Detective Douche
Hazel
I think tequila broke my head but that doesn’t make much sense because I’m pretty sure I didn’t drink anything. I screw up my face, wincing as my hand finds a nasty lump on the back of my skull.
I hiss and pull my hand away, my palms pressing against thin, hard carpet as I struggle to sit up.
A firm hand curls around my bicep. “Easy Hazel, you’re probably concussed.”
I panic at Derek’s voice, pain shooting through my skull as I scramble away from him and back up against the wall. Light pierces my eyes and my breathing comes fast.
I scan the room, taking in the small office with its metal desk and filing cabinets before my shaky gaze lands back on Derek.
He’s crouched in front of me, his shirt sleeves rolled up above his elbows as his arms rest on his thighs.
“What the fuck are you doing, Derek?” I ask, some part of my brain still not understanding that Derek is one of the bad guys. That he’s working with the senator.
Derek sighs and rubs a hand over his beard. “It didn’t have to be like this.” Regret glimmers in his eyes and I think for a moment that maybe the Derek I know might still be there.
“So let me go,” I say, my gaze darting to the closed door behind him. “The senator, he’s not a good man. You saw what he did to me.”
“You didn’t give him a choice.” Derek shakes his head and stands up. “We could have been something good, you and I, but you had to go and get involved with the Vigilante Choker.” He cuts me a scolding look. “I mean seriously Hazel, a serial killer?”
My mouth drops open. “I really don’t think you get to judge,” I say. “What with you being a corrupt cop and all.”
Derek tsks, a wry smile twisting the good guy face I’m used to seeing. “You’ve been spending too much time with Wright, she’s making you bratty.”
I tilt up my chin, trying to find a bravery I don’t feel. “How do you know this isn’t just me?”
Derek chuckles and steps towards me. “Because I know you, Hazel.” He smiles and rests the toe of his foot on my shin. “And you’re a good girl. Which is why you’re going to tell me what I want to know.”
He presses down on my shin. Not enough to hurt, just enough that I can’t move my leg.
I wet my lips but hold my ground. “Yeah, I wouldn’t bet on it.”
He pushes down harder, the sole of his shoe cutting into my leg. I curl my fingers against the thin carpet and grit my teeth.
“Where’s the video, Hazel.”
“What video?”
The pressure on my shin increases tenfold, the pain steadily rising until his foot is grinding against my bone and my breathing turns scattered.
Derek tuts. “Let’s not play dumb. The video Ana Zhang gave you, where is it?” He eases off with his foot and I gasp for breath.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
He shifts his weight, stepping on my leg. I cry out, the weight so much I think my tibia is going to break. My whole body spasms as I try to pull away from the intense pressure, the pain burning up my entire leg until I’m crying, begging for him to stop. “Please, Derek, please.”
Finally, he lifts his foot and I curl up into a ball, hugging my leg to my chest as I sob.
Derek crouches down beside me and brushes my sweat-stuck hair off my face. His touch crawls through my skin but I don’t have the fight to pull away.
“Where’s the video?”
I wet my dry lips and blink the tears out of my eyes so I can meet Derek’s cold gaze. “Are you in it?” I ask. “Did you rape her?”
He drags his thumb over my jaw, catching my bottom lip and tugging it down. “Yes.”
I twist my head, pulling away from his touch. “Why?”
He smiles a little. “Because I could.”
My stomach roils. I don’t need to hear anymore.
The man I thought I knew never existed. He was just a facade hiding a monster.
I should leave it at that but for some reason I don’t.
I saw the photo of him with Hope, but I want to hear him admit it.
I need to know for sure that we’ve found the person responsible for what happened to her.
“Is that why you set Hope up too?”
Derek raises a brow, that sly smile still snaked across his face. “Trying to get a confession?”
“Who would I tell?” I’m lying broken on the floor, my body shaking from the pain, sweat pricking my skin. I’m under no illusion that I’m getting out of this alive, but I will do anything I can to take Derek down with me. I just need to keep him talking until I find the right moment.
“Hope was a means to an end. I’m really quite grateful to her. After all, she made me a King.”
Hatred, vicious and hot, flushes over me. I find Derek’s eyes, matching the coldness in his gaze with my own as I whisper, “Flynn is going to kill you.”
Derek laughs. “Oh darling, Flynn is in no position to be doing anything. In fact, maybe we’ll pay him a little visit.”
