Shield

by Anne Malcom

  “Rosie…,” Luke said, his voice almost a whisper, all professional façade crumbling away with my words.

  I didn’t react. “Get back in your cruiser, Deputy. To your order. You won’t find that here.”

  He looked at me for the longest moment, too long. Too short too.

  Then he turned on his heel and left.

  Emerging from the memory, I sat there staring at the rapidly disappearing images of Luke and me, of the variety of interactions that had both broken and swelled my heart, if that was even possible.

  I sipped my wine, hating that I was so fucking stubborn. Why didn’t I find him? He was in the same city, for fuck’s sake. It would be a lot better than sitting on my own, drinking a glass of wine and feeling sorry for myself like Bridget fucking Jones.

  But then I thought of the image with that starlet. Of his life he was trying to rebuild that didn’t have broken girls with wild hearts and chaotic lives blowing everything up with the drama that came with her.

  That was her.

  That was me.

  So I sat there, drinking my wine, pining after a guy I couldn’t have, like a million other women.

  So fucking cliché.

  Chapter Thirteen

  One Month Later

  Settling into civilian life—well, my version of civilian life—was hard.

  Hard for a variety of reasons. Killing people and risking your life on a daily basis became my norm for six months. Not just that, it somehow felt natural amongst the unnatural feeling of heartbreak and loneliness.

  It jolted me, waking up somewhere I didn’t have a chance of being shot at, raped or murdered.

  It wasn’t even that.

  It was because when life and death was my nine-to-five, it made it easier not to let myself be consumed by my heart. Not impossible, because he was always there, even in the midst of the worst of it, but not so demanding in the forefront of my mind.

  Because I’d replaced the blood I’d made him spill with the blood that I spilled. Waking up in a warm bed, in my own apartment, in my own country was not just a level of monotony but another level of Hell.

  Because I’d stopped running. I had the memory of his skin on mine. His touch. His taste. How perfect he fit me. How utterly safe I felt in his arms. And it took everything I had just to function without showing what a fucking wreck I was.

  Nights were the hardest. Daylight made it easy to see all the reasons why it wouldn’t work.

  Why it couldn’t work.

  A handful of weeks since I’d been back, since I’d been both praying that I didn’t run into Luke and wishing he’d arrive at my door, I got my wish.

  And it went exactly as you’d fucking expect. A complete Fuck-Up.

  Lucy told me to meet her at the Greenstone Security offices for lunch.

  I didn’t like it, tempting fate by going somewhere he walked the halls. Where he worked now.

  I didn’t know if she did it because she was trying to push something I’d refused to even mention for a month, or because Keltan kept pretty tight tabs on her since she’d been released from hospital.

  Maybe it was a little of both.

  I walked into the offices absolutely fucking terrified.

  Of course I looked absolutely fucking fabulous. I still hadn’t put on the weight I’d lost since I’d been gone, but I was getting there.

  That also meant I got to go shopping.

  I was wearing brand new Jimmy Choos, studded, sky-high and completely badass. My jeans molded to every part of my body and were so tight I couldn’t eat breakfast. I had a simple white tank on top, no bra, which was totally visible from the chill in the air, and my short curls were split into pigtails. Tendrils escaped and framed my face, which I’d chosen to put little makeup on except bright pink lipstick.

  He wasn’t in the foyer when I walked in, which was good. The receptionist informed me that Lucy was waiting in Keltan’s office.

  “Down the hall to the right.” She smiled.

  I tried to do the same and pretend that the hallway didn’t look exactly like the one from The Shining.

  I almost got there unscathed, but I wasn’t designed to walk around life unscathed.

  Luke came out of a door to my left, almost bowling me over.

  His entire form stiffened as he took me in, his eyes roving over my body.

  They stopped for a considerable amount of time at my chest. My nipples hardened visibly with the stare, and he hissed out breath between his teeth. Then his eyes dragged themselves upward, finding mine.

  “You changed your hair,” he murmured, his voice rough.

