“You didn’t. You bastard.”
“I looked for them.”
“You lie.”
“I swear to god. Please believe me.”
“I hate you. She’s dead because of you.” Jolie cleared the top of a desk and slammed into him again. “You killed her.”
Yates tripped and almost fell on his ass but found his feet at the last minute. He caught Jolie’s wrists so she couldn’t land more punches and held her off. “Stop it. Listen to me.”
“No,” she screamed, pulling against his restraining hold and kicking him in the shins.
“I did you wrong, but I’ve been doing everything in my power to make it right.”
“You liar. You killed her.” She kneed him in the balls, and Yates bellowed, losing his grip and folding in half.
Jolie didn’t retreat and moved in, biting his cheek.
Yates screamed and shoved her away. Fury burned in his eyes, but before she could attack him again, he grabbed her by the hair and yanked her around until she crashed to her knees, subdued.
“Ari!” I hollered.
I couldn’t believe my eyes, which was half the reason I didn’t immediately react.
Jolie snarled and fought, but Yates wouldn’t release her. Blood trickled down his cheek from where she’d bitten him.
Before this went any further—and I saw intent in the constable’s eyes—I lurched forward and slammed a hand against Yates’s chest.
“Let go.”
He growled, but I stood firm.
When he released her, I shoved him backward until he clattered into a desk. Yates’s ass landed on its surface, and he stared at me like I’d somehow betrayed him.
I balled my fists in his shirt. He wasn’t in uniform. I wasn’t sure why he was in the building at all. Bringing my face close to his, I hissed, “Get the fuck out of here. Now.”
“I didn’t do anything. She attacked me.”
“Get. The fuck. Gone.”
He glanced over my shoulder, breathing still labored, anger still simmering, cheek still bleeding. “I’ve done everything in my power to fix my mistake, you bitch. She wasn’t supposed to die. That’s not on me.”
“Ari,” I hissed.
He held up his hands. “All right. I’m going.”
I let go of his shirt but stayed between him and Jolie, not trusting either of them.
Yates straightened his clothes and touched his injured cheek, wincing at the discovery of blood on his fingertips. Before he headed to the door, he locked eyes with Jolie again, his rage tempered. “For what it’s worth, I’m sorry. I’ll never forgive myself.”
Yates left, and I took a second to straighten several messy desks as Jolie collected herself. I feared she would run out the door and never look back, and I had too many questions to let her go.
Top of the list. What the actual fuck just happened?
Four dead men. A volatile teenager. A victim of rape who seemed to be dead, if I was understanding correctly, and a copwho knew more than he let on. Jolie’s story had layers I wasn’t aware of, and I needed to get to the bottom of it.
“Are you all right?” I asked, relieved when she chose to sit and not fly out the door.
