Julianna

Islammed the door behind Roman and slumped against it. What the hell had just happened?

Roman Tyrell, mobster prince, possible murderer, definite criminal, propositioned me for sex. That's what happened.

And I said no.

Damn right, I said no. Roman and I could never have just sex. We were too intense, too much fire and lightning, too much under each other's skin. He was daring me to come out of the shelter and dance to the beat of our thunder. I wasn't sure I'd live through it.

Even if we did admit that we wanted to be together, our circumstances, our families, this city would never let us. Our attraction was hopeless. Pointless. That's why I said no. To give in was futile. We could never be anything real. No matter how much I wanted it.

My heart ached in my chest. Despite the logical arguments against us, hope still fluttered in my soul. I wanted to go after him, to tell him I made a mistake in kicking him out. But my feet were concrete, weighed down by the bog of how we could ever conceive to be together.

Yes. No.

Right. Wrong.

God, I was a mess.

A knock on my door jolted me out of my thoughts. Oh God. He was back. The arrogant man.

I swung open the door, gun pointed. "What do you?—?"

It wasn't Roman. It was Nora standing there. She looked at me, my gun, then raised an eyebrow. "You going to let me in, honey? Or are we going to talk about that sexy young man who was just in your apartment out here for all the neighbors to listen in on?"

I let her in, locking the door behind us. When I turned around Nora was watching me with those light brown eyes of hers. Age may have wrinkled her face and shrunk her body, but her eyes were still young and full of life. They didn't miss a damn thing.

"You shouldn't have let him into your apartment," I said, my voice a little hard. Nora followed me into the kitchen. I slid the gun onto my counter and started the kettle. It was a well-worn habit with the two of us. She always said she liked her coffee like she liked her men: strong, rich and black.

Nora settled on one of my bar stools on the other side of my kitchen bench. "Roman said he was a friend of yours."

I wasn't about to let Nora know the details of who Roman was. I didn't want to scare her.

Maybe she needed to be scared a little bit. What if it had been someone worse than Roman who she'd let into her apartment? "Just because someone says they're my friend doesn't mean it's true. You know, ‘stranger danger' and all that?"

Nora snorted. "I've been around long enough to know who's dangerous and who isn't."

My eyes almost bugged out of my head. Was she for real? She didn't think Roman Tyrell was dangerous?

Nora tilted her head at me. "By the way you were waving that gun around I take it you two didn't kiss and make up."

"No." He was an asshole. There was no apology for that.

"Are you telling me that you and he aren't…" Nora wiggled her perfectly-groomed silver eyebrows.

My mind went back to the few minutes that Roman had me against the door. My cheeks flamed. "No."

The smile widened on her face. Her eyes took on that sparkle of glee whenever she ferreted out a new piece of gossip. "But you want to. You," she wiggled a manicured finger at me, "like him."

"I do not."

"Oh, please. I can see the way you two look at each other. As if you're already tearing each other's clothes off in your heads. It's downright indecent." She fanned herself. "And hot as hell."

"He's dangerous, Nora. Don't ever let him in again."

She grinned. "The hot ones usually are."

I let out a growl of exasperation. There was no convincing her otherwise when she had her head set on something.

Her eyes widened, a look of realization coming over her features. "Smack me down. He was the one who asked you to go to Paris with him!"

Dammit. What should I tell her? I couldn't admit Roman was the Paris guy or she'd never let it go. I couldn't tell her he was a friggin' gangster or she'd be scared out of her mind. Actually, she'd probably be turned on as hell and push me even further towards him. I realized my mouth was flapping open like a fish. I slammed it shut.

Nora nodded. "Hot, charming, dangerous and loaded enough to take you first class to Paris. Why the hell haven't you jumped all over that? I'll take him if you don't want him."

I cursed inwardly as I slammed down two cups and spooned in coffee. "It doesn't matter whether he was or wasn't the Paris guy, nothing can ever happen between us again."

