“I can’t. I have exams coming up—and, and my duties at the DA’s office have become more demanding.”

“I’ve arranged a private showing,” he continues. If he bothered listening, he’d hear the tears and desperation in my voice.

“Please don’t make me do this,” I beg.

“Quit acting like a child, stop your whining, and do not disappoint me,” he snaps. “Your future depends on it.”

When he disconnects, it’s all I can do not to throw the stupid phone.

His comment about my future is meant as a warning so I don’t screw up his future.

My father is a wealthy man. His seemingly limitless funds have allowed him to hold prestigious positions and associate with the power elite. Yet it’s never enough. He needs to feel important—omnipotent even—someone people seek, admire, and tremble before. It’s sick how he obsessively craves it like a drug, and how little he cares who it hurts and what it costs someone else, especially when it pertains to me.

In this case, he’s dropping cash in exchange for future favors, and for the opportunity to have his daughter seen with a political juggernaut.

As I sit on the couch, the life Father has carefully devised for me plays out like a well-orchestrated movie script: I’ll graduate law school, only to marry some sleazy politician or renowned figure he selects for me. I’ll play the good wife, ignoring my husband’s indiscretions, raising our children with a plastic smile fixed on my face, only to be replaced by someone better and younger when I’m no longer of use. Precisely like my mother’s life had been.

Hmm. What’s that saying? Oh, yes. Fuck that.

Six more months, I remind myself. Just six more and you’re free.

That’s what I tell myself. But as I think about how little I fought and how easily he defeated me, I can no longer be sure. Jesus, will I ever be free of this man?

Curran

I spent the next few hours in the cold, listening to my scanner and to all the calls I wouldn’t respond to. Considering it was midweek, there was a lot of shit going down. Two domestic violence calls so far, five thefts, and six breaking-and-enterings.

I should be there, I tell myself, watching backs, throwing down, getting the bad guys.

But would any of the boys in blue want me there now? I scoff. Probably not.

There was a time when I’d show up to crazy shit, and even crazier felons. Relief would flood my boys’ faces—even vets years into the force seemed happy to see me.

“You’re a good cop, O’Brien.”

“Thank God you’re here, O’Brien.”

“Hell, ’bout time you got here, O’Brien.”

That’s what I’d hear, and that’s what I’d sense. I tried not to let it go to my head, and for the most part I didn’t, too caught up in what was happening.

Turns out, they gave me too much credit.

Turns out, they were dead wrong.

It’s a long and hard fall from the top. And that shit hurts when you land.

I adjust my position and glance up at Tess’s apartment. The lights flick off except for one, which casts a shadow along her living room. I watch her lean silhouette cross the length of the room and into her bedroom. She moves slowly, as if in deep thought. Maybe she’s thinking through what she studied and learned. That’s my guess, until she pauses by the window and looks out, before quickly rushing away.

I laugh to myself. She did the same thing earlier when I caught her checking me out. And damn it all, she hadn’t liked me calling her on it, had she? Her sweet ass probably paced all over her apartment, pissed I was onto her….

Oh, shit. I pass a hand over my face, muttering to myself, “Okay, asshole, exactly what are you doing here?”

“Fuck you. I’m here to get a report, dumbass.”

I grumble a swear. I don’t have to turn around to know Lu’s here, pissed, and has likely been eyeing me like a hawk. I glance at the clock. She’s early. Way early. Damn. Considering she’s two donuts shy of the big one, she moves like a shadow.

I hit the locks, allowing her into the passenger side. “What are you doing here, Lu? Your shift doesn’t start for another forty.”

She scrunches her small nose and gives me the once-over. “I’m here on account of you and me have a few things to cover.”

I straighten. “This about Joey?”

“Yup.” She waves me off when I start cursing. “Don’t get your thong in a bunch, O’Brien. The captain just wants me to check on you. See how you’re doin’.”

“I’m done talking. Did enough of it yesterday when Internal Affairs showed up.”

“Yeah, well, they’re just following procedure. Especially since the trial’s been moved up.”

“So I hear,” I mutter, knowing the county wants to get rid of this mess fast.

Lu taps the armrest, ignoring my scowl. “So, you gonna tell me how you are?”

“I’m fine.”

She stops drumming her fingers. “No, you’re not. You watched your rookie get shot to shit.”

“Don’t need reminding, Lu.”

She purses her lips and nods. “Actually, O’Brien, you sorta do. See, you and me, we kind of have this situation.”

I frown. “What situation?”

“We both need time.” She points to Tess’s apartment. “Take a look at where we’re sittin’. We’re in some goddamn senior citizen compound one EMS call from the morgue, watching some princess the mob’s not going to do shit to. You know why?”

“Enlighten me, oh wise one.”

“Don’t be a smartass, and pay attention on account of what I have to tell ya’s important.”

“Of course it is—” She smacks me upside the head hard enough to send my hat soaring into the dashboard. “Shit! What the hell, Lu?”

“You’re fucked up, O’Brien. You need the time this assignment’s offerin’ to screw your head on straight. Otherwise, five years from now, you’re gonna be that cop who goes down to his cellar and fires a round into his skull.”

I don’t like what she has to say, but that doesn’t mean I’m not listening. Suicide kills more cops than drug addicts and drive-bys.

She shrugs, the business of being a cop laying deep lines into her face. “Me, I need this gig to slide into retirement,” she says. “Six months, O’Brien. That’s all I have left before me and the old man hop in a Winnebago and leave the scum on the street behind us.” She rams her finger in my face. “I’ve had the shit knocked out of me by fat naked men with hairy asses, and dragged too many dead whores from the sewer. I’m done, O’Brien. But you, you’re just getting started. So take this time to get your shit together and maybe we’ll both make it to retirement in one piece.”

“Anything else?” I ask.

That earns me another smack upside the head. “Yeah. Don’t be an asshole, don’t get me shot, and don’t fuck the princess we’re supposed to be watchin’.”

Chapter 6

Curran

It’s late Friday night and snow’s dropping like the evil bitch she is. Meanwhile, Declan’s scribbling notes at warp speed and Tess is alternating between flipping through law books and scrolling through her iPad.

Montenegro’s third was set free. He wouldn’t talk, and there was nothing to hold him once his snitches disappeared.

“Deck, it’s late. Call it a night. We’ve been at this for hours.”