by Bella Jewel
“That’s my ex, don’t answer it. I don’t want my son to see me like this.”
Reece keeps banging on the door. “Know you’re here, I can see the light on, hear your voice. Open up or I’ll go get my key ...”
“I’ll deal with this,” Kendric murmurs, standing and walking toward the door.
“Oh, no,” I say, reaching out a hand to stop him, but it’s pointless, utterly pointless. There is no stopping him.
He swings open the door, and with blurred vision I see Reece and his face as he takes in the huge biker standing in my door frame. Kendric is big, and he’s scary, and he doesn’t take a lot of shit.
“Who the fuck are you?” Reece growls, crossing his arms.
Oh, no.
Oh, boy.
“I’m a friend of Zariah’s; she got sick tonight and I was called to bring her home from a bar up town. She’s sleepin’.”
“You fucking her?” Reece demands, his voice angry and low.
“No, I’m not fuckin’ her, I’m helpin’ her.”
“Why do I find that hard to believe? I’ve got her son and she’s here fucking someone else when we’re not even fully over. Zariah!”
Oh, no.
My heart hammers against my ribcage, and I want to get up and fix this. I don’t want Reece to think there is anything going on between Kendric and me, not because I care what he thinks, but because I know what’ll happen if he loses his temper.
“She is asleep, I’m not fuckin’ her, and if you don’t leave I’ll make you fuckin’ leave.”
“Who the hell do you think you are, man?”
“You don’t wanna find out.”
Kendric slams the door and my mouth drops open as I watch him lock it, even though Reece is pounding on the flimsy timber. He turns to me and our eyes meet. For a moment, the silence in the room is almost deafening.
“I’ll stay until he’s gone, go to sleep.”
I want to fight him, I really do, but I’m barely able to keep my eyes open.
Slowly, I drift off into slumber.
Not before mumbling a thank you to Kendric, even though he doesn’t answer.
I owe him that much.
I WAKE UP IN THE MORNING in the same spot I went to sleep, sprawled on the couch with a really bad taste in my mouth and a headache that’s making me wonder if I should just go back to sleep or force myself up to face the day. Either way it goes, I didn’t die during the night and that’s something. I try to recall the events of the evening, but they’re mostly a haze. I recall the drinking, the dancing, and then Kendric bringing me home.
I don’t remember much after that.
Except Reece. I remember him coming to the door.
I turn my head to see if Kendric is still here by some small chance, but jerk with complete shock when I see Reece sitting at the end of the couch, staring at me. He’s so quiet I honestly didn’t even know he was there. The shock has my heart racing and me demanding in a scratchy, harsh voice, “What the hell are you doing?”
He stares at me, his eyes scanning over my face, tipping his head to the side slightly. “I could ask you the same thing.”
“Why are you here, Reece?” I groan, trying to sit up but my god my head is pounding. I reach for the bottle of water on the ground and manage to get myself up enough to drink it.
Only then do I look to the man still staring at me. There is a look in his eyes I’ve seen so many times before, this calm yet terrifying stare that tells me even though he looks like he’s not going to do anything, he can flip his switch in the blink of an eye and lose his shit. I’ve seen it happen a million times before, and I’m certain that one wrong word will have it happening again now.
“Who was that man last night?” he asks, his voice scarily calm.
“He’s a friend, he dropped me home because I was drunk after a night out with the girls. He left soon after. That’s it.”
Why am I justifying myself to this man? We’re over, right? I don’t owe him any explanations and yet, in the darkest, most broken parts of me, I worry that he’ll be hurt, that he’ll hate me for being with someone else, even though I wasn’t. I care about how my actions will make him feel because I have some stupid tie to him that I don’t understand. A toxic tie laced with acid and broken promises and dreams.
A tie I should really look at cutting and discarding, once and for all.
“Why don’t I believe you?” he questions, his eyes raking over my body.
What is he expecting to find there? A hickey?
I push myself to my feet with an exhale because I need a shower more than I need to sit here and justify my actions to him right now. I turn and walk down the hall, and when I hear his footsteps behind me, I stop and turn, looking back at him. “What are you doing?”
“I want you to answer my question, Zariah.”
“There’s nothing to answer,” I say calmly, continuing my journey down the hall toward the blissful heat of the shower.
Every step is agony; my head pounds like it’s going explode any moment.
“You’re lying to me.”
I exhale and, when I do, a slight snorting sound comes out of my mouth. It’s accidental, but I also know immediately that it’s the worst possible sound that could escape my throat right now. Before I can turn to explain myself, Reece’s hand is around the back of my neck and he’s slamming me into the wall. I smash into it with a thud that nearly brings me to my knees. He’s usually careful with my face, and as if realizing this, he jerks me backward until my back is pressed against his chest, head tipped back, his face turned into mine, his hand on my jaw.
“Who is he?” he growls, his voice a low whip.
“He’s no one,” I say, my voice strained. “He’s just a friend, he doesn’t even like me. I’m not lying to you, Reece.”
“If I find out you’re lying to me, that you’re seeing someone else, you’re going to hate what I do to you.”
