One Month Later

Settling into civilian life—well, my version of civilian life—was hard.

Hard for a variety of reasons. Killing people and risking your life on a daily basis became my norm for six months. Not just that, it somehow felt natural amongst the unnatural feeling of heartbreak and loneliness.

It jolted me, waking up somewhere I didn’t have a chance of being shot at, raped or murdered.

It wasn’t even that.

It was because when life and death was my nine-to-five, it made it easier not to let myself be consumed by my heart. Not impossible, because he was always there, even in the midst of the worst of it, but not so demanding in the forefront of my mind.

Because I’d replaced the blood I’d made him spill with the blood that I spilled. Waking up in a warm bed, in my own apartment, in my own country was not just a level of monotony but another level of Hell.

Because I’d stopped running. I had the memory of his skin on mine. His touch. His taste. How perfect he fit me. How utterly safe I felt in his arms. And it took everything I had just to function without showing what a fucking wreck I was.

Nights were the hardest. Daylight made it easy to see all the reasons why it wouldn’t work.

Why it couldn’t work.

A handful of weeks since I’d been back, since I’d been both praying that I didn’t run into Luke and wishing he’d arrive at my door, I got my wish.

And it went exactly as you’d fucking expect. A complete Fuck-Up.

Lucy told me to meet her at the Greenstone Security offices for lunch.

I didn’t like it, tempting fate by going somewhere he walked the halls. Where he worked now.

I didn’t know if she did it because she was trying to push something I’d refused to even mention for a month, or because Keltan kept pretty tight tabs on her since she’d been released from hospital.

Maybe it was a little of both.

I walked into the offices absolutely fucking terrified.

Of course I looked absolutely fucking fabulous. I still hadn’t put on the weight I’d lost since I’d been gone, but I was getting there.

That also meant I got to go shopping.

I was wearing brand new Jimmy Choos, studded, sky-high and completely badass. My jeans molded to every part of my body and were so tight I couldn’t eat breakfast. I had a simple white tank on top, no bra, which was totally visible from the chill in the air, and my short curls were split into pigtails. Tendrils escaped and framed my face, which I’d chosen to put little makeup on except bright pink lipstick.

He wasn’t in the foyer when I walked in, which was good. The receptionist informed me that Lucy was waiting in Keltan’s office.

“Down the hall to the right.” She smiled.

I tried to do the same and pretend that the hallway didn’t look exactly like the one from The Shining.

I almost got there unscathed, but I wasn’t designed to walk around life unscathed.

Luke came out of a door to my left, almost bowling me over.

His entire form stiffened as he took me in, his eyes roving over my body.

They stopped for a considerable amount of time at my chest. My nipples hardened visibly with the stare, and he hissed out breath between his teeth. Then his eyes dragged themselves upward, finding mine.

“You changed your hair,” he murmured, his voice rough.

I swallowed against his voice, touching my pigtails self-consciously.

“I like it,” he said.

“I didn’t know you were going to be here,” I whispered.

His dark eyes narrowed, losing all softness of before as he stepped forward. I backed up as he did so. “I bet,” he hissed. “Which is why you’re here, right? Still running, Rosie?”

I hit the wall. Nowhere to run at that moment. “No, I’m not running anymore.”

“Yes, you fuckin’ are,” he growled.

Then he kissed me.

No warning, nothing. He was just there, his lips on mine, devouring all the words I was going to yell in protest, devouring every sense of strength I had left.

His hands found my breast, tweaking my nipple painfully and exquisitely. I pressed myself into him, running my nails over the tee on his back.

His hand was in my jeans before I knew what was going on. Then, just as he was about to reach the magic spot, the point of no return, I yanked my head back and circled his wrist with my hand.

“Luke,” I choked out, breathless. “We’re in a hallway.”

His blue eyes seemed black. “Don’t give a fuck, Rosie. I’m finally tasting your mouth and it’s sweeter than I ever imagined. I can only imagine what your pussy tastes like. I don’t want to fuckin’ imagine.”

My aforementioned pussy clenched with the sex dripping from his words, from the feeling of his hardness against my thigh. I could barely think straight.