  I swallowed against his voice, touching my pigtails self-consciously.

  “I like it,” he said.

  “I didn’t know you were going to be here,” I whispered.

  His dark eyes narrowed, losing all softness of before as he stepped forward. I backed up as he did so. “I bet,” he hissed. “Which is why you’re here, right? Still running, Rosie?”

  I hit the wall. Nowhere to run at that moment. “No, I’m not running anymore.”

  “Yes, you fuckin’ are,” he growled.

  Then he kissed me.

  No warning, nothing. He was just there, his lips on mine, devouring all the words I was going to yell in protest, devouring every sense of strength I had left.

  His hands found my breast, tweaking my nipple painfully and exquisitely. I pressed myself into him, running my nails over the tee on his back.

  His hand was in my jeans before I knew what was going on. Then, just as he was about to reach the magic spot, the point of no return, I yanked my head back and circled his wrist with my hand.

  “Luke,” I choked out, breathless. “We’re in a hallway.”

  His blue eyes seemed black. “Don’t give a fuck, Rosie. I’m finally tasting your mouth and it’s sweeter than I ever imagined. I can only imagine what your pussy tastes like. I don’t want to fuckin’ imagine.”

  My aforementioned pussy clenched with the sex dripping from his words, from the feeling of his hardness against my thigh. I could barely think straight.

  But I had to.

  “No, Luke, we can’t.”

  “Don’t you fucking dare,” he hissed, yanking his hand back and caging me against the wall. “Don’t spout that shit, now of all times. I’ve been patient, let you come back. I’ve been trying to let you come to this yourself because I know you’re too fuckin’ stubborn to let me force you into it.” His mouth was inches from mine. “And fuck, do I want to force you into it right now.”

  I almost did it, almost leaned forward, captured his lips with mine and let him fuck me against a wall in broad daylight in a public place. The public place thing wasn’t what bothered me.

  “What, it’s on your bucket list to fuck a murderer?” I spat, acid in my voice, hating myself for it.

  He flinched back as if I’d struck him, and I hated myself even more. “What the fuck, Rosie?” he gritted out. “How the fuck could you even say that?”

  “Because that’s what I am,” I hissed. “I blew up dozens of other murderers just like me for vengeance. I shot a man in the head right in front of you. And you knew about it, but you couldn’t do anything because of this twisted painful thing between us. Because of the truth of what we are. What I am.” I paused, breathing heavily. “And isn’t that what you think I am? A mass fucking murderer?” I yelled. “I knew you thought that the day you came to my house with my necklace. The way you looked at me told me that, so why the fuck didn’t you arrest me? Make your career instead of ruin it?” I spat the question I’d been burying for years, among others.

  “I don’t think that! Fuck, I was fucking proud of you,” he yelled back. “I couldn’t fucking say it out loud then, and I couldn’t fucking say it to myself because my thought was never going to be to arrest you. My first thought was, and always will be, to protect you.”

  I simmered down, my anger deflating as quickly as it appeared, melancholy replacing it. “And protecti
ng me ruined your life, Luke,” I whispered. “Don’t think I can forget that. That I can move past it. That we can. You know we can’t.”

  His own anger remained. “I’ll admit that I don’t know a lot of shit, Rosie. Don’t know why the universe saw fit to give us so much suffering and fucking pain for wanting each other. Don’t know why, with a soul as light and good as yours, there’s been so much dark to damage it. I don’t know any of that shit. But one thing I do know is that we fucking can move past it. Know it in my fucking bones, and you know it too.”

  I stared at him. He was right. We could. But it would mean dragging him down even further. I wouldn’t do it.

  “No, I don’t,” I lied. “You’re always going to be Luke, the cop, and I’m always going to be Rosie, the criminal. It’s that simple.”

