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Into The Darkness: A Hot Australian Bad Boy Romance by S. L. Finlay (12)

Chapter Twelve

John took up his gun then and placed it inside the waistline of his jeans. That his weapon was returned to him hadn’t left my notice, but it didn’t scare me now. I wasn’t frightened he was going to hurt me. If he was, why would he have cut me free?

I could run, and I could get pretty far, but I didn’t want to. I wanted answers to my questions.

After he took the gun back he looked down at the ground beneath my feet. “I am sorry.” He told me without meeting my eye.

“What are you doing?” I asked, and the question was genuine. I was genuinely confused by this, by all of this. What was he doing and why?

“What does it look like I am doing?” He asked, all fire now. “I am saving your fucking life and this is the thanks I get! Stupid questions!”

I shook my head, as if to dislodge the stupid comments he had put there. “What?” I demanded, “What do you mean, you are ‘saving my life’? How can you be saving my life you crazy bastard? You just held a gun to my back!”

“I know what I did.” He said, his voice low and dangerous.

“Why? Why do that in the first place?” I asked, feeling the anger surge inside of me. It was as if now I had permission to be mad now I knew I was safe, and I was feeling every bit of it. Allowing the warmth from my own anger to take over my body. It filled me and spilled out of me as I spat angry words at him.

“Because – “ He began, but those tears were back, “Because I love you, and they were going to kill you. I had to do it. I wouldn’t let anyone else do that to you.”

“You – What?” I asked.

“Do you have any idea what type of people they are? Do you have any idea what you did when your reported them?” He asked me.

I couldn’t exactly deny what I had done right now, but the thought did cross my mind. I am not ashamed to admit that I did think of pretending it wasn’t me.

His eyes were searching my face before he told me, “I saved you from them, and this is the thanks I get?”

“You, what? How could you have saved me? You threw me in the boot of your car after breaking into my house and striking me in the head!” I said, “And besides, they weren’t big time, not big enough time for you to justify what you did!”

He shook his head at my words, “They weren’t just breaking in to steal.” He told me.

“What do you mean?” I asked, “What were they doing then?”

Letting out a huff of air he told me, “They were targeting your house on purpose, because you were an ex-cop. They were looking for information. They just made it look like a burglary, but their prints weren’t supposed to be there. They fucked up.” He told me.

“But, they had broken into other homes in my area – there was a pattern.” I told him, repeating to the story I had been told.

“Was there?” He asked me, and I couldn’t shake the feeling that he had the upper hand here. He had plenty more information than me. I knew nothing, really.

“What do you mean?” I ventured, hoping he wouldn’t hold the information above my head and make me jump for it.

He turned away from my gaze and looked off into the distance before turning back to answer, “Some of your friends are pretty corrupt.” He told me, his jaw set.

“Are they?” I asked. Of course I knew there was corruption in the police force, everyone knew that. Wherever there was power, there would be corruption but for the most part, compared to our contemporaries overseas, the state and federal police in Australia were not the worst for corruption in the world, we were almost completely clean when compared to many police forces in Latin America for example.

There was silence for a long time after I asked my question and I was sure John wasn’t going to answer me. I scanned my brain for other questions I could ask, other things I could say, to keep the conversation going. Even as I couldn’t feel his gun in my back, I worried that the situation could turn too quickly, it was so volatile and I had to keep the mood in check.

But, before I could find anything to say he told me, “Yes, they are. You and I both know that.” He cleared his throat before looking me in the eye again, “If they weren’t, you wouldn’t have that file on me.”

I knew he was right. I shouldn’t have been handed that file in the first place. I shouldn’t have taken it, and I shouldn’t have kept it. That had made me implicit in this. That I adored this man, and that I used to be a cop and part of the organisation that he had pitted himself against meant I was in the middle of something bigger than myself. I was in the firing line, exactly where I didn’t want to be.

“I wasn’t part of any corruption.” I felt compelled to tell him, “I wasn’t part of any of it. I just did my job and went home, then, when I lost my job…” I trailed away then.

John was still looking at me, and taking a moment to look over my shoulder he smiled at me before letting me know, “I know, it’s okay. I know.”

I nodded my head and he took me by the hand. “Come with me.”

“Where are we going?” I asked, my voice too high. I was worried now. As long as we stood there talking, it was okay, but if he took me away, what would happen?

“I am taking you back to the car.” He told me.

“Why?” I asked involuntarily, the word just came flying from my mouth.

“Because we can’t just stand around here. They’ll know where I have taken you and they’ll come looking to make sure I have finished the job.” He wasn’t looking at me when he told me, “This is a popular spot.”

“For what?” I asked redundantly. We both knew what it was a popular spot for. With its lack of people-traffic and ocean right there to wash away all evidence, it was pretty obvious what he had intended.

I wanted to know why he hadn’t gone through with it, but I wasn’t going to ask. That lovey-dovey part of my brain, the part that had told me he wouldn’t kill me was in action now, that part of my brain was excited that he hadn’t done it, thinking he hadn’t gone through with it because he really loved me.

I was feeling pretty sickened by my own thoughts.

Alone with those thoughts though, using them as a comfort I did what I was told. He still had the gun, even if it wasn’t trained on me and I chose to believe he hadn’t shot me because he really loved me. In that moment, it was easier than any alternative and it actually seemed pretty true.