Nora crossed her arms over her chest, a frown beginning to form on her face. "Are you really that set on keeping yourself unhappy?"

I sighed and poured the hot water into the cups. "It's not that I don't want to. It's that I can't."

"Is he married?"

"No."

"Gay?"

I laughed snorted. "Definitely not."

"Then what's the problem?"

I stirred our coffees as I debated how to answer this question. I settled with, "It's complicated."

"It always is." Nora took the cup I handed her and placed her other hand on my arm. "Take it from a woman who's lived twice as long as you have, ‘the course of true love never did run smooth'."

* * *

The next few days dragged.Every time my phone rang I half expected it to be Roman, making some inappropriate flirty comment as if nothing had happened. When I came home at night, I half expected Roman to be waiting for me in my apartment. Each time he wasn't there, my heart sank lower and lower. Until I almost regretted kicking him out of my apartment. Almost.

Things at work seemed to have quieted down for now. Quiet enough that I was stuck doing paperwork. Which made me nervous. The ruling families, including the Tyrells, seemed to have been very quiet lately, too quiet. Like the calm before the storm. We had yet to see the full retaliation for Jacob Tyrell's murder. One of the sources on the street claimed a truce between the Tyrells and the Veronesis had been negotiated. I suspected the war was coming. Giovanni Tyrell was not one to back away. And he was not one for truces.

Early one morning, as I walked the short distance from my car to the station, I felt a strange tingling on the back of my neck. Roman? I spun, glancing around the street, looking to find the pair of eyes that was trained on me. I startled a passerby, who weaved around me before continuing on his way. I peered into every doorway, every street corner, every shadow. As far as I could see there was no one.

When I left work that evening—the sun had set, the only light drifting down from streetlights, the law-abiding workers retired to their homes, the ones that remained had shifty-eyes, scanning for trouble—I felt that feeling again. The hairs on the back of my neck rose as I walked through the shadows to my car. Even though I couldn't see him, I knew he was watching.

Roman?

He hadn't given up on me. He hadn't let go. A small relief bubbled up inside me. I had the urge to call out to him, to let him know I was watching. I didn't. I licked my lips, which had gone dry at the knowledge of his eyes on me. And sent a hopeful look into the dark. Please talk to me, I threw out into the night. Don't let this be over.

I walked slowly to my car, willing him to show himself. I kept glancing into my rearview mirror as I drove home, looking for him tailing me. I felt him. But I didn't see him.

After dropping off my work things and showering, I had dinner at my father's place. My father didn't cook. We ate Thai carry-out from white cardboard cartons with cheap wooden chopsticks on his couch because his dining table was covered in work files. I chewed on too-soft pad Thai and listened to him ranting after I told him we still had no evidence linking anyone to Vinnie Torrito's murder.

"Those damn Tyrells. They think they run this town." My father's face reddened as he spoke, his chopsticks holding a piece of pork waving about, scattering rice everywhere. "They're so damn arrogant, flaunting the law thinking they're too smart to get caught. One of these days their arrogance will cause them to make a mistake, then…I'll get them. We just need one to turn and we'll get them all."

I wanted to argue for Roman, that he didn't really want to be involved with his family's business. "Surely not all the Tyrells are like that," I said carefully.

My father gave me an incredulous look. "Are you that na?ve, Julu? Of course they all are. They're bred from birth to be monsters. I won't rest until every single one of them is behind bars."

I bit back the urge to argue with him—what happened to innocent until proven guilty? I had an odd feeling like…like I was betraying Roman by staying silent about the accusations against him.

Whose side are you on, Julianna? Your father's or Roman Tyrell's?

My father studied my face. "You think I'm wrong, don't you?"

I said nothing but my lips pinched in answer.

He mopped his forehead with a napkin. "When your mother died," his voice choked on the word, "I made a vow that I wouldn't stop until every single piece of scum was locked up. I vowed that no other family would have to go through what we did." His face had turned a shade of red, his breathing gone heavy. "So far I've failed. Now that I'm chief, I have a real chance to make a difference."

