Unlawful Attraction: The Complete Box Set: Alpha Billionaire Romance (39 page)

I didn’t want to put them in danger.

But, apparently, I had no problem putting Arik in danger.

I might've been a horrible person for it, but instead of turning away, I called out. “Arik? Are you in there? I need to talk to you.”

Several more seconds passed without an answer, and I started to turn away, certain that he'd chosen to ignore me, but then the doorknob turned. The memory of our last encounter was all that kept me from taking an immediate step toward him.

Except it wasn’t Arik standing there.

I recognized those eyes right away, and I supposed that was one of the things that saved me. That, and the fact that I hadn’t taken that step toward the door. A few moments ago, I’d been standing right there, but now, with a distance of a few feet between me and him, I had a precious split second for my brain and body to react.

My brain screamed
shit
, but my gut took over. Later, I’d have to thank my dad for insisting I take some seriously grueling self-defense courses once he realized I was serious about going into criminal law.

I was far from tall or muscular, but I knew how to use what I did have. What I had was the knowledge that my legs were the most powerful muscles in my body, and when he went to reach for me, I moved
toward
him instead of away as he probably expected.

It also helped that he was partially behind the door, because that was where I kicked. I kicked straight at it, snapping out with my knee the way I’d learned. I hadn’t gone to class in years, but I’d studied throughout middle and high school, and muscle memory was a beautiful thing. The door drove back into him and he grunted. With a gliding little half-hop, I kicked forward again, driving him back farther, and battering him with the door a second time.

That was when somebody else joined the fight, ramming the stranger into the wall.

Something clattered on the floor and, instinctively, I kicked at it before I even realized it was a gun. It slid away as I squeezed myself in through the tight space allowed by the two struggling bodies.

Arik drove a fist into the man’s face hard enough to make me wince.

He spewed out something ugly in a harsh, deep language – Russian, I thought. Of course it was Russian. I knew who he was now, and he sure as hell wasn't murmuring sweet nothings in French.

While my mind kept up the strange babbling, another part of me stepped up and took over. I didn’t feel like
me
as I bent down and grabbed the gun, and I sure as
hell
didn’t feel like me as I gripped it and checked the safety. It had been on. How weird was that?

But it didn't matter the reasoning. What mattered was that, even though I'd never owned a gun or intended to own one, a couple years ago, I'd taken a gun safety course and done some target practicing.

When the hitman managed to flip his way on top of Arik, I stepped closer and pressed the nose of the gun to the back of his head.

My voice was as cold as I'd ever heard it. “Safety’s off now.”

He froze.

A split second later, a weird, whining noise escaped his throat, and he rolled off to the side, curled in on himself and clutching at his crotch. People rarely acknowledged that, in a life-or-death situation, even a man will knee another man in the balls.

Arik sat up, panting. His nose was bleeding, his bottom lip split. He looked at me as he staggered upright, the concern on his face focused all on me. When he took a step toward me, hand outstretched as if to take the gun, I backed up.

“I think I can handle the fucking gun. Why don’t you tie him up or something?”

Arik's eyes widened slightly, but I didn't really care about his surprise at the moment. I wanted to make sure the man on the ground didn't sense a moment of hesitation.

“The…little girl…thinks she can…handle a gun.” The hitman wheezed out a laugh.

“Fuck off,” I snapped. I'd always prided myself on my level-headedness, but that part of my self-control had snapped at some point in the last few hours.

The hitman rolled onto one knee and I shifted, making sure the gun was still aimed at him.

“Give me the gun. I’ll go. My…business here is done.”

“I’m curious about that.” Off to the side, Arik was rummaging around in nearby drawers.

I couldn't figure out what was taking him so long. He had to have something here he could use. The man was a Dom for fuck's sake!

Then it hit me. All of Arik's bondage things were in his bedroom or playroom, not out here. And he apparently didn't want to leave the room. It almost made me laugh.

The hitman shifted again, bringing my thoughts back to the present. I knew I was dangerously close to going into shock. I needed to focus on something, anything, to keep my head on straight.

“While we're waiting, why don’t you tell me about those plans, and maybe about your relationship with my boss?”

His eyelids flickered and he tensed. For a moment, I thought he was going to come after me, then his mouth opened slightly as he started to say something.

Whatever those words were, however, died when Arik smashed something heavy down on his head. I figured out what it was a moment later when the potent fumes of whiskey flooded the air. The hitman slumped forward, his eyes rolling toward the back of his skull.

Over the unconscious body, Arik looked up at me. His emerald gaze burned, his chest heaved. “Unconscious is just as good as tied up, right?” He swiped at the blood on his face and took a half step toward me.

I swallowed and looked away. “We need to call the…”

“Police!”

“Mr. Porter, we received–”

“Ma’am, drop the gun, hands up!”

“Oh, for crying out loud.”

Lifting one hand into the air, I knelt down and put the gun on the now-blood splattered carpet. Idly, I wondered how much it would cost to clean it, or if Arik would just have it replaced. Pity. The place was so new.

Arik spoke up as he edged toward me. “Officers, you’re holding a weapon on the wrong person. This is ADA Dena Monroe…”

As he started to explain, I closed my eyes and tried to deal with the spinning in my head.

This was going to prove to be one long, long night.

***

One of the officers approached me as I stood in the kitchen drinking water a few minutes later.

“I’m sorry about…” He gestured toward the door.

Shaking my head, I said, “You’re doing your job. Security alert, unknown person holding a weapon…you did what you’re trained to do.”

He nodded. “Appreciate the understanding, Miss Monroe. Mr. Porter explained everything to us, but I’ll need to take your statement as well.”

I really didn't want to go over anything, but I knew procedure. “Of course.”

