Hearts of Blue
Page 70
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“Everything all right?”
“Yes,” I answered shortly. “Your interview is over. I’m bringing you to a holding cell until your legal advisor arrives.”
“Hey,” said Lee, his tone gentle as I motioned for him to get up from his seat. “I didn’t expect you to be here.”
“I have no idea what that’s supposed to mean. Now move. We haven’t got all day.”
He stood, towering over me by a couple of inches, his eyes tracing my features. “What’s up with you?”
I glared at him, incredulous, as I whisper-hissed, “Are you shitting me? You started this fight because of me, and now you expect me to act normal. This behaviour is inexcusable.”
Lee bit his lip as though to keep from smiling at my attempt to scold him. “It is inexcusable — you’re right. But it wasn’t all for you. You know how I feel about drugs. Something had to be done.” He paused and took a step closer until there was hardly any space between us. “And if it meant I got to teach him a lesson for so much as even thinking about laying his hands on you, then all the better.” His voice was a low, husky murmur, and I felt my throat tighten with opposing emotions. I wanted to kiss him and slap him all at the same time.
“I don’t know why you’re acting so casual right now. If Carl decides to press charges, you could get six months for aggravated assault, more if it turns out that anybody was seriously injured,” I told him.
Lee levelled his eyes on me. “Finley won’t be pressing charges. That’s not how we do things.”
“Oh, it’s a ‘we,’ is it? So you consider yourself the same sort of person as him? How reassuring.”
“Not what I meant.”
I shook my head and opened the door, gripping his upper arm to move him forward. “This conversation is over. Now start walking,” I ordered him.
He stepped out into the corridor, and I heard loud voices up ahead.
“Fucking hell,” Lee swore, looking to his right.
I stepped past him just in time to see Carl Finley head-butt one of the two constables who’d been trying to escort him to an interview room. Lee positioned his body in front of mine, as though to shield me from getting caught in the crossfire. My heart clenched momentarily at the protective move, but then the officers got the upper hand, restraining Carl to the floor. The one he’d head-butted kicked him hard in the lower abdomen, and Carl grunted in pain. Seeing that they had things under control, I began to guide Lee farther down the corridor.
He chuckled quietly as we passed by Carl, who twisted his head to look up at Lee, venom in his eyes. Lee glanced at the constable who’d kicked him, still laughing.
“That’s bang out of order, mate.”
“Shut it or you’ll be next,” the constable spat.
“Just try it,” said Lee, baring his teeth.
The constable took a step forward, but I narrowed my gaze at him and intervened just in time.
“A little bit of professionalism wouldn’t go amiss, Connors,” I said sternly before continuing to guide Lee away.
“You’re too good for this shit,” Lee said once we were alone again, his statement surprising me. He walked ahead of me, so all I could see was his back. I still held his upper arm, whether to keep him from running off or to appease my need to touch him, I wasn’t sure.
When I didn’t respond, he kept talking. “I hate thinking of you being hurt, Karla, hate imagining you in all the dangerous situations you have to walk into every day.”
His words stirred a pang of emotion in my gut, but I tried to bat it down and keep my voice steady as I whispered, “And you think that doesn’t go both ways? I hate thinking of your life just as much as you hate thinking of mine.”
Lee didn’t breathe a word after that, and when I locked him into the cell, he stared at his hands, clearly deep in thought.
***
It was four days after seeing him at the station that I decided to visit Lee’s garage. I drove over in my own car, hoping he’d be around. It was only when I arrived that I remembered they didn’t open on weekends. Engaging the handbrake, I sat there for a moment, wondering what the hell I was doing.
The radio silence on his end worried me, and I desperately wanted to know if he was doing anything to remove himself from McGregor’s inner circle. I knew the only way he was going to be able to do it peacefully was to buy himself out, but how much would that even cost?
I had no idea.
Finally deciding I was being an idiot for trying to see him, I determined to go home and quit wasting my time worrying over a man who wasn’t even my partner. In the grand scale of things, very little had happened between us. We’d had sex a few times; that was it. I needed to give myself a good firm reality check.
It was evening, and the sky was just beginning to darken when I took one last look at the doors to Lee’s garage. I furrowed my brow when I noticed something on the ground, and on closer inspection I realised it was actually someone.
Without thinking I got out of the car, hurrying over to help the crumpled body lying in a heap. He wore a peaked cap, but when I gently pushed it up with my fingers, I saw it was Liam. Half his face was bashed in, and blood stained his clothing. Feeling for a pulse, I let out a relieved breath to find he was alive and still breathing, albeit raggedly. It took me only a few minutes to look him over and determine his injuries. His body was badly bruised and he had several painful-looking cuts, but there were no bullets or fatal wounds as far as I could tell.
