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Hit. That son of a bitch had hit Heather. That bastard. Jarrod was going to rip his arms off.
“I am so looking forward to working with you again…spending time with you again.”
“Let go of me! Now.” There was just the smallest hint of panic in his partner’s voice. Jarrod was two seconds from barging in there and rearranging Wilson’s face. Cop or not, Heather was a good five inches shorter than Jarrod. Wilson was around his size, and weighed a good two-seventy. Just like Jarrod. Heather maybe weighed in at one forty-five or so. Wilson had no business putting his filthy hands on her. Ever.
“I’m in town for a few days. I don’t want to spend the nights alone, doll. Let me make something really clear. When I get Major Crimes, you’re not going to be a problem for me. Or you won’t see those little brats of ours again.”
Of course. That was what the guy was really after. Intimidating his ex into doing what he wanted. The guy was playing on Heather’s fears and emotions.
It didn’t work that way in Major Crimes.
“Stay away from my girls and my family.”
“What are you going to do about it? Fight back? That’s never worked for you before.” Jarrod heard Heather gasp. In pain. That son of a bitch. That was it. Enough. He was going to show Wilson exactly what he deserved. Maybe Wilson would like to fight someone his own size?
Jarrod tried to get around Haldyn, but the woman was stubborn. Blue eyes met his and she shook her head. Her lips thinned, and she lifted one hand to her mouth. Shushing him.
That was when he looked down.
That cagey woman had her phone out. Recording again.
Well, Haldyn was the smartest woman he had ever met, after all. No denying that. He nodded sharply.
“Let me go, Steve. Get your hands off me.” Heather’s fury and panic were hard to miss.
“What are you going to do about it?” The gloating was what had Jarrod ready to just move Haldyn aside and rearrange the guy’s face.
“How about I do something about it right now? Starting with ripping off your arms and shoving them down your throat. Get your hands off of her before I break every bone in your damned body. Let her go. Now. Heather, move aside.”
Another voice. From inside Conference Room A. One Jarrod recognized.
He relaxed. Miguel would handle Steve Wilson. And the man was intimidating enough to have even Jarrod shaking in his shoes sometimes. Miguel was built like a damned tank. And had one hell of a temper sleeping just below the surface.
“Hello, Rodriguez. I heard you were in Finley Creek. How have you been?” Steve Wilson’s tone had changed. Just like that. All friendly good old boy. Shithead. “I see you are working here with my wife. Again.”
“I was never your wife. We dated maybe for a month, dumbass. Until I wised up,” Heather said.
“Get your hands off her, Wilson.” Miguel’s tone turned even colder.
“I thought we were friends.”
“I’m not friends with men like you. Ever.”
Jarrod grabbed Haldyn by the wrist and pulled her into conference room B. He knew someone was about to come out of that room. He didn’t want them caught eavesdropping. Not yet.
Not until they decided what to do with that recording.
There was no way in hell he was letting that bastard get Major Crimes.
Or get near Heather again.
Jarrod would go to the chief of the TSP himself, if he had to. Even if he had to bring the damned governor of the state into it. Marcus Deane would do what had to be done—Heather was his wife’s aunt, after all. He closed the conference room door fast. And swore. “That disgusting bastard.”
“Yeah. Just another one of the boys in blue who can hurt people without consequence,” Haldyn said. It was the most cynical thing he had ever heard her say. He saw the old memories in her eyes. “It explains a few things.”
“Why the hell didn’t she say something when his name was on the list of possible transfers?” Even saying the words infuriated him.
“What was she supposed to say? She didn’t want him here because he used to hurt her behind closed doors? It doesn’t work that way. And if she said something to Daniel, she’d have to give him proof. And that opens up a whole new can of worms for her—in front of the men she works with every day. The boys-in-blue thing—it only matters when the one in blue is a boy, Jarrod. We have both seen that before. He could do whatever he wanted to her every night and get away with it if the right cops covered it up for him. He could hurt her over and over, and she wouldn’t be able to do a single thing to make it stop.”
