His first punch glances off my forearm. The second catches my ribs—hard enough to steal my breath, controlled enough not to crack bone.
He’s not trying to kill me.
Yet.
“Should have stayed away, Deputy.” His voice is calm, almost conversational, as he drives me back toward the kitchen island. “How desperate you must be to tempt fate like this.”
I swing at his jaw. He slips under it easily, catches my wrist, twists.
Pain lances up my arm.
I grunt, refusing to give him the satisfaction of a scream.
“Funny,” I grit out, “I was just thinking the same thing about you.”
I drive my knee toward his groin. He shifts, takes it on the thigh instead, and uses my momentum to spin me around. His arm locks around my throat from behind—not choking, just holding. Controlling.
“I would have let you suck my cock,” he breathes against my ear. “Then sent you home none the wiser. But you just had to keep pushing.”
“That’s what cops do.” I stomp down on his instep. He grunts, his grip loosening just enough for me to drive my elbow back into his solar plexus.
He releases me. I stagger forward, spinning to face him.
We’re both breathing hard now. There’s blood on his lip where I must have caught him—I don’t remember doing it, but I’ll take the win.
“Stand down, Deputy.” Rooke’s wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, but he’s smiling, the demented fuck. “You’re outmatched, and about thirty seconds away from being unconscious.”
“Don’t forget outgunned and outnumbered, Rooke.”
The voice comes from behind me.
I half-turn to see Kai and Haven emerge from a different area of the house like ghosts. Kai’s limping, and Haven looks like she hasn’t slept in days.
They look like hell.
But Kai’s pointing a gun at me, so I don’t feel all that sympathetic.
“Well, fuck.” I let out a humorless laugh. “Gang’s all here, huh?”
The bags make sense now. I caught them about to flee.
If I’d just gone along with Rooke’s demands, would they have let me go?
“You don’t understand—“ Haven says.
“Oh, I understand plenty.” I’m backing toward the door now, trying to keep all three of them in sight. “Homicide at the Jordan residence? Let me guess—Thanksgiving dinner didn’t go as planned?”
Kai’s frown hardens, a tic starting up in his jaw.
Bingo.
“Good luck proving it,” he says.
“I don’t need luck.” My hand finds the doorknob. If I can just get to my cruiser, get to my gun, get backup on the line?—
“Alexa, lock the front door.”
I hear the click behind me, but I’m desperate enough to believe it’ll still open. I lunge for it, but Rooke catches me before I can turn the handle.
