F-BOMB: Curvy Vigilantes 6: Fear

Edie Warren was done letting fear run her life. She was done being afraid of every damn thing. She’d stared the devil in the face, then snuck out the back window when he wasn’t paying attention.

Damon Street wasn’t the only devil, though. Not by a long shot. And Edie was going to take down the other ones—the little devils who helped those evil bastards get their hooks into innocent victims. And the devil who held her captive far longer than a few days. The one who held her for months.

That was the one who cost Edie’s cousin her life. If Edie had never gone missing, Tonya wouldn’t have dug into her disappearance and been in the wrong place at the wrong time and gotten killed for it.

Edie was done hiding and being afraid and letting others fight her battles for her. She was going to fight her own.

She slid the black mask from her pocket and onto her face. She closed her eyes and inhaled deep, ignoring the scents of urine and vomit in the alleyway where she hid. The mask made Edie strong. It connected her to the other women she knew—her friends. The Curvy Vigilantes.

Edie was just one of them. They were fighting to make their city a better, safer, brighter place. Niagara Falls, New York, was one of the most beautiful places on earth, but the seedy, nasty evil that had taken control of parts of it was ruining the beauty of one of the Wonders of the World.

Edie was ready for it to stop.

A door opened down the alley, twenty feet or so from Edie. She waited until the man leaned against the brick wall and took a drag from his cigarette. He blew out a long breath, the smoke dancing in the air above his face for a second before it dissipated and disappeared into the mild evening air.

Edie moved closer to him, her sneakers silent even in the trash-filled space. She wore dark clothes and was all but invisible.

The man froze, cigarette perched between his lips, breath stalled in his lungs. “Who’s there?”

Edie was close enough to see the fear in his eyes. “Did you sell drugs to a teenager last week?” she growled.

He laughed. Actually laughed. “What if I did?”

“Then you’re going to pay for your crimes,” Edie whispered.

He snorted. “And you think you’re going to make me?”

“Yes, I am,” Edie said, not wasting any time before she rushed the man. Her quick move from the dark caught him off guard, and the knee she slammed into his nuts had him on the ground in seconds.

Edie pulled a zip tie from her boot and grabbed the man’s wrist before he had a chance to regain his footing. She held his arm against the pipe running down the building and secured him to it.

“You bitch,” he spat, half-heartedly tugging on the zip tie.

Edie got in the man’s face. “The kid you sold those drugs to died because they were laced with garbage. You made an extra buck and a fifteen-year-old never woke up again. So use whatever language you want, but trust me when I tell you I’m not the worst piece of trash in this alleyway right now.”

Edie walked away, the bastard shouting after her the entire time.

“Nine-one-one. What is your emergency?” Mackenzie Chambers asked. Mackenzie was Edie’s friend and confidant, but she was also a professional and had a job to do.

“Alleyway behind Jester’s Bar. There’s a present waiting if the police can get there quickly enough. He might know a thing or two about that overdose last week.”

Mackenzie sucked in a breath. “Can you tell me who you are and how you know this?”

Mackenzie hated when Edie called in her prizes, but Edie wasn’t going to go through all the work of finding out who was involved in the drug trafficking in the city without handing the scumbags over to the police. “Just a concerned citizen. Trying to do my part to clean up our beautiful city.”

“Be careful, please,” Mackenzie said. She couldn’t say Edie’s name or hell would rain down on Edie. Probably on Mackenzie, too. But Mackenzie knew Edie’s voice and always told her to be careful.

Technically, what Edie was doing wasn’t legal. But she was willing to work outside the law if it meant delivering justice for the silent ones—the ones whose voices were stolen from them. The ones who’d never speak for themselves, or anyone else, ever again.

Edie hid across the street and waited for the police car to come screeching up the street. The red lights flashed bright and drew the attention of everyone awake that time of night. When the cop walked the man out of the alley in handcuffs, the criminal insisting he was innocent, Edie smiled to herself and knew she did her part for the night.

