“Who?”
“Scar,” he says—although not long ago he claimed to have never heard of anybody called that. “Tell me you haven’t taken up with that guy, Morgan. I told you—”
“Anyone named Scar is trouble, I know,” I say. “He’s got his own motivations, though. It has nothing to do with me.”
“Sure seemed to,” he says. “Told me he’d cut off my dick if I ever touched you again.”
My eyes widen. He said that?
Gabe pulls back some to look at me, his hands roaming. It makes my skin crawl, and I ball my hands into fists, keeping myself from punching him.
“Doesn’t matter,” Gabe says, grinning. “Kassian... Scar... doesn’t matter who thinks they own you. Won’t ever stop us. Isn’t that right?”
“Right,” I whisper when he turns me around, shoving me against the row of lockers as he fumbles with his pants. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. My heart races as I panic, my body shaking, wedged between him and the cold metal. “Wait... Gabe, wait... condom.”
He sighs, reaching past me, shifting things aside in his locker but coming up empty. “Damnit.”
“Don’t you have some in your office?”
“Yes, but—”
“Just go grab one.”
He groans, pushing away and saying, “Wait here.”
My stomach twists as he walks away, leaving me here alone. The second he’s out of sight, I dive right for his locker, knowing I’ve only got like thirty seconds until he gets back and then I’m fucked.
Figuratively. Maybe literally, at the rate I’m going.
I’d rather neither way happen, to be honest.
So I grab stuff, sorting through it, looking for anything that might be something, but it all seems to be nothing. No files, no papers, no journals, no flash drives. Shit. I’m about to give up, on the verge of panicking, when my hand hits something wedged along the back at the bottom.
A DVD.
I yank it out, heart racing. It’s tucked into a worn protective sleeve, a lone word written on the front of it in faded black marker: Aristov.
“Thank you God, and Jesus, and even fucking Krampus,” I mumble, shoving the DVD in my hoodie pocket, gripping it tightly as I scurry away.
I get to the door of the locker room just as it swings open. Gabe.
“Whoa, where are you running off to?” he asks, grabbing my arm to stop me. “Come here.”
“I can’t do this,” I say, trying to pull away. “I’m sorry, I just... I can’t do it. I thought I could, but I can’t, so I’m just going to go now.”
“What?” He grips tighter to my arm. “What are you talking about?”
“This,” I say, shoving away from him. “Don’t touch me. I told you before... don’t ever touch me again.”
“What the fuck? What the hell is wrong with you?”
“I’m sorry.”
I find part of me means those words. God knows I probably shouldn’t. I shouldn’t be sorry about anything, especially if he is working for Kassian, and this DVD in my pocket is certainly suggesting that might really be what’s happening.
But still... I’m sorry.
I’m sorry for whatever led us to this moment.
I used to believe in him, and the sorry part of me still thinks part of him might be good.
But it is what it is, and I can’t stick around here, so I shove out of the locker room to get away from the precinct... fast. I’ve got probably about a minute before Gabe figures out what I’m up to.
I don’t have time to wait on the elevator, so I head for the stairs, scaling them as fast as my legs will carry me down to the first floor of the building.
I almost make it out, am already past the desk officer, when Gabe’s frantic voice rings out from the stairwell. “Stop her!”
Shit.
I run, shoving past people. I can hear others following, shouting for me to stop, but I keep going, out of the precinct and down the block, away from the subway, running into the first alley I come across.
They’re right on my heels.
Shit. Shit.
Looking around, frantic, my mind works fast. I could hide, but they’d find me. I could run, but they’d catch up. My gaze shifts toward the nearby dumpster. Ugh. Heart racing, I yank the DVD out and fling it beneath the dumpster, turning away from it just as somebody rounds the corner.
Shit. Shit. Shit.
Officers appear, my hands are in the air, and I don’t know what’s happening, but guns are in my face out of nowhere.
Guns.
Okay, it’s not the first time someone has aimed a gun at me, and being as my life has gone to hell, I’m guessing it probably won’t be the last time, either. But right now there are three of them, and they’re kind of looking like they might want to shoot.
Gabe shoves past them, into the alley, and comes right for me, breathing heavily, his face bright red. Oh, man, he’s pissed. Instinctively, I take a step back, my hands faltering, until the officers start shouting, “Don’t you fucking move!”
“Okay, okay!” I freeze. “Geez, relax.”
Gabe grabs ahold of me, roughing me up as he pats me down, searching places his hands ought not go, before he shoves me against the side of a nearby building, slamming my face into the bricks so hard my vision blurs.
“Geez, detective.” I cringe as he yanks my arm behind my back, standing flush against my body, pinning me there. “I’m pretty sure this breaks protocol.”
“Where is it?” he asks, his free hand still searching. “Where’d you put it, Morgan?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Don’t play stupid with me,” he growls. “I swear, if you don’t give it to me right now—”
“You’ll what?” I ask, cutting him off. “You’ll fuck me right here, in the alley, in front of these officers? Teach me a lesson? Show the world what a big, powerful man you are?”
“No,” he whispers, his mouth near my ear. “I’ll call Aristov so he can come pick his little runaway up... just like I did with your daughter when she found her way to my office last month.”
Those words knock the breath from my lungs.
Or maybe it’s the fact that he shoves me harder against the building.
I nearly black out.
“You wouldn’t,” I say. “Tell me you didn’t...”
“Oh, but I did,” he says. “She ran away from him, crying about how she wanted her mommy. You missed her by about ten minutes that morning. Pity, really, since that’s probably the closest you’ll ever get to her again, you dumb bitch.”
Something in me snaps when he says that, my last shred of civility toward this man gone.
I’m not sorry anymore.
I shove off of the wall, throwing my head back, slamming him right in the fucking nose with the back of my skull.
BAM.
He loosens his grip on me, grunting, caught off guard by the blow, and I twist my own arm, damn near yanking it out of socket to get away from him. He pulls himself back together, but not fast enough, because I raise my foot up and kick him right in the nuts.
BAM.
He hunches over, letting out one hell of a screech, as I shove him out of my way, barely making it three steps before reality slams into me.
Guns, remember?
Oh, fuck me...
I put my hands up again, surrendering, but it’s too late to go peacefully. Someone tackles me, throwing me face-first to the alley, knees in my back as handcuffs secure my wrists. My cheek stings, asphalt scraping the skin on my face, guns still aimed at me as men shout orders I can’t possibly comply with since I’m pinned to the ground.
I’m yanked to my feet after a moment and come face-to-face with Gabe. Blood pours from his nose, his face contorted with a mix of anger and pain, but he doesn’t feel even an ounce of the hurt I feel.
Fuck him.
“Book her,” he says, staring me dead in the face as he tries to stop the bleeding. “Assault on a police officer.”
The arrest process is bullshit.
I answer what I have to, but I have the right to remain silent, so screw the rest of their questions.