Total pages in book: 134
Estimated words: 122242 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 611(@200wpm)___ 489(@250wpm)___ 407(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 122242 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 611(@200wpm)___ 489(@250wpm)___ 407(@300wpm)
"She's okay with this?" Finn glances between the two of us.
"She's not okay with any of it, but it is what it is. At least this way, she isn't alone with someone like Sanders." I glance at my phone to check the time. "You need anything from me? I've got a debriefing in half an hour."
"You're good." Finn waves me off. "I'll let you know if IA needs to speak with you."
I nod, bump Roman's fist, and then head out of the office, walking quickly to catch up to Sanders. By the time I make it to the parking garage without seeing him, I've almost given up on running into him. But as I stalk toward my Tahoe, I spot him a couple of rows over, unloading equipment from a black Dodge.
"Sanders!" I yell, storming in his direction.
He glances up at me. A dark scowl overtakes his face when he realizes it's me.
I stop a couple feet from him, anger boiling like lava through my veins.
"What the fuck do you want, Hernandez?" he snaps at me, crossing his arms. He plants his feet like he thinks I'm going to be intimidated. I'm not. He's a good three inches shorter and thirty pounds lighter than I am. He may be SWAT, but I grew up smashing through guys on a football field, and then did the same in college. I've stayed in shape since. I could take him easily.
"Come near Faith again, and I'll kill you," I tell him.
"What?" he says and then smirks, though there's nothing but malice in his expression. "You mad because I got there first?"
"You didn't get anywhere except on the fast track to losing your badge," I remind him, striving not to lose my temper.
His smirk slips, his confidence waning.
"Stay away from her and keep her fucking name out of your mouth. You assaulted her, and you know it. You're a disgrace, Sanders. She'll never want someone like you, and you can't stand it."
"You think she wants you?" He barks laughter, shaking his head. "She's a Bratva whore, Hernandez. Once she gets what she wants from you, she'll go running back to Tarasova. Or did you think it was coincidence that she latched onto the man responsible for investigating the shooting?"
"Pinche idiota," I growl, shoving him up against the side of his SUV. I shove my face into his, snarling softly as rage courses through me. Faith isn't a whore, and she damn sure isn't going to go running back to Tarasova. She didn't latch onto me, either. I'm the one who approached her. I'm the one who convinced her to help. And as much as I hate to admit it, I don't think she would have agreed if she felt like she had any other viable option.
"You're delusional, Sanders," I snap. "You're lashing out at her because you can't take responsibility for your fucking bullshit, and don't have the balls to face the fact that she doesn't want you." My lip curls in disgust as I keep him pinned against the side of his SUV with my arm across his throat. Men like him never can face it when they discover they aren't God's gift to womankind. They're little boys playing at being men, and just like little boys, they throw fucking tantrums when things don't go their way.
"Come near her again, and I will kill you," I warn him again and then release him, stepping back
"Fuck you, Hernandez," he rasps, glaring at me balefully.
"You aren't my type either, motherfucker," I say, walking away before I do something I'm not entirely sure I'll regret.
"Mierda," I mutter, flopping onto my back to glare up at the ceiling. Despite spending two hours in the gym at work while Faith talked to Dr. Shapiro this afternoon, I can't seem to settle enough to sleep. Every time I close my eyes, I start to worry that she's huddled on the closet floor, too afraid to close her eyes. It's making me crazy.
I want her in my bed with me.
But Roman was right today. Even if Faith had asked for Sanders to touch her—and we all know she didn't—she was in his care. That alone would have gotten him suspended for abusing his authority…and I've come perilously close to doing the same damn thing myself. I want her more than I imagined possible, but that doesn't make it right.
I'm still a cop. She's still a witness…one who is completely dependent on me right now.
"Fuck," I growl, yanking my pillow out from underneath my head. I've been telling myself the same damn thing all day, and it hasn't made a bit of difference. All I managed to do was upset Faith by snapping at her when she barely touched her dinner. She looked so sad when she left the table and went to her room. Talking to the shrink today couldn't have been easy, and I probably made her feel a thousand times worse.