The Fall(11)

But I’d broken free. My last-ditch effort to bring some balance. And I was doing everything in my power to make sure men like my father would feel the weight of their actions.

My mother had cried when I’d left my family home, and then tried to kill herself when she found out I was joining the force. Her way of cutting out the middleman I guess, thinking eventually my actions would kill her.

Or me.

My defection was seen as the ultimate betrayal; the unforgivable sin that would affect us all.

Even my brothers had stopped talking to me. With the line in the sand drawn, they sided with my father. And while they maintained they weren’t in the business, they would never turn their back on a man they idolized. Their love for him ultimately meant they couldn’t love me too. I hated it but I understood, and everyone needed to make their own choice. Time would tell if my father would draw them further into his deceitful web.

For years I’d been looking over my shoulder, fully expecting someone to gun me down before I’d even graduated from training. But by some miracle, I’d been spared. I’m sure my father had greased a lot of palms to secure my safety; either that or he’d hoped that someday he’d be able to use my position for his gain. Perhaps he believed I’d flip. Become a corrupt cop that we all knew existed. It wasn’t coincidence that he’d never done time. Or that despite the amounts of drugs, weapons or other imports he moved into the city, we’d still lacked any tangible evidence to satisfy the DA. Maybe he was on the take too. It wouldn’t surprise me.

What did surprise me is that he’d sent someone to protect me. His parting words to me were if I walked out the door, I was on my own. I’d expected it. Knew if I needed help, he would be the last person I’d ask. Which is why when a thug landed on my doorstep claiming to be my savior, courtesy of my father, I was doubtful. But he hadn’t killed me yet, and if there was one thing criminals lacked, it was patience.

I might have had the advantage, the sensors hidden at the front of my house alerting me to his presence, but he had yet to pull his gun. He was either extremely cocky, playing the long game or—and I was still wondering if I wasn’t completely stupid—actually here to help me.

While my head told me I should run, go out the back door and get as far as I could while he was distracted, I knew I wouldn’t get far.

I wasn’t submitting. Far from it. But by going willingly, I maintained some semblance of control. Men like the one in my house didn’t leave before finishing the job they’d been sent to do. I’d seen it with my own two eyes, their unwavering commitment to their cause. And as strong as I liked to think I was, overpowering him would be next to impossible. It was either shoot him and make sure he stayed down—which would make me no better than my father—or go, and hopefully he wouldn’t gag me and toss me in the trunk of his car. He hadn’t tried to take my gun, and as long as I got to keep it, I’d let this play out a little more.

He was tall, well above six feet and even with clothes on I could tell he was strong. The curves of his chest against the fabric of his T-shirt hinted he visited the gym in between turning up on doorsteps and waving guns around. Old habits died hard as I mentally catalogued his profile. The color of his eyes: brown, estimated weight: two twenty-five easily, and hair: golden brown that was slightly longer on top, parts of it dropping across his forehead whenever he moved. I hated that I noticed that he wasn’t completely unattractive, even if the handsome lines of his face were sharpened in contempt.

“Where are we going?” I bundled the packed overnight bag over my shoulder as I stuffed my extra gun and ammo into a duffle. I had no idea how long we were going to be gone, but something told me that clothes were going to be my last concern.

“You’ll find out when we get there. The less you know the better. And stop asking questions, it’s giving me a headache,” he grumbled, grabbing the overnight bag off my arm and turning around toward the door. “I go out first, come out behind me. Have your gun ready and don’t shoot me in the back.”

He didn’t converse. He barked out orders. His social skills were abysmal and he had even less compassion, but I doubted he wanted to kill me. At least not at this moment. But I wasn’t stupid enough to think being alive was a sure thing while I was in his company.

“If you don’t want to get shot then I’d suggest being a little nicer. It wouldn’t kill you to not be an ass.” The words fired out of my mouth with little to no thought. It was more terse than I usually was, but then it wasn’t everyday a strange man walked into my house and started bossing me around.

“Actually it would, and I’d rather be an ass than be dead. So shut your mouth, get that gun out you’re so fond of, and let’s bail. We’ve already been here longer than I’d wanted.”

He was all business, his focus continuously moving even when he was talking to me. He might have been attractive if the weight of death wasn’t bearing on his shoulders. Those eyes of his— those endless dark pools—had probably seen a lot. Like he’d lived a life before this one. Both of them, unforgiving.

Even though it was night, the streetlights and security lights from nearby houses made it virtually impossible to hide in shadows. It had been one of the reasons why I had picked the rental. My dreams of living life outside of my family name had come at a price, but I wasn’t going to make it easier.