But I had to.

“No, Luke, we can’t.”

“Don’t you fucking dare,” he hissed, yanking his hand back and caging me against the wall. “Don’t spout that shit, now of all times. I’ve been patient, let you come back. I’ve been trying to let you come to this yourself because I know you’re too fuckin’ stubborn to let me force you into it.” His mouth was inches from mine. “And fuck, do I want to force you into it right now.”

I almost did it, almost leaned forward, captured his lips with mine and let him fuck me against a wall in broad daylight in a public place. The public place thing wasn’t what bothered me.

“What, it’s on your bucket list to fuck a murderer?” I spat, acid in my voice, hating myself for it.

He flinched back as if I’d struck him, and I hated myself even more. “What the fuck, Rosie?” he gritted out. “How the fuck could you even say that?”

“Because that’s what I am,” I hissed. “I blew up dozens of other murderers just like me for vengeance. I shot a man in the head right in front of you. And you knew about it, but you couldn’t do anything because of this twisted painful thing between us. Because of the truth of what we are. What I am.” I paused, breathing heavily. “And isn’t that what you think I am? A mass fucking murderer?” I yelled. “I knew you thought that the day you came to my house with my necklace. The way you looked at me told me that, so why the fuck didn’t you arrest me? Make your career instead of ruin it?” I spat the question I’d been burying for years, among others.

“I don’t think that! Fuck, I was fucking proud of you,” he yelled back. “I couldn’t fucking say it out loud then, and I couldn’t fucking say it to myself because my thought was never going to be to arrest you. My first thought was, and always will be, to protect you.”

I simmered down, my anger deflating as quickly as it appeared, melancholy replacing it. “And protecting me ruined your life, Luke,” I whispered. “Don’t think I can forget that. That I can move past it. That we can. You know we can’t.”

His own anger remained. “I’ll admit that I don’t know a lot of shit, Rosie. Don’t know why the universe saw fit to give us so much suffering and fucking pain for wanting each other. Don’t know why, with a soul as light and good as yours, there’s been so much dark to damage it. I don’t know any of that shit. But one thing I do know is that we fucking can move past it. Know it in my fucking bones, and you know it too.”

I stared at him. He was right. We could. But it would mean dragging him down even further. I wouldn’t do it.

“No, I don’t,” I lied. “You’re always going to be Luke, the cop, and I’m always going to be Rosie, the criminal. It’s that simple.”

“We’re not fucking simple,” he growled. “And I’ll always be Luke, the man, and you’ll always be Rosie, my woman. That shit ain’t changing. But I’m not stupid enough to stand here and argue with you about it. You’re determined to hurt yourself because you think you’re doing the right thing.” He eyed me. “Maybe it is the right thing. But I’m not about right anymore. Never want to be again if that mean’s I’ll never sink into that sweet pussy.” He moved forward, so every inch of his body was a hair’s breadth from mine. “And I will be. Just so you know, this isn’t me walking away. This is you pushing me away. Not for good, but for right now.”

Then he turned around and left. I watched the empty air for a long time.

Then I calmly walked to the last door on the right, opened it.

Lucy smiled at me, sitting on Keltan’s knee.

I smiled back, pretending I wasn’t bleeding inside. “Lunch?”

So yeah, light and its unforgiving glow showed me in stark detail why I needed to stay the fuck away. But then night came, the darkness snatching away all those reasons and whatever strength and resolve I’d built when the sun came up.

One night, I found myself lying awake, unable to sleep, unable to hold onto a thought that didn’t involve Luke.

I needed a life without him. And I sure as shit needed a mind without him too. It didn’t help that I was determined to make up for all the time I’d missed with my family, with my best friend, so I tried to see her as often as possible, help keep her insane while she fully healed.

That meant I ran into Luke. Not often, but even a second in his presence, under his cold gaze, was enough to fuck with me. Destroy me.

I was done with that shit. Heartbreak.

We normalize heartbreak in our society. Mostly because of how painfully normal it is. So when we hear a song, read a book, watch a movie, all crammed with the dramatic truth of it, maybe it reminds us that we’re not alone. That there’s more out there, and our heartbreak isn’t the end of the world.