Derek grabs my bicep and pulls me to my feet.
I cry out, stumbling when I put weight on my bad leg. Every step is agony, but Derek keeps moving, dragging me out of the office and down the corridor.
He pushes open a door and pulls me inside some sort of scanning room. Fluorescent lights stab into my pounding head and I almost throw up when Derek tugs me forward and secures my arms behind my back.
My vision clears to find Flynn strapped down to the bed of an MRI machine, his head inches from the cylindrical tunnel.
Senator Claren stands over him, wiping blood off his knuckles with a handkerchief. Flynn’s still unconscious, his lip is split, one side of his face swollen and bruised.
Pain cuts into my heart. I try to go to him, but Derek holds me back, his grip on my wrists tightening.
“Has she talked?” the senator asks.
“Not yet. I thought she might need a little motivation.”
I shudder, the way they’re talking about me like I’m not even here making my skin crawl.
The senator finishes cleaning his hand and folds the handkerchief back up before tucking it into the breast pocket of his suit jacket.
He looks just like he did the night of the ball, clean shaven, not a strand of brown hair out of place. Movie star looks meets politician.
Finally, his gaze lands on me, a curious tilt to his lips and that dimple in his cheek. “You’re quite the enigma, Miss Halloway. A 911 operator helping a serial killer. Tell me, do you feel guilty?”
I grit my teeth, steadfastly ignoring the way my gut squirms. “Do you?”
He chuckles low. “Cute.” The senator runs his hand over the sleek white surface of the MRI machine. “I wonder how far you’ll go to protect him?”
My gaze darts to Flynn, begging him in my mind to wake the fuck up because I don’t think I can do this alone.
I feel the senator watching me and look back at him.
He smiles. “All I want is one simple thing, Hazel. You give me the video and tell me where to find Ana and I’ll let you go.”
Maybe it’s the concussion stopping me from thinking clearly, or maybe I’ve been spending too much time with Flynn, but the words slip from my lips before I can think better of them. “Not to be technical, but that’s two things.”
Derek’s boot hits my bad leg and I stumble, his grip the only thing holding me up as fresh pain stabs through my body.
Claren drums his fingers against the machine, his smile gone and his eyes tight. “You know, I learned a lot setting up this clinic, and the funny thing about MRI machines is once they’re turned on, they don’t ever get turned off.”
I find my footing, my brow furrowing because I don’t know where he’s going with this but I’m pretty sure it’s nowhere good. He smiles a vicious thing before walking over to a medical cart in the far corner of the room. He picks up a scalpel and turns back around.
“That powerful magnet at their core is always working. That’s why you can’t wear any metal when you get a scan.” Claren keeps talking as he strolls back to Flynn’s side and unease tumbles in my gut.
“It really is a very powerful magnet. If I were, for example, to let go of this scalpel…” Claren uncurls his fingers and the blade shoots towards the center of the machine, grazing Flynn’s face.
“No!” I lunge forward but Derek’s arm bands around my waist, holding me back.
The senator reaches out and wipes his thumb over the tiny fresh cut on Flynn’s cheek. “Oops.”
My nostrils flare, anger vibrating in my bones.
Claren wipes his thumb on his handkerchief and goes to pick up another scalpel. He holds it up in the air above Flynn’s waist and pins his gaze on me.
“Ana, Hazel. Where is she?”
I bite my tongue. I feel sick but there’s not a chance in hell I’m telling this man how to find Ana.
Claren opens his palm and this time the scalpel lodges in Flynn’s shoulder.
Flynn’s eyes flick open and I whimper.
“Ah, good of you to join us Mr. Fletcher. Perhaps you’ll be more willing to share the information Miss Halloway won’t.”
Flynn’s nostrils flare. His gaze tracks over the senator before landing on me. Tears slip down my cheeks, and I press my lips together to stop from crying.
I get lost in Flynn’s eyes, a steady calmness in his pale blue irises that almost has my heart settling until another blade skims past his neck. “No!” The blade trembles where it’s embedded in the bed, barely a centimeter from Flynn’s carotid artery.
The senator lets out a low whistle. “That one was close. Let’s try again, shall we?” He walks back over to the cart with the scalpels, and I slump forward in Derek’s hold, all the adrenaline crashing inside of me. Bone deep pain radiates from my leg, and the back of my head is throbbing.
