Page 71 of Shadows of Justice

Trismo looks over his shoulder at us and smiles. “Leave her alive enough for when I have my turn with her,” he says to Magnum, chuckling. “And don’t cut up that pretty face yet. I’ve got plans for it.”

My breathing is ragged, sounds of distress coming from my mouth as this monster gropes at me with his unwashed fingers—fingers that have obscenely long nails, I might add.

His dick rubs against my ass, and his stinking breath comes in short, excited bursts, fanning my blood-encrusted hair into my face. When I have finally thrashed too much for his liking, he presses the dagger’s blade hard into my stomach, the point puncturing my skin. I scream, the sound filled with the kind of fear that only a hunted creature can make as it stares impending death in the face.

This is it—this is how I’m going die.

“Turn that fucking shit down!”

My tear-blurred eyes shoot up to the front of the room, faint recognition filtering through my thoughts.

I know that voice.

The blaring rap music cuts out, giving way to the tapping of shoes on concrete. Magnum stills, his attention probably on the newcomer, same as me. The tapping gets closer and the shelving gives way to a figure, their gait familiar. Setting my sights on the man is like a punch to the gut, seeing him here—truly involved in this despicable mess—hurts as much as the dagger lodged in my stomach.

He’s in plain clothes—a sight that’s always odd when seeing a coworker out of the office—but even more at odds with his appearance is his presence here, at ease, surrounded by tattooed ex-cons, his starched Rams T-shirt and cargo shorts more out of place than a nun at a brothel.

I don’t miss the holstered gun at his side, the shine of the badge clipped to his belt, or the steadiness of his hands.

Captain Ryan Jennings has one hand on his hip, one running down his scruffy chin as I have seen him do countless times while he ponders a decision. I wonder what choice he is going to make as he holds my gaze from across the room. There is no surprise in his eyes, no shock at the grimy heathen wrapped around my shaking body, just assessment. He takes in the scene with logical indifference, like he’s trying to decide how to best begin changing a tire.

Trismo approaches him, as well as Phillip. They all stand in a line, watching me watch them. Together like this, I suppose I can see how Phillip and his father look alike, but the most similar attribute has got to be their busted moral compasses.

Jennings looks to Sugar, the corners of his mouth turning down in disgust, and then back to me.

“I bet you’re sorry you didn’t stick to patrol as ordered, aren’t you, Schaeffer?”

Right before my eyes, my fate is sealed. I shut them tight against the truth ringing clear in the sudden silence that settles over the room. Magnum’s hands retract and I hear him step back. Trismo looks at Jennings in confusion for a moment, and then turns to me with something close to horror on his face.

“She’s one of yours, Cap?” Trismo asks him.

Jennings nods. “She is. One too stupid to know what’s good for her, too,” he says, shaking his head at me like I’m a naughty toddler that stole the last cookie.

Magnum spouts off a question in Spanish and Trismo answers him, my blood-leached brain far too foggy to pick up a shred of their conversation. They sound stressed.

Trismo lifts up his shirt and takes out his gold-plated pistol, waving it in the air and shouting angrily. The other Dogs look up from their tasks and observe their leader, faces hardening, ready to come to his beck and call should he need them. Dante’s collar clinks and he pokes his head around the corner of one of the aisles, my blood still darkening the fur around his mouth.

Jennings holds up his hands and speaks in a soothing tone, seemingly unbothered by the gangster’s outburst.

“Whoa, whoa, Thiago, just relax now,” he says. “We don’t know that it’s as bad as you think. You see, Viv here doesn’t follow orders very well, does she?” His eyes flick to me and he steps over Sugar’s body, stalking slowly toward me. “She got herself involved with a criminal that thinks he’s better than he is, and he got her all up in arms about trying to be a hero. She came to me with what she knew—with what Barone knew—about your operation with the bomb, but I told her not to waste her time.” He stops right in front of me, his eyes looking over my body impassively, and then holds my gaze. “Viv’s a great cop, I’ll give her that, but no one listens to her. She’s just tits and ass to all in the precinct—everyone knows it.”

A chuckle ripples through the Dogs, and I pour all of my hatred into my glare. He isn’t the least bit fazed. He looks over his shoulder at Trismo, who’s tapping the barrel of his gun on his mouth in thought, listening intently.

“What I’m trying to say to you, Thiago, is that she could have run naked through the station yelling every piece of information she knew about this bomb, and no one would have paid her any mind. Her own father—my boss—doesn’t even take her seriously!” He laughs. “So, all we have to do is just play it cool, and I’ll head into the office and figure out what they know, if anything. Because, honestly, if they knew something, these doors would have been blown in hours ago. It’s simple really.” He looks back to me. “Just be careful with your DNA on this one. When they find her body, there will be a thorough investigation. So protect yourselves accordingly.”

I spit in his face, and it lands satisfyingly on his stubbled cheek. He blinks, but only smiles bitterly, lifting the hem of his T-shirt to wipe it away.

“You’re despicable,” I growl. “How can you do this? How can you be this?”

He chuckles. “Oh, Vivvie. You’re so young. You just don’t understand how the world really works. People are never what they say they are, and life’s too short to color inside the lines. You can hate me all you want, but I’m getting the most out of my life. My retirement isn’t just planned for, it will be nirvana.”

Tears brim in my eyes, not because I’m sad, but because I hate him. I hate what he represents, what he’s done, all that he’s tainted. I hate myself for not seeing it, for trusting him.

He turns back toward the Dogs, his hands held out. “So, are we good?”

Trismo grins. “Yeah, Cap, we’re good. Just keep me posted about how we should stage the body. Definitely want to send a message with this one,” he says, chucking his chin at me.

“You are good at that!” Jennings laughs, shaking Trismo’s hand as both men carry on. Then he looks down at Sugar, the frown of disgust returning to his face.

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