Page 75 of Vicious Behaviors
The truth is that I needed time to cover the dark bruises forming around my neck. If Haynes saw them, he’d ask questions I’m not ready to answer. Not about the choke marks or about the man who put them there.
If I do tell Haynes about how my relationship with Marcello has turned an illicit corner, I’ll do it when I’m good and ready.
For now, it’s better that he remains clueless. Only fair since he’s not afraid to leave me guessing in regards to information aboutmycase either.
So as a precaution, I’ve dabbed enough foundation and layered concealer over the bruises for them to go unnoticed. I even added a wool scarf around my neck, just in case.
“Don’t give me an excuse and tell me what progress you have made this week,” he snaps, eyes never leaving the dashboard.
God, I hate this asshole.
“First, I convinced the headmistress at Sacred Heart to let me run self-defense classes. If I can get close to Father McDonagh’s inner circle, I might uncover the nature of his relationship with Marcello. Maybe a motive. Maybe even a link between them that we might have missed.”
The words barely leave my mouth before Haynes snaps his head toward me, nostrils flaring like a bull seeing red, and states, “I don’t give a shit about motive. I want him in cuffs!” His tone is thick with venom. “What I want to know is why you aren’t inhisinner circle yet? What good are you if you’re wasting time between nuns and gym rats?”
I keep my cool instead of letting his frustrations rile me up. Haynes has never been a big-picture kind of guy. Honestly, it still baffles me how someone so short-sighted rose so high in the Bureau.
“We need means, motive, and opportunity to build a solid case. That was the directive when I was brought on—yourdirective,” I remind him coolly. “We can’t take Marcello down on his family’s affiliation alone. If we don’t have an airtight case, he walks. And you know that.”
Haynes huffs, his eyes snapping back to the windshield while clenching his fists. “Very well,” he grunts, unhappy with my reprimand. “What about the sister? Stella?”
My mind immediately flashes back to the night she came to the gym. The same night she had a falling out with Marcello. For the first time, I hesitate to tell Haynes what I overheard. But since I have to give him something, I offer just enough to hopefully keep him from filing an official complaint against me.
“I think the alliance between theBratvaand the Outfit isn’t as rock-steady as we might have thought. I overheard Stella and Marcello talking, and apparently, Kirill Petrov kidnapped her and her brother not too long ago. Which brother, I’m not sure.”
“Well, the Romanos and Petrovs must have patched things up, since an all-out war didn’t break out. If it had, Little Russia wouldn’t be standing,” he snorts sarcastically. “What else do you have?”
Guilt stabs at me as my lips slam shut. I can still feel Marcello’s mouth on me, taste his fingers on my lips. I still have the memory of his body caging mine against the wall. How his kiss woke something inside me that’s been dead for years. How his tenderness unlocked something I didn’t even know I had. Haynes wants more, but I refuse to give him this. Not this.
“That’s all I have so far.” Another lie.
I might not fully understand what happened between Marcello and me tonight, but I do know that Haynes would be the last person I’d tell. He’s too focused on the finish line to care for the wreckage I might leave behind.
I tell myself that what happened between me and Marcello has nothing to do with the job. That it will never happen again. And that line of thinking is exactly what makes it so dangerous.
“Get out, then,” Haynes barks, as if I’d wasted enough of his time. “Next week, don’t come fucking empty-handed again. Bring me something with actual meat on the bone. Or I’ll find someone who can actually get results.”
I don’t argue. There would be no point in doing so. Instead, I just open the door and step out, grateful to put distance between me and Haynes’s bullshit.
He doesn’t even wait for me to reach my own car before tearing out of the parking lot like a petulant child. Tires squealing. Ego intact.
What a fucking asshole. Still, he’s my superior. And if there’s one thing I can admit, it’s that Haynes has his eyes dead-set on the prize. No distractions. No weakness. No compromise.
Can I honestly say the same for myself? Especially after what I let happen tonight?
What did happen, exactly?
Sure, Marcello touched parts of me I thought had died. Lit nerves that hadn’t flared in years. Made me feel things I have no business feeling for him. That tight coil of arousal. The adrenaline-fueled high. The longing to be touched. But that wasn’t all that happened. For those final moments in Carmine’s office, I came face to face with what I can only describe as some kind of past traumatic response. An alter of some kind. It was dark… and hungry. Not quite human.
What terrifies me most is how late I was to respond, even when my life hung in the balance. The fear. Real, visceral fear.A feeling I thought I’d long outgrown, buried beneath years of training, discipline, and armor. But tonight, it came flooding back like muscle memory. Like a nightmare determined to wake me up screaming.
Perhaps I can’t explain what I saw in his eyes. What actually triggered him to shift like that. But I know it was real.
And I know that I’ll seeitagain.
Thatitisn’t done with me.
Not by a long shot.
