Divided (Unguarded #2)

by Ivy Stone

  With nothing else to say I shut the door, not waiting for a response and I leave without looking back.

  The hustle of the city greets me with relief as I step out from behind the doors of the precinct. I rub my hand across my forehead and breathe in the fresh air. As fresh as the air in New York City gets. I check around me, making sure I haven’t been seen by anyone I might know and take off down the sidewalk. Lucio still has a habit of having me followed and if I’ve been seen in a precinct, I’m going to be in for questions and a hell of a lot more. A hand clamps down on my shoulder a second later and I spin around, pulling myself free. A hand flies to my chest as I slow my rapid breathing.

  “God. Way to scare a girl, jackass.”

  I shouldn’t have been rude, but he’s frightened the fuck out of me. For a moment, I thought it was Lucio. That and I’m hurt, angry and upset because I know I should tell the truth and give them what I know, but how will that help Silver’s grieving family? How will it help me? It won’t. Nothing can bring Silver back to her parents and it was the truth what I told Roamyn before. They should be glad she’s gone. Now she doesn’t have to endure the rest of her life stuck in a hell she’d eventually die in any way.

  Roamyn steps forward and his hands come to my face. A thumb rubs against my bottom lip, the sting of it being touched a reminder of the cut Lucio put there last night.

  “What happened?” he growls, no softness to his tone. No care in his voice, yet he demands to know what happened. The cut throbs and Lucio’s face appears before my eyes again and I shudder. When I had gotten home from having dinner with Lindsey—

  who I hadn’t seen in months—he’d been waiting for me wondering where I’d been. When I told him I went out for late night dinner, he believed me. But he still clocked me one not being home when his drunk ass got there. Apparently, now I have to be home when he is.

  I twist my head and pull away, not wanting to get into it. “Nothing I can’t handle.”

  I only get a step and freeze. I’m halted. I can’t move, even if I wanted to because words cement me in place.

  “They didn’t break you.”

  I turn around keeping my head low to hide my face as his words bring the pieces of our past down around me, taking me back to the night I’ll never forget. Tears build behind my eyes and my body shakes. He steps toward me and my heart thumps so hard it’s almost painful. He’s so close. His cologne invades my senses and it’s the same smell that comforted me through a few hours that changed the course of my life. If it weren’t for him, I wouldn’t be here. I inhale his deliciousness in and it spirals lust through my veins. I lift my gaze slowly, taking in the thickness of his arms, arms I don’t think I’ll ever not want to be wrapped around me. My body heats up and my cheeks warm. I grew infatuated with him over the past four years, and a few weeks ago I found my chance when he walked into my work. I transfixed on his memory, imagined my very own fairytale. His intentions back then were so innocent and sweet, not intended as anything else. He was kind and thoughtful when all I was used to was cruel and heartless. He’s right, they didn’t break me. Then. But two months later, I was on the way to hell with a one-way ticket.

  I swallow my nerves and stare deep into the hazel eyes I could get lost in forever.

  “You never came back,” he says.

  Pain swallows my words. I shake my head. “I couldn’t.”

  God, did I want to. He had no idea what happened.

  He runs a hand through his hair and anger laces his features. “This conversation is going to have to wait. We can’t really be seen talking. But it’s not over, Ali. I don’t want to see you here again. Things will get so much worse than you know. We’re building a solid case and if you don’t get out soon you’re going to be in the firing line and I’m not going to be able to stop it.”

  “If I get to see your face again. Maybe it’s worth it,” I whisper, transfixed on him even though I know I shouldn’t be. I should run. Run in the other direction after that confession from him.

  “This face isn’t worth you getting into any more trouble.”

  His words pierce my heart. He’s so right yet so wrong. Doesn’t he realize he wears trouble like his fine fitting suit? His swagger. The way he turns heads in a room. His smile, his massive shoulders, it’s overwhelming and the best kind of trouble. I straighten my back and stand taller, using the few seconds to build up courage.

