Good Cop, Bad Cop

by Lily Harlem

  He stared at her while he buttoned his clothing. She nodded again then took a deep breath. Christ, she seemed so defenseless, as though the fight had gone out of her. Where had the feisty part of her gone?

  “You ready?” he asked.

  “Yes.”

  She straightened her shoulders and formed her mouth into a rigid line. Ah, a glimpse of the India who had courage.

  “Yes,” she said again. “I want to see this fucker.”

  Jose held back laughter, relieved that she’d found her mettle and appeared prepared to do battle. He held her hand and led the way out of the bathroom and into the main living area.

  A man was sitting in the middle of the sofa, his black clothing and army boots a stark contrast to the ugly orange around him. Dillon had his gun trained on his chest. Keeping him pinned in place despite his cuffed hands and what looked like a damn bloody leg.

  The goggles gave the captive a creepy-as-fuck air, and his full combat gear reminded Jose of the SWAT team. He had the same build from what he could tell as the man in the video, but other than that he could have been anyone. The urge to rip those goggles off and pound the shit out of him gripped Jose, and he was aware of squeezing India’s hand, loosening his hold when she tried to tug it away.

  Dillon walked behind the sofa. He stepped forward and grabbed the man’s hair in his fist. He yanked and Jose took in the fact the guy’s mouth remained relaxed.

  Fucker didn’t even flinch. He’s trained. Looks like he won’t break under interrogation.

  Dillon wrenched the goggles from the man’s face, the elastic snapping loudly, and stared at India as he threw them across the room with a wild crash.

  Christ. I need to watch Dillon. He’s ready to blow.

  “You know him?” Dillon asked, his voice controlled, if a little taut.

  Jose stared. No mustache, but this was the man from the video, no question. He’d imprinted that face in his mind so he’d never forget it. The man latched his gaze onto India, and then his mouth did move, forming a sneer of derision. He narrowed his eyes, a tactic Jose knew was designed to intimidate, and Jose glanced across to see her reaction. She glared back with the same expression, the fingers of her free hand moving as though she wanted to dart forward and rip the son of a bitch’s throat out. He sensed she was thinking of all the notes, the threats, the fear this jerk had inspired.

  “Yes, I know him,” she said, voice steady. “I didn’t in the video. Wouldn’t, would I, Liam? Not with a mustache and those glasses and your hair hidden in a cap. What the hell have I ever done to make you do this?” She lifted her hand then dropped it back to her side. “I treated you just like I did Meredith, made you welcome, a part of my family.” She shook her head. “I can’t fucking believe this. No wonder when she called you she only got voice mail that night.”

  Jose frowned. “Who is Meredith?”

  “One of my backing singers. She’s like a sister to me. Liam’s her boyfriend. I thought,” she glared at Liam, “he was someone I could trust.”

  Liam sneered again, his face skewing into an ugly mask. “You can’t trust anyone. I know that more than most people.”

  “What the fuck is that supposed to mean, asshole?” Dillon asked, yanking his hair again so Liam looked up at him. “And answer the lady. What has she ever done to you?”

  Jose stopped himself from moving forward, intervening. Dillon’s cheeks were ruddy, proof that his anger was increasing and he’d soon be crossing the line from adequate police force into something unacceptable.

  Liam shook his head. “Like you’d give a shit.” He stared up at Dillon, a challenge in his eyes: Make me tell you. Come on, make me.

  “You don’t know what I give a shit about,” Dillon ground out, releasing his hair then grabbing Liam’s chin, hard. He leaned over so their faces were an inch or so apart. “Don’t ever, ever assume you can read me, that you can guess what I’ll do next or that you know what I’m thinking, because I’m telling you, motherfucker, you have no idea.” He straightened and let go of Liam’s chin with a flick of his wrist as if he couldn’t stand to touch the man. He took his gun from his waistband and planted the muzzle at Liam’s temple. “I have no guilt complex with regard to you, understand? I can pull this trigger and not give it a second thought. I could look at the hole in the other side of your head after this bullet zips through and wrecks your brain, see bits of that brain all over that wall there, all over me, and I wouldn’t give a shit. You can try me, test me, see if I’m pulling a fast one, but believe me, I’m not. Answer. The. Lady.”

