But I owe it to my sister. She was older than me. Only by three years. She was reserved and polite. I was the handful child that always got into trouble. Maybe that’s why I never got along with my mother. I don’t know. But that relationship completely vanished when Melissa died. My mother couldn’t take it. She’s not a fighter like me.
The night Melissa didn’t come back, my mom was sure she was dead. The next morning when I went looking for her, putting up signs and waiting for the police to actually do something, my mother did nothing but cry. I was pissed. She wasn’t even trying. I think she buried Melissa that day. And what was left of her own soul.
Ever since I’ve been so fucking alone.
Melissa could’ve been trapped. She could have hit her head somehow and been unconscious. A million scenarios ran through my head. I knew deep inside me that she needed me. She needed us. Yet my mother did nothing but sob inconsolably.
I hated her then. It was like I could feel my sister’s pain, and I tried so fucking hard. I looked everywhere I could. But I never would have found her. I was looking in all the wrong places.
It wasn’t long after that when her body was discovered. I couldn’t believe it. I couldn’t imagine that someone would take her. After the shock and the sadness, all that was left was anger. I knew I had to do something.
I took a semester off school to join the groups that all promise to bring awareness to sex trafficking. I went to meetings, presentations, and counseling. But it didn’t feel like enough. More than that, I saw my sister in the women who survived. I could see her in their place.
But I knew she’d never be there. She was dead. She wasn’t ever going to sit in the chair across from me, and tell me what happened to her. She wasn’t going to be making plans with me on how to handle simple, everyday tasks that now felt impossible. I had to stop going.
I needed to go after the man who'd led her to her death.
I feel like it was just yesterday that I’d made up my mind to chase after Petrov. Like I'd gone into a dark tunnel and sprinted through it blindly, only to emerge and not realize where it was taking me.
He may be dead. I may never get to face him. I may never even know for sure. But I won’t stop.
The rest of the Valettis know something, and I can question them. Well, I can try. I know it’s risky. But I have to try. I’ll do anything to make sure Petrov never puts his hands on another woman. I hope he suffered. Tears leak down my face and hit the pillow beneath me. A sob tears through me, and I have no idea where it came from.
My anger is waning, knowing he may no longer be alive. What’s left if I don’t have the anger to hold onto? My chest feels hollow. And I can’t stand the distant feeling of sadness.
I wish I knew one way or the other.
He could’ve at least told me. Thinking of Thomas makes the pain subside, if only for a moment. He made me weak. I enjoyed it though. I’m tired of being the strong one. I’m tired of fighting an enemy I can’t even see. I’m tired of chasing ghosts.
I close my eyes and try to think of anything other than the dark past, and twisted obsession that’s brought me here. I steady my breathing and see Thomas’ face.
I feel his hands on my body. His lips against my neck.
“Bad girl.” The memory of his deep, baritone voice sends a shiver through my body. I can imagine a time when I would have run off with him. When I would have gotten on my knees and done everything and anything he asked, just for the thrill of it.
That time’s passed though. And now neither of us are in a position to allow what we did to ever happen again. My eyes pop open, realizing if he told anyone, I’d lose my job. I expect to feel fear, or shock, or anger at the thought. But I feel nothing. I don’t think I’d care.
It would hurt though, for him to use it against me. He should. If I were him, I would. What we did wasn’t right, and it would certainly add a level of distrust and uncertainty to the case if I got pulled off. It would severely compromise the case.
But the evidence is iffy as is. All we really have are the prints at this point. The tire tracks are circumstantial, and the witness deposition is inadmissible due to her state of mind.
The partial print is the only piece of evidence that’s damning, according to the prosecutor.
There’s no more evidence to collect, and everything we have points to the Valettis ending the deal and saving the women.
I can’t even fathom why Jerry is still gunning for them, unless he’s hoping for the same outcome as Harrison, just in a more professional way. I guess it’s professional to leverage and threat in order to get information for other cases.