  I lean in on the tips of my toes and bring my lips close to his ear. “You’re wrong, Detective Tate. I have a feeling you’d be worth… Every. Single. Second. But you’re chasing after the wrong girl if you think you can use me as a pawn in your game of get the bad guys.”

  He pulls away at my closeness.

  “You want to finish this. Meet me where you know I’ll be waiting.”

  With those last words, I hightail it out of there without waiting for further rejection. I don’t know if he’ll show on the bridge, but I’ll wait all night if I have too.

  My knees bounce, as I wait. I check my watch for the second time in the past ten minutes. I turn my head to each side of the Brooklyn Bridge, peering out through people walking and cycling by, to see if Roamyn’s going to show up. After I chose to walk away earlier today, I’m not sure he’ll bother. I stand, pacing back and forth the length of the bench we sat on four years ago, listening to cars pass with every nerve-wracking second. Letting out a sigh, I grab my phone from the seat next to me and check that too. Two messages light up the screen, one from Adriana asking if I want to go to a movie tonight with her, and the other a message from Lindsey thanking me for meeting for dinner with her last night. I ignore the messages and put my phone back in my bag. It’s my one night off for the week and I’ve just wasted it on a fantasy, waiting for him to show up like he did when I didn’t. It was stupid, but my heart doesn’t care. After I walked the whole way home this morning, I realized I have a million questions I want answers to.

  “Why didn’t you come back? I came back every night. Every night for weeks. But you never showed. I was so fucking worried about you I drove myself crazy. Wondering if I’d done the right thing. I didn’t. I should have taken you to a hospital, the precinct. Something else.”

  I spin around at his voice and there he stands, brows wrinkled, hands tucked into his pockets. Regret crystal clear in his pained expression.

  “You know I would never have gone. You did exactly what I needed you to do, Roamyn,” I reply, confidence in my tone. I would never have told him a damn thing had I have known what he does for a living.

  “How did I do that? ‘Cause I’m finding it real hard to believe I did the right thing when I look at you now, babe.”

  I move closer to him and place a hand on his chest. Looking up at him with soft eyes, I try to comfort him with the truth despite him not believing it to be real.

  “I couldn’t come back, Roamyn. I tried to. But Lucio saw you that night. He saw us here together. I didn’t know it until the next night when he caught me leaving with a bag packed. I was planning to go back to the bridge in the hope you’d be there too. Even if you weren’t, I was still going to leave. He must’ve been having me followed. After that Giuseppe and Lucio kept me locked away in one of their buildings for near on two months. They had me beaten, starved and dehydrated. They caused so much damage to my body that I needed to live on Oxycontin half of that time and for months after, just so my body could heal without me passing out from the pain. That and they couldn’t risk me going to the ER. Adriana and Valentina nursed me back to half human, but it didn’t take long to become addicted to the high oxy could give. One pill is all it would take to become painless. Numb. Now, I’m a junkie with no education and no bright future. But at least, I’m alive. I wouldn’t be if you hadn’t have done what you did for me that night.”

  “Ali, I’m so sorry.”

  He leans in but I put both hands up to stop him. I need him to hear this. To know why none of this is on him. “Wasn’t your fault. I would never have even spoken to yo
u if I knew you were a cop, let alone open up to you. You gave me hope, Roamyn. I’m here today because of you. You were my hero.”

  “I’m not a hero, babe.”

  “Yeah? Well, the girl’s life you saved…. she disagrees. Don’t ever doubt that you did the right thing.”

  “Well, I sure as hell wasn’t doing the right thing last night. Wish I’d of known it was you in the club before I’d ripped off your clothes.”

  My lips pull up into a smirk. “I don’t.”

  “You’re too young, Ali. I’m thirty-one. Twelve years older than you, babe. Fuckin’ old.”

  I snort. “No, you’re not. But let’s just leave that argument for another day. Why didn’t you tell me you were a cop?”

  He’s quick answering with, “Probably for the same reason you didn’t tell me you were a part of the Marino crime family. Had I have known what I do now, I would never of let you walk away. Not a chance.”

  “I didn’t want them to find you and hurt you. It was better if we just stayed strangers.”

