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“Somewhere?” Becca laughed, the trill, tinkly sound at odds with her rancorous being. “I take that to mean you still haven’t found anything.”
I nearly opened my mouth and spilled what I had found, just to wipe her stupid, smug grin away. I had proof. I had the rape kit the police refused to test. The police may have destroyed all other proof, like the clothes I was wearing and the pictures the hospital took, but they didn’t get the rape kit. The rape kit was stored at a separate facility that the police couldn’t touch.
I held on to that rape kit as my only hope. I thought if I could get Morris arrested on some other charge, they might test his DNA and get a match for the rape kit. Or maybe if I looked long enough, I could find more proof of my rape. So far nothing was showing up, but vile Becca Riley didn’t need to know any of that.
Instead I said, “You and Morris are like acid rain, Riley. You can’t help but burn whatever you touch. So yeah, there’s proof somewhere.”
Riley kicked off the glass, smiling. “Go ahead and look some more. If you could find something, it would make this game we play a little more interesting. Fair warning, the police will be here in about five minutes.” Riley sauntered out of the office, her silver robe fluttering behind.
Just seconds after she’d gone, sirens sounded in the distance. Cursing, I ran back to the servant’s hallway. I pounded down the stairs and into the basement, shoving open the cellar door that led to the tunnel system.
“There’s nothing here!” I threw the last of the papers on the floor in exasperation. There wasn’t a single usable piece in anything I’d stolen from Riley’s. Well, that wasn’t entirely true. Some of the records proved Morris was using public money for private things, but in the grand scheme of things, that was nothing. Considering the scandals most politicians had to face lately, it was barely even a blip. I was trying to prove that Morris was Satan, and even I was starting to doubt myself.
So far I’d taken thousands of pictures of Morris and the only thing I’d caught was him meeting with his secretaries late at night. Sure, that was fishy, but it wasn’t evidence. If you had a devoted fan base like Morris did, it counted for nothing, especially considering the source: me. I was still the alcoholic whore who had tried to ruin Morris’s reputation.
I needed concrete evidence that Morris was one of the four horsemen of the apocalypse. Without evidence, I was just another preacher screaming on a street corner. The more evidence I had, the better, but really all I needed was to get him indicted. Even if all I could do was get him on something stupid, like too many unpaid parking tickets, it was worth it. If his DNA was scanned into the police database there would be no hiding. He would match my rape kit and then his house of cards would come tumbling down.
That had been my plan from the beginning, yet the further I continued, the more hopeless I felt. Morris was impregnable. He was like the fucking Pope in the Popemobile and I was just throwing candied almonds at his glass shield. Nothing I did touched him. He walked around with a smirk on his face while I wore a scarlet letter burned into my flesh.
Grimacing, I shoved the bad thoughts down where they belonged and turned back to the pile of papers on the floor. The only thing of value that I’d swiped was Riley’s personal day planner. I probably only had a few days before she realized it was missing and switched all of her dates, making the thing useless. I flipped through the pages, writing down the important information.
It would make tailing Morris a bit easier. Instead of following him all day, I could simply show up. I didn’t need to wait outside his house or office for hours in hopes of him making an appearance. I didn’t have to scan his website to see if he had any events. Instead I could just check the planner. So that was nice.
As I was thinking over my new plan, a knock sounded at my door. I glanced warily up from the piles of papers strewn about my room. There was only one person besides the delivery man who knocked at my door: Law. I went to the door and yelled out, “What do you want?”
“Let me in!”
“Fat fucking chance of that.” Laughing, I turned and walked away from the door, but not before yelling, “Go away!” As I seated myself back on the floor, I heard the lock being picked. Terror seized me and I ran for my gun where i
t was nestled safely in the nightstand. I kicked Raskol lightly to wake him up, but he only raised his head before returning to his slumber.
“Seriously, worst guard dog ever,” I muttered before raising my gun to the opening door.
“Woah,” Law said, eyeing the cannon. “Is this how you greet all your friends?”
“It’s how I greet people who break and enter my home,” I ground out through clenched teeth. “What the fuck do you want?”
“You’ve been avoiding me.” I shut my eyes at his answer and kept the lids pressed tight—anything to gain control over the way his voice affected me. “You never called. I was worried.” I opened my eyes, stunned to see how close Law had gotten. He was only a foot away from me now. That rich, heady scent that was utterly Law engulfed me. It drugged me.
“Take the hint, Law,” I said, surprised at how breathy my voice was. There was a brief pause wherein neither of us said anything, but I swore I heard the air crackle, as if the mere tension between us lit the oxygen in the room on fire. On my exhale, Law bounded toward me and pushed me against the wall that separated the kitchen from my living room.
I elbowed him in the stomach and he barely flinched. The only way I knew my blow landed was from his short, low grunt. Law grappled with my hands and the gun, pushing them between us so I couldn’t move. We were so close I could see the sweat on his brow.
“It’s not smart to wrestle with guns, Law,” I said. I wasn’t looking at him when I spoke, my eyes trained on his bottom lip instead. I wanted to bite it.
“I could see the safety was on,” Law replied. His voice was low, almost a rumble. I felt it all over. “You should probably make sure that’s off before threatening people.” I barely registered his reply. I couldn’t tell if the thick, hard thing pressing into my stomach was him or the gun. At that point I didn’t care. All I could focus on was the heady, spicy scent surrounding me and the feel of his hot skin keeping me pressed against the wall.
“Maybe it isn’t the gun you should be worried about,” I whispered, lips nearly touching.
“Are you sure you’re talking to me when you say that?” Law asked, inching closer. I watched in fascination as he closed his eyes and his tongue slid across the seam of his lips. I felt the charge in the air again. I could do it. I could close the tiny, minuscule, practically nonexistent gap between us.
Or, I could do this.
I lifted my knee and jammed it between Law’s legs. Coughing, Law stumbled back and fell on his ass. At the sound of Law crashing to the ground, Raskol woke and started running around in circles, barking. Eyes watering, Law glowered up at me. Slowly he stood to his feet. With cool, careful motions, he studied me. Then he turned around and walked away. He opened the door and I nearly opened my mouth to say something.
What would I say? Stay? Did I want him to stay? I’d just kneed him in the balls; talk about mixed messages. My inner ramblings were cut short, though. With his back turned, Law spoke and interrupted my swirling mind.
“See you soon, Nami.” With that cryptic remark, Law closed the door.