  Jose held his breath. If this Liam pushed Dillon just a tad more…

  “Fuck you,” Liam said, belligerence written all over him. “I don’t have to explain jack shit.”

  Dillon tightened his finger on the trigger. “Oh, I think you do. Last chance.”

  Liam stared.

  “Oh, for God’s sake!” India said. “You know what? I don’t care. Just get rid of him, let the police deal with him. He’s not worth bothering with. He’s just a piece of useless shit.”

  Jose noticed an almost imperceptible flinch from Liam—the skin twitching beside his eye, his sneer threatening to relax. India had hit a nerve. The man didn’t like being classed as nothing. Jose looked at Dillon, who smiled while continuing to stare at Liam. Dillon had picked up on it too.

  “Yeah, you’re right.” Dillon tucked his gun away. “Not worth it.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone. “I’ll call this in. There’s a landing strip on the other side of the forest—we’re not alone here. Police chopper could get here in no time. Then we can get on with our holiday. No point letting this spoil our time away.”

  Liam watched as Dillon pressed his keypad. The belligerence had gone, replaced with indecision—eyes darting left to right, mouth twitching. Jose knew what he’d be thinking, how he couldn’t be sure whether Dillon was bluffing, how he wanted his story out there because a man like him couldn’t stand not to explain himself. Someone who had taken the time and had gone to such pains to have India killed wasn’t the sort who’d keep his reasons to himself now he’d been caught. The urge to have a final stab, a last attempt at hurting, couldn’t be passed up.

  Dillon lifted the phone to his ear.

  “You’re a limelight-grabbing whore, India,” Liam said quietly.

  His voice had a chilling lilt to it. Jose braced himself ready to defend, to get in between Liam and India if the man had it in mind to push himself up and attack her.

  Dillon put the phone back in his pocket and took a couple of steps away, his menacing presence not needed now. India raised her eyebrows and went to sit on an armchair, pose casual, her feet tucked under her. Jose made to follow, to sit with her, but she looked at him, daring him to even try. He remained where he was, ready to pounce if he had to.

  India dug an elbow into the chair arm and propped her face in her hand. She studied Liam, her face passive, as though he had never been a threat to her, as though they were just friends talking. “Just shows how much you don’t know me, Liam. How you think as most of the public do. That’s a shame, but it isn’t anything I’ll lose sleep over. Meredith knows the real me, she understands, and that’s all that matters. What you think? I couldn’t care less.”

  Oh, she’s good.

  “Seeing you here,” she said, “seeing that it’s only you… It hasn’t hurt me as much as I thought it would finding out you’re the one who’s been sending me those notes. You’re just Meredith’s boyfriend, a man I allowed into my life because it made my best friend happy…” She laughed, a tinge of relief in the sound. “Thank God it’s just you! If it had been anyone else, anyone I cared about…” She laughed harder, throwing her head back and dropping her arm into her lap. “Oh my God, can’t you see how funny that is?”

  Yeah, she’s good, but he’s about to explode.

  “You fucking whore,” Liam said, again with that eerie lilt. “It’s Meredith I’m doing this for.”

  Oh, shit…


  Jose glanced at India, who quieted her laughter, but mirth still twinkled in her eyes. If she’d been hurt by that remark, she wasn’t letting it show.

  “Really? How kind of you,” she said. “I’m sure Meredith will love finding out how you’ve made her a nervous wreck. She’s been going through this with me, and unless she’s a very good actress, I don’t think her reactions when she saw the notes were faked.”

  “She deserves more recognition,” Liam said, gaze rigid on India, unwavering. “She doesn’t deserve not to be recognized like I was. To do something and not get the credit.”

  “She does get credit,” India said, “on every album she’s mentioned, at every concert I bring her forward and show her off. You’re spouting crap. You know, I had a feeling you were a bullshitter but I kept it to myself. I mean, I didn’t want to hurt Meredith. Unlike you.”

  “That fucker Derek. He was just like you,” Liam said. “Taking the glory for capturing those men in Afghanistan, making out it was all him. Me and Meredith are the same. Ignored when it’s us who make you and Derek who you are.”

