Branded

by Tara Sivec

  I lift my phone from my lap and hit the return call button next to DJ’s missed call. After a few rings, it goes to voicemail. I leave him a quick message letting him know that I’ll just come up to the station to talk to him. I don’t want to be in this house anymore. Everywhere I look, I see what happened between DJ and me and it makes me want to scream. I hope Dax finally has some good news for me. I’ll never be able to look DJ in the eyes again now that he’s seen my scars and knows what kind of a person I really am, but maybe I’ll finally be able to finish this shit with my father and get on with my life. As miserable as that life might be without DJ.

  Tossing my phone on my bed, I push myself up and head downstairs to find Jackson. I feel bad about yelling at him earlier when he tried to stay in the house with me, but I was not in the right frame of mind to deal with him following me around. I need to apologize and see if he’ll be able to take me to Dax’s office.

  As I get to the bottom of the stairs, I round the corner into the living room and stop short when I see DJ still here with his ass parked on my couch. I try not to let myself feel relief that he didn’t do as I asked and leave. I try not to drink in the sight of him and wish that I were a different person, worthy of the love I see shining in his eyes as he quickly jumps up from the couch when he sees me. I shut off every part of myself that he’s touched with his love and concentrate on my anger. It’s always been an easier emotion for me to handle, anyway, so why should this be any different?

  “I thought I told you to leave?” I question him in a bored voice.

  His happiness at seeing me quickly vanishes.

  “I think you should know by now that I never do what I’m told, Fireball,” he says sarcastically.

  Folding my arms across my chest to stop myself from racing across the room and wrapping them around him, I stare at him blankly before turning my gaze on Jackson, who stands awkwardly by the front door with a bottled water in his hand.

  “Jackson, can you take me to see Dax?”

  He nods, opening his mouth to agree when DJ glares at him before turning that look towards me. “The fuck he will! If you need to go anywhere, I’M taking you.”

  I scoff, rolling my eyes. “Why are you still here?”

  “Obviously because I’m a glutton for punishment!” he shouts. “Get your ass in my truck and I’ll take you!”

  “Fuck off! I’m not going anywhere with you!” I yell back.

  “Then you’re not going anywhere! If you leave this house, it’s going to be with ME!”

  Dropping my arms to my sides, I take a few deep breaths to calm myself. He’s picking a fight with me on purpose. This is what we do. It’s like fucking foreplay, but I refuse to play into it.

  Luckily, I hear the buzz of DJ’s pager attached to his belt. Without taking his furious eyes off of me, he yanks the thing off of his hip and brings it up in front of his face.

  “Shit! Shit, motherfuck, shit damn!” he curses, pulling his cell phone out of his pocket and quickly dialing a number.

  I listen to his one-sided conversation, finding out the page was about a huge warehouse fire on the opposite side of town and all paramedics needed to respond.

  “Go be a hero for someone else, I don’t need you,” I tell him loudly so he’ll hear me over his phone call as I walk over to the coffee table and grab my purse.

  He covers the mouthpiece with his hand and stares me down.

  “Don’t fucking move!” he orders loudly.

  He squeezes his eyes closed immediately and lets out a huge calming breath before softening his voice with his next words. “I love you, Phina. We’ll handle Dax together. We will handle everything together.”

  He turns away from me and moves closer to the kitchen, quietly arguing with whoever is on the other line about how he can’t make it into work right now, that he has an emergency of his own at home.

  I feel myself wanting to give in, to forget about all the reasons why being with him is a bad idea. My feet start moving me in his direction when Jackson clears his throat quietly from behind me.

  I can’t do this. I can’t keep bringing DJ into this shit. He wants to skip work when there are people whose lives he could save because of my problems. What happens after that? What happens when I have another issue he needs to deal with? Eventually he’s going to realize I’m not worth all the trouble he has to go through just to be with me. I’m always going to have problems, and he’s always going to want to save me.

