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For as long as I’ve known what happened to her, I’ve tried to get the answer to that question. One problem: only two people in the world know who attacked Angela five years ago, and I couldn’t ask them. I would’ve tipped my hand long before now if I commanded my angel to tell me, and the only other person who knew was the bastard who assaulted her.
“Why? Why does it matter? What do you care?”
You know what? It fucking breaks my heart that she’s honestly bewildered right now. As though she never thought anyone would want to avenge what happened to her.
I’d say she was still lost in her nightmare if I didn’t know better.
Once again, I give heratruth. Since “I’m the only one allowed to make you scream, angel… and, I promise you, you’ll enjoy it every time I do. So, tell me. Who did it? Who hurt you?”
For a moment, I think she’s going to deny me. She shouldn’t, especially since I was smart enough not to add what I really wanted to:who do I have to kill? If she knew what I was planning… my angel would never give up the name.
But she does. On a shaky breath, and with her eyes closed, she whispers, “Carter. His name is Carter Santorino.”
* * *
I’ve beenon the job since I was twenty-one. After twelve years, I’ve racked up plenty of PTO. I didn’t put in for it immediately after I brought Angela home because I knew I’d need it sooner or later.
Looks like it was sooner.
I take my last scheduled off duty shift to run to the nearest big box store to the hills and get a television for my angel, just like I promised. I have to trust that she’ll just use the wireless streaming available on the device to keep herself entertained since there’s no cable.
I broke her trust last night. To make up for it, I have to give a little of my own to her as an unsaid apology.
Besides, she’s right. I can’t expect to win her over if I continue to treat her like a prisoner. I know it’s what she wants, but even with my dark side, it seems I have limits, too.
Fuck. I never want to see her cry again. And while I can make sure that I do everything in me to worship my angel and show her that I’m the right man for her, I’m not the only one who hurt her.
She wants me. But the bastard who tried to take what was never his? Five years later, he still haunts Angela.
In that case, it’s about fucking time I make him a ghost.
My sergeant knows I do good work. If I need two weeks off for an emergency, he didn’t question it. It was a pain in the ass to make sure the patrols were covered, but I offered to do overtime when I get back for some of my brothers, so my leave was approved without any trouble.
Getting my hands on Carter Santorino? That proved to be a little harder.
Unlike Brick, Santorino has money. Well, his dad does. At twenty-five, he’s the same age as Angela, and his circumstances are incredibly different. He finished his time at FU and got his degree, though he never left his frat boy-style life behind. Kid’s got a rap sheet as long as my arm. Petty theft when he was younger, then plenty of accusations of sexual assault that all seem to get swept under the rug. There are some corrupt cops in Fairview who like Santorino Senior’s money.
No wonder Angela never got any justice for the way he attacked her, then threatened her. He ruined her life, then went on his merry fucking way.
Well, not any longer. Not once I can get to him.
It takes three trips to Fairview before I catch him on his own. From the look of him—and the way he’s eyeing the woman walking by him on the street—he’s trolling for his next target. Whether the woman wants it or not doesn’t mean shit to him—or me. Watching the way he licks his lips, then flashes them a plastic smile on his too-handsome face has my skin crawling.
He touched my angel. He tried to force her to do things she didn’t want to.
He didn’t love her. He just used her.
And now he has to pay.
Too busy looking for a pussy to stick his dick into, he doesn’t notice me watching him until it’s too late. He doesn’t realize that my uniform is a Springfield PD issue and not Fairview, either.
He does see that I’m a cop, though, but only when I’m ready to approach him.
He’s watching a long-legged woman with dark hair click-clack down the sidewalk when I move to the left, blocking his line of sight.
A nasty scowl crosses his face. He barely bothers to hide it.
Good.
