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“It’s in the old apartment,” I tell him, then mention where he can find it.
I don’t breathe until they leave. Then I sink to the floor and let the tears fall. When this is all over, if I manage to survive, I’m going to kill Paul. I don’t for one second think it will make me feel better, but if ever a man deserved to die, it is him. How I went for so long without seeing the monster
beneath amazes me. I’ve seen it now, however, and I will put a bullet into him without blinking.
It takes me another ten minutes before I can finally pull myself together. I look around the small room. There’s a few t-shirts with the place’s name emblazoned on them. I yank off my ruined clothes, throw them in the trash, then pull a t-shirt on, wondering if I’ll get arrested for theft before I can get out of this fucking place. That would cap off a perfect day.
Chapter Fifty-Two
Roman
Something is going on with Ana. I’m not sure what it is, but for the last three days, she’s withdrawn and seems to be somewhere else. The only time I feel she’s even halfway with me is when we’re fucking. I’ll have to figure it out, but I can’t right now. There’s too much shit going down.
We’re standing by the grave of one of the few men I considered a friend, listening to some preacher go on about finding a better life in another world. It sounds lame to my ears. The world is a cold, dark place, and having Joe gone just makes it more so. The only warmth in my life is the woman standing beside me right now, crying. I wrap my arm around her, pulling her into me. She buries her face in my chest and I kiss the top of her head, wishing I could take away her pain—fuck, wishing I could take my own. It’s my fault Joe is being buried. He was killed to send me a message, a message I received loud and clear, and one I’m going to deliver twofold on that sorry fuck, Paul Banks.
I have a meeting with Kuzma tonight. I hesitated to go this route, but the old adage “go big or go home” seemed apt. I’m going to make Banks sorry he was ever born. Big Joe deserves that.
The graveside service ends. Ana and I each place a rose on top of the coffin and start walking back to the limo. Robert is standing by the vehicle waiting, and I have two of my best security detail walking behind me. I can’t take a chance with Ana’s safety. We’re almost to the car when Banks and four others get out of a white sedan across from my limo. Ana goes rigid in my arms, and with good reason. I can tell Banks is up to no good, and dealing with him is the last fucking thing I want to do.
“Banks. What the fuck are you doing here?”
“Can’t a man pay his respects?” he asks with a cocky look on his sullen face. I clench my hand into a fist and it takes all I have not to level him. The bastard is baiting me. I can see it, and I keep my face unreadable.
“A man probably could. Still doesn’t explain why you’re here,” I tell him, the barb subtle but pretty fucking clear. I know he understands; it shows in his face.
“You think you’re smart, don’t you, Anthes? I think it might be time to bring you down a peg or two.”
“You can try,” I tell him, growing bored with the game. “Ana, go wait for me in the car,” I tell her, motioning for one of the security members to follow her.
“Roman, I don’t think that would be a good idea. Maybe…” Ana starts.
Before I can respond, Banks joins in. “Yeah, Roman, I don’t think that’d be a good idea either.”
Banks thrusts a piece of paper at me. I grab it, moving in front of Ana to protect her from the man. It’s an instinctual move; he’ll never get close enough to hurt her.
“What is this?”
“A warrant. We got a tip you’re carrying drugs in your car.”
“That’s ridiculous, Banks,” I tell him, shaking my head and pinching the bridge of my nose in frustration. I need to call my attorney to handle this. I don’t have time for this shit.
“Maybe, but we’re going to need to check your limo out, just in case. Just doing our job, you understand,” he says with a self-satisfied grin on his face.
The men behind him are already moving to the car. Something about the whole situation stinks, and I’m not just talking about the way Banks looks entirely too confident. Instantly, that gut instinct I have comes alive. I look at Bruno behind me. I don’t have to give him the words; he knows what I want. He nods and I know he’ll have a call through to my attorney in seconds if this all goes south, which I’m pretty sure it will. As if on cue, one of the men with Banks speaks up.
“Detective, we found something,” they shout.
My eyes go in that direction as the man in question pulls out a couple kilos of wrapped and tightly-packed blow, as well as two guns. There’s also a closed briefcase. I’ve never seen the shit before, but that doesn’t surprise me in the least.
“Roman,” Ana cries, her nails biting into my arm.
“Ana, my attorney will have this sorted out in no time. You go with Bruno and…”
“That won’t be necessary. Ana is going nowhere,” Paul says, his face telling me he thinks he has completely control. He better savor this victory; it will be his last, and it will be nowhere near as monumental as he thinks.
