Page 145 of Bad Blood

Two tiny fists pound against my chest, echoing the rapid beat of blood pulsing through my ears. I’m drawn out of the cacophony as my eyes fall on Brighton’s tear-stained face.

“Knock it off. We’re not doing this.” She wedges between the two of us, holding her hands up to keep us apart. Tears continue to roll down her cheeks as someone yanks the detective a few feet away.

He thrashes and twists, trying to break free from the hold of the man. Seconds tick by as Dickhead convinces the cop he’s under control. The two of them join us on the sidewalk.

“I told you I didn’t want him involved.” Brighton balls her hands into fists as she rounds on the man who brought me back here to identify the body.

“And I told you he was working the case,” the man says.

“I’m done, Hudson. Our arrangement is over.” She swipes her hands apart and glares at him.

“Everything’s under control.” Detective Dickhead holds out a hand to keep other officers at a distance as he comes back to the sidewalk, stopping a few feet from us. “Just a little misunderstanding.”

“What was that?” Brighton directs the question to Detective Dickhead and tries to get in his face, but Hudson holds her back.

Dickhead cocks the side of his mouth into a partial grin. “Just setting precedence, princess.” He chucks her chin and summons the men to follow him. Hudson has to fight to keep a hold of her. Dickhead struts through the cars and across the street, never once looking back over his shoulder. He enters the brownstone with the gurney and disappears inside.

“You son-of-a-bitch.” She rounds on Hudson and shoves against his chest.

He lets go.

She whips around to me, her hands cupping my face. “Are you hurt?”

I shake my head. Besides a bruised ego, I’m fine.

“Hey, look at me.” She directs my eyes to hers, her fingers guiding my chin as she examines me.

When our eyes meet, I get a look of frustration and anger. I’m not sure if it’s toward me or the situation. Water pools at the corners, and tears cascade down her cheeks. She drops her hands to her sides, balling her fists once she confirms I’m not hurt.

Hudson makes eye contact with me and nods in the direction where Detective Dickhead took off, signaling he’s available if he’s needed.

“It’s my fault.” Her shoulders fold in, and she hunches over herself, grabbing her chest. The reality of what’s happening gets to her, and she cries out. “I should have warned her.”

Fragments of thought struggle to come together as I pull her into my chest. “Shhhh. I’ve got you.” I scoop her into my arms. She droops against me and closes her eyes.

“It’s her,” she mumbles into my chest, repeating herself. “It’s her. It’s her.”

I climb the stairs, take her into the brownstone, and kick the door closed behind us. I set her on the bottom step and wipe away more tears as I brush her matted hair from her face. “Her who?”

She pulls her hand to her mouth, chewing her fingernails. Now that we’re alone, her need to appear strong is wearing off, and she drops her eyes to her feet.

“Tara. I gave her a ride home.” The sobs take over her body, and she crumples off the step, onto the landing.

I brush a hand over her hair, sitting beside her before pulling her into my lap and leaning against the door. I wrap my arms around her back, trying to comfort her as I rock side to side. Her sobs eventually turn to whimpers.

“Please don’t leave,” she murmurs into my shirt, balling it between her fists.

“Baby, I’m not going anywhere,” I whisper into her ear as I kiss the top of her head and rest my cheek on it.

The red-and-blue lights flash against the wall beside us, and I stare at them, focusing on her whimpers instead of the sounds from outside. She exhales through stuttering breaths over and over until they even out.

My eyes grow heavy, and I force them open, finding the police lights on the wall once again. The commotion outside keeps me awake until my body’s need to sleep overtakes me.

Before I fade and lose consciousness, the grip of her fists on my shirt loosens, and she slumps against my chest.

“I promise.”

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