54. Chapter 54
Cameron
My eyes dart around the warehouse as I look for a way out or something to defend myself with. I might be cuffed, but I’m not going down without a fight.
Small watches me, feasting on my fear. Madness shines from his feverish eyes, a sign of a man who’s been pushed too far.
In a way, I understand him. He’s been trying to do what he considers right. Now Justin has knocked his perfectly constructed plan down like a block castle, and everything has fallen apart. The lawsuit I filed against him likely helped push him over the edge, too.
I don’t regret taking him down. I’d just prefer to be alive to see the results.
“It’s you,” he mutters through his gritted teeth as he rolls up his sleeves. “It’s always been you.”
“Detective Small, I didn’t know you’re such a romantic.
You’re not really my type, though.” The taunt is out of my mouth before I can stop myself, but maybe it’s a good thing.
Angry people make mistakes, and Small’s a hair’s breadth away from tipping into full rage.
If I can get him to punch me, the deputy won’t be able to brush my worries off anymore. I just need to survive long enough.
Small balls his fists, his knuckles turning white. “You ruined everything. Every single fucking thing.”
As he advances, I step back until my bound hands hit the wall. I brace myself for the pain. I could probably dodge the hit, but I need him to strike first.
“Have you ever seen a dead kid, Matthews?” Another step closer. He scoffs. “Of course you did. You and your fucked-up friends probably rape and murder kids on the regular. What’s a party without a little fun, right?”
“I’ve never touched a minor.” Surprisingly, most crime organizations in the city agree on leaving kids out of the flesh trade. Even Sin strictly enforces her no minors rule.
Small laughs. It’s a dry, hysterical sound. “Right, I forgot. You’re a freaking saint. How did you get Palmer to lie for you? Did you threaten him? His family? Or did you just torture him until he broke?”
“I didn’t torture Justin.” I remain calm, because that’s what’s pissing Small off the most. “He chose to be with me.” I’m not even lying.
“You brainwashed him. He called you his boyfriend. After you kidnapped him, kept him in a cage, and raped him. His boyfriend!”
“He did?” Justin called me his boyfriend. That’s so sweet. Despite everything, it almost makes me smile. Once we get back home, I’m going to pamper him for days.
Small bares his teeth in a snarl. “You’re a sick fuck, Matthews!
You had a chance to help me, to do good, to be a fucking hero.
You chose to be a villain, and I’m going to end you like one.
You don’t deserve to spend the rest of your life in a comfy cell getting three meals a day, courtesy of American taxpayers. ”
My pulse jumps as he raises his fist. One hit. That’s all I need to survive, and then I have to avoid him until the deputy comes back.
As I brace myself for the punch, I glimpse a movement on the other side of the warehouse. Maybe it’s the deputy returning?
Small’s fist splits my lip and sends me stumbling onto the dirty floor. Satisfaction spreads through me as I taste copper. He drew first blood. That’s just what I needed.
“HELP!” I scream from the top of my lungs even as I scramble back to my feet. “Deputy! Help! Anyone!”
I dodge another strike, and Small’s fist rings against the corrugated metal. I can’t really defend myself without my hands, but I’m agile enough to dodge him until the cavalry arrives. Except the door stays closed.
“She’s not coming,” Small tells me smugly. He sidesteps my clumsy kick. “I’ve had dispatch send her to the other end of the street. It’s just you and me, Matthews.”
Well, fuck. That didn’t work out as I planned. “You’re not going to get away with this. You’re a freaking cop. You can’t just beat a suspect to death.”
“By the time someone finds you here, I’ll be long gone. New name, new identity. New life. Unlike you, who’ll rot in the filth where you belong.”
I’m too slow. His fist grazes my temple, not hard enough to knock me out but enough to disorient me.
Small presses his advantage and strikes at my solar plexus, putting his full weight into the punch.
Air knocked out of me, I fold in half and desperately wheeze as I try to draw in a breath.
Just barely, I roll away from a stomp that would shatter my ribs.
“There’s nowhere to run, Matthews,” Small taunts. Pain explodes from my hip as he kicks me. At least he’s not shooting me. I still have a chance to get out of this.
“No one to help you.”
Except that’s not entirely true. I catch that flash of movement again. Someone’s hiding behind a shelving unit to my right. Not a cop, I’m pretty sure they’re wearing a denim jacket, but someone. They’re holding a phone like they’re recording Small beating the shit out of me.
I kick against Small and try to use my legs to take him down, but he’s too experienced to fall for the trick.
