Total pages in book: 140
Estimated words: 134045 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 670(@200wpm)___ 536(@250wpm)___ 447(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 134045 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 670(@200wpm)___ 536(@250wpm)___ 447(@300wpm)
Almost certainly why Keltan suggested that this be the place they make the drop.
The fuck.
He and everyone in the office had noticed the change in him. They were trained to notice threats, of course. Not that it was hard.
So they were here. With Rosie taking point. Another strategic choice from Keltan. If there were a match for Lance, sure every single man at Greenstone was equal to him, but Rosie was the only one who may be more fucked up than him.
And here she was, in heels, swinging her purse and wearing a miniskirt.
She popped a bubble between her pink glossed lips, leaning over the desk at the front of the station.
Jesus.
She was good. Every man in the area was in the palm of her hand and she hadn’t even spoken.
“We’re looking for Detective Hudson,” she said, after sucking the gum back in her mouth and licking her lips.
The kid at the desk looked like he might blow his load right there.
“Um, he’s the second desk on the right,” the kid said, pointing his arm to the bullpen, trying to flex his bicep as he did so.
Fucking hell.
This would have gone a lot different if Rosie wasn’t here.
Which was precisely why she was.
“Thanks.” She winked at the kid.
He followed her when she turned on her heel and walked in the direction of the desks, like she wasn’t committing murder on a weekly basis.
They made it to the desk.
The fuck was so distracted by Rosie’s legs that he took ten whole seconds to recognize her. Five more to recognize Lance.
He went to get up, open his mouth, face smug and mouth curled into a satisfied grin once he realized where he was. There was still some of that cowardice around his eyes that had been there at his last visit. Lance was happy to see the cut on his eyebrow would scar and he still had a shadowing of bruising under his eye.
Elena’s was only now almost completely healed.
After fucking weeks.
“Now, now, don’t get your tightie-whities in a bunch,” Rosie said conversationally. “We’re just here to get your signature on a little piece of paper and then we’ll be off on our merry way and you can go back to being a dirty cop and an overall piece of shit human being.” She smiled sweetly, holding out the envelope.
Hudson didn’t take it, his face reddening.
“Oh, and just before you decide to act like you actually have balls when we both know you don’t, only real men have those.” She winked. “And anyone that beats up their wife is not a real man. Plus, that shirt. Dude, don’t be that guy. Where was I? Oh, before you say anything or do anything, I’d remember what we have on you and what we’d have to do if you decide to act like the douchebag everyone knows you are.”
The fucker narrowed his eyes at Rosie, probably to try and hide the real fear in them. “Are you blackmailing a police officer, in a police station?” he asked, voice sharp.
She grinned wider, shaking the envelope. “That’s exactly what I’m doing. How sweet of you to notice.”
“I could have you arrested,” he snarled.
Lance’s fists were tight at his sides.
Rosie tilted her head, regarding him, like he was an amusing child. “Oh, if I’m going to be arrested, it’s going to be for something much more interesting than blackmail. But if we’re talking about getting arrested, let’s have some fun. Throw words like kidnapping, domestic abuse, sexual assault around. How’s that sound? Great, I didn’t think so. Now sign this fucking thing before I lose my temper right here in front of all of your nice police buddies.”
He stared at the paper. Back at Rosie.
Lance stopped being so pissed that Rosie was taking point in a place he couldn’t pummel this fuck all over again. This was satisfying in a way pure violence couldn’t be. Hudson was being controlled by a woman. Not just that, bested by one and talked to exactly how every woman on the planet should talk to him. Like he was worse than shit on a shoe.
The fuck was uncomfortable. It was satisfying, to say the least, to watch him squirm like an ant under a microscope. Though nothing would feel greater than to watch his lifeless body tumble into a shallow grave.
But Elena had her wishes.
And fuck, if he was keeping them.
Never in the time since he became who he was now had he taken any other human being’s wishes into account. But here he was. Standing in front of a man every cell in his body called him to kill, and he was instead relishing in his discomfort.
For Elena.
For Nathan.
The kid who thought of him as a superhero and had no idea that he was looking up to the villain.
The kid who touched parts of him that weren’t supposed to exist anymore.