  While DJ is distracted on the phone, I quickly turn away, grabbing Jackson’s hand and quietly pulling him out the door.

  “No, do NOT call Collin. He’s got enough on his plate right now,” I argue with my captain.

  He continues to explain about the warehouse fire, telling me that without Collin there, he needs someone to fill in and take charge and I’m the only option. The warehouse is a huge manufacturing plant on the other side of town and it’s full of workers who just got there for the next shift. The five-story building is over a hundred years old and it’s going up like a fucking tinderbox.

  I can’t just NOT respond to this call, but I also can’t leave Phina right now. I could see her wavering when I told her I love her. Running my hand through my hair, I stare up at the ceiling, trying to come up with a plan. If I have to, I’ll tie her ass up and take her with me.

  “Fine. I’ll meet you there as soon as possible. My gear is still in my locker, make sure someone grabs it on the way out so I don’t have to make an extra stop,” I tell him before ending the call.

  I turn around as I shut off my phone, gearing up to explain the plan to Phina without starting another argument. When I see nothing but an empty living room and a wide-open front door, I completely lose my shit.

  “YOU HAVE GOT TO BE FUCKING KIDDING ME!” I yell to the empty house.

  Racing across the living room and out the front door, I search the street and of course, Jackson’s cruiser is gone. Making my way down the steps, calling Jackson every fucking name in the book for going against me, I hear the screeching of tires a few houses away and hope to God he had enough sense to turn around and bring Phina back. I watch an unmarked, black Crown Vic fly up to the curb in front of my truck and see Dax get out of the vehicle and race up the front walk.

  “Where is she? Where the fuck is Phina?”

  He tries to go around me into the house, but I stop him with a hand on his arm. “She’s not here. She just left to go see you.”

  He takes off running towards Marcus’ cruiser, which was parked behind my truck in the driveway and still running.

  “I thought I told you to make sure she stays here!” Dax shouts as he flings open the driver’s side door. “Oh, Jesus. SON OF A BITCH!”

  Walking up behind Dax, I watch as he leans in and presses two of his fingers to Marcus’s throat, which is pretty pointless because even I can see from over Dax’s shoulder that the bloody hole in Marcus’s temple would make it pretty hard for his heart to keep beating.

  “Who the fuck did that?” I ask in shock as Dax steps back from the vehicle.

  “Did Phina leave alone? Tell me she left alone,” Dax says worriedly, ignoring my question.

  I shake my head at him, wondering if he’s been drinking tonight.

  “Um, clearly she didn’t go alone. She’s got police protection on her ass twenty-four-seven, dumbass. Although by the looks of poor Marcus here, you didn’t exactly hire vigilant guard dogs.”

  Dax curses, pulling a wad of napkins out of his pocket and wrapping them around the bloody shoulder piece still attached to Marcus’s uniform.

  “What the hell is going on?” I ask again as panic starts to set in.

  He doesn’t answer me, just pulls the radio off of Marcus’s shoulder, careful to keep the napkins in place.

  “I should have left both of you a more detailed message,” he mumbles to himself. “Son of a fucking bitch.”

  “Dax, you better fucking start explaining things or I’m going to kick your goddamn ass!” I shou
t.

  He holds his finger up for me to wait and I almost grab onto it and twist it off his fucking hand.

  He holds his thumb and a corner of the napkin over the press-to-talk button and starts talking rapidly.

  “This is Detective Trevino, I’ve got a 10-00 and need back-up assistance at 743 Vine Street. I need an APB and BOLO for badge number 29763, last seen driving a city-issued police Taurus, license plate Boy King Mary Yellow 324. Armed and dangerous, possible female hostage, thirty-four years of age, over.”

  He releases the button and I try to process what he’s saying.

  Female hostage, female hostage, female hostage…

  Static comes over the radio seconds later and a tinny female voice replies.

  “Copy that. APB and BOLO have been processed. Do you need medical assistance for the 10-00, over?”