I clench my eyes shut as I feel the tickle of his warm breath against my jaw. “You promised you wouldn’t do this anymore,” I whisper.
His grip releases just a little, and he growls into my ear, “Why do you provoke me, Zariah, why do you make it so hard for me? You know I love you. You know I don’t want to hurt you. Why do you keep pushing me?”
“I’m sorry,” I whisper, heart racing.
He releases my jaw and spins me around until I’m facing him, only then does he take my face in his hands, thumb grazing down my cheek. “You know I don’t want to hurt you.”
“I know,” I say, my voice shaky.
“You know that I’m trying.”
“I know.”
“I love you; you know I love you.”
I swallow, and my knees tremble as he keeps stroking my skin. I know how wrong this is, I know I should fight him off, I know so many things about this situation is toxic yet I find myself unable to step back, unable to say no, unable to do anything but let him treat me the way he does. My body craves something deadly when it comes to this man. I’m a cop, I protect women like me all the time, I could stop him if I really wanted to, so why don’t I?
What am I so afraid of?
What keeps me locked onto this monster?
“I need to shower, Reece, please.”
“I’ll join you.”
He lets me go and, without question or argument, he walks into the bathroom.
I follow him, because I know there is no other choice.
I’ll go in there, he’ll kiss the pain away, he’ll light my body on fire with his touch, he’ll make me moan his name as he fills me with his cock, and then he’ll promise never to hurt me again.
Only he will.
And I’ll let him.
Because I’m so incredibly broken.
4
ZARIAH
I throw my towel over my shoulder and walk into the gym, water bottle in hand. The only thing in my world that helps me out when I’m thinking too much is a good gym session. I’m one of those gym junkie
s that could just spend hours here, purely for the atmosphere. The gym I attend is only three blocks from my apartment, so I can get up in the morning and walk down here, do a workout, and walk home. The days I have Jayden, I go just before I pick him up from daycare.
It’s a win-win, really.
I step inside “Bodeez” and immediately the music and lights wake me all the way up. It’s only six am, so there aren’t a great deal of people here, which makes it even better. The music is always playing, the atmosphere is always great, and I can’t get enough of the place. They know me well now and, when I walk past the front counter, the owner, Tom, smiles at me and gives me a big wave.
He’s bigger than the building itself—okay, slight overreaction—but the man is a body builder and holy shit he is intimidating when you’re up close to him. Still, he’s dedicated and seriously the nicest guy ever. He’s always friendly and always up to give someone a helping hand when they’re not sure what they’re doing. I like that about him; he isn’t walking around flaunting himself, he’s walking around bettering everyone else.
“Morning, Tom!” I say, “You can tell winter is starting to roll in, huh?”
He laughs. “You’re telling me. I can’t wait for the heating bill when I have to warm this place up.”
I grin at him and keep walking to the locker room where I find my locker and put my phone and keys inside, then I take my water bottle and my towel and go to the large room that holds all the treadmills, cycling, rowing, step machines, and a range of a few other great things to get your workout on. They have two other rooms, also. One heavy lifting room, and one with a general range of weight benches for a full body work out.
I find a treadmill, plug my earphones in, and get cracking on a true crime podcast as I start my work for the day. True crime continually reminds me why I do the job I do, why I choose to work so tirelessly without appreciation. I want to be there one day, to investigate, to bring the horrible people of the world down and do my best to make everything right again. That’s my goal, my dream, and the reason I keep fighting.
I’m midway through my run when I catch a side glance of a man coming into the room. The moment I recognize him, I jerk my earphones out, and in a panting voice, say, “You come to this gym?”
Kendric, who looks incredibly gorgeous in a black tank, a pair of light shorts and running shoes, gives me a look that tells me he’s not at all impressed with the fact that he’s seeing me in here. Being that I’ve never seen him around before, I’m guessing he’s new.
“I live two blocks down, closest gym I could find.”
He lives nearby? I didn’t know that.
“It’s a good gym,” I try to say, my voice a little puffed out. “You’ll like it here. I didn’t know you were the gym type.”
“Did you think I got muscles like this from layin’ around fuckin’ all day?” he mutters, stepping onto a treadmill and pressing the buttons.
I notice he picked a treadmill three away from mine.
He really doesn’t like me.
I choose not to answer his sarcastic little remark and decide to go for a different tactic. “Thank you for the other night. I really appreciate it.”
“Yeah.”
Wow.
“Has Alarick heard anything more about the case?”
“Why don’t you fuckin’ ask him, Zariah? I’m not here to chat with you, I’m here to switch my god damned fuckin’ mind off so I don’t drown in my thoughts. Wanna let me do that?”
He gives me a look so harsh I stop running and just stare at him, anger bubbling in my chest. “You know, you don’t need to be such a fucking dick to me, Kendric. I know you hate me, I know what I did was wrong, but I’m trying to help you.”
“Are you? Or are you just trying to clear your conscience so you don’t have to live with the guilt if I go down?”
Jesus, he really isn’t happy today.
I turn back to the front of the treadmill and start jogging again, shoving my earphones angrily into my ears before I say something I’ll regret.