“You have no control over me. That’s my car, and Ana has nothing to do with this,” I growl, more irritated than anything. I don’t want this shit touching Ana.
“That’s where you’re wrong, Anthes. Ana here is key in all of it.”
Something in the way Paul says her name and the wait Ana pulls away from me, stiffening, alerts me to a shift in the game. I look down as Ana steps away. There’s tears in her eyes, and she’s ringing her hands.
“Roman, you need to understand…”
“What Ana here is trying to say…” Paul interrupts her, coming to stand by her and pull her into his side. I lash out without hearing the rest of his sentence, intent only on tearing her away from him, all of my calm leaving me—but then again, ever since Ana came into my life, I’ve never been myself.
Two of Paul’s henchmen grab me. I throw them off easily, thinking of only saving Ana. That’s when the Taser gun hits me and I drop to my knees, my body shaking. I fight against its pull, looking up at Banks and plotting his death as electricity runs through my body. Banks throws something on the ground that lands in front of my knees. His men are clicking the handcuffs behind my back, securing me. My eyes are blurry and I try to shake off the effects to focus.
I see Ana’s picture and a badge.
Officer Ana Stevens.
I look back at her and tears are running down her face. She’s wrenched herself away from Banks, but now that is of little comfort. Undercover cop, and probably one of the ones that set this little dog and pony show up. Something inside of me twists and breaks, and I concentrate on the pain. Banks pulls me up and I let him. After the Taser, I can’t seem to fucking get control enough to stop him. Officer Ana Stevens. Fucking traitorous bitch. It would almost be humorous that I’ve been taken in by the woman I had at first planned to use. Funny as hell, if it didn’t hurt.
As he pushes me into the back of a squad car, my eyes catch Ana’s one last time. She’s saying something I can’t hear her through the window, and I don’t want to. I turn away from her.
I’m done.
Chapter Fifty-Three
Ana
Shell-shocked. That’s the only way to describe the last month. I had watched as they hauled Roman away. The smug look of satisfaction on Paul’s face as he sneered at me was almost as bad as the betrayal shining in Roman’s.
I love him and he hates me. He has good reason. In all the scenarios where I told Roman who I really was, I never once thought I wouldn’t get the chance to try and explain. Roman won’t see me though. I’ve been trying, and each time he ignores me.
Instead, I’ve spent my time cleaning out my locker at the station and ignoring the snarls and looks of my once fellow cops, wadding up the sticky notices that littered my locker declaring me a snitch and sometimes much worse. I went to interview after interview with IAB, and I turned in every bit of evidence I’d gathered against Paul Banks and the three men that worked under him. I did my best to make Roman appear to be a poster child for clean living magazine.
It worked. Roman’s charges were dismissed. I was stripped of my badge and reprimanded, but any charges that might have been filed against me were negated in exchange for helping with IAB’s investigation. I might have not been wearin
g a wire each time I met with Paul, but I had been using a mini voice recorder in my pocket, catching Paul’s instructions and plans each time. The best evidence came, however, when I informed the detective in charge about a small firebox that Paul kept in his home office. It was a gamble. I remembered it from the times during my training that I would join Paul and several other squad members for a cookout and we planned the best way to set me up to meet Roman. I didn’t realize what a complete moron Paul was until IAB found the trophies Paul kept from every crooked deal he ever made. He was using the proof inside to blackmail members of the squad to do his bidding, but in the end, the proof only helped to arrest him. If karma is real at all, it should lock him up for a long fucking time. His trial is scheduled to begin soon, and I for one can’t wait.
That’s not what tonight is about, however. Tonight is a last ditch effort. I’m at the strip club. I know Roman won’t be here, but he’ll be told I am, especially when I demand to dance. I was never fired, so technically I’m still on staff. It will probably blow up in my face, but maybe Roman will at least come here to talk to me.
Okay, as plans go, it’s shit. I know it. I just know I have to try. I have to. I kept expecting him to reach out to me, especially when he found out that I had cleared his name at the expense of my career. I heard nothing. I thought he would at least talk to me when I showed up at the Stable demanding to see him after Paul was arrested.
I was escorted off the premises. Which leads me to now. I don’t have any hope held out that tonight will end differently than the other numerous times I’ve tried. However, it is my last time to try. If I don’t see Roman tonight, I walk away. It won’t be what I want, but I need to move forward with my life. Besides, I’m getting pissed at him. I know he’s mad and he gets to be angry, but to just refuse to talk to me and walk away as if we were nothing to each other…?