Fuck Claren. Fuck Derek. Every breath makes me feel sick and I just want to get out of here.
I try to look at Flynn but his face blurs behind the tears clouding my eyes. I’m so out of it I almost miss the way his gaze fixes on the door.
“Drop,” he mouths. It’s the only warning I get before the door is kicked open and Wright bursts into the room in full vigilante mode.
The crash fills the space and I go limp, dropping all my weight onto Derek until he’s forced to let go.
“Room for one more, boys?” Wright asks, baton in one hand, her knife in the other.
Derek lunges for her and I scramble out of the way as they fight.
Wright slams her baton down on Derek’s knee, and his cry pierces my ears.
I crouch down beside the MRI platform Flynn is lying on.
My leg burns in this position but I glance up.
The senator is busy watching the fight and I use his distraction to undo the restraint around Flynn’s wrist.
Flynn flexes his fingers. I can’t reach to free his other wrist but with one hand free he should be able to—
Wright screams.
I whip my head around to find her pinned to the wall, her feet dangling in the air and Derek’s hand wrapped around her neck.
My heart leaps to my throat but then Wright’s knee finds Derek’s balls with unerring accuracy and he doubles over, his grip slipping. Wright drops to the floor and slams the base of her baton between his shoulder blades.
Just as I think she’s got the upper hand, the senator grabs hold of Wright’s braid and pulls her close. “Enough,” he snarls. Metal glimmers in the air as he raises his arm and my heart seizes.
“Wright!” I scream, lunging forward. I’m too late to stop him though. He sinks the needle into Wright’s neck, pushing down on the syringe and flooding her system with what I hope to god is just a sedative.
Claren flings her into the corner, discarding her like she’s a bag of trash. I skid across the linoleum floor on my knees, slipping my hand around the back of her neck. “Wright.”
Her lashes flicker, her eyes turning glassy.
I glare at the senator. “What did you give her?”
He just smirks and picks up a scalpel. “Let’s get back to it, shall we?”
Weak fingers squeeze my hand, and I look down at Wright. “I’m here, it’s okay. You’re going to be fine.”
Wright’s eyes drift shut but not before she whispers, “Knife…boot.”
I look down at her Doc Martins, at the wooden handle sticking out of the black leather. My pen knife. The one Flynn gave me. Wright must have found it out in the corridor.
Derek is only just getting to his feet, his hand cradling his groin.
Flynn is still strapped to the machine.
I inch my hand down to Wright’s boot until my fingers curl around the wooden handle. I flick the knife open.
My heartbeat slows.
Turning around, I eye the senator as he walks back to Flynn’s side, scalpel in hand.
I’ve pretty much got the picture now—any metal that gets too close to the MRI is sucked in—which means I have to be accurate, and I have to apply enough force to counteract the magnetic field. Oh god. I can see the headline now.
Woman tries to save boyfriend and ends up killing him.
I have to do something though.
I swallow hard. Then I stand up and do what I’ve seen Wright do a hundred times. I throw the knife.
And I miss.
Because I’ve never thrown a knife before in my life so of course I do. The blade flings past the Senator, the tip burying itself in the wall behind him. Derek and Claren both stare at the knife, then turn to look at me.
Oh crap.
I’m busy trying to figure out what the fuck I do now when the knife starts to vibrate. My eyes widen and the senator follows my gaze, turning to face the knife just as the magnet pulls it free from the wall. The blade flips, tip first, and sinks like a hot knife through butter into Claren’s eye.
The spray of blood is almost comical. It doesn’t look real and everything that happens next is like something out of a thriller movie as Claren’s body drops and Flynn launches up, yanking the scalpel from his shoulder and slitting Derek’s throat.
Blood splatters across the white MRI machine and sprays in an arc across Flynn’s hoodie. Derek drops and Flynn throws the scalpel to the far end of the room, away from the magnet, before turning to face me. The room goes eerily quiet.
Specks of blood are bright against his pale face but that’s nothing compared to the stain seeping out from his side.
I didn’t notice it before because the hoodie is black, but that stain matches the one spreading on his shoulder where the scalpel was.
It’s too dark to be anything but blood. Blood coming from exactly where Wright’s knife hit.
“Lilac,” Flynn says, swaying on his feet. “Call Lachlan.”
It’s all he has time to say before he collapses.