Tomorrow was another day.

But he was still there when Pryce arrived, the zip tie holding him to the pipe nearly split in half from the guy’s work. His wrist was raw from the effort, but he insisted he was innocent. That he had done nothing wrong. That “the bitch in all black had the wrong guy.”

“We’re going to take a ride anyway,” Pryce told him. “Have a chat.”

The guy grumbled, but he was smart enough not to resist arrest. He wasn’t quiet about it, though, shouting the whole time Pryce walked him out of the alley and into the backseat that he didn’t do a thing.

Pryce guided the guy into the car and scanned the crowd. Whenever the cops showed up, the residents came out in force. A few were faces Pryce knew, people he’d be able to speak to another time. He nodded at Mr. Pickens, who owned the corner store. No doubt the sirens woke him up. Then there was Ms. Moore, who was definitely not sleeping and absolutely still working. Pryce didn’t bother her, even though prostitution wasn’t legal. As long as that was the worst she did and she answered any questions he asked, she was an ally.

Pryce walked around his cruiser and looked at the rest of the crowd. He was good with faces, but there were definitely new ones. And there were plenty of people in the shadows, hiding from his curiosity as they fueled their own.

Without a reason to ask any of them questions, Pryce got behind the wheel and waited. Another car was on the way to process the scene, and Pryce had to make sure they knew what he knew.

“I didn’t do anything,” the guy in the back insisted again. “That lady has no idea what she’s talking about.”

“What does she think you did?”

“Sold drugs to that kid who died. But I don’t do that shit. She’s got it all wrong.”

Pryce nodded, playing along like he agreed with the guy. “Mistaken identity.”

“Yeah, man. Exactly. She doesn’t know me. Never seen her before.”

“And you were never around that kid, either. No reason to suspect you.”

“Right. I don’t know her.”

“Sara hung out with a rough crowd. She probably got something from a friend.”

“Tara,” the guy in the back said.

Pryce met his gaze in the rearview mirror and nodded. “Right. My bad. I didn’t know her either.”

The guy sputtered his excuses as the other car pulled up. Pryce ignored him and got out.

“What do we have?” Officer Maxwell asked as he met Pryce on the sidewalk.

“Another gift. Guy insists he’s innocent.”

“Don’t they all?” Maxwell chuckled. He was a decent cop, but a bit of a jackass, in Pryce’s opinion. Not that he disagreed with what Maxwell said.

Pryce nodded. “Yep. Even knew her name was Tara and not Sara.”

Maxwell snorted. “Dumbass. What’s the scene look like?”

“Couldn’t see much. Dark alley, zip-tied to a pole. Can smell the cigarette on his breath, so likely a stub down there somewhere, but could be thousands of them.”

“Did you get the zip-tie?” Maxwell’s partner, Dempsey, was quiet until then, but he looked over Pryce like he could see the zip-tie.

Pryce nodded. “In a bag. I was ready for it.”

“Gotta love our friendly neighborhood vigilante. Tying up the bad guys and letting us know where to pick them up.” Dempsey rolled his eyes. None of them were fans of the vigilante.

“Yep. Gave this one a shot to the nuts, though, so assault isn’t out of the question,” Pryce told them.

Maxwell winced. “Damn. I’m rooting for her.”

“Not me,” Pryce growled. “She’s outside the lines. She’s going to be the one we have to rescue one of these days.”

“Nah, she’s good. I’m starting to have fun on nights again. After all that shit with Damon Street, things were tense. It’s time to put the bad guys away and know we’re making the city better. She’s doing the same.”

“Yeah, well, I’m not so sure about that.”

Maxwell rolled his eyes and backhanded Dempsey’s chest. “Well, we’ll go check out the alley. Enjoy your night, Murphy.”

“You, too.” Pryce shook his head. He wasn’t popular. That was what happened when you were a suspect as a rookie cop. It didn’t matter that he’d been exonerated. He still had a stain and had to stick far from the line. One toe out of place and he’d be on the other side of the line for good.

