He knew she couldn't hear him over the sounds of the club. Ever closer he inched being careful to stay behind her, in her blind spot. She was leaning against one of the windows looking out over the city at night. Between the lights in the club and the angle of the glass even that wouldn't help her detect him moving ever closer to her. Tonight, Lucinda Graves was his prey. He would have her and she would not suspect him.
When he was within inches of her he leaned over her bare shoulder. He placed his lips on the warm skin of her neck.
She jumped slightly, letting out a small yelp at this sudden intrusion into her personal space. She guessed - hoped - who it might be, but she couldn't be sure. Without turning her head, she decided it would be fun to speculate.
"Hmm, Sven?"
He made a "mmm" sound against her neck. Not really an answer wither way. He knew the spot she liked right...there. He passed his tongue over her neck while surrounding it with little kisses.
Alison shivered. Now she was sure.
"Oh, of course. It must be Logan."
He snorted derisively and nibbled lightly at the side of her neck while making growling noises. He set the strawberry mojito next to her on the windowsill.
"Ooh, strawberry mojito. I'll bet that's a clue." Alison picked up the drink and sipped at it, enjoying the shivers Pablo was sending down her back. "Let's see... there was a man earlier tonight who brought me a couple of these. Now what was his name again? Pedro? No... Patrick? No, I give up, sorry."
Pablo moved his mouth next to her ear, "Your lover, Juan Pablo has baited, hunted and captured you."
He moved around in front of her and smiled, "Or at least cornered you. Sorry I've been so scarce all night. But you have been the queen bee in this hive of activity."
"Oh, lover is it?" She grinned and moved a little closer, wrapping her free arm around his waist. "And I'm the one who should be sorry. I feel like I've abandoned you. But, you know, that's how these things tend to go." She gazed back at the party that was still going in full swing. "Thank god this place has quiet noooks and crannies like this."
With her high heels, she was actually a little taller than Pablo, but even so she leant her head down and rested it on his shoulder and closed her eyes. It felt warm, comfortable - safe. She brushed her lips against his neck, in much the same manner he'd been doing to her moments before. "I hope you managed to stay entertained, at least."
"That feels nice. Overfed and over excited, would be closer to the truth. And maybe more than a little drunk. I don't know what they are putting in these drinks but my last two have been bottled water. I practically had to show my badge to even get one of these bartenders to give me water."
He held her hand and stroked her palm with his thumb. "It is fun to play dress-up, but I am feeling really out of place. I'd rather be outside. I found the balcony is really nice even though some smokers have been using it. It's less noisy than the club and the night air feels good."
"I'm sure we can find a corner that's relatively smokeless. And it'll be nice to rest my ears from this music for a bit," she agreed. Clutching her mojito in one hand and holding onto Pablo's hand with the other, they strolled outside. The fresh night air felt good on her face and she breathed deeply. Only a couple of other people were out here at this point, and they were up the far end. They had most of the balcony to themselves.
"Oh, yes, I wish I'd come out here earlier." She turned and kissed Pablo, a light peck. "Thanks for suggesting it." A few paces brought her to the railing and she leaned her back against it, revelling in the respite from the demands of the evening.
He settled in to enjoy the moment. Here with his arms around her looking down on the street he felt comfortable. I could get used to this, he thought.
Shouting drifted up from the street, peppered with gunfire. It was loud and Pablo glanced over the railing to see what it was. A cop is never off-duty, ran though his mind. Then a blast of fire blew out of the alley and into the street. Pablo instinctively pulled Alison away from the railing.
Even as Pablo tugged on her arm, Alison twisted to see what was going on. A reporter is never off-duty, she thought, remembering her words to Pablo in Slàinte. Her first thought was that it was some sort of drunken domestic dispute, but the rattle of bullets and the whoomph sound as fire erupted along the alleyway put paid to that. She rooted around in her purse and pulled out her phone, setting it to video as she stepped back towards the edge of the balcony.
Pablo glanced around. It was only twelve feet to the ground, give or take. It was the fastest way. "Stand back," he said in his best cop voice and climbed over the railing. He slid over the edge and used the ledge to dangle towards the street. Hanging this way reduced the drop to only six feet or so.
Alison stared down at Pablo, the video recording the dying fires in the alleyway, the retreating figures of two people racing into the club downstairs, and the dangling figure of Detective Sandoval hanging by his fingertips off the ledge. "What the hell do you think you're doing?" she hissed in a stage whisper.
He landed lightly on his feet, pulled out his badge and reached for his gun. Reached for and realized he didn't have it. He looked up at her leaning over the railing with her phone pointed at him, "Trying to get myself killed while saving lives. Please stand back so I don't have to worry about you so much."
He peered into the alleway cautiously. Perhaps even more cautiously than he would have if he had had a gun with him. From here he could see a charred corpse and nothing else. Whoever had been running away had gone inside. He spared one last glance back at Alison and then stepped into the alley.
The charred body stirred and swore vehemently, "Jebem ti majku! Jebem ti miša! And jebem ti kuću poganu!"*
As it stood, blackened clothing and flesh sloughed off revealing bare muscles and bone. Pablo saw a pistol, no longer supported by his smoldering pants, drop to the ground. The charred man wasn't interested in the pistol so much as hopping around angrily so Pablo snatched it up and pointed it at him. "Police! Up against the wall, charcoal man."
Alison leaned out as far as she could. It was difficult to see what was going on, but Pablo's words rang out loud and clear. "If someone's hurt, shouldn't you call an ambulance?" she called out. "I'm coming down."
Putting away her phone for the moment Alison turned, abandoning her mojito on the balcony ledge, and returned to the noise and hubbub of the party. Now all she had to do was make her way across the expanse of the room without being waylaid so she could get downstairs to where Pablo was. If she'd been dressed any other way, she probably would have taken Pablo's route, but that wasn't an option for her tonight. Putting on her determined face she ploughed through the partygoers, most of whom were thankfully too drunk at this point to pay her too much attention.
Pablo was debating using his belt to tie up this ... whatever this was. He looked like a barbecued corpse and smelled terrible. But he was still moving and talking and swearing. Pablo didn't know what "Da bi šel v pizdo materno!"** meant, but it didn't sound good.
Suddenly there were sounds of gunfire from inside the club. Pablo glanced up towards the balcony, hoping that Alison hadn’t left yet. "Da bee sel peez doh materno!" he said, or something close to it, and ran back into the lower level of the club.
*Fuck your mother! Fuck your rat! And fuck your infidel house!
**If only I could crawl back into my mother’s cunt.