I understood now. All his late nights and weekends at work, his obsession with locking up the Tyrell family. He was on a crusade in my mother's honor. He had turned himself into a weapon to fight crime. My thoughts flashed to Roman Tyrell again. What if that weapon aimed at someone innocent?

It was late by the time I returned home. There was only a small parking lot for my apartment building. It was first come, first served—the price you paid for inner city living. Tonight, it was full—not surprising for a Friday night—so I had to park a few blocks away. A single streetlight dribbled a pool of sickly light onto the gritty pavement as I locked my car, tucked my keys and phone into my pocket. I was tired and confused, my insides warring with each other about my father and Roman.

"Spare change, miss?"

A figure hunched over limped towards me, a hood covering his face.

"Sorry," I said and began to turn away.

He let out a small moan and bent over, almost collapsing. Was he sick or just drunk? Either way, I couldn't just leave him.

"Hey, are you okay?" I lunged towards him, my arms out in case he fell.

An arm grabbed me from behind and a hand clamped down on my mouth, hot, stale breath curdling the air over my left shoulder. I reacted without thinking, all my training kicking in. Keeping my elbow close to my body, I jabbed my thumb back over my left shoulder. I felt the soft give of his eye. He let out a scream and leaned back out of instinct. At the same time, I tucked my body around, away from the elbow of the arm that clasped my mouth, causing his hand to slide off me, leaving him wide open. I slammed the heel of my left hand into his balls. He made a wheezing noise, letting go of me as he bent over himself. I slammed my heel down on his instep and snapped an elbow to his bulbous nose, hearing a satisfying crack. He let out a scream. That'll teach him to pick on someone his own size.

The click of a gun being cocked back made the blood freeze in my veins. The "homeless" man straightened, holding a pistol out in front of him. I realized then he had been a ruse. These two had been working together.

"Freeze or I'll shoot." I didn't recognize his voice. Or at least, I didn't think so. I assessed the man standing in front of me—his face hidden in the shadows of his hood—then the barrel of his gun. Even if he wasn't a crack shot I was too close for him to miss. I gritted my teeth and lifted my hands up in surrender. I had to pick my battles. Bide my time.

The countless homicide scenes, lifeless women with their clothes torn and underwear missing flashed through my mind. I shoved those images aside. They probably just wanted my wallet. Losing a few hundred dollars in cash was better than ending up dead. "You want my wallet? Just take it."

The man with the gun laughed. "It's not your wallet we want."

A shiver of fear went through me.

The guy behind me moaned. "Bitch broke my nose." He grabbed me and spun me. His fist clocked me in the chin. Pain burst through my head as I stumbled back. I landed hard on my wrists, my knees bruising. My head spun from the punch. I scrambled away. I didn't get very far. Bloody Nose grabbed me and shoved me onto my back. He slammed his body down on me, pinning me down. His hips digging painfully into my lower belly. Bile rose in my throat from his heavy, unwanted weight on me. I could smell the sourness of his breath.

He grinned, showing off the blood staining his crooked teeth and over his cracked lips. "We should have a bit of fun with her before we take her to the boss."

The boss? This was not a random attack. Someone had sent these two after me, specifically. They had been the ones watching me earlier, not Roman.

His forearm jammed into my throat cutting off my oxygen. He jammed his knee between my legs and his beefy rough hand thrust between my legs, tearing at my skirt. I tried to scream but all I managed to get out was a choked cry. Any trace of humanity had fled from his uneven bug-eyes. I shoved, scratched, beat, yanked at his forearm to no avail. Air. I needed air.

"Hold her down," Bloody Nose said.