And Pryce did not want that to happen.

The guy in the back grumbled the entire way to the station. When Pryce booked him and put him in a cell, he asked when he’d get his phone call. Pryce assured him someone would be in soon.

“Your partner strikes again, Murphy?” Foster called out.

Detective Drake Foster was a thorn in Pryce’s side. He’d gone from beat cop like Pryce to detective in record time and had never forgotten bringing in Pryce for questioning—or let him forget it.

“She’s not my partner,” Pryce growled.

Foster chuckled. He looked around the station, ensuring he had the attention of everyone there.

He did.

“Well, it’s funny how you’re always first on the scene. You’re always the one to collar the guys she picks up. And you never seem to know anything about what’s going on.”

“Aren’t you the detective? Shouldn’t you be the one figuring it all out? Or did I forget that was part of my job now?”

Foster scowled at Pryce, the blow landing exactly as planned. Foster pushed off the edge of the desk and leaned back. He crossed his arms and glared at Pryce. “It’s hard to do my job when one of my own is hiding things. You know how the system works, and you’re keeping her just outside it.”

“Bullshit,” Pryce snapped. “I’m not doing a thing to help her. I don’t know any more about her than you do.”

“Bullshit,” Foster parroted, a smirk lifting the edge of his lips.

Pryce shook his head and turned toward the hallway leading back outside. “I’m on duty. And some of us have to actually work for a living.”

Foster called out, “I hope your partner doesn’t get picked up before you can warn her we’re onto her.”

Pryce ignored the dig and kept going. He deserved that one, maybe, but it didn’t make it easier to swallow.

Pryce got back into his car and returned to where he picked up the guy. The other cop car was gone, and nothing was out to prevent someone from going down the alley. Pryce parked at the front of it, mostly blocking the entrance, and got out of his car.

He shined his flashlight around the small space as he walked. He wasn’t sure if he’d find anything else, but he wanted to get a look at the scene before too much time had passed.

The pipe was rubbed clean where the zip tie had been wrapped around it. The heels of the guy’s boots dug up the gravel, leaving grooves behind. Nothing else seemed to have been touched. But the woman had to have been back there, waiting for the guy.

Pryce moved deeper into the alley, looking for places to hide. A dumpster was the perfect cover if you knew the person you were looking for wouldn’t come down that far.

Nothing. No footprints, no hair left behind, nothing to tell him that’s where she was hiding.

Who the hell was she? And how was she figuring out who all these criminals were?

Pryce didn’t have the answers, but he was going to find them. And she was going to go to jail for her crimes.

Edie sipped her coffee and stared into the pie case. Her mouth watered at the options: chocolate, lemon meringue, apple, cherry, peach. She didn’t really need to think about which one she wanted, but she was warring with herself.

“They all look good, don’t they?” a voice said from right behind her.

Edie jumped, her coffee spilling over the side of the mug.

“Crap, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you.”

Edie set the coffee on the counter and grabbed for napkins.

“Let me help you, please. And let me buy your pie.”

Edie forced her lips to lift and glanced back at the man speaking. When she saw him, she froze.

He noticed the reaction and took a step back. “I apologize. I know a lot of people are uncomfortable around police officers. My name is Pryce Murphy. I don’t think we’ve met.”

“Hi, Officer,” Jenny said. “Here, hun, let me clean that up for you. Did you get it on you, Edie?”

Edie shook her head. “I’m good, Jenny. Thanks.”

Jenny worked the night shift at Bob’s Diner. Edie went in there the first night she brought someone to justice. Her first was a man involved in moving drugs through the city. Most of them were—because the drugs were what kept Edie captive. What hurt her the most. If they hadn’t filled her with drugs, she would have escaped long before she did.

That first night, Edie felt a new kind of high—a high that said she was finally helping. After months as a prisoner, and more months terrified and nearly catatonic with fear, Edie was helping people. Jenny made her feel like she belonged in that diner. Like she had a safe space to be. Edie wouldn’t say they were friends, but she liked Jenny and loved the pie.

