with him. This is exactly something he’d do to get back at me. He knew how much I loved my apartment. He knew how carefully I chose every item in there. The only thing I can’t wrap my head around is whether he could have killed the cop. Unfortunately, I can’t dismiss the possibility. He could have been waiting around the apartment for my return. If he saw a man getting out of my car, he could have attacked him without realizing he was attacking a cop.
“Do you think they’ll find evidence of who did this?” Abra asks Max, although he keeps his eyes focused on me.
When Max doesn’t immediately answer, both Abra and I turn our attention to him. He looks like he’s going to be sick. No, he seems like he wants to rip the head off someone and then throw up down his throat. Is that a thing?
“What aren’t you telling us?” I ask him.
“We have plenty of evidence. Once it is processed, we’ll likely know who did it.”
I glance at Abra to see if he understands what Max is saying. When Abra’s expression goes from complexed to livid, I realize that I’m the only one missing something in this conversation. “What? What am I missing?”
Abra and Max share a silent conversation before turning their attention to me. “I don’t want to tell you,” Max finally admits.
“She’s going to figure it out,” Abra says. “She’s brilliant. Would you rather she know now or let it hit her later on when maybe we’re not around?”
Max runs his hand through his hair in frustration. “He left biological evidence.”
I stare at him as I process his words. When the reality hits me, I scrunch my nose as I fight the nausea churning in my stomach. “Oh god, what did he do? Pee? Poop? Oh fuck, he jizzed, didn’t he? That son-of-a-bitch! Where? Not on my bed!”
Max slowly nods. “Yeah. He shredded your underwear and dumped it all on your bed, then he got himself off. There’s semen, but that’s not all. I think he pissed on your clothes. Your closet smells like a urinal. I’m so sorry, Rey.”
I clasp my hand over my mouth to keep my lunch from coming back up. Abra steps to me and wraps his arms around me, drawing me to him. He says nothing as I weep against his muscular chest. I don’t stop crying until I realize he’s rocking me like a child needing comfort. The image of the burly biker swaying in front of my brother clears away some of the sorrow. I lean back some, to wipe at his damp shirt.
“I’m sorry, I blubbered all over you,” I say.
