“Showtime, cop.” I heard the second phone crack and shatter on the asphalt and the plink of metal on metal, which I could only assume were my weapons as they landed in the truck bed next to me.
The truck fired to life and we were rumbling through the city. I was trying to keep panic and fear at bay. I was trying to remind myself that I had tangled with really bad men before and had always won. I gritted my teeth and reminded myself over and over that there was too much at stake for me to not come out on top.
It might have been ten minutes, but it felt like five seconds. There was only a sliver of time between theory and practice, and now I was about to come face-to-face with the man that had waged war on my city, hurt my brother, scared and harassed my woman, and personally challenged everything I stood for. There was no way the Titus that wore the badge could do this and survive. It was time to meet Roark monster to monster and mine was long denied, long suppressed, and far hungrier than his would ever be.
The truck rumbled to a halt and I heard the door open. I heard Booker shuffle out and then, “You have a present for me?”
That lilting Irish brogue. I wanted to chew him up and spit him out.
“Yeah. You got some money for me?”
“Oh, Booker. You think I don’t know about that sweet Ruger you have tucked into your waistband? You think I don’t know you have a weak spot in the shape of a pretty teenage girl? Men that care about something that fragile are so predictable. Just like Detective King. I knew he would come with you no matter what the circumstances were, thought having him all wrapped up in a bow is a nice touch. Thank you.”
I heard a gunshot and then another. I heard someone grunt and then the sound of deadweight hitting the ground. The iron scent of blood filled my nostrils and the next thing I knew I was being hauled out of the truck by grabbing hands. I went to struggle but it was no use. There were too many of them, and with my hands bound and my head covered there was no way to fight. Hard hands locked under my armpits and dragged me across gravel and God only knew what else. My legs and feet flailed for purchase.
I knew we had entered the warehouse once my struggle started to echo against the cement and steel walls.
“Too bad for Mr. Booker that a man with training will always be faster on the trigger than a common street thug. He was close, surprisingly close. He knew he was going to die but he took the chance anyway. Who says criminals have no honor?”
My arms were jerked high above my head and I felt something hard slide against my wrists as my feet dangled, barely touching the ground. I was stretched out like a side of beef in a cooler and I knew this wasn’t good. Booker had been counting on getting a shot in, and now he was down and I was strung up like some kind of sacrifice. This was exactly where the plan fell apart. Just call me Butch Cassidy.
The hood was ripped off my head and I came face-to-face with the man that had turned my world upside down.
Conner Roark looked much like he had when he first came to collect Reeve for WITSEC. Tall, handsome, similar enough to Bax that it made hating him just a tiny bit hard. His ebony eyes glimmered with evil glee as he walked back and forth in front of me.
“Can I tell you a funny story, Detective?” That voice, so soothing, so deceptive about the evil it held captured between the melodic tones. I strained against the cuffs to no avail.
“You can go fuck yourself.”
He lifted an eyebrow at me. “How uncouth. Trust me, Detective, this is a story you will want to hear. You see it involves the woman that we both can’t seem to stay away from.”
I didn’t want to hear him say Reeve’s name. I heaved again, muscles flexing and straining, while he just watched me like I was an animal stuck in an exhibit at the zoo.
“When I saw her that day after she turned herself in, I knew I had to have her. Beautiful, soft, but with an edge. She was perfect for me. Revenge, the need to make others pay for the way they had wronged her. It was music to my ears. She was everything I had ever wanted and I thought she hated this place, the things it had done to her. I thought she would stand with me and watch it burn because she understood.”
“She thinks you’re a sociopath. She saw through you, Roark. She’s good like that. She has X-ray vision.”