“Put her coffee and pie on my bill, Jenny,” the officer said. “It was my fault it spilled.”

Jenny raised an eyebrow at Edie for confirmation. Edie just shrugged. She wasn’t really going to argue about a two-dollar cup of coffee and a four-dollar piece of pie—especially with the man who helped her bring in so many criminals. Even if he didn’t know she was the one who delivered them.

“Sounds good. Anything I can get you, Officer?” Jenny held the coffee-stained towel in her fingertips and smiled at the officer.

“Same as she’s having. Coffee and pie.”

“What kind can I get you two?”

“Peach,” they said at the same time.

Edie gasped and looked up at him. He smiled sheepishly and shrugged.

“It’s always been my favorite.”

“Mine, too,” Edie admitted.

Jenny plated two slices of pie and pushed them across the counter. Edie grabbed hers and her coffee and nodded her thanks to the officer. She headed for the back corner where she could sit alone—far away from the cop she didn’t know.

Edie tucked into her pie and savored the first bite. It was perfect, like it always was. She had no idea where the peaches came from, but she knew the pie was homemade. Jenny confessed once that she was the pie master, and Edie bought a slice every time she went into the diner since.

“Mind if I join you?” Officer Murphy asked.

Edie nodded, chewing her overly large bite slowly.

He still stood there. “Does that mean you do mind or that I’m welcome to join you?”

Edie breathed a laugh around her food and waved her hand at the other side of her booth. She wasn’t looking for company and definitely didn’t want it from a cop, but she couldn’t deny the man who bought her pie—or who unknowingly helped her so many times.

Or who was so attractive she wondered if the pie was really what made her mouth water.

Officer Murphy took a bite of the pie and groaned, his hazel eyes falling closed. Dark lashes brushed his cheeks, a sharp contrast to his dark blond hair and pink-tinted skin. His uniform stretched tight over a well-defined chest and bulging biceps.

Edie had never understood the appeal of a man in uniform before. But this man was different. She knew he was on the same side as her. It had taken Edie a while to trust the police again after having disappeared and learning no one bothered to look for her, but the police captain convinced her there were good people on the force.

She couldn’t help but wonder if Officer Murphy was one of them.

“This pie is amazing,” he said, meeting her gaze in a conspiratorial way. “Why did we only get one slice each?”

Edie chuckled. “Well, unlike you, I’m going home and going to bed after this. Too much sugar and I won’t be able to sleep.”

“Were you working? Is that why you’re up?” The question was casual enough, but Edie knew it was not an innocent question.

Edie shook her head. “I saw you take that man away.”

He looked at her more closely, then nodded. “I thought you looked familiar. I did see you there.”

“You saw me?” Edie breathed. She did her best to be invisible—blend in with the crowd. If he noticed her in it, he could figure out she’d been in more of the crowds—all the crowds.

Officer Murphy nodded, stabbing another piece of his pie. “Yeah. We’re trying to figure out who’s capturing these people.”

“Does it matter? She’s helping.”

The officer grimaced. “She might be helping catch these people, but we don’t always have evidence that keeps them behind bars. And if she’s hurting them, it’s assault, and she should be charged. Plus, some of these people are dangerous—she could get hurt.”

Edie wasn’t worried about getting hurt. Pain was minor compared to what she’d been through. Getting caught would be a problem, but she was careful. And wasn’t catching these people helping? Wasn’t it worth a minor crime now and then?

Edie knew it was possible she could get in trouble for what she was doing, but she always assumed the police would be happy she was helping. She hid who she was so she didn’t have to answer questions—so she could keep helping.

“Did you see anything tonight?” the officer pushed. “Anything that could help me find the woman who’s doing this? I’d really like to have a conversation with her.”

Well, shit. He already was. But Edie couldn’t admit that. “Uh, no,” she lied. “I didn’t see anything.”