Chapter 9
Hanne POV
"Smile a while and give your face
a rest."
My father used to sing that song to me; it’s
quite popular, but the chances of anyone knowing it well enough to whistle it
perfectly were virtually nonexistent.
I turned my head, drawn to the corridor where
I had heard the whistle. My eyes widened just as quickly as I averted my gaze
from Amund.
What the hell?
What. In. The. Actual. Hell?
I hated how paranoid I felt. But I had a
nagging suspicion that she knew my father. How cute. She must have researched
me pretty thoroughly. I could only imagine the files she had compiled on my
background. It didn’t seem fair; if I weren’t a cop, I wouldn’t know anything
about her.
The whistling stopped, and I found myself
peeking out from behind my cubicle. If she thought for a second that I was
scared of her, she was mistaken. Maybe she had vanished into thin air, but as I
looked closely, I realized she had headed down the next corridor, toward the
Sergeant’s office.
I wasn’t afraid of her. I could take her
down. If things were different, I’d be well within my rights to cuff her right
now. But something told me that many of my fellow officers—if not all—would do
everything in their power to stop me. I admired how she prowled through the
office with enough confidence to make a Miss Universe pageant queen jealous.
If I wasn’t scared, then why was I gripping
the computer mouse so tightly? So many thoughts raced through my mind.
How did she know that song about me? Where
had she gotten that kind of information? She seemed to know a lot, including
the fact that my mother was absent from my life. If she had been around, maybe
I would be in college right now. My father had insisted that college wasn’t an
option for me; training school was the goal.
I didn't have much of an issue with that
decision. My father didn’t encounter many serious criminals in our small town,
at least not compared to what I had seen in just the past two days. Yet there
were still a few petty issues he had been dealing with.
It was a small town filled with people, and
there was always some trouble brewing. Whether it was a group of boys dabbling
in the fantasy of forming a little gang or someone engaged in illegal animal
hunting, my father never had to deal with serial killers, drug dealers, or the
kind of scum that the Isak family represented. He was fortunate in that regard;
he had the choice between two paths: to either become corrupt or to root out
corruption. I suspected I knew which path he would choose.
Why would she look into my background? She
was clearly interested. To her, I was nothing more than a tiny ant in whatever
empire she was building. Her family had developed much of the downtown area,
and I wouldn’t be surprised if that motherfucker had even invested in the Los
Angeles Police Department.
From the brief glimpses I’d gotten of her,
she exuded a confidence that suggested no officer could take her down.
But I would take her down. I couldn’t quite
understand why I felt such intense hatred for her, beyond the damage she was
causing. She was pushing all sorts of filth onto the streets, using them like
toilet paper to wipe her mess away. It was almost laughable.
A scent wafted toward me—it had to be her.
Just as I was about to move, I froze. She was seated right there. How long had
she been there? Had my senses finally kicked in to detect her toxic presence?
She was a walking red flag, and I was now acutely aware of what that smelled
like. Good.
I remembered dating a walking red flag once.
Sure, she wasn’t playing the bad guy role, but she was a liar and a cheater. It
seemed that all red flags looked good, smelled good, and dressed well. They had
a way of captivating you, whether through charm or otherwise. They made you
feel incredible in the moment, leaving you unable to shake the
memory.
I typed slowly on my keyboard, pressing
random keys, fully aware that she was practically hovering over my shoulder.
What did she want from me? I tried to ignore her presence. This would be the
second time we were so close.
After yesterday, when she practically branded
me an idiot for not holding my gun properly, I couldn’t shake my frustration.
Of course I was competent! Training school was no joke, and in retrospect, I
should have just shot her in the face.
Her fingers reached toward me, and I recoiled
as if I had touched hot sand. Did she not realize that it was illegal to touch
an officer? Then again, she was clearly nothing more than a damn criminal. I
really should’ve taken the shot yesterday.
My gaze fell on the tattoos decorating her
skin. They were the same ones I had seen on the wheezer I had locked up, the
same markings on the head of her goon. I knew I would be seeing them more
often, especially since they now adorned my computer screen. The tattoo was
singular, but the dragon and maze each carried their own distinct meanings.
She stretched her arms effortlessly, and I
was struck by how imposing she was. I didn’t remember her being this big
yesterday. Her palm alone could easily engulf my face, and I didn’t want to
contemplate the kind of damage she could inflict on me. But I was determined to
strike first.