The man with a gun slipped it into the back of his pants as he strode towards me. I heard chuckling as he crouched over me. He grabbed my arms and yanked them above my head, stretching me out like I was on a torture rack. I was exposed. Bloody Nose tore at my panties, his dirty fingernails scraping my skin. Panic slammed against my ribcage. I kicked out. I tried to scream. My struggling only seemed to please him, only served to grind more dirt into me from the gritty ground.

My jaw throbbed. My lungs felt raw from clawing for air. Stars sparkled in front of my vision. I was losing consciousness. At least I would not be awake while they took turns violating me.

Suddenly his forearm was gone. I sucked in air into my burning lungs. He was gone. He'd been pulled off me by a third man, his wide frame encased in a black Everclear hoodie, the sleeves pushed up to his elbows, and dark jeans. Everclear smashed his fist in Bloody Nose's face as he roared. "Nobody touches her, you son of a bitch."

The familiar voice sank into my bones and hit me in my gut.

Roman?

Relief flooded my body. I had never been so damn happy to see anybody before.

I heard the crack of bones and Bloody Nose went limp. He fell to the ground, lifeless.

The man holding my arms down let go of me, fumbling for the gun in the back of his pants as Roman charged towards him, knocking him off his feet. They tumbled to the ground. Roman pinned my attacker down. He smashed his fist into Gun Man's face and ribs, the sound of hard flesh against wet bloody flesh and the crack of bones filled the air. All of Roman's calm, cold facade had gone. The leash he kept on this part of himself had been unchained. Dear God, he wasn't going to stop.

I rolled to my feet, wincing at my bruises, and ran over to him. "Stop it, Roman, you're going to kill him." I grabbed his arm, trying to pull him back. It was like trying to yank back an oak branch.

He whipped around to me and leapt to his feet, leaving the man a bloodied mess on the ground. Roman's hoodie fell around his neck so I could see his face now, thick lips pulled back, teeth bared, eyes wild, flecks of blood splattered across his sharp cheekbones. "They were going to rape you."

I swallowed hard. "I'm fine. Just a bruise or two."

His wild aggressiveness should scare me. His ability for violence should have me scurrying back. For some stupid reason I wanted to lean closer, mesmerized by the heaving of his thick chest and the way his clenched fists were making his forearm muscles stand out in brutal definition.

Roman stepped right up to me and cupped my cheek. His touch was gentle yet firm, the warmth sending a shiver up my spine. I could smell his familiar cedar cologne mixed in with masculine sweat. He tilted up my head to inspect the damage to my jaw. "The fucker," he muttered under his breath. "I could kill him."

I bit my lip, hoping he was joking. For Roman to kill a man because he hurt me was wrong. Some part of me, some sick deep-down part of me, was giddy at the idea.

"I'm fine, Roman. Really." I reached up to grab his thick damp fingers so I could pull his hand off my chin. To my surprise he didn't let go of my hand. His fingers laced into mine. We stood facing each other, fingers entwined as if we were standing at my doorstep after a date. Holy shit. I was standing in the middle of an alleyway holding Roman Tyrell's hand. What alternative universe had I just stepped into?

"They were going to rape you, kidnap you, do God knows what else to you," he said, as if that justified everything.

I squeezed his fingers, so warm and strong. "But they didn't. Because you were here."

Roman's shoulders relaxed and his scowl turned into a smirk. "You can reward me for saving you later." He kneeled beside the bloody, unconscious man on the ground and began to search his pockets.

The adrenaline of earlier began to wear off and the logical side of my brain began returning to me. Something very obvious finally struck me. "Wait a minute." I frowned. "How did you happen to be here?"

He paused, just for a second. "I was just walking past."

"You just happened to be walking past an area two blocks from my apartment?"

He flashed me a grin. There was not a shred of embarrassment on his face. "What can I say, I like the area."

"Bullshit." I folded my arms across my chest. "Were you following me?"

He snorted. "I just saved you from being raped, kidnapped, and probably murdered. A ‘thank you' would be nice."