It’s a nice thought.

But it’s utter bullshit.

We are, and always will be, alone with our own pain.

And heartbreak may not make this chunk of rock in space stop spinning, but it is the end of someone’s world. Despite how well we keep up appearances.

And I was walking, talking, laughing Rosie, covering up the pain, just like the rest of them. I thought I was doing good, great even, at hiding it all until Polly’s wedding.

Yes, wedding.

She’d dated Craig for three weeks, then married the fucker.

We’d tried to gently change her mind, but she was like me: stubborn and would never let anyone change her heart. Which was funny, since she was jumping right in with her heart, and I was yanking mine right out.

We hadn’t been able to find anything on the fucker, which meant we had to watch our beautiful, romantic, and innocent girl marry an idiot named Craig and pretend we were happy.

I was already pretending.

Or so I thought.

“So,” Keltan said, standing beside me on the rooftop where the wedding was being held, watching Polly and Craig dance. “How is it being home, back to reality?”

I gave him a sideways glance. “Wouldn’t exactly call our life reality,” I answered.

He grinned, sipping his beer. “You are not wrong, not wrong at all. You ladies get more action than I did in the desert in the middle of a war.”

I sipped my own. “Yeah, well, that’s just how we play it. We don’t like boring.”

“You’re not at risk of that,” he said.

We were silent for a second, watching Polly dance, watching a smiling Lucy talk to her father.

“He’s a mess,” Keltan said quietly.

My head whipped to him.

“Luke,” he continued. “Has been since the day he sat down in my office, askin’ me to look for you. Was before that too, I’d say. He’s pretty darn good at hidin’ it. Didn’t know him before so I’m not an expert, but the man I’ve worked with for well over a year, he’s not whole, babe. I know it ’cause that was me too.” His eyes crept over to Lucy, unhidden love and devotion sparkling in them. “Thank fuck I am now. Couldn’t imagine a lifetime of it. That’s not a life at all.” He turned his gaze back to me. “You’re not whole either. You’re trying real fucking hard. I’m not even going to be arrogant enough to suggest I know the shit between you. It’s gotta be big, I’m guessin’, for two good people to think they’re doing the right thing, making themselves unhappy. Bet it’s not fucking simple. But just in case you were thinking that he was livin’ whole and happy and that’s what was stopping you, he’s not.” He sipped his beer. “It’s my piece and it’s not my place to say it, but I don’t give a fuck. You’re Lucy’s family, which means you’re mine too. And I don’t like my family hurting. Don’t like my mates hurtin’ either. So my place or not, I’m gonna do what I can to rectify that shit. Ultimately up to you. But just remember, he’s survivin’, not livin’. Just like you.”

Then he kissed my head, not expecting me to answer, and went over to my soul sister.

And I stared after him, his words swirling in my head.

That was last night. And I should’ve done something to listen to those words. Because they hurt. Every single one of them.

But I didn’t. Because I was a coward.

Instead I went out and did what I’d been doing in the darkness for the past month. I’d started the old job again. New location, no team, same objective.

Looking for lowlifes.

Teaching them lessons.

Maybe not my smartest idea, since the laws in LA regarding grievous bodily harm were somewhat stricter than in Venezuela. And I didn’t have someone on the force to bail me out anymore. Though, in the dregs of society, wherever you were, life was always the same price. Dirt cheap.

So that’s what I was doing that night, running away again from decisions, when darkness made my decision for me.

I’d been doing it for a month. Using my connections in the underworld to find out who the real assholes were. Not the ones who had to bend a few rules and break a few arms to get their heads above water, but the ones who ruined lives and trampled on dreams for sport.

“You know, you really give outlaws like me a bad name,” I said conversationally to the man I had my favorite gun pointed at. That was, of course, after I’d relieved him of his own weapons. Couldn’t be a full-time drug dealer and part-time rapist and not have somewhat of an arsenal.

“Fuck you, bitch. You’re dead,” he spat. “Do you have any idea who I am?”