The lines are blurred so much more than I ever thought they could be.
And I’m tired of looking at black and white. I rest my head into the pillow and try not to think about any of it at all. I just want to rewind time. I want to go back to the last time I saw Melissa and hold her. If I’d known then, what I know now, I’d never let her go. I don’t care if it’s crazy. I would do anything I could to save her.
The tears come again and I hug my pillow. I can’t save her. I’ll never be able to save her. My throat closes as I sniffle and try to breathe into the pillow.
She’s never coming back. And nothing I’ll ever do can change that.
Tommy
“What the fuck is that broad thinking?” Anthony walks up behind me at the bar, and I have to turn around to face him.
He looks worried. “What are you talking about?” I ask.
“Your chick, Tonya Kelly. The cop.” He says, “the cop” like I wouldn’t know who he’s talking about. My eyes lower to the drink in my hand. I haven’t had one fucking moment go by where I didn’t think about her. From the way she felt writhing beneath me, to the pissed off and hurt look when I shut it down before the situation got any worse than was necessary.
I fucking hate this. I hate that I can’t get her out of my head, and I hate that I can’t have her. I’ve never had this problem before. And I don’t fucking like it.
“What’s she doing?” I ask, looking past him at Vince. Vince is in the corner of the room talking to his brother over a beer. They barely come in here anymore with the kids taking up so much of their time. I hope whatever my bad girl has gotten into, it hasn’t found its way back to either of them.
“She’s about to get slapped with a harassment lawsuit if she keeps her shit up.” I look him dead in the eyes, waiting for more. “She went to Tony's and waited for him outside his house. She keeps pushing for information.” He looks over his shoulder at Vince. “She’s worse than a fucking reporter.”
He turns like he’s gonna go tell Vince, and I stop him. My hand grips his shoulder. His forehead pinches, and his eyes narrow. “What the fuck, Tommy?”
“Don’t tell him, and tell Tony to keep his mouth shut.” He looks at me with disbelief. “I’ll handle it,” I say, standing up from my barstool.
“Are you fucking kidding me? You can’t go around making threats to an officer. You aren’t off the hook yet.”
“That’s not what I have in mind,” I say under my breath.
Anthony closes his eyes and lets his head fall back. “You’re fucking kidding me, Tommy. Tell me you’re not fucking around with her.”
“I’m not.” I’ve never been good at lying, and I sure as shit don’t like lying to him. But it’s partially true.
“Good. That’d be a fucking mistake.”
“Stay out of it, Anthony.” I’m done with this conversation. I turn to walk away and he doesn’t stop me. I feel like a prick, but I’m going after what I want.
Before I make it to the door, Vince and Dom approach me, and I know I need to stop and hear them out. I just hope it’s not about her. She really should know better; she shouldn’t be doing this shit. She’s gonna get herself into deep shit, and I can’t fucking have that happen.
“Tommy, you alright?” Dom asks. I’m sure they can see the stress on my face. I need to man the fuck up and play it cool.
<
br /> “Everything considered, I’m doing just fine.” I talk easy, but the tension in my body is keeping my guard up.
“You know we got you. It’s all gonna be taken care of. Soon, too. We already got the witness stuff thrown out, the prints and the tire tracks are close to being gone too, and then they won’t have shit on you.”
I nod my head, not really listening. I’m sure I’m gonna get off, so I’m not too worried about that. But my bad girl is gonna get herself into some deep shit, and I need to stop that. I don’t want them thinking of her like they do Harrison.
“Has that bitch cop been bugging you?” Vince asks, and it takes everything in me not to make a fist and smash it into his face.
“She’s not a bitch,” I manage to say back, and he doesn’t like that answer. Dom seems surprised and takes a step back. He doesn’t get involved with this shit. I can’t help that the words come out. I don’t like him calling her a bitch. She may be a little rough around the edges. She’s a little pushy, but she’s not a bitch. Nothing about her makes me think that.
“She’s still a cop though, isn’t she?” Vince asks in a hushed voice.