  Dax glances at Marcus sadly. “Negative. Officer is DOA, over.”

  “Copy that. Assistance is en route, ETA five minutes, over.”

  “Copy.” Dax reattaches the radio to Marcus’s shoulder and tosses the bloody napkins onto the floor of the car. He backs away from the vehicle and immediately starts dialing his cell phone while I stand there, trying to make sense of what’s going on.

  “I need deeds to any piece of property that Jackson Castillo and/or Anthony Giordano own. Text me the addresses as soon as fucking possible.”

  He ends the call and finally looks at me. I can do nothing but shake my head back and forth.

  “This isn’t happening. This is NOT fucking happening,” I whisper.

  “Do you have any idea what direction they went in?” Dax asks.

  I continue shaking my head, wondering how in the hell this could happen. I shouldn’t have let her leave. I shouldn’t have taken that fucking call and turned my back on her.

  “I was on the phone. She left when I was on the phone. She fucking left while I was on the phone,” I repeat like a deranged idiot.

  “This is all on me, do you understand? You had no way of knowing she shouldn’t go off alone with him,” Dax explains. “He’s one of my fucking own. I put him in charge of watching her, dammit.”

  Pulling my fist back, I punch him right in the mouth, exactly like I wanted to do earlier. I shake out my hand as he shouts in pain, spitting a wad of blood out of his mouth and onto the sidewalk.

  “I’ll let you have that one shot because I know you’re pissed, but that’s all you get. You do it again and I’m hauling your ass in for assaulting a police officer after I beat the fuck out of you!” Dax shouts at me as he holds the back of his hand against his busted lip.

  My entire body shakes with rage and I see nothing but red. I don’t pay attention to his warning and I advance on him instead.

  “What the fuck did you do? WHAT THE FUCK DID YOU DO, ASSHOLE?” I scream, shoving my hands against his chest.

  He stumbles backwards into the side of his vehicle and then, faster than I can come up with another insult, he’s got me turned around with my arms secured behind my back in the iron lock of his hands.

  “Seriously, this is your last fucking warning!” he yells by my ear.

  I struggle against his hold, but he just tightens it until my arms feel like they’re being ripped out of their sockets.

  “Why does my guard dog have a hole in his head and why the fuck did you issue an APB and a BOLO for Jackson? TELL ME WHAT THE FUCK HAPPENED!”

  He shakes me roughly to get me stop struggling and I pause for a moment to let my anger simmer so he’ll fucking speak. My brain has already caught up with all the shit happening around me, but I want to hear him fucking say it.

  “I got an anonymous call earlier that there was someone on the inside making all those threats against you and Phina. Guy claimed he saw the person light the fire around the ambulance and cut the brake line on Finnley’s car. Even saw him tape a few notes to yours and Phina’s front doors,” Dax explains. “I didn’t want to believe it. I mean, for all I knew it was her fucking father calling it in trying to get us off of his tail, but I still had to look into it, just in case.”

  I’ve already put two-and-two together and I don’t want to hear what he says next. I don’t want to know that everything I’m thinking about right now could be a reality.

  “I never actually worked with Jackson. He’s a beat cop and I’m a detective, so our paths have never really crossed. My captain put out a few calls when Phina started receiving threats and the guy actually came to me and volunteered for the job. Told me some story about his cousin fucking up Phina’s best friend’s life and how he just wanted to do right by everyone for his family’s sake. I didn’t like it, but he came highly recommended from my captain. I trust that man, DJ. He was my fucking mentor at the police academy and he’s been like a father to me since I graduated. I had no solid reason to think Jackson was anything but on the up and up even if my gut didn’t agree. Besides, this city doesn’t exactly have the resources to put a full-time cop on glorified guard duty. Jackson was on personal leave and we already had another cop filling in for him at the station, so it seemed like the perfect solution on paper.

