“ Our money, and that’s too bad.” Larry’s eyes narrowed into strips of evil i
ntent. “I already have buyers on the line.”
That was it.
Mateo swiped Larry’s phone out of his hand and threw it to the ground. It exploded, sending pieces of plastic flying into the air.
Larry responded with a haymaker that barely grazed Mateo’s chin.
Mateo grabbed the other man by his collar and jerked him close. “That video never sees the light of day. If it does, you’ll just wish you were dead because it would be a helluva lot better than the pain I would rain down on you. Do you copy?”
“Ease up, man; it’s not a big deal.” Larry squirmed ineffectively. “Everyone will congratulate you for banging her and think she’s a slut for getting naked in the elevator.”
Olivia gasped and clasped her hand to her mouth.
A fierce rage erupted from a dark place in Mateo’s soul, pouring through him like the hottest lava, scorching his control until all that was left was its charred remains. He hauled Larry up until his tiptoes barely touched the sidewalk. “No one talks about her like that. No. One.”
He slammed the dirtbag against The Kitchen Sink’s brick wall hard enough that the impact vibrated up his forearms. Then he did it again. And again. He curled his hands into fists and landed a right hook against the other man’s check. He deflected a weak punch and then followed with a pair of jabs that landed square in the man’s soft belly. By the time he stepped back, Larry was breathing hard, a shiner darkened one eye and blood dripped from the corner of his mouth.
The urge to keep going rushed through Mateo, pounding against his brain and refusing to be ignored. But he had to. He was the police chief. What he’d done—though deserved—was bad enough. There would be consequences, for him and for Olivia.
“Get out of here,” Mateo said, his fists heavy as iron by his side. “And don’t come back.”
“I’m going to sell this video for cheap now.” He spit a bloody glob of phlegm on the sidewalk, nearly hitting Olivia’s shoe. “See you at the movies, skank.”
Red ate away the edges of his vision. “You really are a stupid motherfucker.”
Mateo’s fist crashed against Larry’s nose. Bone crunched under the impact. The other man stumbled back, but Mateo wasn’t letting him get far. He’d had his chance to escape and had blown it. His fist landed an uppercut to the guy’s cheekbone. His head snapped back.
“Stop, Mateo!” Olivia grabbed his arm. “You have to stop.”
He swung his arm in a wide arc to shake off her hold. He couldn’t stop, it was too late now. Once again, he’d fucked-up someone else’s life because of his poor choices. He’d gotten the penthouse suite. He’d talked her into undressing in the elevator. He’d said no when she’d asked for more. The anger and frustration filled him to the bursting point. It needed an outlet and Larry made the perfect target.
Again and again, his fists found their home as the other man struggled to stay up. Then, as Larry wavered on his feet, Mateo landed a solid punch to the other man’s jaw, knocking him flat on his ass. Mateo stood over him, adrenaline rushing through his veins and roaring in his ears. But he wasn’t staring down at Olivia’s scumbag ex-boyfriend.
“Chief!” The voice sounded so far away.
All he could see was the bloody mess of Ferrante and Hamilton and Washington and Perth after the IED explosion. Stopping to help the kid, who couldn’t have been more than four, had seemed like the right thing to do. He was so young, sitting in the middle of the road and crying. Matteo had gotten out of the vehicle and approached with caution. He’d held out his hand and helped the kid up. That’s what had trigged the bomb—the kid standing.
“Chief!” The voice was louder this time.
He looked over. Simons. What was his grandmotherly dispatcher doing in Afghanistan?
“Chief, I need you to stand down.”
Blinking, he brought the world around him—the real world—back into focus. Bloody and bruised, Larry cupped his jaw as he got back to his feet. A crowd had spilled out of The Kitchen Sink, surrounding them. An ambulance siren grew steadily louder as it approached.
Belly turning into poisoned lead, he pivoted to face Olivia—and nearly threw up. A red mark slashed its way across her cheek. That split second when she’d tried to stop him and he’d shaken her off flashed in his mind. He must have done that to her.
“Olivia. I never meant—” He took a step forward, but Simons curled her fingers around his arm, holding him back.
“I need you to come with me, Chief,” Simons said, her voice a little too calm and too kind. “Just get in the cruiser here and we’ll get all this straightened out back at the station.”
He couldn’t look away from Olivia and the fear in her blue eyes. He’d put it there. Defending her honor had seemed like the right thing to do, but all he’d done was make things worse. He hadn’t realized until right now just how right he’d been that night in the hotel, when he’d told her he wasn’t someone who could be depended on. And a woman like Olivia deserved that; she deserved more than him, even if he was the sad sap in love with her.
That’s what it was, what it always had been, from that first hotel getaway—love. Now it was too late. He had to sever ties, permanently. It was the best thing he could do for her.
Cutting his gaze away from her, he turned and walked to the cruiser. He reached for the door handle and noticed that his knuckles were swollen and bloody. They should hurt like a bitch but he didn’t feel a damn thing. He hoped he never would again.