Page 124 of The Fire We Make

The defiance in her gaze wasn’t disguised and after a moment of staring, the detective's lips tipped up in a sinister grin.

“Maybe I gave you too much credit. I thought you were just his plaything fucking him for cases but maybe you’re in on it.”

Joy chuckled. “You came up with that all on your own?”

Anger twisted his features under the streetlights and his grip on her arm turned bruising.

“Maybe I should take you in. We’ll see how much you know at the station.”

Joy scoffed, fighting the urge to slit this man’s throat. “You can’t arrest me for not knowing anything.”

“No but I can arrest you for obstruction of justice. Lying to a police officer. Shit I can make up something.” His grin was sinister and Joy recognized the look of an unhinged man who was grasping at straws.

The edges of Joy’s vision went fuzzy and her body tingled as she worked to pry the man’s hands off of her in a way that wouldn’t bring too much attention to herself. The route she took was relatively empty for the city, but a commotion would surely have people flocking. She was ready to succumb to the episode that was teasing her when his hand abruptly left her and his body went flying onto the pavement.

Joy barely registered what was going on when Ace came into view, a blur of fists and fury as he sent blow after punishing blow to the man’s face and body.

“The fuck you think you doing grabbing on my woman nigga? Huh? Have you lost your fucking mind?” Ace roared in the man’s face, picking him up by the collar of his shirt.

Joy heard nothing besides his woman.

She watched with a tender heart and a throbbing pussy as Ace repeatedly smashed his fists into the side of the man’s face. Hearts filled her eyes at the sight.

No one had ever defended like this. Not her father. Not her brother. Not even Glock.

Joy had always had to fight her own battles and defend her own honor. She could have in this instance too, but damn if it didn’t feel good to have someone do it on her behalf.

Blood decorating his hands and collared shirt, Joy watched Ace with lust dripping off of her in waves.

Mine.

The word echoed in her head like an incantation.

The chanting intensified when Ace pulled his gun from the waistband of his pants and smacked the detective across the face with it, sending blood splattering then cocked and aimed it at his head.

With an animalistic grunt, he held his weapon at his side then pulled the man up by his neck. “Apologize,” he growled.

“I-I’m sorry,” Harris panted through missing teeth and open gashes on his face.

Ace pistol-whipped him again. “Not to me nigga. Apologize to her.”

“I’m sorry. Please.”

For the first time since he entered the vicinity, Ace turned to Joy. “You accept his apology Rose?”

Joy shrugged. “I guess.”

“She may forgive you but that’s not good enough for me. I’ve tolerated your weird ass stalking and harassing me and my family, but putting your hands on her won’t slide.” Without another word, he raised the gun again and aimed it between the detective’s eyes.

He didn't hesitate to pull the trigger, splattering blood and brain matter across the concrete.

“Get in the car, Rose,” he ordered, turning his hard eyes on her.

She moved to follow his command, seeing an unfazed Ray standing on the curb with the door open for her.

She slid in and Ray closed the door behind her but not before she heard Ace on the phone.

“I need a clean up… I’ll explain later… I sent a pin.”