I flinched. He was right. The horrifying possibilities flashed before my eyes. I shuddered. "Thank you."

Roman straightened and stepped right up to me, toe to toe. I could smell his intoxicating cologne again wafting around him like incense. It took all my willpower not to lean in closer. He tapped my nose with his finger. "See? That wasn't so hard, was it?" Before I could answer he waved something in my face. "Found it."

I stared at the battered black wallet in his hand. "A wallet?"

And P.S. how the hell did he manage to change the subject so quickly?

"Not just a wallet." He opened it, pulled out a set of cards, then handed me a driver's license. It had a picture of the man who was currently at our feet. "Eduardo Sanchez," Roman said, tapping a finger at his photograph. "I don't recognize him. Do you?"

My attacker stared out of the photo at me with a scowl on his face. He had thick dark stubble across a beefy chin and a set of dark eyes glaring out from under caterpillar brows. He radiated the kind of bitter anger of a man who'd not been dealt a fair hand by life. I had barely seen his features while he'd been attacking me; it all happened too fast and it was too dark, now his features were covered in blood. If Roman hadn't thought to search for a wallet, I'd have no idea what he looked like. Some witness I would have made.

I wracked my brain for any flickers of recognition; perhaps a perp I'd arrested before or someone I'd seen walking the streets lately? He must have been following me for a while looking for an opportunity to jump me. I came up empty. I shook my head as I handed Roman back the card. "What do we do now?"

Roman shoved the wallet in his back pocket and turned to the unmoving body on the ground. "We go find out who this fucker is working for."

With incredible strength, Roman lifted the deadweight of Eduardo Sanchez and tossed him over his shoulder, his arm muscles flexing with effort. Damn, he was strong. Incredibly strong.

"Come with me," Roman commanded me from over his shoulder, his voice hard, allowing for no argument.

"What about the other guy?" I glanced over to the first attacker. I could see his neck was bent at an unnatural angle, his eyes open and staring at nothing. He's dead. I paused, waiting for the shock to hit me.

I felt nothing. I should be feeling upset or something. Roman had murdered him. In front of me.

No, not murdered. Defended you. He defended you from being raped.

Roman sidled up beside me. He was quiet for a second. "You okay?"

Yes. No. I don't know.

"Fine," I said, my voice wooden.

"I'll take care of him later," Roman said.

"But—"

"Jules, we gotta get out of here. There may be more of them."

Right. I didn't think about that. I glanced around, trying to peer into the shadows, the hairs on my arm standing on end.

"Stay close." Roman strode towards the end of the alley, Eduardo slung over his shoulder.

Still half stunned, I kept up wordlessly alongside him, my eyes darting around for any signs that we were going to be attacked again. The alleyway seemed to hiss, growl and leak around us like a creature that was waiting for a chance to devour us.

Roman stopped at the back of a black Mercedes parked on the side of the dark street. One measly streetlight was left working, a sickly light drifting around the lamp like smoke. This was Verona. Certain areas—the good areas—wanted for nothing; they had wide sidewalks, manicured parks and maintained streets. But the inner city—the parts filled with everyday people, the ones whose voices couldn't yell loud enough to reach the ears of those in ivory towers, the ones who kept the city running like overworked cogs in an insatiable machine—lay forgotten and crumbling away. I wanted to grind my teeth at the injustice of it. It was one of the reasons I loved being a cop, to give those who "didn't matter" a voice.

"You're going to have to get my keys out of my pocket for me," Roman said.

My gaze dropped to the pockets of his fitted jeans, then back up to his face. I frowned. Was this a trick?

"If you haven't noticed, my hands are full." Roman flashed me a grin.

I sighed. "Which one?"

"Left."

I sidled up beside him and slid my hand into his pocket.

"A little further in. Yeah, deeper. That's it."

My fingers brushed against something firm that was definitely not keys. Oh shit! I snatched my hand back. How the hell could he be semi-hard at a time like this?

