Page 65 of Vicious Hearts

Roxy.The gentle, good woman that I wanted to sully.

I got what I wanted, didn't I? Too afraid to admit to loving her, so I played my stupid little games instead. I figured if she saw me in all my messed-up glory, she'd pull away from me and let me return to my loneliness in peace. The peace I knew before she haunted my heart.

But no. Instead, she met my dysfunction head-on. Our personality issues complement each other in precisely the wrong ways.

She's everything I need. I'm everything shedoesn'tneed. I knew this all along, but it didn't stop me from loving her. I allowed obsession to creep in and inflame my worst excesses when I could have just admitted how I felt and risked letting her into my heart.

I park and take a stroll. There's a security guard in a booth, but he's clearly seen some shit in his time. It only takes a small roll of hundreds to persuade him to look the other way, and he tucks the money into his inside pocket without a word.

There it is.The Fisher Pharma crate is near the waterfront. Anyone else would have moved the fucking thing, but this guy doesn't think anyone is as smart as he is.

Glad to prove you wrong, fuckface.

The thing about being a psycho is you have gotta get hold of it and not let it own you. Then you can harness the darkness and put it to work. If it takes the wheel, you're joyriding, and then you're fucked. It's only a matter of time before you crash.

Jesus.

I can see Hillard. He's skulking around between containers, gun drawn.

Is he waiting for me? How could he be?He didn't know I would come here.

I pull out my own pistol and duck behind a container. Hillard is about three rows away and moving toward me.

24

Ben

Inever had weapons training. Just picked up a little from dicking about with the Gurin Bratva boys when I was younger. It's possible I could succeed in winging Hillard, but chances are he'll shoot me dead before I can do him any harm.

I draw a deep breath.

"Hillard!"

"Is that you, Voratov?" Hillard sounds short of breath, and I wonder if he's freaking out. "You fucking piece of shit. What have you done to Graham Fisher?"

"So it's true?" I get low and move fast, clearing the space and getting behind the container to my right. "You're covering for the fucker. How can you do this?"

"Do what?"

I hear his footsteps speed up. I roll my body against the container and round the corner. He doesn't see me as he passes.

"I just want this shit to be over," he shouts. "I don't know why you had to get your filthy criminal hands all over it, but murdering Graham won't change a thing. I know he hurt Roxy, but more important things are at stake."

"What the fuck are you talking about?" I shout.

I peer out from behind the container in time to see Hillard emerge. I'm forced to fling myself to the ground as he fires, but then he's upon me, the gun barrel in my face.

"Is he already dead? You fucking Russians think you can just do whatever you want, don't you?"

Little flecks of spittle land on my face as he rages. It occurs to me that it will take longer for me to say the right thing than for him to shoot me in the face, but it's all I've got.

Hit him where it hurts.

"Tate, I know you're afraid. But listen to me. I didn't kill Graham Fisher. Not yet, anyway."

Confusion flashes in Hillard's eyes, but he's not letting me go. He wedges his knee firmly into my chest, the pistol pressed to my cheek.

"I got a message from Graham," he says. "He said I should come down here unless I wanted to find another dead kid."

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