I tilted my head at the man with a steroid-enhanced body, prison tattoos and too much jewelry for anyone with a Y chromosome.

“Yes, that’s why I’m here, Jerome,” I said, circling him. “I know exactly who you are. I know you cut your dope with kitchen cleaners to make it go further and rip off people already down on their fucking luck. I also know that a seventeen-year-old boy overdosed on your little cocktail just last week. Mother of three the week before. Police didn’t find her for three days.” I shot his foot and he let out a yelp of pain, collapsing onto the floor. “Her kids were surviving off moldy bread and curdled milk,” I continued over his screams.

“You fucking bitch!” he yelled. “You shot me.”

I stopped circling him and aimed for his other foot, in my line because he’d stilled and was tending to the bleeding one. The gunshot was nostalgia, my childhood lullaby.

“Oops, look, I did it again,” I said while he screamed. “That was for the kids.” I bent down, yanking his head back by clutching his greasy hair.

Tears and snot ran down his face.

“Please,” he cried.

“Begging? Already?” I tutted. “A man like you should be much stronger than that. But then again, you like to be the one hurting women, not the other way around. Like Chloe Thompson, walking home from a double shift at the hospital. Missed the bus, so she risked the walk because I guess she was dog tired and wanted to get home to bed instead of waiting twenty minutes for another one.” I yanked my knife from my boot. “Now, a woman in any neighborhood should be able to walk home after caring for sick people all day. She should be able to go straight there, no trouble, since she gave the world no trouble herself and did nothing to deserve it.” I paused. “In a perfect world, at least.”

I ran the tip of my knife down his neck, drawing blood as I did so. “This is not a perfect world. So she didn’t make it home. Some wannabe gangbanger tough guy comes across her. Knocks her out, drags her to an alley and rapes her.” I pushed the knife deeper and he cried inconsolably. “Brutally,” I hissed. “Now she’s in the hospital, being nursed by people just like her. But now they’re not like her, are they? You made sure of that. You made sure she’d take your despicable actions and place them on her soul. The one that holds not an ounce of blame for this shit. But she’ll carry it. She’ll fight demons never meant for her. Maybe she’ll win. Maybe she won’t. Maybe her life is ruined because of one fucking night. Just because there’re assholes like you in the world who can ruin a woman’s night, her life, when she was just trying to get home.”

I had risen to somewhat of a screech by the end, and my knife had found its home. Right between Jerome’s legs.

The wet sound of blood gurgling around steel should’ve made me sick. It probably meant something about my own soul that it didn’t.

I pushed the dead weight of his body back as I retrieved my knife. I shoved it back in my boot and looked down, satisfied with the blood pooling at my feet.

“Maybe you’ll survive this,” I said. “Maybe you won’t.” I stepped over him toward the door. “And it’s all because a woman missed her bus one night and decided to walk home. Because of you. Remember that, asshole.”

And then I was gone.

I shoved my leather gloves in my pocket. I didn’t really need them. If he did survive, he wasn’t likely going to report the attack to the cops because it would mean them investigating his house, the scene. His house that doubled as a meth lab.

And if he died, the police would eventually find and investigate the scene. But it was corrupted enough with all the comings and goings that they would find dozens of suspects. I wouldn’t be on the list, considering I didn’t know him from Adam and didn’t run with those types of crowds.

Plus, my prints didn’t even exist in the system. Wire took care of that.

It was hard and very fucking risky, but he did it for me. He couldn’t do it for everyone because the chances of getting caught and traced were higher. Plus, almost everyone had a record a mile long. Kind of hard to delete that shit from the system.

I had no record.

Not because I didn’t commit any crimes, but because I’d never been arrested.

Because of Luke.

I walked out the door, not at all perturbed by the gunshot that rang out in the night, or the stares of the group of youths across the street.

Even with this shit clogging my mind, I still thought of him.

It was because I was thinking of him that I was caught off guard as I cut through the alley where my car was parked. I may have had zero to none chances of getting caught, but that didn’t mean I was about to tempt fate by parking my car right outside the scene.