“Yeah she is.” I answer him quickly, wanting to get rid of the tense air between us.
“She still bugging you?”
I answer him honestly. “I haven’t seen her in a few days.”
“Haven’t seen her?” he asks, tilting his head and narrowing his eyes. “What’s that mean, Tommy?”
“Means she hasn’t been around to bug me. She’s not like the others, Vince.”
“I don’t like the way you’re talking Tommy.” Vince wraps his arms around my shoulder and leads me to the back room. “You talking like that to anyone else?”
“I haven’t said shit to anyone about anything.” That's always the correct answer to give.
“You sound like you’ve got something going on with her, Tommy. You talking to a cop?”
“Fuck no, Vince.” My body goes ice cold. I can't have anyone think I'm talking to a cop. That gets your ass killed.
“If you were anyone other than my cousin, I’d be thinking twice about believing the shit coming out of your mouth right now.”
“She’s a woman, is all,” I answer back.
“She’s a cop, Tommy. You can’t forget that shit. You can’t go easy on her just because she’s got tits. She’ll still use anything you say against you. Isn’t that one of their fucking lines?”
I press my lips into a tight line and nod diligently.
“Don’t fucking talk like that around anyone else. I can’t have anyone thinking you’ve got a thing going on with the cops. They can’t start spreading shit about you talking, Tommy. There’s only so much I can do to squash shit like that.”
He sounds desperate for me to listen to him. And I am, but only partially.
Even as he’s warning me away from her, I already know I’m going to lie to him. I already know I’m not going to listen. I think I’ve just been waiting for a reason to go to her, and she just gave me one.
Tonya
I shut the door, dropping my keys in the glass bowl on the end table, and drag my ass over to sink down on the couch. It’s been a long fucking day. I wince as I scrape the wound on my arm against the rough fabric of the sofa. I suck in a deep breath through clenched teeth. Fucking asshole made me chase him through the woods, all for what? A couple hundred bucks he stole from his parents? Seriously? It fucking pisses me off. I’m so fucking tired of dealing with junkies and this stupid shit. What’s worse is I know he’ll be out soon. Only to get hauled back in later. I lean my head back against the couch.
I put my hands on my forehead, and try to let the stress leave me. This isn’t what I thought being a cop would be like. I shake my head and forget that shit. I knew this was going to be hard. It’s not what’s eating me. I know exactly why I’m all fucked up. It’s because I have no leads to the only case I really care about.
My heart twists in my chest. I don’t want to think about him. I’ve been trying to avoid it, but he keeps haunting me. I don’t know what hurts worse, the fact that he could end this pain for me, or the fact that he’s gotten to me. I haven’t been with anyone in so long. I don’t remember it feeling like this. But then again, I’ve never been dumped like that either.
I snort, and force my tired body off the sofa. Like we were seeing each other. As if I mattered to him.
My gut drops, and I find myself regretting it. But I can’t stand that. I don’t like regret. I do what feels right, and I don’t do what feels wrong. It’s my own insurance policy so that I never regret anything.
At any point in my past, I know whatever I was doing was exactly what I wanted. At least right then and there. And I’d be a fucking liar if I said I didn’t love every minute of Tommy fucking me. I came alive under him. I smile, remembering how loud his bed was. I shake my head and open my fridge looking for a snack or something.
It sucked though, when it was over. I look at the half gallon of milk and the rest of my practically-empty fridge and frown. I close the door and try to shake off this shit feeling. I don’t hold it against him. It never should’ve happened. But it still fucking hurt.
I’m not going to let him stop me from getting to the bottom of Petrov’s case though. I’m sure as fuck going to avoid him like the plague though. I need to get him out of my head. If anyone at the station found out what happened between us, I’d be fucked.
I feel like a bitch for judging all of them and how hard they are after years of doing this shit. No wonder they look at me like I don’t belong. Fuck! I lean my head against the fridge and breathe in and out slowly. I can’t shake this negativity. I can’t get out of my own fucking head. I’m second-guessing everything, and feeling like shit as a result. I need to stop. But I don’t know how.