  “We’re not fucking simple,” he growled. “And I’ll always be Luke, the man, and you’ll always be Rosie, my woman. That shit ain’t changing. But I’m not stupid enough to stand here and argue with you about it. You’re determined to hurt yourself because you think you’re doing the right thing.” He eyed me. “Maybe it is the right thing. But I’m not about right anymore. Never want to be again if that mean’s I’ll never sink into that sweet pussy.” He moved forward, so every inch of his body was a hair’s breadth from mine. “And I will be. Just so you know, this isn’t me walking away. This is you pushing me away. Not for good, but for right now.”

  Then he turned around and left. I watched the empty air for a long time.

  Then I calmly walked to the last door on the right, opened it.

  Lucy smiled at me, sitting on Keltan’s knee.

  I smiled back, pretending I wasn’t bleeding inside. “Lunch?”

  So yeah, light and its unforgiving glow showed me in stark detail why I needed to stay the fuck away. But then night came, the darkness snatching away all those reasons and whatever strength and resolve I’d built when the sun came up.

  One night, I found myself lying awake, unable to sleep, unable to hold onto a thought that didn’t involve Luke.

  I needed a life without him. And I sure as shit needed a mind without him too. It didn’t help that I was determined to make up for all the time I’d missed with my family, with my best friend, so I tried to see her as often as possible, help keep her insane while she fully healed.

  That meant I ran into Luke. Not often, but even a second in his presence, under his cold gaze, was enough to fuck with me. Destroy me.

  I was done with that shit. Heartbreak.

  We normalize heartbreak in our society. Mostly because of how painfully normal it is. So when we hear a song, read a book, watch a movie, all crammed with the dramatic truth of it, maybe it reminds us that we’re not alone. That there’s more out there, and our heartbreak isn’t the end of the world.

  It’s a nice thought.

  But it’s utter bullshit.

  We are, and always will be, alone with our own pain.

  And heartbreak may not make this chunk of rock in space stop spinning, but it is the end of someone’s world. Despite how well we keep up appearances.

  And I was walking, talking, laughing Rosie, covering up the pain, just like the rest of them. I thought I was doing good, great even, at hiding it all until Polly’s wedding.

  Yes, wedding.

  She’d dated Craig for three weeks, then married the fucker.

  We’d tried to gently change her mind, but she was like me: stubborn and would never let anyone change her heart. Which was funny, since she was jumping right in with her heart, and I was yanking mine right out.

  We hadn’t been able to find anything on the fucker, which meant we had to watch our beautiful, romantic, and innocent girl marry an idiot named Craig and pretend we were happy.

  I was already pretending.

  Or so I thought.

  “So,” Keltan said, standing beside me on the rooftop where the wedding was being held, watching Polly and Craig dance. “How is it being home, back to reality?”

  I gave him a sideways glance. “Wouldn’t exactly call our life reality,” I answered.

  He grinned, sipping his beer. “You are not wrong, not wrong at all. You ladies get more action than I did in the desert in the middle of a war.”

  I sipped my own. “Yeah, well, that’s just how we play it. We don’t like boring.”

  “You’re not at risk of that,” he said.

  We were silent for a second, watching Polly dance, watching a smiling Lucy talk to her father.

  “He’s a mess,” Keltan said quietly.

  My head whipped to him.

  “Luke,” he continued. “Has been since the day he sat down in my office, askin’ me to look for you. Was before that too, I’d say. He’s pretty darn good at hidin’ it. Didn’t know him before so I’m not an expert, but the man I’ve worked with for well over a year, he’s not whole, babe. I know it ’cause that was me too.” His eyes crept over to Lucy, unhidden love and devotion sparkling in them. “Thank fuck I am now. Couldn’t imagine a lifetime of it. That’s not a life at all.” He turned his gaze back to me. “You’re not whole either. You’re trying real fucking hard. I’m not even going to be arrogant enough to suggest I know the shit between you. It’s gotta be big, I’m guessin’, for two good people to think they’re doing the right thing, making themselves unhappy. Bet it’s not fucking simple. But just in case you were thinking that he was livin’ whole and happy and that’s what was stopping you, he’s not.” He sipped his beer. “It’s my piece and it’s not my place to say it, but I don’t give a fuck. You’re Lucy’s family, which means you’re mine too. And I don’t like my family hurting. Don’t like my mates hurtin’ either. So my place or not, I’m gonna do what I can to rectify that shit. Ultimately up to you. But just remember, he’s survivin’, not livin’. Just like you.”