“Help!” I try again. I doubt the denim person will want to be a hero and jump into the fray to rescue a complete stranger, but maybe someone else will hear me.
“Shut the fuck up.” Small looks around a little uncertainly. I don’t think he’s noticed our audience, but he must feel something’s off. Unfortunately for me, that means he decides to cut our time together short. As he reaches for his gun, his badge glints in the light, a mockery of justice.
There’s a gasp. “Oh my gosh, are you seeing this?” a voice whispers loudly enough for the words to reach us. “He’s got a gun!”
“What the…” Small points the gun to where the stranger is hiding. They squeak and duck behind a crate.
“Oh my gosh, he’s going to kill me! If I don’t make it, I want to thank all of my viewers for your support. You’ve been great!”
“Get the fuck out of there,” Small yells.
“Ohmygod, ohmygod, ohmygod.” A petite girl steps out into the open. “Please don’t kill me.”
She’s still holding the phone, presumably streaming, even as Small aims at her. She’s shaking, but there’s something off about her expression. Also, she looks vaguely familiar.
“Please, sir. I have a dog. A puppy, really, even though he’s already got almost forty pounds. You can’t make him into an orphan. I also have, like, a family and stuff like that. And fans. Lots of fans.”
Small stares at her like she’s lost her mind. To be fair, it does look like it. “What the fuck are you talking about, bitch?”
“Hey!” She glares at him, completely disregarding the gun in his hand. “There’s no reason for name-calling. It’s also very misogynistic of you to insult me based on my gender.”
Small blinks. Then blinks again. For a moment, it looks like he’s about to shoot her, but then he strides toward her and tries to yank the phone out of her hand. Tries being the operative word, because despite being short, the girl’s surprisingly strong.
“Hey, don’t touch me!” she yells.
I struggle to my feet. I’m not sure whether I’m about to rush to Denim Girl’s defense or bolt out of here, but I can’t do anything lying down.
There’s some more shoving and shouting. Denim Girl screams, even though Small barely touched her. “Let go of me!” The gun glints in the overhead light as they fight over the phone.
Should I help the girl? Should I run?
I shift on my feet unsteadily. Before I can decide, Denim Girl shoves at Small and he loses his balance.
The world slows as I watch Small fall, his neck hitting a metal shelf with haunting precision. A sickening crack echoes through the warehouse.
The girl screams again. “Oh my god, he just tried to… He tried to grab me! And then he fell and… Did you see that?” She’s not talking to me.
She’s asking the audience on her phone, which she somehow managed to hold on to throughout the altercation like it’s glued to her damn hand.
“He’s… He… I…” She sounds close to hyperventilating.
“He’s… He’s dead!” She launches into another wave of ohmygods, but I’m not listening to her anymore.
Small’s dead.
Small’s dead?
I limp closer and look at his body. His neck is twisted into an unnatural angle, his eyes glassy and empty. Yep. Definitely dead.
What the fuck?
The warehouse doors slam open. “POLICE! Everyone on the ground!”
The stream. Someone must have noticed it.
For the second time in two days, I’m held at gunpoint and forced to lie on the floor as the missing deputy and half a dozen of her buddies storm the building. At least I’m not naked this time.
Denim girl is sobbing now, blubbering about how Small was going to kill her, how terrified she was, how he grabbed her and now he’s dead, and she was just defending herself, she swears!
She seems more concerned about her “traumatized” viewers than about nearly dying and subsequently killing a man.
Unlike me, the police don’t find it suspicious.
As they lead her away, wrapped in a blanket, she winks at me. It’s just a twitch of her muscles, something a random observer could write off as a grimace, but I know better. I also remember where I saw her. She’s a regular at Sin’s club.
Relief floods me, even as I realize I now owe Sin two huge favors.
It doesn’t matter. Whatever she asks for, she can have, because in one elegant swoop, she gave me my life back.
Not only is Small dead, but there’s a recording of him attacking me, which means that his investigations against me will be harder to defend.
There’s also irrefutable proof I had nothing to do with his death, and Sin’s friend likely won’t even get prosecuted because it was clearly self-defense.
I knew Sin was brilliant, but fuck. If she had any intention of seizing power in the city, she’d give Rossi a run for his money. If it ever comes to that, I’m picking her side.
As the cops escort me out of the warehouse, still in cuffs, I glance at Small’s body one last time. “You lose, fucker,” I whisper under my breath. “Rot in hell.”