Roman didn't look embarrassed at all. He merely smirked at me. "Oops. I mean the other left pocket."

I scowled at him. "You did that on purpose."

"I won't deny it if you don't deny you enjoyed it."

"I did not," I spluttered, my cheeks flaming.

"Can you get the keys? You're wasting time." He shifted his right hip toward me and wiggled it. Goddamn him. With all the caution of someone feeding a snake down a hole, I slid my hand into his right pocket, my lips pinched as I glared at him. My fingers brushed against keys but I only managed to push them in further. I gritted my teeth and pushed my fingers in deeper, grasping for the keys while trying not to touch his obvious arousal again.

Roman let out a small groan. "If you keep that up, I'm going to drop him and grab you instead."

My cheeks colored. I snatched the keys out—finally—and let out a breath.

"Pop the trunk."

I blinked at Roman. "What?"

"The trunk. Pop it."

"Why?"

Roman let out a grunt. "Are you going to argue with me every damn step of the way? Just do it before I drop him. The fucker's getting heavy."

I opened the trunk. Roman dropped the man's unconscious body into the trunk like a bag of potatoes. He slammed the lid down.

"What the hell?" I glanced around on the street to see if anyone had seen him dump the body in the car. No one was around. Or if they were, they wouldn't "remember" anything. I knew from experience that most people preferred not to get involved. Too many witnesses had a history of disappearing. That was probably why nobody came to help when I started yelling.

Roman snatched the keys from me. "I don't want him waking up while I'm driving and causing trouble."

Roman was right. Shoving him in the back seat would cause unnecessary risk to us. I didn't have any cuffs on me. It was the best way to secure him while we took him to the police station to interrogate him.

The car beeped unlocked, making me flinch. I was so jumpy. I steadied my breath and wiped my clammy hands on my skirt. I knew all the physical things that victims went through after an attack: heightened reactions to noises, paranoia, weakened heart rate, cold hands, sweating, rapid breathing. This was the first time I'd ever experienced it myself. I now had a new level of empathy for all the victims I'd ever interviewed.

Roman must have noticed because one of his hands slid onto my arm. "You okay?"

Why did he have to notice everything? I nodded, my throat deciding to knot. "Fine."

He stared at me for a second. "If you're going to freak out, I'd like some advanced warning."

"I said I'm fine," I hissed through clenched teeth.

He stared at me for a beat. Then nodded. "Okay."

He walked around to get into the driver's seat, leaving me rooted where I stood, half confused, half in shock. The car rumbled to life and the window of the passenger seat rolled down. Roman leaned across the seat so I could see his face through the window. "Get in," he commanded.

Me, alone in a car with Roman Tyrell. The last time he and I were alone together… The car looked too small for the two of us.

"I can follow you in my car."

"You're two seconds away from going into shock. I'm not letting you drive anywhere."

"I'm fine."

He stared at me through thick dark lashes. "Are you scared of being alone with me?"

"No," I said, just a little too quickly.

"Then get in." His eyebrow lifted. "Don't make me do this the hard way."

This was a bad idea. I pursed my lips and glanced around again to see if anyone was looking before sliding into the car. As soon as I shut the door, the locks activated and the window rolled up, trapping us in together. Great, locked in a car with a body in the trunk and a possible psychopath in the driver's seat. What could possibly go wrong?

Roman tugged the attacker's gun from the back of his pants and leaned over, practically in my lap, his mouth inches from mine. I pressed back into the seat, trying to get some distance. "What are you doing?"

"Relax, Jules," Roman said, his voice taking on an added caramel texture. If I didn't know any better I'd say he was trying to be seductive. He popped open the glove box and deposited the gun into it. "I took the bullets out already." He gave me a wicked look, his gaze dropping to my mouth before dragging back up to pin me with his dark stare. "Just in case you felt trigger happy."

I rolled my eyes. And tried desperately to remember how to breathe properly.