Cutting through the alley, I didn’t think of the lingering stares of the boys as I passed, nor the roughness of the neighborhood or the potential for Jerome’s boys to find him and then go looking for me.

Each and every one of those things could result in death or at the very least grievous bodily harm for me.

I didn’t think of them.

I thought of Luke.

And I still thought of him as someone snatched my shoulders roughly and slammed me against the wall of the alley. The grip my attacker had on my shoulders was viselike and made it unable for me to grab my gun. I tried to kick out my legs, but his entire body pinned me.

“Are you fucking insane?” a deep and murderous voice hissed.

My gaze snapped upward, only then focusing on my attacker’s face.

Luke’s face.

“Of course I am,” I snapped, only relaxing slightly. My heart was still thundering, despite the fact that I wasn’t in any danger. Bodily, at least. “What does that have to do with you attacking me in a fucking alley?”

His glare was unyielding, angry, and foreign. It scared me for a moment, like looking into the face that you thought you knew so well, the man you’d etched into your soul, and finding a stranger.

“Are you serious, Rosie?” he growled. “You just waltzed around one of the most dangerous and crime-ridden areas of LA, into the house of one of the most deranged characters in this neighborhood, assaulted, tortured and maybe fucking killed him, and you’re the one who’s wondering why you’re getting attacked in an alley?” he hissed.

His grip, which was before firm but harmless, was bordering on painful as his anger crept upward. Again, the stranger reappeared, and I wondered if the stranger was Luke now.

“Have you been following me?” I accused.

“Not exactly,” another accented and familiar voice cut in.

My head snapped sideways to see Keltan’s attractive face emerge from the shadows.

Luke’s grip slackened and I stepped away from him. “What are you talking about?” I demanded, pointing all my energy at Keltan.

He leaned on the wall, casually. The man was so laid-back all the fucking time it was a miracle he stayed upright. Or pretended to be. In the times I’d hung out with him and Lucy, which was as often as possible, that mask slipped and you saw the man underneath. The man bracing for the next fucking horror.

He didn’t look like he was bracing now; he looked like he was having fun. “Well, I may not be a native, haven’t been here long, but I’m good at makin’ friends.” He winked. “Think it’s the accent. You Yanks find us Kiwis exotic, of all things. Mad, but it works for me.” He shrugged his impressive shoulders. “My friends have been filling me in on this new woman on the block, causing trouble for the scum of the underworld. Naturally, I thought of you. And I wasn’t exactly tickled pink to find out I was right once I put Duke on you. Wasn’t surprised, though. He was impressed, by the way. Taking down three armed men? Even some of my guys couldn’t do that without at least a shiner to show for it.”

“Yeah, well girls do it better,” I snapped. “And it sounds like your employees must be lacking.” I gave a pointed look to Luke, even though he was anything but lacking.

He was the opposite. All-consuming of the space he was inhabiting. He was in all black, so he almost melted into the inky darkness around him, but the lines of his body seemed to jump from the night air, hinting at his muscles beneath.

Luke glared back at me.

“Perhaps,” Keltan said.

“So is this an intervention, or do you want me to take a workshop or something?” I asked, feigning impatience. “Because trust me, you couldn’t afford me. And you definitely couldn’t handle me.” I directed that one at Luke too.

“We can fuckin’ handle you,” Luke seethed.

I tilted my head. “Give it a try, then,” I invited. “Is that why you’re here, to ‘handle’ the female?”

“No,” Keltan said. “We’re here—”

“We’re here to ask you what the fuck you’re doing?” Luke interrupted. “You think you’re some kind of Robin Hood? Or do you think it’s up to you to punish the guilty?”

I didn’t blanche at his anger, his fury. “No, but I think it’s up to someone to avenge the innocent, and I’m as good a woman as any.”

Luke’s glare endured. “You’re a woman. Out here on your own. That’s no place for—”

“Be very careful about what comes out of your mouth next, Luke. About what you say I can and can’t do because of my tits. And my genetic predilection for being more awesome than anyone with a Y chromosome.”

“You’re not doin’ this shit anymore,” he said instead.