  “You thought you were protecting me, I get it. And I was doing the same for you. I came tonight to give you something. Something I should have given you back then.” He reaches into his jeans pocket and pulls out a small white business card with the NYPD logo on the front beside the small printed letters: Organized Crime Control Bureau, Detective Roamyn Tate.

  “Here, it’s got my number on the back. If you’re ever in trouble… use it. That motherfucker wants to hit you again…” he points to my split lip, “…use it. You want out, call me. I’ll get you out of there. Just say the word. But I can’t do any more than that without raising suspicions unless you’re willing to go the distance against your so-called family.”

  My gaze falls to the ground. “There’s no point in leaving anymore.”

  “You don’t leave soon, babe…. you may never get out.”

  His fingers glide over my hand as he passes me the card. Lust shoots straight through me as he pulls me close. Our mouths are all but touching, our breathing uneven. My lips part to speak but he slips away, turning around and walking off into the night. Unease settles in the pit of my stomach as I remember what he said. A light breeze sends a shiver across my skin, and suddenly the idea of being alone on this bridge doesn’t feel so comforting.

  My cock stiffens in my hand. I squeeze my shaft tighter, pull harder. I push my head back into the pillow. Sweat drips from my forehead because, fuck, if I haven’t been at this for longer than I planned. I’m mad. Confused. Horny. In just a few days, work, life, pretty much everything has flared into a colossal mess I’ve got no control over, including Alison Jenkins. Her, the need to bring justice to the Marino crime family, the fact I’ve avoided telling Mason the truth about when I first met Ali—it’s consuming, suffocating every other thought running through my head. All I wanted to do tonight was drink, fuck, and sleep. The first of which Mase and I had done at the bar earlier, the fucking part—not very successful so far. Why? Because every woman who flashed me a smile, fluttered her eyelashes at me, promised me a good night with a few dirty words—all reminded me of Ali in some way and I can’t go there. My mind’s blurred with blonde hair and blue eyes that I can’t have. Ones I sure as hell shouldn’t be thinking of with my hand wrapped around my dick, hard as fucking steel. I squeeze my eyes closed and Ali’s face becomes crystal clear, instead of waves crashing away the thought of her. I grunt. Pleasure builds in my balls and they tighten up at imagining it’s Ali’s tight pussy I’m sinking into. I curse under my breath. No. Fuck. Don’t think about her. But it’s no use. She’s become a permanent in my mind and my dick? He fucking loves her. My breath catches and my muscles tense, blowing my load one tug away. My phone chimes, cutting through my Ali induced state of pleasure and pain. Ignoring it, I let it ring out. Damn it, all I want is to come, let out my frustration, it’s the one thing I can control. But when my cell rings the second time, I drop my dick. Cursing, I reach across to my side table to pick it up.

  My brows furrow. Not recognizing the number I answer, my tone abrupt. “Tate.”

  “Roamyn?” a small voice muffles through the static on the line.

  The hair on the back of my neck rises and I freeze.

  Ali.

  I climb off the bed and grab my clothes from the floor, tucking my still hard dick against my stomach just so I can pull up my pants.

  “Where are you? What’s wrong?” I ask, tucking the phone into the crook of my neck so I can zip up.

  “I’m at home. Lucio—”

  My nostrils flare. I cut her off, knowing where this is headed, yet not wanting to hear it. “How badly are you hurt? Doesn’t matter. I’m coming to get you.”

  Worry filters through her voice. “No. You can’t come here to the house. If he sees you we’re both dead.”

  I take a deep breath and try not to crush the phone in my hand. “All right. Meet me a block up around the corner. I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

  “Okay. And Roamyn? Thank you.”

  I swallow past the pain cutting the back of my throat and hang up. Grabbing my keys, gun, and badge from the side table, I shove my phone in my pocket. When I shut the door to my apartment behind me, dread hits my back thinking about what I could be walking into.

  Thunder cracks above me like a warning sign.

  Go home.

  Turn back now. While you still can.

