Page 39 of Devoted

Junior's pants are around his ankles. He's holding a girl down on the bed in front ofhim.

"Get out or you're next," Junior yells without turningaround.

"Yeah, you're not really mytype."

He spins around at the sound of my voice but struggles to reach the gun he has placed on the floor next to the bed. I kick his chin hard, sending him backward on top of the terrified girl. I grab his shirt and yank him off the girl. "Get out of here now," I yell to theher.

She scurries out with her shorts around herankles.

Junior lunges at me with a knife. Not wanting to send Clark into a fucking stroke, I don't shoot the guy between the eyes. But I have a damn good shot at it. The tip of the blade grazes my arm as I grab his wrist and wrench his arm back behind him hard. Bones crack and he yells out inagony.

"You fucking pig, do you know who I am?" He groans as I force him to hisknees.

"Yeah, you're the dick I just saw molesting a kid. And the last girl you attacked wound up in the hospital, Junior," I say his name between clenchedteeth.

"You'll be so fucking sorry you did this, pig. We have a deal and you just crossed aline."

"Fuck you. No part of the deal said you can get away with giving drugs and raping minors. You're the one that crossed the line and now you're going away." He screams in agony as I pull his broken arm around and cuff his hands behind hisback.

"You—broke my arm—you fucker," he grunts betweenbreaths.

"Guess you'll have to use the other one to jack-off with inprison."

Silvana leans into the room. "I called for backup and some female officers to deal with the party girls out here. Everything allright?"

"Peachy. Looks like we're down one slime ball. All in all, a successfulday."

22

Angie

Dr. Hoffman sitsin her usual spot on the couch. I prefer the soft leather chair, the seat I staked out for myself on the first session. That was eight weeks ago but it feels like an eternity. Our first meeting was strained, to say the least. Kane's unexpected visit started a sort of domino effect. Maddox decided to give up on us and walked out. I defied Clark and moved out of the beach house and back into my crummy little apartment. For the next month, when I wasn't sitting in a miserable room with the miserable Mr. Winter and Dr. Renfrew, I was wallowing in self-pity in my hot little apartment. I dropped the weight I'd gained back and then some. I drifted in and out of seemingly bottomless depression. The debriefing made me feel dirty and guilty for everything that happened. While some of the gritty details of drugs and sex helped them build a case against Freestone, it didn't bring them any closer to finding him. He turned out to be more elusive than most wanted criminals. But then most criminals didn't have an IQ to rival Einstein's. I spent most of my free time avoiding phone calls and visitors while I grappled with my dark turn into Freestone's world. The thing that picked at my conscience the most was that I knew it had been a dark turn. Only, what I did in Lace Underground didn't feel wrong. It felt more like an awakening. That's thedelightfulsemi-depressed, horribly conflicted Angie Tennyson that Dr. Hoffman met on the first day of therapy. I knew she was the one person standing between me and my badge but I just couldn't put on ashow.

Eight weeks later, I have to give the woman credit. And maybe myself a little credit too. It seems I've emerged from the funk I was drowning in. I am learning to face everything thathappened.

"It looks like you got some color." Dr. Hoffman points to her owncheeks.

"I was sitting out on the stoop of my apartment reading a book. I didn't realize the sun was pointing its UV rays directly atme."

"What book?" sheasks.

"An old copy of Jane Eyre my mom gave me long ago. I'd never actually read it but I'm enjoyingit."

"It's good. A little depressing but you can't help but love that Mr. Rochester character, brooding, rich man that heis."

Her description makes me smile when I think of another brooding, rich man. Hoffman catches the subtle change in my expression. "What's the grin for?" sheasks.

"I was just thinking about all the brooding men I know. Rich andpoor."

She laughs lightly. She never guffaws, although I have gotten her close to it. I'm fairly certain guffaws are not in the psychiatry handbook. "Men are unusual animals, aren't they? Sometimes it feels like they are an entirely different species thanwomen."

I laugh. "Well put, Dr. Hoffman. And brilliant theorizing if you askme."

"Thankyou."

As hard headed and defensive as I was when I started the sessions, I've genuinely grown to like Dr. Hoffman. She has a tough job but she never showsit.

She writes something on her notepad. "Speaking of your mom, how have the weekly phone conversations beengoing?"

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