  Then he kissed my head, not expecting me to answer, and went over to my soul sister.

  And I stared after him, his words swirling in my head.

  That was last night. And I should’ve done something to listen to those words. Because they hurt. Every single one of them.

  But I didn’t. Because I was a coward.

  Instead I went out and did what I’d been doing in the darkness for the past month. I’d started the old job again. New location, no team, same objective.

  Looking for lowlifes.

  Teaching them lessons.

  Maybe not my smartest idea, since the laws in LA regarding grievous bodily harm were somewhat stricter than in Venezuela. And I didn’t have someone on the force to bail me out anymore. Though, in the dregs of society, wherever you were, life was always the same price. Dirt cheap.

  So that’s what I was doing that night, running away again from decisions, when darkness made my decision for me.

  I’d been doing it for a month. Using my connections in the underworld to find out who the real assholes were. Not the ones who had to bend a few rules and break a few arms to get their heads above water, but the ones who ruined lives and trampled on dreams for sport.

  “You know, you really give outlaws like me a bad name,” I said conversationally to the man I had my favorite gun pointed at. That was, of course, after I’d relieved him of his own weapons. Couldn’t be a full-time drug dealer and part-time rapist and not have somewhat of an arsenal.

  “Fuck you, bitch. You’re dead,” he spat. “Do you have any idea who I am?”

  I tilted my head at the man with a steroid-enhanced body, prison tattoos and too much jewelry for anyone with a Y chromosome.

  “Yes, that’s why I’m here, Jerome,” I said, circling him. “I know exactly who you are. I know you cut your dope with kitchen cleaners to make it go further and rip off people already down on their fucking luck. I also know that a seventeen-year-old boy overdosed on your little cocktail just last week. Mother of three the week before. Police didn’t find her for three days.” I shot his foot and he let out a yelp of pain, collapsing onto the floor. “Her kids were surviving off moldy bread a
nd curdled milk,” I continued over his screams.

  “You fucking bitch!” he yelled. “You shot me.”

  I stopped circling him and aimed for his other foot, in my line because he’d stilled and was tending to the bleeding one. The gunshot was nostalgia, my childhood lullaby.

  “Oops, look, I did it again,” I said while he screamed. “That was for the kids.” I bent down, yanking his head back by clutching his greasy hair.

  Tears and snot ran down his face.

  “Please,” he cried.

  “Begging? Already?” I tutted. “A man like you should be much stronger than that. But then again, you like to be the one hurting women, not the other way around. Like Chloe Thompson, walking home from a double shift at the hospital. Missed the bus, so she risked the walk because I guess she was dog tired and wanted to get home to bed instead of waiting twenty minutes for another one.” I yanked my knife from my boot. “Now, a woman in any neighborhood should be able to walk home after caring for sick people all day. She should be able to go straight there, no trouble, since she gave the world no trouble herself and did nothing to deserve it.” I paused. “In a perfect world, at least.”

  I ran the tip of my knife down his neck, drawing blood as I did so. “This is not a perfect world. So she didn’t make it home. Some wannabe gangbanger tough guy comes across her. Knocks her out, drags her to an alley and rapes her.” I pushed the knife deeper and he cried inconsolably. “Brutally,” I hissed. “Now she’s in the hospital, being nursed by people just like her. But now they’re not like her, are they? You made sure of that. You made sure she’d take your despicable actions and place them on her soul. The one that holds not an ounce of blame for this shit. But she’ll carry it. She’ll fight demons never meant for her. Maybe she’ll win. Maybe she won’t. Maybe her life is ruined because of one fucking night. Just because there’re assholes like you in the world who can ruin a woman’s night, her life, when she was just trying to get home.”