gasped and wailed as fresh pain rushed up her arm.
Peter seized her other wrist and settled his weight over her, pinning her facedown to the floor. “You think I like hurting you? Huh? I don’t, but you leave me no choice. We’ll never be happy unless you stop fighting me!”
“Go to Hell, you lying sack of shit! There is no fucking us!”
He switched his hold on her wrists to one hand, used the other to flip her onto her back, and covered her with his body again before she could strike another kick. His breath beat against her face as he spoke. “That’s your father and Varik talking. You’ll see that you and I are meant to be together, that everything I’ve told you is true.” He stroked her hair. “I’ll make you see.”
Alex grunted as he pulled her to her feet. He kept a firm grip on her injured wrist and tugged her along behind him, heading for a destination only he could see.
Tasha stood in the doorway of the employee break room, watching Varik as he sat on a low sofa in the separate lounge area, elbows on his knees and head in hands. She’d never seen anyone look so thoroughly dejected. The primal scream he’d sounded earlier turned her blood to ice, and the memory of it even now made her shiver.
“Good job today,” Damian said from behind her within the break room.
“With what?”
He picked up the cup of coffee he’d poured. “Convincing the Garver girl to come to the scene and talk to Kirk. If she hadn’t distracted him, we would’ve been forced to breach the house. The outcome probably wouldn’t have been as tidy. As it stands now, docs at the hospital say Janet Klein will make a full recovery.”
“What about him?” Tasha jerked her head toward Varik. “Will he make a full recovery?”
“He’ll live,” Damian said softly, joining her. “Once we find Alex.”
“And if you don’t?”
“I’ll be looking for a new Director of Special Operations.” He crossed the hall to the lounge and offered the coffee to Varik. When the offer passed unacknowledged, Damian sighed, lowered himself onto the sofa next to Varik, and began speaking in tones too low for her to hear.
She left the break room and entered the common area, where uniformed officers and the junior detectives crowded into small cubicle spaces. As she headed for her office, Tasha was surprised to see Morgan leaving it. “Can I help you, SI Dreyer?”
Morgan spun around, eyes wide and startled. “Lieutenant Lockwood,” she stammered before composing herself. “I was just—I left some papers for you to sign on your desk.”
“Step back in my office and we’ll take care of it right now.”
“No,” Morgan barked. “What I mean is, I can’t now. I have a meeting to attend.”
“Okay, but it shouldn’t—” Tasha stopped as Morgan walked away, clutching a thick stack of papers to her chest. “Fucking vamps,” she muttered and entered her office, closing the door behind her.
The papers Morgan mentioned were for the complaint she’d filed against Varik. She skimmed the documents, verifying them for accuracy, and picked up a pen.
She hesitated. If she signed the papers, invisible wheels would be set in motion that would ultimately end with Varik standing before his own Tribunal inquiry. She’d been pissed off at him when she told Morgan she wanted to file the complaint. Now, seeing her harsh words outlined in black and white, she wondered if she could really go through with it.
“Ah, hell,” she murmured and leaned back in her chair. Indecision clouded her mind. There would be no harm in waiting to sign the papers, at least until she had more time to think about the ramifications of charging a federal agent with inappropriate conduct.
Tasha picked up the papers and slipped them into her desk drawer and discovered the evidence bag for Mindy Johnson’s journal.
She frowned, staring at the bag. She’d removed it, taken it home with her, and promptly lost it, according to Rueben. Picking up the bag, she was gripped with confusion and suspicion as she felt its heaviness. She looked inside and discovered the journal, seemingly intact.
Tasha retrieved the pink leather-bound book and flipped it over in her hands. The pages slipped easily between her fingers as she scanned the looping handwriting she recognized as Mindy’s. Halfway through the book, she stopped, staring at the jagged remains of several pages that had been removed.
Guilt stilled her breath. Had the pages been ripped out before or after she took