  Dax finally lets go of me when he’s sure I’m not going to haul off and punch him again. I turn around slowly, waiting for him to tell me the rest, still unsure if I’m going to be forced to beat his ass.

  “As soon as I got the call, I started discreetly asking about Jackson around the station. A lot of people don’t like him. They think he’s shady and there’s been some complaints about his forceful tactics when he goes on calls. There were even some rumors that he’s been taking bribes from prisoners to do favors for them on the outside. They said the captain refused to make any formal complaints until someone came to them with solid proof. Jordan’s death was the perfect excuse for cap to ask Jackson to take a leave of absence and get his head on straight.”

  This is all just too fucked up. The man watching us day and night, following us everywhere we go, is responsible for all the threats and for almost killing us. And now he has Phina.

  “I called Phina and told her to call me back right away and then I called Marcus and told him to make sure she didn’t leave because Jackson could be a threat. I also called your stupid ass, but you didn’t answer. I wanted to come here and question him myself and feel him out. You can’t just go around accusing a cop of working on the wrong side of the law,” Dax explains.

  I don’t want to hear anything else. Jackson could be the biggest threat to Phina, or if his co-workers are correct, he could have taken a bribe from her father and be delivering her to him right now. Either option is unacceptable.

  “Move this fucking cruiser out of my way,” I tell Dax, pointing to Marcus’ car still blocking my truck as I pull my keys out of my pocket and head over to it.

  “You’re not fucking going anywhere, DJ. Back-up will be here any minute now and the cops will handle it,” he tells me as I get inside my truck and slam the door closed.

  With the window rolled down, I start it up and give him one last look. “Yeah, because the cops have done a SUPER fucking job of it so far. Move the goddamn cruiser before I run the fucker over!”

  I rev my engine and put the truck in gear. We’ve already wasted enough time standing out here in the front yard talking when we should have been high-tailing it after Phina and Jackson.

  “Goddammit, DJ! Don’t make me do this!” Dax shouts, pulling his gun from his shoulder holster and pointing it right at me.

  I smirk at him, taking my foot off the brake. “Go ahead, pull the trigger, dick fuck.”

  He can either let me go or shoot me. I’ll do whatever it takes to find Phina.

  Dax shakes his head at me and curses a blue streak as I press on the gas. As I start to turn around to look behind me and see how much room I have before I smash into the cruiser, the explosion from Dax’s gun echoes through the night.

  I look over at Jackson questioningly as he makes a right instead of a left at the end of my street.

  “Heard on th
e radio there was an accident on Clemmons Street. Going to take a shortcut to the police station,” he explains.

  Nodding silently, I rest my head on the seat back and stare out the window.

  God, why does this have to hurt so fucking much? Me, the woman who loves pain, suddenly doesn’t want to feel it any more.

  “Hey, so how come things between us never worked out?” Jackson suddenly asks.

  I close my eyes, really not wanting to talk right now, but I also don’t want to be a bitch to the person who has taken time out of his life to keep an eye on me and keep me safe.

  When I open my eyes again, I continue to stare out the window.

  “I don’t know, I guess we were just too different. It never would have worked out,” I reply softly.

  “You and DJ are pretty opposite, but that seems to be working out just fine.”

  At the mention of DJ’s name, I press the palms of my hands against my chest, trying my hardest to keep my heart from jumping out and flopping like a dead fish onto the floor at my feet.

  I don’t respond to his statement. I definitely don’t want to get into this right now. It’s too soon and I’m too raw. It feels like someone has filleted my skin and then dumped acid over it. Everything hurts and I just want to curl up in bed, pull the covers over my head and sleep until I stop aching.

  “Seriously, I just want to know why I wasn’t good enough for you?” Jackson prods, the tone of his voice suddenly turning harder than it was moments ago.

  Jesus, it was like twelve years ago. Get over it already.

  “That wasn’t it at all, Jackson,” I tell him, trying to keep the irritation out of my voice. “It was me. I wasn’t good enough for you.”