Page 72 of Hard Game

“I’m going to grab us a coffee,” I say, my lips feeling numb as they move to form the words. “Do you want anything else?”

Elijah rests his head on the pillow, too tired to pay much attention to the shitstorm that’s swirling around us.

“I’m good, Diess.”

I nod and push out of the room, barely reaching the end of the hallway before I lean against a wall, my chest tightening as I try to breathe. I drag my phone out and sink my teeth into my lip as I type a message to Maddox, praying I’m wrong.

LAUREN: The City Hall. Was that you?

My hands are trembling. Why would Maddox burn down the city hall with all those people in it?

Because they’re all involved.

There’s probably another explanation for this, and I am jumping to conclusions. It could be a terrorist attack, for one. But try as I might, I can’t shake the feeling that I’m right, that Maddox has something to do with this, and if I’m right, how do I feel about that?

Sick.

I don’t condone murder, not ever. I swore to protect and serve, and I feel like I’m failing massively. I stood by when Maddox killed Taron, then the guy who raped me. A shudder runs through me at the thought of that bastard, and I have to admit that I’m glad he’s dead. So, does that make me a bad person or a bad cop? Probably both.

“Are you okay?” I look up to see a nurse looking at me with concern. “Do you need to sit down?”

“I’m fine, thanks,” I tell her, forcing myself to stand independently of the wall. “I just need some air.”

The nurse nods and moves on, and I wonder if she knew any of the women who were victims of the Lockwood Ring. I fucking hope not.

My phone rings, and I swipe at the screen without checking the caller ID, eager to keep the ward quiet. I duck out of the doors and answer without thinking. “Detective Diess.” I wince. I’m not a detective anymore. Shame flushes my cheeks, but I’m soon ripped away from it when I hear my father’s voice.

“Lauren?”

39

LAUREN

A WEEK LATER

I’d not spoken with my father for so long that it felt formal and polite when I did. I couldn’t tell him over the phone about Sara’s death, so I’d promised I would go and spend a few days with him. He was surprised, and I couldn’t blame him—I never took time off work. But then, I’d been a detective for a long time. Now, I’m just a desk jockey. Pushing pencils and answering calls about missing cats, for fucks sake. It’s been a week since the fire. A long week. But the news that Carmen had been at the police meeting at City Hall made me smile, even though it meant she was dead. Most of them were, and the best of it was that someone had leaked evidence to the media that everyone who died there had been part of the Lockwood Trafficking ring. It had lifted a weight from my shoulders, that was for sure. Some made it out alive—relatively unharmed, too, which the firefighters couldn’t understand. It was like someone led them to safety.

Which leads me to Maddox Moreno.

The man was always a ghost, but now he really is one. He never did reply to my text message asking if he was responsible, and I can’t blame him. Even his promises of making me a married woman must’ve been something he said to appease me. After everything, I didn’t expect us to run off into the sunset together.

Except…

I miss him. Even now, as I drive down the freeway, my chest aches like a part of me is left behind. I suck in a breath and tighten my fingers on the leather steering wheel, forcing my concentration onto the road, not those sexy emerald eyes or his devilish smirk. No. I have to move on now, and it starts with my father. I have to tell him about Sara, but the worst bit is that he’ll want her body for closure, and I can’t give it to him because I don’t know where she is. I wish I did. My beautiful sister was taken, tormented, abused, and used like a toy. My lips press together as the back of my eyes ache with pain, a telltale sign I’m about to cry again. I’m almost grateful for the sound of my phone slicing through the silence of my car.

“Hello?” I clear my throat and shake my head, pissed that my voice shows my emotion.

“Diess.” It’s Elijah.

I ease back into my seat and smile, so glad to hear his voice. “How are you, partner?” I ask, overtaking a slow car ahead of me.

“Well, when you return, the new boss wants to see you in his office. Sounds promising, Diess.”

I frown. “How do you know that? You’re still off work.”

“Yeah, he called me.”

“So why hasn’t he called me?” I ask, my nostrils flaring. “If he can call you?—“

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