I slowly open my eyes as I hear a loud knock at my door.
My heart stills in my chest. I have no clue who would come over here this late at night. I wait with anxiety trickling through my limbs for a voice. But I don’t hear anything. I walk silently, but quickly to the end table and pick up my gun where I left it. I hold it down and walk steadily as I hear a loud knock again.
Bang. Bang. Bang! On the third, I hear his voice say, “Open up, Tonya.” Relief washes through my body and I almost put the gun down, but then I think twice.
I look at it in my hands and remember how angry the other members of the Valetti familia were. In two days, I’ve managed to piss off more men than my mom has in her entire life. That's saying something.
“I know you’re in there, you may be a bad girl, but I don’t want you pushing me right now.” His voice doesn’t come out hard, but it's not playful either. It’s almost a little worried. Like he’s fairly confident that I’ll answer him, but scared that I won’t.
I like that.
I like making him wait. Not because I don’t want to answer him, I do. The wild side of me is jumping at the chance to answer him. But I also like keeping him on edge.
I put the gun down on the end table. It may be stupid, but I don’t care right now. I walk to the door and unlock it. I wait a second to see if he’ll open it. But he doesn’t. He respects that boundary. I close my eyes and take a deep breath. I can’t let myself go back to how it was before. This is going to be professional.
I open the door and curse myself as my eyes land on his hard, muscular body. Fuck, I want him. I want all of him. I close my eyes and don’t open them as he speaks.
“What are you doing snooping around?” He gets right to the point, and anger rises within me. Enough so that I can stare back at him.
“Snooping around?” I’m not snooping. I’m simply trying to get answers.
“You need to knock it off.” His voice is stern and admonishing. It pisses me off, but also lights something else in me. Something I need to let die.
“I don’t need to do anything, and as far as you’re concerned, you weren’t giving me what I needed, so I had to go somewhere else.” I know the
double meaning there. And I hate that it slipped out. I feel fucking pathetic.
His eyebrows raise, and he looks me up and down like he’s sizing me up, but I can see he’s angry. “Is that so?” he says with a neutral tone.
I start backpedaling the best I can and say, “I need answers for my own sanity.”
“You’re a cop, you think they’re going to give you anything?” He raises his voice as he continues to lay into me, “They’re not like me, Tonya. They aren’t going to treat you like I do.”
“So they aren’t going to fuck me and then toss me aside?” I’m so fucking bitter I can’t help but spit it out. I don’t feel any anger toward him, but apparently some part of me does.
“Is that what you want from them?” he asks.
“Fuck off, Thomas.” I start to close the door. I don’t have the energy for this. If he’s not going to help me, fine. If he doesn’t want to fuck me anymore, that’s fine, too.
Thomas stops the door and pushes it open so he can lean in. “What the fuck? You trying to piss me off, Officer Kelly?” I don’t like the way he’s saying my name. Like he’s asking if he’s talking to me or someone else, someone who he doesn’t trust. I’ve never been anything but honest with him.
“What do you want?” I ask with irritation coloring my voice, but I’m not irritated. I’m hurt. I want him to say, “You.” I want him to come in and take me. I want him to make everything better. And that realization makes me feel weak. It makes me feel sick to my stomach.
“I wanna come in and talk.”
“Now you wanna talk?” I shake my head and try to push down the bit of hope growing in my chest. It’s stupid. I shouldn’t be hoping. This can’t happen.
“You gonna let me in?” he asks, like I might actually say yes.
“No.” I shake my head and open my eyes, making sure to only look at his face. The thought of him coming in here only makes me want to test whether or not he can make my bed creak and groan like he did his. This is bad. Real fucking bad.
“Why the fuck not?” He sounds all pissed off.
Bad Girl: Valetti Crime Family (A Bad Boy Mafia Romance) Page 7