  I push my car keys into my back pocket and pull up the hood on my jacket, hiding my face along with my nerves. Unease winds through me, pulling me so tightly I all but jump out of my skin when a drunken homeless man trips, wandering out of the alley behind me. My heart thrashes in my chest. I shake it off, but the feeling of impending doom doesn’t leave me. I could be walking into my own demise, not that it’d matter because apparently my heart doesn’t care much for my own wellbeing when it comes to Ali. Why? I haven’t a fucking clue. Maybe it’s the longing for retribution. Craving for blood to be shed, just as my mother’s was. An eye for an eye. Maybe my mind’s using this girl as another reason to go after them. To walk up to Giuseppi Marino’s door tonight, kill him with my bare hands and then sleep soundly with not a drop of regret. Either way, my pulse’s racing, fingers itching. I’m bound to find out soon enough.

  I shove my hands in my pockets. Walk with my head tucked low, and make it to Ali without being noticed. When I realized those few nights ago it was her in my bed beneath me, my breath caught in my throat and time stopped. Memories of the scared girl I met four years ago flashed before my eyes. But looking at her now, after having her in my arms—it was clear she’d changed. Grown. She wasn’t a girl anymore. She had perfect perky tits with rose-tipped nipples that hardened under my touch. She had long legs that carried on for days and a look in her features, aging her by years. She’d seen a lot, been through even more. It wore on her face, within the lines around her eyes. Gone was the innocence and naiveté of youth.

  Ali’s pale skin flashes as lightning illuminates the night sky with angry strikes. I suck in a harsh breath at the red and purple hues covering her face. My hands move without thinking. I cup the sides of her head and turn her, inspecting the damage. She hisses, her features contorting with pain. Gritting my teeth, I try to keep my anger in check. I want to kill them all. For me. For Ali. For every life, they’ve brought irreparable damage to. I check over her eyebrow that’s crusted with dried blood from a small cut before grazing a thumb over the bruise and swelling around her right eye.

  “Look at you,” I whisper, pulling a loose strand of her hair out of her face.

  My tone drops low, determined. “I want to kill him for doing this to you.”

  She doesn’t speak. Just gleams at me. Her lips parted, eyes in a daze. The weight of what I’ve just done pressurizes in my chest. In a matter of seconds. A few words and a touch I’ve done everything I shouldn’t have. What I’ve been telling myself these past few days to avoid because it’s what she wants but shouldn’t have.

  She’s ninete
en.

  She’s an adult.

  She wants you. But she isn’t yours.

  You can’t tell her what to do and sure as fuck shouldn’t touch her.

  It takes all the resistance I have to pull my hands away from her and drop them to my sides. She grimaces as I move and I cringe, hating that I’ve hurt her. Regardless of the fact, this is only the fourth time I’ve ever been this close to her. Skin on skin. Breathing over the top of one another. It seems in all the time that passes, the odd connection we share—whatever the hell it is—doesn’t dissipate. Not in the slightest. I don’t understand it. Don’t know what it is. All I know is if she hurts, I hurt. She bleeds, my heart bleeds for her. I want to protect her, even if she won’t protect herself. I’ve lost time thinking about her. A complete stranger. A stranger who I feel compelled to, for a reason I can’t even understand, because even now I still don’t know much about her. Not the stuff I can’t find in her file. I’m losing control when I’m around her. I’ve never felt more vulnerable. I want more and loathe it all at the same time.

  I rub a hand over my forehead and shift on my feet before attempting to steer the conversation in a safe direction, away from feelings I’d rather we keep buried. Away from the nagging feeling that draws me to her. “We need to get you cleaned up.”

  Ali nods and her small soft voice sends a shiver over my spine. “Okay.”

  My eyes drift away from her, confusion spinning in my head. I swallow the emotion swirling around in me. “Come on. We’ll go to the hospital, have them sort you out then go to the precinct. Call your sister to come pick you up. You can’t come back here, Ali.”

  I reach for her without waiting for her to agree and rest a hand on her lower back, pushing her along beside me. We barely get a few steps when she digs her heels into the ground, stopping us. I turn around as the first drops of rain soak our hair, drizzling down our faces.