Chapter 23
TARA
Every inch of my body was burning. With rage. With embarrassment. With indignation. With arousal. I was a boiling mess of conflicting emotions, each trying to pull me under. Each snippet of conversation with Knox looped through my mind over and over again, setting my soul on fire.
That’s the real you, isn’t it?
Is it?
Was I the real me? The scarred and battered woman who killed abusers and rejoiced in eliminating the scums of this wretched planet? A killing machine? An angry vigilante?
Why was I so fucking embarrassed and ashamed of my scars?
I knew I should be proud of them. I knew they were the scars of a warrior.
I knew I should be showing them off to the world in a fuck you.
And I really wanted to. That damaged and broken girl inside me really needed to reclaim the confidence I had lost five years ago.
And I was. Confident. But only behind a mask.
Wasn’t that a kick in the metaphorical nuts?
How long would it take for my mind, my body, my fucking soul, to accept the “real” me, as Knox so fucking annoyingly put it, triggering me to my bones? When the fuck would I get over that last stage of grieving? Fucking acceptance.
I was still stuck in a tornado of anger and bargaining and depression, constantly getting flung between these stages till my mind was bruised and battered.
I was exhausted. I wanted to look in the mirror and fucking smile.
Fucking love myself. I wanted to kiss that little girl for being the strongest person I knew.
I wanted to let the pain of losing my face, my identity, my beauty fucking go.
Was I that fucking obsessively vain? Did outer beauty, a perfectly gorgeous face, make so much of a difference to me after witnessing the horrors of the world, the suffering women went through every single day, and the atrocities men committed to satisfy their ego?
And if it did, did I even deserve an unscarred face?
Tension and turmoil were wreaking havoc in my mind when I stepped into the living area of the Den. Knox was currently tied up in one of the Den’s bedrooms.
“Fucking finally.” Samaira’s loud voice dragged me out of the pit of my self-inflicted despair.
“What happened?” Lena asked. She stood at the kitchen island, stirring up the obnoxious amounts of pasta.
I dropped the gun from the back of my pants onto the coffee table and slumped on the large couch. “He’s fucking annoying.”
Lena glared. “You fucking shot a cop, Tara. He’s got grounds to arrest you the moment we let him go.”
Sloane, Naomi, Sami, and Dominic looked between us, hanging on to every word.
I dropped my face in my hands and growled. I took a deep breath and met her eyes. “I don’t think he would arrest me.”
“Because he’s so obsessed with you?” Sloane asked, her eyes twinkling with excitement.
While the rest of them grumbled at her, I gave her a small smile. “I think so, yes.”
Sami scoffed. “Tara, he’s a fucking cop. He might just be using you. His obsession could be an act to get you to comply.”
My eyes snapped at her. “You think I don’t know that? My mind is screaming at me to see reason. To be logical. To see the facts. That there is no possible way that a cop with record arrests, with no trace of bribes in his accounts, could let killers walk away.”
“But?” Naomi asked, her eyes showing me the understanding I was searching for in my own mind. She was the one who’d run to my apartment along with Sloane when that gunshot rang out. She was the one who’d patched him up. She was the one who’d seen me worry after I’d shot him.
“But I think he’s intrigued by me. By us. By the things we do.”
Dominic cleared his throat, and my eyes met his. “What if his intrigue leads to accusations and arrests?” He had been right behind Naomi and Sloane. He’d been the one who’d helped me carry Knox up to the Den.
I met his eyes dead on, in all my maskless glory. “That is a possibility.”
“So what do you need to do next?” Lena asked, her forehead scrunched in worry.
I hated that I’d put them all in this vulnerable position. Maybe if I hadn’t egged Knox on or challenged him so much, we’d all be safer. Or maybe one of us would’ve been caught by him if he wasn’t fixated on me.
I sighed and got off the couch. Moving toward the kitchen, I grabbed a plate from the shelf behind Lena. “Right now, I need to feed the fucker.”
Lena shook her head, worry lining the edge of her lips, as she dropped heaps of pasta onto the plate. “Be careful.”
“You know I will. And I’ll talk to him,” I said, and met all my girls’ eyes. “I won’t let anything happen to any of you. I promise.”
Lena softly muttered, “That’s what worries me.”
At the same time, Sami scoffed and gave me a side hug, placing a loud kiss on the side of my head. “Even if the stupid cop arrests me, Dom would get me out. Get any of us out.”
