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“No way. You’re not taking this from me. I worked this case. It’s mine.” He thumps his chest with a fist, and I’m reminded of a posturing gorilla trying to warn off a potential threat.
Hunter looks totally unrattled. “Federal trumps all in this field. It certainly trumps some city dick looking to make a name for himself,” Hunter sneers coldly. “Would you like to get our bosses involved with this?”
“I’ve been working this fucking case for months,” Connor grits through clenched teeth, his jaw looking like carved stone he’s so tense, “and you stroll in here like some goddamn rookie and fuck everything up. You’ll be lucky if you still have a badge when my superiors get done with you.”
Wait . . . what?
How would Mr. Big take Carter’s badge?
Connor turns and sees me. I see the ‘oh, shit’ reaction cross his face as he realizes that I heard what he just said. It’s still processing, pieces falling together in my mind like plot points in my book wrapping up through twists and turns to a surprise ending. “Poppy.”
Just my name on his lips brings it all to a sharp point of focus. “You . . . how long were you going to lie to me? You’re a fucking liar.”
I knew that, but stupidly, I thought he wasn’t lying to me anymore. But once a liar, always a liar because Connor isn’t a petty thief. And he’s not an art thief.
Based on what he just said and how he said it . . .
He’s an undercover federal agent.
He didn’t want me to find out, didn’t want me to know. He’s been hiding it this whole time.
Rage ignites in my veins, and my feet move of their own volition. I’m going to attack him again. This time for stealing something even more precious than my manuscript. My heart. That foolishly trusting organ that’s pumping way too fast in my chest now.
“Miss Woodstock?” Detective Carter interrupts, clearly not getting the full story from Connor and Hunter to this point. That smug fucking smirk curls his lips. “Let me guess, the whole ‘stolen manuscript’ thing was some sort of PR stunt tied into The Black Rose’s theft?”
He does air quotes with his fingers when he talks about how I lost my book, just as condescending as he was that first night when I tried to report it stolen. That look on his face is the push over the edge I didn’t need.
With a Valkyrie yell, I lunge at Detective Carter, clawing and scraping my stress-induced-chewed nails down his face. “What the fuck?” he shouts, trying to push me back.
“You should’ve helped me that first night! None of this would’ve happened!” I’m screaming, pain pouring out with all the anger.
Connor and Hunter grab me, pulling me off Detective Carter and telling the officers who have appeared to stand back. But they’re not listening to two random men, and before I know it, arms have grabbed me and ripped me away from my target.
They push me back a few steps, and Connor roars, pulling an officer’s hands from my arms. He tries to wrap me up, holding me and telling me to calm down and that everything’s okay, but I fight him too.
I fight them all.
I fight until I have nothing left. Until I’m a ragdoll, empty with tear-stained marks down my cheeks and someone is holding me up.
An officer says, “In here.”
Before I know it, there’s a sliding sound and a final clang as they lock me in some sort of holding cell in the corner of the room.
With nothing left to hold me up, I collapse to the floor, curling in on myself.
Connor’s on the other side of the metal grate, crouching down until we’re only separated by a few millimeters of steel. “Poppy, baby,” he says softly, “I’m so sorry.”
I glare at him, wanting to hurt him the way he’s hurt me with his lies and betrayal. “A few weeks ago, I was fine. Look at me now,” I whisper, angry and heartbroken and all sorts of fucked up all at once. “All because I’m a klutz who bumped into you. You’re not a black sheep. You’re fucking poison.”
He tries to reach me through the mesh, even as the barbs of my words pierce him. But I recoil, not wanting him to touch me. His touch would only be lies, anyway.
It’s all lies.
Detective Carter, who’s watching and swiping away blood from my scratches, decides to chime in. “Crazy fucking bitch.”
Connor whirls in place as he stands and pops Carter square in the nose. Blood splatters over Carter’s cheeks in a gush of red, and his hands fly up to cover his nose.
Hunter grabs Connor, manhandling him to get him away from Carter and away from me. He pushes him several feet back, growling that Connor needs to get ahold of himself. “Let it go, man. Let it go.”
