Page 52 of Hard Game

Tassa’s eyes flash. “Oh? Why is that? Because I’m too vulnerable? Too emotional for you right now? Huh?”

Here we go.

I stare back at her and shake my head. “No. None of that.”

“Then what? Why can’t you have this conversation with me?” Tears shimmer in her eyes, and I force myself to take it easy on her, no matter how vexed I am at the time we’re wasting standing here talking.

Women are imprisoned as we speak, being abused by the minute, and Tassa wants to dictate who can help us and who can’t.

“We need them,” I say as her eyes widen.

“The cops? Fuck, Maddox, when have they ever helped us? They’re all fucking bent?—”

I think of my detective, the hurt in her eyes when she mentioned her sister and her passion for finding these bastards. She’s dedicated her whole life to it—there isn’t a bent bone in her body. I defend her without thinking.

“No, they’re not.”

“Just because you’re fucking her doesn’t make her any use to us! You’re in with her boss, why didn’t you fuck her?” Tassa rages, pushing off the doorframe and striding up to me. “Stop thinking with your dick, Maddox, this isn’t like you. She fucking shot you.”

I grit my teeth and glare at her, my hands trembling as my voice leaves my throat in a raspy snarl. “Because she thought I was a fucking trafficker, Tassa! She thought I was one of them, and she fucking shot me. What do you think she’d do if she saw one, huh?”

We stare at one another, her shoulders shaking and my fists clenching. We’d never come to blows like this; we’d always had each other’s backs. But that’s because we didn’t trust anyone else; we’d never had a reason or cause to. Tassa’s tears escape as she steps closer to me, her bloodshot eyes making my chest ache.

“They killed my girl, Maddox, and they fucking hurt her. Do you understand me? I loved her!” She sobs and cups a hand to her mouth, trying to hold back the sound that hides behind it.

But I hear it, and my heart hurts. It fucking bleeds for these women and their relatives. How many people are missing their loved ones right now, wondering if they will ever walk up the porch steps again or if they’ll ever hear their car door slam, announcing their arrival? Will they ever be able to tell them how much they love them? Do these people ever give up hope?

No. They never stop hoping because when they do, everything is lost.

I reach out and rest my hand on Tassa’s shoulder, but she shrugs me off, wiping her nose with the back of her hand before glaring at me.

“You do what you think is best Maddox; you never listen to me anyway. But one fuck up, and I’m taking matters into my own hands.”

I don’t even get a chance to respond because she shoves me back, pointing at the door.

“Get out.”

The police are watching Tassa’s apartment, so I can rest easy there. I don’t know for sure that the scummy bastards that killed Zia aren’t going to come for Tassa, but there’s enough security around her apartment and inside it. Plus, Tassa is spitting mad; anyone would be crazy to go near her right now. I know I’m better away from her, even though she needs me. Grief destroys people differently, and Tassa is suffering.

Like my detective, who I need to call. She answers on the first ring.

“Detective Diess.” Her gruff voice sends all the nerve endings in my dick into a frenzy, and I wonder why the fuck she turns me on like she does. Maybe it’s because she’s not afraid of anyone, and I can’t help but love that in a woman.

“Hello, Detective.”

“My place, fifteen minutes.”

Then the line goes dead.

Great, so she wants me at her place again? I wonder why, I think wryly. If it’s to fuck, she’s fresh out of luck because I’m going murdering tonight. But I could always go and see her after, covered in their blood, see if she likes that. The thought makes me grin, even though I know she’d cuff my ass and haul me to jail. Even if I got the bad guys, she wants them in a cell. I want them six feet under, every last one of them.

Fifteen minutes.

It’s enough time to go back to my place and get what I need, my main weapons of choice, because I fully intend to wipe the bastards out tonight. Then I’m going after Alastor.

That fucker won’t even see me coming.

I slide a hooked blade into my backpack and smile, almost giddy at the thought of disemboweling some cunt with it. I take lock cutters because cages are fuckers to get open in a tight spot, and considering I’ll be alone, I can imagine I’ll be in a few tight spots tonight.

---