“Damn right, darling. I won’t let any of you get arrested.”
Sloane winked at Dominic and pointed her thumb at him. “We’ve got the man who speaks a universal language right among us.”
Naomi rolled her eyes and gave me a pointed stare. “One word, Tara, and I’ll put the cop to sleep. Permanently. It’s not like we haven’t killed a cop before.”
Just the thought of Knox dying threatened my knees to buckle and my throat to close. “Not needed.” I gulped. “I’ll take care of him.”
With that, I walked back to the hallway leading to his room. Shadow stayed behind, and I was grateful about that. I needed to focus.
Pulling a few deep breaths, calming my traitorous, racing heart, I stepped inside the room, closing the door behind me.
His head snapped at me, and one side of his lips twitched. “There she is. My kidnapper.”
“I’ve not kidnapped you.” I walked to sit right across from him.
A smile lit up his face, as if he was having the time of his life being tied to a chair. “No? What would you call this?” He looked down at himself and then back at me, his eyebrows raised in question.
I stabbed the pasta with the fork and raised it near his lips. “It’s called keeping you tied to me until I know you will leave me alone. Leave all of us alone.”
My eyes accidentally got stuck on the way his lips wrapped around the fork as he took a bite of the pasta. My heart sputtered in my chest as his jaw moved while he chewed.
“Take a picture. It will last longer.”
His words snapped me out of the blatant staring, and I quickly averted my eyes back to the pasta. “Fuck you.”
Once again, I stabbed the pasta with the fork as he continued talking. The pompous fucking asshole. I hated him. “You know, my favorite fairy tale is Beauty and the Beast.”
My hand paused midair, and my eyes narrowed.
When I continued to stare at him, he moved closer and took the bite off the fork. “And I should really thank you. You’re quite literally making me live out my fantasy.”
I fed him another spoonful while he waited for me to respond. I clenched my jaw shut.
“Except I thought I would be the Beast kidnapping the Beauty.”
“Careful, Lieutenant. Don’t make me shoot you in the other leg.”
“You know I was referring to myself as the Beast, right?”
My heart beat faster, the need to know his thoughts on my scars colliding with the fear. I pointed at my face and asked, “You’re saying I’m the Beauty?”
He shrugged. “You’re the perfect combination of unparalleled beauty and unbreakable spirit.”
He chuckled at the absolute shock on my face. His laughter reverberated through my chest, hitting my sternum like a soothing wave of heat. He swallowed his bite, his eyes tracking every one of my scars once again. I was about to snap at him when he met my eyes. “Tell me how it happened.”
I stabbed the pasta. “No.”
Before he could ask me again, I stuffed his mouth with another forkful. “Are you going to arrest me?” I asked, watching his face for every minute expression.
His lips twitched at the corner. Fucker. “I’m inclined to.”
“What grounds are you inclined to arrest me for?”
He smiled. “Now you’re asking the right question, my little beauty.”
I stayed quiet and fed him another forkful of pasta. His little nickname for me wrapped around my bruised soul like a warm, weighted blanket.
He chewed slowly, as if he had all the time in the world, keeping his gaze glued to my face throughout the ordeal.
He swallowed and opened his mouth, asking for more.
When I continued to stare at him, not giving him the next bite, he let out a sigh.
“Fine. I would arrest you for multiple homicides.”
“Do you have any proof or evidence of me or any of my girls committing a homicide?”
“I have enough evidence to bring all of you in for questioning. I have enough cases of missing people and more than enough women—your clients—for questioning.”
“So you have nothing so far to prove us guilty.”
“Look around, Beauty. Your headquarters. Your apartments. There is enough evidence to get me a warrant, and from there, it’s only a matter of handing out all the proof of your activities.”
This fucker. He thought we were amateurs.
I leaned closer to him. “Look around, Lieutenant. We’re just a not-for-profit organization that helps abused women recover from their trauma.
We’re just a self-defense training institution for women.
We’re just friends with a woman who’s dating a multibillionaire who's been very generous with his gifts. He’s truly passionate about our cause because of everything his sister went through. ”
His eyes narrowed. His lips pursed. “You’ve thought this through.”
And I fucking smiled.
I knew he was thinking things through. I knew he would find more grounds and reasons to arrest me. But something deep inside me—be it my heart, my soul, my sixth sense—told me that he wouldn’t arrest me—us. Not anymore. And I needed to put some trust in him to get his in return.