“Yes,” I answered shortly. “Your interview is over. I’m bringing you to a holding cell until your legal advisor arrives.”
“Hey,” said Lee, his tone gentle as I motioned for him to get up from his seat. “I didn’t expect you to be here.”
“I have no idea what that’s supposed to mean. Now move. We haven’t got all day.”
He stood, towering over me by a couple of inches, his eyes tracing my features. “What’s up with you?”
I glared at him, incredulous, as I whisper-hissed, “Are you shitting me? You started this fight because of me, and now you expect me to act normal. This behaviour is inexcusable.”
Lee bit his lip as though to keep from smiling at my attempt to scold him. “It is inexcusable — you’re right. But it wasn’t all for you. You know how I feel about drugs. Something had to be done.” He paused and took a step closer until there was hardly any space between us. “And if it meant I got to teach him a lesson for so much as even thinking about laying his hands on you, then all the better.” His voice was a low, husky murmur, and I felt my throat tighten with opposing emotions. I wanted to kiss him and slap him all at the same time.
“I don’t know why you’re acting so casual right now. If Carl decides to press charges, you could get six months for aggravated assault, more if it turns out that anybody was seriously injured,” I told him.
Lee levelled his eyes on me. “Finley won’t be pressing charges. That’s not how we do things.”
“Oh, it’s a ‘we,’ is it? So you consider yourself the same sort of person as him? How reassuring.”
“Not what I meant.”
I shook my head and opened the door, gripping his upper arm to move him forward. “This conversation is over. Now start walking,” I ordered him.
He stepped out into the corridor, and I heard loud voices up ahead.
“Fucking hell,” Lee swore, looking to his right.
I stepped past him just in time to see Carl Finley head-butt one of the two constables who’d been trying to escort him to an interview room. Lee positioned his body in front of mine, as though to shield me from getting caught in the crossfire. My heart clenched momentarily at the protective move, but then the officers got the upper hand, restraining Carl to the floor. The one he’d head-butted kicked him hard in the lower abdomen, and Carl grunted in pain. Seeing that they had things under control, I began to guide Lee farther down the corridor.
He chuckled quietly as we passed by Carl, who twisted his head to look up at Lee, venom in his eyes. Lee glanced at the constable who’d kicked him, still laughing.
“That’s bang out of order, mate.”
“Shut it or you’ll be next,” the constable spat.
“Just try it,” said Lee, baring his teeth.
The constable took a step forward, but I narrowed my gaze at him and intervened just in time.
“A little bit of professionalism wouldn’t go amiss, Connors,” I said sternly before continuing to guide Lee away.
“You’re too good for this shit,” Lee said once we were alone again, his statement surprising me. He walked ahead of me, so all I could see was his back. I still held his upper arm, whether to keep him from running off or to appease my need to touch him, I wasn’t sure.
When I didn’t respond, he kept talking. “I hate thinking of you being hurt, Karla, hate imagining you in all the dangerous situations you have to walk into every day.”
His words stirred a pang of emotion in my gut, but I tried to bat it down and keep my voice steady as I whispered, “And you think that doesn’t go both ways? I hate thinking of your life just as much as you hate thinking of mine.”
Lee didn’t breathe a word after that, and when I locked him into the cell, he stared at his hands, clearly deep in thought.
***
It was four days after seeing him at the station that I decided to visit Lee’s garage. I drove over in my own car, hoping he’d be around. It was only when I arrived that I remembered they didn’t open on weekends. Engaging the handbrake, I sat there for a moment, wondering what the hell I was doing.
The radio silence on his end worried me, and I desperately wanted to know if he was doing anything to remove himself from McGregor’s inner circle. I knew the only way he was going to be able to do it peacefully was to buy himself out, but how much would that even cost?
I had no idea.
Finally deciding I was being an idiot for trying to see him, I determined to go home and quit wasting my time worrying over a man who wasn’t even my partner. In the grand scale of things, very little had happened between us. We’d had sex a few times; that was it. I needed to give myself a good firm reality check.
It was evening, and the sky was just beginning to darken when I took one last look at the doors to Lee’s garage. I furrowed my brow when I noticed something on the ground, and on closer inspection I realised it was actually someone.
Without thinking I got out of the car, hurrying over to help the crumpled body lying in a heap. He wore a peaked cap, but when I gently pushed it up with my fingers, I saw it was Liam. Half his face was bashed in, and blood stained his clothing. Feeling for a pulse, I let out a relieved breath to find he was alive and still breathing, albeit raggedly. It took me only a few minutes to look him over and determine his injuries. His body was badly bruised and he had several painful-looking cuts, but there were no bullets or fatal wounds as far as I could tell.