My heavy breathing sliced the air as her
fingers hovered too close, and I wished they were sharp enough to cut them off
cleanly.
"I'm not going to hurt you," she
whispered, as though she expected me to trust her. Trust her for what? Her
fingers were far too close for comfort.
"Yet you've done nothing but provoke me
into wanting to hurt you. Tell me," she continued, tucking a stray strand
of my hair back into place. "Are you obsessed with me, little fox? A
small-town princess like you hasn’t seen much, have you? This is as much action
as you've ever gotten, hmm?"
I snarled, realizing she had done her
homework on me. I couldn’t say she had simply Googled my name; it had to be
some next-level hacking skills that a woman like her possessed. She had power,
and that fact unnerved me.
"I bet that pretty little body of yours
has never been touched," she said, leaning down and slipping her hands
into her pockets. Her powerful legs seemed to dwarf my desk.
"What motive are you on?" It felt
as though she was the one interrogating me, when it should have been the other
way around. I was caught in an ant’s nest, ready to see her monstrous figure
crushed. I would gladly help the ants.
I despised her very existence. How could
someone so unhinged and twisted be allowed to roam free? Here she was,
strutting with an unsettling confidence in a world governed by law, knowing she
could slip away untouched.
"Are you looking to dig up some dirt on
me?" she taunted. "Or do you fantasize that if you uncover a
truckload of dirt on me, you could take me down and earn yourself a medal of
honor?"
Not exactly, but the thought of earning that
medal and staring at it every day, knowing I had cut down the biggest tree in
the forest, held a certain appeal. It would be a beautiful trophy.
"You don’t talk much. Come on, don’t be
scared."
I was terrified inside. She was right in
front of me, yet I couldn’t bring myself to meet her gaze—not after what I had
seen yesterday in those photos.
Yesterday had revealed just how far my mind
could wander. The thoughts I entertained left me steeped in guilt.
"Why don’t you get your criminal ass off
my desk?" I snapped.
Her lips curled into a twisted smirk.
"There’s that fiery little fox," she said. It seemed she had taken to
calling me a canine creature.
"Why don’t you get out of my face before
I charge you with speaking indecently to an officer of the law?"
She tsked at me. "Don’t stop until you
find exactly what you’re looking for. Just remember, there could be
consequences."
"I'll gladly accept them." I
replied.
She shrugged as she stood up. "If you
say so, pretty fox."
Just like that, she walked the tightrope of
legality and headed out. I felt a growl rise within me as I made my way to the
sergeant's office.
"What did she say?" I asked, my jaw
clenched.
"What we discussed in my office is none
of your business," he replied, his face flushed and visibly rattled. He
rubbed his neck, as if someone were squeezing him there.
"What do you mean?"
"If you want to go chasing after her, be
my guest. But trust me, it's not good news, girl. The Isak—"
"That's all I've heard: the Isak family
this and the Isak family that. Just shut up about them, sir."
"You’ve got quite an attitude—and some
bravery. Or is it stupidity, talking to me that way?"
I sighed. "She came to my desk." I
wouldn't lie; I felt rattled too. I couldn't decide whether to leave her alone,
stay out of her way, or be a persistent thumb up her nose. "You released
the guy?"
"Yep."
"Why? You could have taken him to court
and forced him to testify against her, to put dirt on her name."
"He wouldn't dare speak against the Isak
family. He'd be dead—probably is by now."
I sighed again. "Taking her down seems
so easy." It felt deeply unfair.
"That's easy to say but not easy to do,
Hanne. Do your damn job."
"This is my damn job."
"Look, we have no role in whatever gang
violence is unfolding. Eventually, they’ll kill each other off. That’s always
how it goes in history."
"Except the Isak family won’t allow
that. They have enough pawns to eliminate any gang that challenges them."
I let out a light chuckle. "You’re being naive. That would include
us—their army."
"Well, that’s just life."
"Can I get stationed somewhere
else?"
"No, and your six-month probation is
here. You still have two years left in your assignment before you can either
extend or move on."
"Oh, okay. Then I guess chasing after
her is what I’ll do."
"You’re just being hardheaded."
"I want to make a difference. You should
try it sometime."
Stay tune for next
chapter or subscribe to my Patreon. This book is complete on patreon. Click here
Comments
Post a Comment