We were only halfway through my explanation of what had happened – with the careful but legal exclusion of the fact that I'd seen the hitman fucking my boss earlier this week – when there was another knock on the somewhat askew door. Between me kicking it and Arik’s unexpected guest shoving back, even its excellent construction hadn’t been able to hold up. It was a good thing Arik's family owned the building. Otherwise, that would've been a bitch to try to explain.

The new addition didn't bother to introduce himself or be invited inside.

“I’ll be running the investigation from here on out,” he announced.

I stood to the side and listened as he walked around, introducing himself to the officers, to Arik. Based on the way he was carrying himself, Lieutenant Beale considered his presence to be quite important.

I already didn't like him.

When he paused by the suspect, a faint smirk curved his lips and he shook his head.

“Always knew that arrogance would trip you up sooner or later.”

The now semi-coherent hitman sneered, but didn't say anything.

Lieutenant Beale came toward me at last. “Ms. Monroe, I take it?”

I glanced down at his hand and debated shaking it. Then I reminded myself that I was an ADA and there was no reason to be rude. I'd probably have to work with this man at some point and he hadn't really done anything that deserved my dislike. His grasp was firm, precise, like he'd practiced the perfect handshake.

“I take it you’re in the middle of giving your statement?” The smile that came with the question was close-lipped and didn't reach his eyes.

“Yes.” I pushed a hand through my hair, and tried not to sigh. “I take it I need to start all over?”

“It would simplify things.”

I looked at the water I was still drinking. Taking a sip, I said, “I’m still a little shocky. I need the fluids, Lieutenant. Give me a minute and I’ll start this all over again.”

“I hate to be an inconvenience.” The corner of his mouth hitched up in a smile more infuriating than the last. “But it’s useful, as you are probably aware, to get solid facts. The sooner we can get this done, the sooner you can go home.”

Asshole. I took another sip of my water, half out of spite, and when I lowered the glass, my hand shook badly enough that I spilled the liquid across my hand and arm.

The officer I'd originally been talking to handed me a paper towel.

“Thanks.” I gave him a grateful look and then looked at the lieutenant.

“Miss Monroe,” Lieutenant Beale said my name, as if reminding me that he was still here. And that I was wasting his time.

That thin veneer of control I'd managed to get back in the last few minutes cracked. “I'm so sorry, Lieutenant, if I'm being an inconvenience. Please excuse me.” Sarcasm dripped off of every word. “I mean, it's not like I've never had a gun pointed at me, or had to point a gun at someone else. I'm sure every native New Yorker or ADA has been in this situation numerous times. I'll try to get my shit together.”

Lieutenant Beale's eyes narrowed even as color crept up his neck and cheeks. “Why don't you do that?” He yanked his phone out of his pocket. “I'm going to call 1PP to give them an update.” He stalked away.

“Excuse Lieutenant Beale,” the officer next to me said. “He’s only on the force to meet the asshole quota, Ms. Monroe.” He gave me a grin. “That or the dick quota. Actually, I think he meets both.”

I smiled to show him I appreciated the support. Then my eyes met Arik's and I saw that he didn't think any of this was funny either.

***

It took forever for Lieutenant Beale to finish taking my statement, and an equally long time for him to finish with Arik. I was pretty sure he was dragging it out intentionally. By the time it was all said and done, I wanted to collapse. Actually, I pretty much
did
. Sitting on Arik's couch, my legs curled up beneath me, my eyes had drooped closed, and the next thing I knew, Arik was rubbing my shoulder.

“Dena.”

Jerking upright, I automatically swung for the person touching me.

He caught my wrist, his grip firm, but not rough. He gave me a wry smile as his thumb brushed across my racing pulse-point. “I’ve got to tell you, Councilor. That’s one hell of a right hook you’ve got.”

Staring at him, aware of the fact that more than a few of the officers were watching with varying degrees of interest, I jerked on my wrist.

“Sorry,” I muttered, embarrassment making my voice sharp. Blood rushed to my face as I stood up and took a few unsteady steps off to the side. “I’m a little…jumpy.”

“Understandable.” One of the cops moved between us and gave me a professional smile. He wasn't the one I'd given my statement to, but he seemed just as nice. “We were just telling Mr. Porter that he’d have to pack up for a few days. I doubt there’s much evidence to collect, but the techs will have to go through. And…”

His eyes slid to the hitman.

His name. I knew his name, but I couldn’t think of it.

Shock, I told myself. Shock, exhaustion. Both.

As the officer caught my eyes, I nodded. I understood what he'd been saying. If the Russian mafia knew where Arik was, then it wasn’t safe for him to come back here for a few days.

A shiver raced down my spine, and I had to wonder if it was safe at my place.

“I’ve got somewhere to go,” Arik said, distracting the officers as I turned away. They spoke for a few more minutes as I wandered over to the large, floor to ceiling windows that ran the length of the living room. My body tightened as I remembered what happened the last time I'd been here.

I wanted to tell him to come home with me, that I didn't want to be alone. That I wanted him to be with me.

But it was probably a bad idea to say that in front of an audience. Especially an audience who I might see again for work.

It didn’t take long for everybody to clear out once the cops made it clear we wouldn’t be left alone inside the apartment. Reluctantly, I bit my tongue and didn't say anything to Arik as we walked out. From the hallway, I watched as the officers placed bright yellow crime scene tape over the door.

We rode down to the lobby in two silent parties, Beale and half the uniforms with the now-upright cuffed suspect going first. His eyes glittered at me before the elevator door closed, blocking him from sight. By the time we reached the lobby, he was already being hustled out to an unmarked, flanked by two black and whites, their lights flashing in the pouring rain, but I could still feel his eyes on me.