I finish my workout, avoiding any room Kendric is in, and then go to the locker room to shower and get changed for my long ass day at work. I’ve just finished showering and have put my pants and bra on when the door opens and Kendric walks in, sweaty and panting, looking so damned good I find it very hard not to stare at him. I don’t, though, I just keep dressing myself.
“You fall when you were drunk?”
I look to him, confused. “What?”
“Did you fall when you were drunk?”
“I don’t ...”
He points, and I look down to see a green bruise by my ribs. I didn’t realize it was there, but I know right away what it’s from. Reece. I quickly pull my shirt over my head and shrug. “Probably.”
“I didn’t see you fall,” he murmurs, wiping the towel over his face in a way that makes him look so god damned sexy. I wish he’d stop doing that, like right now.
“Well, I probably did.”
“Looks like finger marks. Someone hurt you? Was it that fuckin’ douchebag who came past when I was there? You got a problem, you call the club and we’ll sort it out.”
“Oh, really?” I mutter, jerking my shirt down as if tugging it will stretch it ever further over my body to cover the scars I hold there. “Seems to me the club doesn’t trust me; they don’t want me involved and yet you’re telling me I could just turn to them? I doubt that.”
He tips his head to the side, pinning me with a gaze that has my skin prickling—in a really, really good way. “You might not like how Alarick does things, hell, you might not like how it fuckin’ goes down sometimes, but the fact of the matter is they’d have your back, cop or not, and you know it.”
Do I know it?
I don’t know.
What I do know is that this conversation is getting a little too deep and a little too sore for my liking.
“I have to go to work.”
I turn and grab my things, my heart a little heavier in my chest than it was a moment ago.
Then I get the hell out of there.
There are enough questions going on in my life right now.
I simply don’t need anymore.
“ZARIAH, IS IT?”
I look up from the mountains of paperwork I’m slowly sifting through on my desk to see none other than Steven Blanche standing in the doorway. For a moment, I’m completely stunned. He works around here, but an average cop like me doesn’t get to interact with him. Occasionally we’re sent to do jobs for him, but he’s the highest officer here and an investigator. He doesn’t talk to people, especially people like me.
“Ah, yes,” I say, immediately straightening.
Steven Blanche, also known as Bull, is a hell of an investigator. He’s well known throughout the state and is often called into different cities for his expertise. He has taken down some of the most prolific killers, including infamous serial killers. He is well sought after and basically a hero to anyone in the field wanting to be what he is—which is me.
When Alarick told me they had suspicions that he’s involved with the selling of girls, Dax and Peter, I didn’t believe him. I just can’t see how someone who is so incredibly talented and smart, who brings bad people down for a living, would be interested in risking everything he’s likely spent half of his life working for, to help someone like Dax, Peter, and whoever else is involved in this horrible case.
“I’ve heard quite a bit about you. I’m working on a case right now, and I’m in need of an extra few pairs of hands. Are you interested?”
Wait, what?
He wants me to help him? He doesn’t even know me. There are at least twenty officers in this place that would literally fight each other to be put on one of his cases. He rarely gets the help of other officers; he’s usually a one man show and he’s bloody good at it. Why he’d come in here, and pick me, I don’t know.
“You want me to help you? May I ask why?”
It’s a stupid que
stion, I should be jumping at the chance considering this is something I’ve wanted since I became a cop. Working with him will be a leg up and put me exactly where I need to be, so risking losing it by asking questions is plain old stupid but I can’t help but wonder why he’d be wanting my help.
“I’ve heard you’ve been looking into the investigation field and want to expand your horizons. I’m looking to take a couple of students, so to speak, under my wing.”
I’m going to hyperventilate.
“And you picked me?” I squeak, and then cover my mouth, horrified that I sound so god damned pathetic. I quickly try to cover it up. “I’m sorry, I’m a really big fan, and I’m in a little bit of shock right now.”
He grins and, when he does, it transforms his whole face. Steven “Bull” Blanche is a good looking man, which helps his cases in a big way. People want to talk to him, women especially. He’s got the kind of face that should be on a magazine cover—come to think of it, I’m fairly certain it has been once or twice.
He’s got this chiseled jaw line with large brown eyes framed by thick lashes. His skin is a soft olive and he’s always sporting a five o’clock shadow which gives him a slightly rugged edge. His hair is always cropped short and neat. He’s tall, yet well-built and lean. He actually reminds me of the actor that plays Lucifer on that new show that I may, or may not, have binged watched. You know, dreams of being a detective and what not.
He has a slight accent; I can’t pick where it’s from, though. A quick background search would tell me his origin.
“You should hold yourself in higher regard, Zariah. I’ve been told great things about you.”
By who? I want to sputter, but I don’t.
Nobody here likes me, most of the men treat me like crap because I’m a woman. The other female cops in the station are older and mostly retired. I’m the only young one who is looking to climb up the ladder. I don’t know who would have put my name forward.
“I hope you don’t mind me asking who put my name forward? Because as I’m sure you can probably imagine, being a young cop, a young woman cop, doesn’t always make things easy around here.”
