“Thomas.” I call out his name as he blatantly turns away from me and starts heading down the street. I know he saw me. He fucking smiled before blowing me off.

I have to jog to catch up to him, but before I can put my hand on his shoulder to stop him, he turns around.

“What the hell are you thinking, Tonya?” he asks with more concern in his voice than anything else. “You could get yourself into serious shit hanging around out here waiting for me.”

My brow furrows with confusion. “How do you know my name?”

He smirks at me and turns his back on me once again. I don’t fucking like it. I don’t like being ignored.

I reach out to grasp his arm. I shouldn’t. I know I shouldn’t, but something is telling me he’ll allow it. Probably the same something that has my core soaked with arousal.

He turns sharply and grabs my wrist. “That’s not a good idea.” He doesn’t let go as the words drip from his mouth with a threat. He walks toward me and I find myself taking a step back. My back hits the brick wall of a building and it makes my heart thud in my chest.

“I just wanna talk.” I say the words through the hint of fear I’m feeling. His eyes hold a look of hunger, but also a dark look that has me questioning my instincts. Maybe I was wrong about him.

“Well, I don’t.” He releases my wrist and walks away again. My heart sinks in my chest, and I hate myself for feeling like I’ve failed. I can’t rely on Thomas alone. I know that, but somehow there’s more to this ache in my chest than just losing a lead. His rejection hurts.

I watch his back as he walks away, and the hurt turns to anger. He's not going to blow me off like that. I'm not giving up that easily. I walk faster to catch up to him. I’m shorter than him, and he’s walking fast, but I quicken my steps until I’m right behind him. I need to know. I just need him to answer one question.

I grab his arm just enough to get his attention and pull away before he can touch me again. He opens his mouth to tell me off again, but I blurt out the question I’ve been dying to ask him since I first saw him at the station. “Abram Petrov, is he dead?”

The anger on his face morphs into curiosity as he tilts his head, looking me up and down.

“It’s a simple question.” I swallow thickly as a lump grows in my throat. I already know when he says yes, I’m going to want more answers. I’m going to want proof. I clench my fists and make sure I keep my voice down as I say, “I need to know if he’s dead.”

“Is that what this is for you? Revenge on Petrov? Is that why you’re so damn stubborn?” he asks, like I’m being a petulant child and he finds it comical.

“He’s why my sister’s dead, asshole. You can at least tell me if he’s dead.”

Remorse flashes in his eyes as he answers, “I wish I could, but I even if I knew one way or the other, I can’t say shit to you. You’re a cop, remember?”

“You can tell me.” My eyes plead with him. For the first time since I graduated, I wish I wasn’t a cop. It never occurred to me that being a cop would close doors I'd need to go through to get to him. At the time, it was the most obvious way to move forward. I never thought twice about it until I got here.

He presses his lips into a straight line and looks at me for a moment, considering. I don’t budge. I won’t. I need to know.

“You think I’m stupid?” he asks, and I can see that he’s gearing up for a showdown, but that’s not what I want.

“You’re not stupid, I don’t think that at all. I’m not wired or anything. You can just nod. I swear.” My words fly out in desperation.

“I’d have to strip you down to make sure you weren’t. Is that what you want, little miss good girl?” A wave of arousal soaks my pussy as he leans into me. My mind starts fantasizing about things it shouldn’t.

“I’m not a good girl. And if that’s what it would take.” I say the words before I can regret them. It’s so fucking wrong. Would I really do that? Would I lower myself to stripping for him? I don’t know if I’d go through with it. His eyes heat with lust, and I start to think it’s a real possibility.

“No, you’re not a good little girl at all, are you?” His smile widens as he takes a step back. “You’re such a bad girl.” He’s mocking me. Fucking prick. I bite my tongue and watch as he turns away. My ego takes a huge fucking hit.

I turn my back on him and take a left into an alley between a convenience store and a barber shop. I know my car is parked somewhere on the next street over, parallel to this one. I don’t pay attention to the men at the corner when I turn, but I sure as fuck hear them walking behind me.

Fuck!

I shouldn’t have gotten so damn emotional. What the hell was I thinking? I listen to the crunch of the gravel beneath their shoes as I pass a large dumpster. I’m certain there are three. Maybe four. I’m halfway through the alley when I hear their steps pick up.

My hand drops to my gun. I’m ready for this shit. I didn’t graduate at the top of my class for nothing. This is the first time I’ve been faced with a real-life situation like this, though. The realization makes my confidence slip as I take three large strides and turn on my heels. My gun flies out in front of me as I face three men. Two are in black hoodies, and the other one is wearing a bright green t-shirt and black jeans. I take it all in. Their heights, their weights, every bit of information I can. It's second nature at this point from all of my training.

I can feel my face heating and my body needing to tremble with fear, but I ignore it. Adrenaline flows through my blood, and the only thing I can hear is the sound of my heart beating chaotically in my chest. I swear I can feel it trying to climb up my throat.

They smile at me, like they think it’s cute that I’ve got a gun. Like they expected me to turn around with it aimed at them. It sends a bolt of fear through me. I don’t like that they knew this was coming. It means they don’t care and they decided it was worth the risk. Shit, maybe that’s why they followed me down here. Maybe it’s obvious I’m a cop because of the way I talked to Thomas. I bet they were watching. Fuck, fuck, fuck!

I rock hesitantly on my heels, not liking the situation. I’m outnumbered, and they’re looking for a fight.

One takes a step toward me and moves his hand toward his waistband. My heart slams to a stop and a cold sweat takes over every inch of my body.

“Hands up!” He continues to approach me, and I yell out again to make sure he hears me clearly. At the same time, I lift up my shirt with my left hand so he can see my badge. “Hands up!” I’m surprised I’m so composed, but I have been trained for this. I’ve prepared myself for this situation. “I am a police officer and I will fire. Put your hands where I can see them.”

My left hand steadies on the butt of the gun and I watch as they show no signs of letting up. They don’t give a fuck that I’m a cop, or that I’ve got a gun. As I prepare to shoot this prick in his hand as he reaches for his gun, I see a movement in the back of the alley.

I can’t get distracted, not now. I focus, and I shoot that fucker as he grips his gun.