Page 171 of Only for Him
“Wrong. I’m not?—”
“The decision’s been made,” he cuts me off, smug and impatient. “I should know. I’m the one who made it.”
My blood ignites. Of course Russo wasn’t Pavel’s only pawn. He has more strings to pull. I push the phone harder to my ear so I can feel the post of Serena’s earring dig into my flesh.
“There’s paperwork to file, calls to make,” Pavel goes on. “You know how it is. Bureaucracy, yes? Enjoy your final hours with your badge, Detective.”
I know he’s right. Hell, if I were IA, I’d have suspended me a long fucking time ago. I had a tryst with a suspect in the evidence locker. Talk about contaminating a crime scene.
“You sound like a man with a purpose, Pavel. Why don’t you get to it?”
He laughs again, low and wet as a gutter. “Straight to business. Very good. I can help you.”
“Help me?” I stop on the sidewalk, step out of the flood of people.
“Yes.” A pause, then: “You are not as clever as you think, Detective. I know all about your extra-curricular activities. I know who you sleep with. I know about the man you hunt with. He’s a problem. For both of us.”
I look up. Neon shivers across the wet street.
“You want me to hand him over,” I say.
I clench the phone, knuckles white as Pavel chuckles. This bastard profited off Serena’s death, made money with her innocence. He raped and murdered Anastasia because she chose Roman over him. I didn’t know her, but I don’t need to know her to want justiceforher.
“I want you to say his name, officially, on the record. Then I will provide evidence to clear your name. Simple.”
Fuck you, Pavel.
“Never,” I say. And I say it like a fuckingamen. I don’t know if I love him, but at least I know I don’t hate Roman. If I hated him, I’d give him up. I’ve killed men for less, haven’t I?
If I hated him, this choice—get my badge and life back or stay true to Roman and keep him safe—would at least be taken under consideration.
But it’s fucking not.
It’s easy.
So easy I want to laugh.
A bittersweet relief blossoms in my chest, so visceral my fingertips tingle. Because at least I know, now. It’s too late. But if Iknowmy heart is broken, I can at least start to learn to live with it.
I won’t give him up because I need to know he’s alive, still out there ripping the world apart. Let them take my badge. Let them take my life. I’ll still have this: the knowing. That I chose him. That Ibelongedto him.
I owe him more than that, but for now it’s all I have.
“How unfortunate,” Pavel sighs. “If you don’t accept my help, you’ll go to prison. Or the river. Either way, you lose.”
The line clicks dead.
For once, I know exactly what comes next. War.
44
GISELLE
Whether it wasPavel’s call or Lawson’s, the outcome is the same.
For the first time in nearly a decade, I have no badge or gun.
The suspension letter lies open on the coffee table. One sheet, heavy stock, the seal of Internal Affairs embossed at the top, trying to look expensive and righteous. I’m a person of interest in Russo’s death, which makes sense, because I was literally right there when he died.