I raised my eyebrow at the same time I tapped my gun against my thigh. “Really?” I asked placidly. Calmly. In a tone that most men who valued their lives would recognize.

Luke’s face told me he didn’t currently value his life. Or at least he didn’t take me very seriously as a threat to it.

He wasn’t the first man to make that mistake.

He wouldn’t be the last, either.

“Really,” he gritted out.

The following moments could’ve gone a lot differently had it not been for Keltan, a man who did recognize my tone. Mostly because he was a lot smarter and because he was married to a woman who likely taught him about said tone.

“Okay,” he said, fluidly stepping between us. “Let’s not do anything we’ll regret.”

I smiled. “Oh, I won’t regret it.”

Luke’s anger pulsated through the open air and he stayed silent, his version of disagreement.

I’d never met anyone more stubborn than him, apart from myself.

“Oh, I beg to differ, darlin’,” Keltan said casually, his laid-back demeanor cutting through the tension rippling between Luke and me. “Now, how about you put the gun away and we’ll chat.”

I focused on Keltan and did not put my gun away. “Now, if your chat is going to entail you trying, in your endearing little accent, to tell me not to do something, I’ll tell you that being married to my best friend and having a cute accent isn’t going to change my answer to that question. It’ll just reduce the curse words and death threats.”

Keltan, instead of taking my threat as a promise, smiled. Instead of finding it supremely irritating, it was somehow reassuring, not patronizing as it most likely would’ve been coming from men who underestimated me—i.e. Luke.

“No, I’d never dream of doing such a thing. Unlike Luke, I actually value my nuts. I wanna have kids one day,” he said, glancing to Luke, who was still glaring.

I idly wondered what the record was for the longest continuous glare. Luke was surely close to beating it.

“I’m going to offer you a job,” Keltan continued.

I blinked and said, “Seriously?” at the same time Luke said, “What the fuck?” Actually, he yelled it.

Keltan, interestingly, didn’t look at the man who’d yelled at him. He acted like he’d never even heard him.

Neat skill.

“Surprising, I’m sure, but I’m serious. I’m more serious about talking about this in a slightly more savory environment and with a beer in my hand. Fancy going to our place? I’m sure Lucy would love to see you and hear about your secret identity as Batman.”

I grinned. “Although black is timeless and chic, my secret identity would obviously be Superman. I look kick-ass in blue, plus flying is so much cooler than driving an obnoxious car. Wouldn’t mind the butler, though.”

Keltan grinned.

Luke stepped forward, in front of me and right in Keltan’s grill. “You can’t be fucking serious right now. I called you here to help me stop this bullshit, not encourage it,” he seethed.

Keltan kept his easy expression. “Now I’m sure you know Rosie better than to think anyone, especially us, can stop her from doing anything,” he said. “Stopping her was never gonna work. I’m offering a mutually beneficial solution.”

“It’s not very fucking beneficial,” he clipped.

“In time, you’ll agree with me. For now, let’s get off the street before the fuzz comes.” Keltan looked to Luke. “Guessin’ you’re not ridin’ with me?”

Luke shook his head once and Keltan grinned, turning to leave in the opposite direction of my car.

“Oh, the police are already here,” I snapped to Keltan’s statement, despite him walking out of earshot.

It wasn’t for his benefit anyway.

Luke snatched my arm. “I’m not a cop anymore. You’re well aware of that.”

I thought I did well at hiding the pain his words held. “Once a cop, always a cop. It’s those pesky morals. They don’t disappear as easy as a badge does.”

His eyes glowed in the moonlight. “You’d be surprised what doesn’t disappear and what goes away completely,” he murmured, half dragging me to the car. “Like me imagining the taste of your pussy on my tongue. Or the way it’s gonna clench against my cock when you come. That kind of shit isn’t gonna leave me ever.” He pinned me against my car, my entire body pulsating with his words, the way they roused the memory so stark that I could feel his lips everywhere, despite his mouth being inches away.

“I’ll be turning those imaginings into reality, make no doubt about that,” he rasped. “But first, you’re getting in the fucking car,” he demanded.