After what seemed like an eternity, he straightened back up. I relaxed into the passenger seat and shut my eyes, letting my heart return to a normal pace. I felt us pull away from the curb and let the soft turns of the car rock me into a calmer state.

I would never admit it, least of all to him, but I was glad to have Roman here telling me what to do in his infuriatingly overly confident, bossy tone. It's what I needed right now. My mind was too rattled to think properly. With him here I knew I would be taken care of. I was…safe.

Oh my God. I felt safe with Roman. Completely safe. That was ridiculous. He was a violent criminal gangster, for Christ's sake.

Despite all attempts of my mind to convince me otherwise, I just knew Roman wouldn't let anyone hurt me. He saved my life.

Because he was stalking you, Julianna.

Not stalking. Watching. Looking out for me.

Twist it any way you want, it's still stalking. This should terrify me. Instead, this thought sent an illicit thrill through my body. Roman Tyrell watched out for me even though he shouldn't. Like my own dark guardian angel. He cared about me even though he shouldn't. Just like I cared for him.

I opened my eyes a crack and looked over at him. My stomach fluttered like a fan every time I caught flashes of his chiseled profile when we passed underneath a streetlight. He really was breathtakingly beautiful. And totally occupied with driving. I took this opportunity to roll my gaze over the rest of him. Rounded shoulders, firm chest, thick torso, hard bulge…hard bulge? No, wait. That was the bulge of a gun in his hip holster.

"Like what you see down there?" Roman asked, a hint of amusement in his voice. Dammit. Of course he'd noticed me staring.

I tore my eyes away, my cheeks heating. "I was looking at your gun."

"Sure you were."

"You didn't use it earlier." Way to state the obvious, Julianna.

The skin around his mouth tightened. "I only use it when I need to. I didn't need to with them." In other words, he was such a badass he didn't need a gun against two armed attackers.

"Do you have a permit for it?" I blurted out.

Roman let out a long laugh. "Jules, we have a man locked in the back of my trunk. Are you really concerned if I have a permit for my gun?"

Point taken. I sank back into my seat. I frowned as I glanced back to his piece. I couldn't see it well because of the dim light, but I guessed it was a Glock .40 or something similar. Nice choice of weapon. A random question appeared in my mind.

"You look like you want to ask something," he said. Observant bastard.

"Do you Mafia guys name your weapons?"

He glanced at me out of the corner of his eyes, eyebrow raised, a smirk playing at his lips. "Only if the weapon is really, really special."

"Did you name this one?"

He looked like he was trying hard not to laugh. "Jules, I only have one weapon that deserves naming. And from what ladies have said when they've seen it, I'd have to call it ‘Holy Shit, That's So Big'."

I rolled my eyes.

"You roll your eyes a lot at me."

"You warrant it every time."

"One day the wind's gonna change mid eye-roll, then what'll you do?"

I rolled my eyes again just to prove a point.

He hummed. "It might be an improvement."

I sent a punch into the side of his arm.

"Ow. You know, you're a very violent person. Are you sure you're not the one with Tyrell blood in their veins?" He asked this lightly but I could tell underneath was a hint of bitterness.

"Very funny. My violent tendencies only seem to come out around you."

"Those aren't the only tendencies I bring out in you." His insinuation wasn't lost on me. The way his eyes flashed dark and hungry wasn't lost on me either.

I turned my head to stare out through the window. Roman turned off into an industrial estate. I pinpointed where we were on the map of Verona I had in my head and frowned. "This isn't the way to the station."

"We're not going to the Police." He said the word Police like it was a bad smell.

I sat up in my seat, a rash of fear prickling my skin. "Stop the car."

"No."

I grabbed at the door handle but it wouldn't open. He must have put the child lock on. Dammit. "Stop the damn car."

Roman cursed under his breath. "Stop trying to get out."

"Where are you're taking me?"

He glared at me out of the corner of his eye. "Do you want to know who's trying to kidnap you? Do you want to know why?"

