Pulse (Collide, #2)(31)
“No,” Emily answered. “I don’t think you’re hurt. I think your ego’s bruised. You never loved me. Never.”
Fists balled at his sides, he clenched his teeth. “I did love you, but you f*cked my friend!” Emily felt that all too familiar fear creeping back in. She fought against it as she continued to stare at the man who’d meant everything to her before he tore them apart. “And just a bit of information for you, I didn’t use your mother’s death against you. You fell the f*ck apart, and I didn’t know how to deal with it. I did the best I could.”
“Did you think I wasn’t going to fall apart?” Emily choked back a sob. “She was my mother, Dillon! My mother!”
Dillon shrugged, a wicked chuckle flying past his lips. “Your relationship with her was strained. Give me a break.”
Emily eyes went wide, her pulse thudding wildly. “What does that have to do with anything? Strained or not, she was all I knew.” Emily paused, unable to believe the monster he’d hidden beneath a camouflage of good for so long. “You’re a fake. A chameleon. Where, in that shallow heart of yours, did you even conjure up the ability to do what you did for her before she died? Tell me. Because I can’t begin to even understand it.”
“Neither can I.” Another shrug as his darkened eyes stared into hers. “As f*cked up as she was, she didn’t deserve my help. No wonder you gave up on her right before she died. Even you knew the mess she was. You couldn’t even help her. Or should I say—didn’t want to help her.”
Even though she knew he was continuing his rampage to hurt her, Emily’s world stopped, anger coiling deep in her veins. “Go to hell,” she hissed. “You’re cut from your mother’s evil flesh. It’s obvious you enjoyed being in jail because you’re about to go back. This time, it’ll be longer than a few days. I only wish they could drag her with you for giving birth to such an *.”
“Fuck off, whore,” he growled. “I’m not going to jail. I know my rights and my limits.” He leisurely rocked back on his heels. “Again, I’m on the sidewalk, and there’s not a f*cking thing you can do about it, Emily. Not one f*cking thing.” He looked down the block at a group of teenagers crossing the street and brought his eyes back to hers, the malice in them pinning her like a target. “That is… unless you want to call Gavin and tell him I’m here.” Pausing, he shook his head and laughed. “Now, that would be some fun. I’ll go back to jail—and enjoy every single second—knowing you had to watch me beat his ass to a f*cking pulp right here on this very sidewalk. That’d be worth a few nights of my freedom.”
As though he’d turned on a switch in her head, something inside her shifted, something words couldn’t describe. She clenched her canvas bag, her fingers digging into her palm. She made her voice sound unaffected though she felt anything but. “That’s right, Dillon, idle threats. Something you’ve always been good at.” She cocked a brow, feigning disinterest. “You barely draw blood. I, out of anyone, would know that. Right?” She lifted her hand, rubbing the spot on her lip where he’d hit her. “Just so you know, it barely stung. My first graders can throw a better punch.”
“You f*cking cunt,” came his retort, the words spewing out of him as if they tasted of acid. Mindful to remain on the sidewalk, he inclined his head and spit at her.
It didn’t reach, but Emily didn’t dodge it either. She stayed as still as stone. Her breath rattled in her throat as she stared at him, her heart thumping. A man’s voice caught her attention. Stepping back, she watched an officer ease from a patrol car, the casualness in his stride unnerving.
Hands on his hips, deep lines gouged his face as he approached. “What’s going on here?”
Emily shoved her hand in her purse, pulling out her court documents. “I have an order of protection—”
“Nothing,” Dillon said. “She’s wasting your time.” He shot Emily a glare, and yanked his wallet from his back pocket. “Here’s my PBA card.” He passed the card through the fence. “My uncle’s been a detective at the Brooklyn North narcotics in Bed-Stuy for the last twenty years.”
The officer looked it over. He nodded, a smile lifting his mouth. “Look at that.” He slid the Patrolmen’s Benevolent Association card back through the fence. “I bet he knows Anthony Armenio.”
“I grew up with Anthony Jr. and Anna.” Dillon looked into Emily’s eyes, his stare cold as he slipped the card back into his wallet. “My uncle used to bring me down to the—”
“Excuse me,” Emily interrupted, shoving the documents into the officer’s hand. “I hate to interfere with this friendly conversation, but he’s violated an order of protection from the court.”
“I haven’t violated anything,” Dillon argued, a smirk pulling at his lips.
Patience depleted, Emily snapped her head in Dillon’s direction. “Yes, you have! You’re not supposed to f*cking be here!”
“Hey, hey,” the cop warned as he glared at Emily. “Calm down.”
“I will not calm down,” Emily rebuked, flicking her eyes to his badge. “It’s your job to keep him away from me, Officer McManus.” She stepped back and crossed her arms. “Please do the job my tax dollars pay for, and take a look at the order.”