  “Oh right,” she said on a sigh, as though she’d heard this information a thousand times before. “So my voice and dedication has absolutely nothing to do with my success, is that what you’re saying? That this Derek didn’t do anything at all in your situation to warrant ‘taking the glory’ as you put it?”

  Liam flared his nostrils. “He didn’t tell them I’d set it all up, that it was my planning that enabled him to be the first inside that cave to capture. Like you don’t tell anyone that Meredith is the one with the real voice and that if you’re by yourself you can’t fucking sing. That Meredith carries you, hides your bum notes. I didn’t want that for her. She doesn’t damn well deserve it!”

  He suddenly hauled himself off the sofa and dived at India, landing on top of her. Jose sprung forward at the same time as Dillon launched himself forward, grabbing the top of one of Liam’s arms as Dillon grabbed the other. Dillon wrenched Liam away, out of Jose’s grip, and threw him down on the sofa.

  India jumped up and Jose reached out to curl his hand around her wrists to keep her out of the way. She looked about ready to return Liam’s favor and land on top of him, her bunched fists a good indication of what she planned to do with them.

  Damn, she’d turned that fear into a fight-instinct any she-warrior would be proud of.

  “Get back,” Jose warned her, pulling her toward the front door, knowing Dillon had reached the point of no return.

  Dillon had his gun out, the end once again pressed to Liam’s temple. “I warned you, didn’t I?”

  “Yeah, you fucking did,” Liam said.

  “So then you won’t mind when I do this, will you?”

  Dillon pulled the trigger.

  Chapter Eighteen

  My scream rattled around the room, splintering through my ears and mixing with the sound of the bullet tearing through the sofa and down into the wooden floor.

  “Fuck you,” Liam snarled up at Dillon. His eyes were wide, the whites exposed. Spittle sat around his lips.

  “You’re not fucking worth the paperwork,” Dillon said, slipping his gun into the waistband of his shorts, grabbing Liam by the shoulders and shoving him onto the floor.

  Air whooshed from Liam’s lungs as he crumpled chest first, unable to cushion the landing because of his cuffed hands. “Motherfucking son of a…argh.” His words turned into an agonized groan as Dillon’s sneaker connected with what I now noticed was a bloodied leg beneath ripped black pants.

  I slapped my hands over my mouth, winced as Dillon kicked Liam again, this time in the ribs. Spit flew from Liam’s mouth and he screwed his eyes shut. A low, guttural grunt rose from him.

  “You’re going to take a fucking hit for every minute of anxiety you’ve caused, India,” Dillon snarled. “Goddamn waste of space that you are.” He kicked him again, in his belly.

  Liam groaned, tried to curl up into a ball to avoid the barrage of kicks, but he couldn’t, Dillon was too fast and too accurate. The next one hit him in the face, a sickening crunch coming from his nose as it mashed into a sticky red mess.

  “Fuck it, he’s going to go too far,” Jose snapped, releasing me and striding over to Dillon.

  Go too far? Seconds ago I thought I’d just witnessed a murder, until the plume of foam from the sofa cushions burst upwards instead of brain matter. Getting a beating was the easy option for Liam as far as I could tell. Bastard.

  Fury was running through my veins like acid, sharp and intense, but whatever I was feeling was clearly only a fraction of what Dillon was experiencing. His eyes were wild, his face almost unrecognizable, and his huge body taut and moving with the same precision an attacking lion might.

  “Dillon, fuck, stop it, man,” Jose said, grabbing Dillon’s arm and yanking him backwards. “He’s out fucking cold, he can’t even feel it anymore, don’t waste the energy.”

  I glanced at Liam. Sure enough his eyes had rolled back and his limbs had turned floppy. He was like a big, mean-looking puppet who’d been dropped haphazardly onto the floor.

  Dillon stilled, his gaze on Jose as he drew in rapid breaths, his fists clenched at his sides.

  “Give it up,” Jose said, gripping Dillon’s other arm now, as if holding him together. “You’ve taught him not to mess with us, now we need to let the authorities deal with him.”