"Of course I do."

"If you take him in, you have no chance of finding out."

"That's not true."

"Don't bullshit yourself, Jules. You've dealt with cases like this before. When does the bad guy ever talk to the cops?"

Almost never. These guys were trained not to squeal. They were always more afraid of their "boss" than what law enforcers could do to them. Jail time looked like a breeze compared to their fate if they talked.

I swallowed hard, almost afraid to ask. "So where are we going?"

"Somewhere quiet where we can talk to him."

I bit my lip, warring with myself. I should take Eduardo in. It was the right thing to do. But…

Roman was right. If I wanted answers, I had to talk to him first. No police station, no cops, no law. A strange rush traveled under my skin. Some part of my brain told me this was wrong, but somehow it felt like the right thing to do. I had always hated how the good guys had to stick to the letter of the law while the bad guys got to scribble lines all over it. Tonight I was leveling the playing field a little bit. Tonight it was personal.

"Just talk?" I asked.

"In a matter of speaking." Roman shot me a look. "Don't worry, I won't tell anyone. You get to keep your pristine reputation."

What was that supposed to mean?

Roman pulled into an unlit lot and turned off the engine. The sudden silence in the car was so loud it was pressing into my ears. He switched off the headlights. My world went dark for a moment before my eyes began to filter in the pale moonlight. I flinched when I found Roman leaning into me, staring at me in the dimness, his minty breath swirling around my cheeks. "Jules…"

We could have been two love-struck teenagers parked in a secluded spot on their first date. "Yes," I breathed.

"Lock yourself in the car." He climbed out of the driver's seat and walked around the back, disappearing behind the trunk lid when he opened it.

What? I climbed out after him. "Where are you going?" I skidded to a halt beside him. Eduardo was slung over his shoulder again.

"Get back in the car." He slammed the trunk closed with his free hand.

"No. You're not leaving me behind."

His eyes narrowed at me. "You don't want to watch this."

"What are…?" The realization of what he was going to do suddenly became clear through my shock-addled brain. "Oh my God."

"Did you think I was going to bring him to my apartment for a nice little chat? Make him some tea, perhaps?" Roman gave me a hard look before he strode towards the dark warehouse.

I jogged after him. "Are you going to hurt him?"

Roman turned towards me, gravel crunching under his heel, managing even with a limp body over his shoulder to make it look graceful. "Jules, he tried to take you." The aggression rolling from him in hot waves made me shiver. "If I have to beat him to within an inch of his miserable life, I will find out who hired him and why. That's why you're staying outside in the car."

"No."

"If you stay outside you can plausibly deny you know anything about it."

"I'm already lying to them about you. What's one more lie?" I blurted out.

What's one more lie?This was a slippery slope. I was already losing my grip.

Roman let out a growl of frustration. "Inside this warehouse…I might have to say some things…do some things… You shouldn't witness it."

I bristled. "I'm not an innocent little girl, you know? I've seen my fair share of?—"

"That's not what this is about."

"Then what is it about?"

His features twisted, etched with anguish. Something was tearing him up inside.

"Tell me, Roman." I stepped closer to him, pleading with my eyes for him to trust me.

He opened his mouth. Eduardo let out a soft moan.

"Damn you, he's waking up." Roman strode forward and kicked at the warehouse door. It crashed opened with a bang that made me jump. He disappeared into the darkness of the warehouse with his burden across his shoulder.

I hesitated at the entrance. Maybe I didn't want to see what Roman was about to do. Maybe I didn't want to get involved.

Despite these thoughts, I felt a tug drawing me to follow him. Whatever Roman was about to do, he was doing for me.

But why? Why was he doing this? He didn't have to get his hands dirty. Least of all for me.

I glanced around at the darkness that seemed to swallow everything around me and shivered. I couldn't stand being out here alone, I'd rather take my chances inside. I ran in after him.