Page 117 of Diamond In The Rough

“You…” He sets his hands on his hips and swallows, a loud, gulping action that has his throat moving. “You staged an entire armed robbery… to redirect me and my brother?”

“Yes.” I drop my head and just… breathe. And cry. And know I’ve hurt a decent man. Micah Malone has two triggers in life: liars and threats upon his family. I’ve stepped on both. “There was no robbery. The uniforms taking statements were following orders, and the witnesses on the street were seeing what they were told to see.”

“And the thing the other night?” he growls. “When I stayed at your place?”

“We knew that was coming, too,” I sigh. “So I kept you busy.”

“You went to bed with me! You slept with me, Tiia! That’s going above and beyond the call of duty, don’t you think?”

“That’s different.” Desperately, I search his eyes. “You and me. That’s not the job. That’s…” Love, is the word I want to say. It’s the word that stumbles toward the tip of my tongue. “I didn’t sleep with you for work.”

“Right.” Scoffing, he turns on his heels and presses his hands to the door, resting his forehead between them. His back grows as oxygen fills his lungs, then shrinks again on his exhale. “You’re a whore for the Bureau, you know that, right?”

My heart aches, shattering in my chest when he says that word. When he treats me any less than the way I’ve become accustomed to.

“You’re damaged goods, Hale.” Turning, he rests his back to the door and drops his hands to his pockets. “You fucked up on the job a year ago and landed yourself with a medical condition the government doesn’t want to fund unless they’re getting something out of it. Agents can’t work in the field if they can’t even hear properly.” He meets my eyes and sneers. “You’re literally only good for your cunt. They sent you to me with one very specific task in mind. Maybe you didn’t know it then, but they sold you. And yet, you sit here and think it was your choice all along.”

He shakes his head, disgust rolling out with every word he speaks. Every expression he makes.

“The FBI just became your pimp. Your dead parents must be so proud.”

He spins on his heels and yanks the door open.

“Wait!” I shove forward in my chair as darkness outside invades and makes me question just how long we’ve been in this room. “W-where are you going?”

“Away.” He looks me up and down, the contempt in his stare enough to make me feel like mud on the bottom of someone’s shoe. Then he cruelly flips the overhead light off and leaves me to the dark. “I’m walking away, Tiia, and I’m never coming back. I suggest you free yourself and leave, because Felix knows what you are, too. And he’s not above letting his soldiers fuck a whore before they slice her throat open.”

“I-I don’t know the way.” Terror slams through my stomach as I look out into the night. The oppressive darkness, endless, like a cloak that would drape over my head and remind me of all my worst nightmares. “Micah, I don’t know?—”

“I told you the first time we met, I don’t accept the damsel act. You’re gonna be fine.” Then he brings his hand up, absentmindedly rubbing a sore spot in the center of his chest. “And so will I. Don’t worry about Lix and me. We’ve survived hell together our whole lives. Wilkes isn’t an issue for us.”

“Micah!” I scream out when he backs through the door. “Wait! Please.”

“Run back to Roscoe,” he calls over his shoulder. “He accepts second-hand pussy.”

The click of an animal’s nails in the trees sets my heart into overdrive. The hoot of an owl’s call. Nighttime presses in around me, so the barred windows no longer pose as prison, but rather, a guard. The stone walls, no longer captivity. But safety. My hands quiver violently, my fingers trembling as I reach across and unbuckle my other wrist strap.

And all the while, wildlife rustles in the trees outside.

“Please come back,” I whimper, my voice shaky and broken. “Don’t leave me out here.”

A coyote’s call echoes through the dark sky. Its desperation to survive another midnight like ice in my veins. “Micah?”

24

MICAH

SO MUCH WORSE THAN TIM

Islam through the back door of the massive home I share with my brother and come eye to eye with none other than the family fucking don. Felix’s eyes fiery and mean, his hands, already loaded with a pistol.

He watches the door, preparing for war after Sophia’s phone call.

While behind him, Christabelle paces, chewing her nails and worrying about something she’s yet to witness since becoming part of the family.

“Go to the bunker,” I snarl, startling the woman when my words come out like explosions. “Take her some clothes and get her back to the city.”

Felix shoves away from the counter, heading for the door with only one mission in mind. But I slam my aching hand to his shoulder and knock him back a step. “I was talking to Christabelle. Not you.”

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