  Still Dillon continued to stare at Jose. It appeared to be taking an extra few seconds for the meaning of Jose’s words to sink into his brain.

  “It’s over, Dillon,” Jose said calmly. “We got our man. India is safe now.”

  There was a pause, then, “How do we know it’s only him?” Dillon asked through gritted teeth.

  “Come on, you know as well as I do this kind of guy is a lone player. He’s so screwed up no one else would have gone along with him.”

  Dillon shot a glare down at Liam. “I wanna kill him. I should have.”

  “No, no you shouldn’t have, you did the right thing. The guy fought for his country, whatever happened out there has fucked him up.” Jose took a deep breath and shook his head. “We need to hand him over now.” He glanced at me. “You okay?”

  My heart was pounding, my muscles so tense they ached. “Yes.”

  “Good, come here.”

  I stepped over to Jose. Dillon set his gaze to me and I saw fire in the blue depths of his eyes. Normally icy and glacial, they were burning with a furious intensity.

  “Take Dillon into the bedroom, India,” Jose said. “Keep him there while I sort out this fuckhead.”

  I nodded, swallowed tightly and slipped my hand into Dillon’s. “Come on,” I said, quietly. “Come with me.”

  There was no resistance. Dillon followed me across the room, petal-sized pieces of foam swirling on the floor by our feet.

  We went into the bedroom and I shut the door. I knew what Jose was doing, I could tell by the shift in their dynamics that he’d had no choice but to take control. Dillon would have gone for Liam until the life had been kicked out of him. Dillon had some serious anger issues, but as far as I was concerned, if he was directing them at the son of a bitch who had made my life a misery for so long, then that was fine by me.

  “Dillon,” I whispered, smoothing my hand down his stubble-heavy cheek. “It’s okay, you got him, it’s over.”

  He shut his eyes, sucked in a long breath.

  “Talk to me,” I said. “Are you okay?”

  He opened his eyes. “Are you okay?”

  “Yes, fine.” I paused. “Actually, better than fine. Knowing it’s just been Liam all along is a relief.”

  “It is?”

  “Yes, he’s not someone I’m emotionally connected to, so no love lost there, and actually, in the back of my mind I knew there was something a little shifty about him.”

  “You mean you suspected him?” Dillon looked incredulous.

  “No, not suspected, not at all. But there was a certain air about him, hi
s attitude, the way I’d caught him looking at me a couple of times, that, thinking back, just didn’t sit right.” I shrugged. “In the future I’ll know to listen to those gut instincts and not ignore them.”

  He twitched one side of his mouth into a half smile. “Smart girl.”

  A tremble ran through me, one of utter relief. Dillon was back. The angry, rage-infused man of moments ago had been replaced with brooding, sexy Dillon who made my knees weak and my pussy wet.

  He glanced at the door and his nostrils flared. The tilt to his lips vanished and his mouth became a straight line again.

  He was slipping from me.

  “No,” I said, pressing myself up against him. “Stay in here with me. Jose has it covered.”

  He pulled in a deep breath and although I’d wrapped my arms around his waist he didn’t return the gesture.

  “I am just so fucking mad at him,” he said. “Who the fuck does he think he is scaring a woman like that?”

  “He’s insane, that’s all.”

  Dillon went to step away.

  “No.” I tightened my grip. I had to keep him in the bedroom.

  There was only one thing for it.

  “Dillon,” I said huskily. “It’s me and you, in here, alone. Jose can handle an unconscious man and make a phone call.”

  He looked down at me.

  I smoothed my hands up his back, felt the tension in every single muscle on his shoulder blades. “Let me have a go at making you feel better.”

  He bunched his hands into my hair, lowered his head and raised his eyebrows. “You wanna fuck, now?”

  “Mmm, maybe later.” The sensation of my hair roots pulling under his grip sent a thrill whooshing through me. “I was thinking I might suck your cock.”

  His jaw slackened a little. “That’s one hell of an offer.”

  I grinned. “You going to take me up on it?”

  He swallowed, the gulping noise loud in the quiet room. “I’ve been looking at your mouth and imagining sinking my dick between your pretty lips.”