She laughed softly. “And… you always do what she says.”

He smiled. “Pretty much.”

She smiled back, and he regretted the connection as soon as it happened, their eyes meeting as she dropped the keys into his open hand. “I’d let you take control.”

“Good. Gag her for me, Jeremy.” Deanna called out, a muffled thud following the angry jiggle of the knob.

He laughed despite himself, flipping the key ring over and inserting the lone key into the lock. It turned easily, the dead bolt loud in its motion, and the door flew open, a hundred and twenty pounds of fury acting on the other side. There was a blur of pink and black, Deanna’s hair streaming behind her as she launched herself onto Chelsea.

“Shit,” Jeremy cursed, tossing the package of pills inside the apartment and going after her, his girlfriend’s weight now on top of the blonde, Chelsea kicking and screaming underneath Deanna’s concentrated effort to, from all outward appearances, strangle her to death.

CHAPTER 46

Past

IT’D BEEN OVER six months since I had last had my hands around a throat. Since I had felt the bend of tendons and the puff of breath. I didn’t have the hand strength to squeeze a throat to death; it takes a good minute of concentrated effort, but GOD it felt good. I straddled her waist, wrapped my hands around her throat, and whispered every curse I’d held in to her face as it darkened underneath my grip.

Jeremy broke the moment, his hand tight on my arm, his fist rough when it gripped my ponytail and ripped backward, hard enough to bring tears to my eyes and a yelp from my throat. “Jesus, Deanna. She’s a cop.” She’s a cop. I knew that, somewhere in my mind. Had forgotten it once, twice, a few times since Jeremy had first told me. But I heard it that time and stumbled back, into his arms, the heat of his touch grounding me, the strength of his chest against my shoulder blades comforting, the black dots in my vision fading as I found my bearings. My breath was too loud, panting like a rabid dog, my hands shaking as I grabbed at the wall and stood to my feet. I pointed at the girl, watching her feet find carpet, her hand at her neck, wincing as she touched her throat, her eyes cutting across the thin space at me with a look that could kill. Ha. Right back at you, sweetie. “Stay away from me,” I spat.

“You crazy bitch,” she swore, the curse diminished by her fit of coughing that followed. “I’ll have you arrested for that.”

Jeremy stepped between us, his hands up. “You provoked her, Chelsea. I’m pretty sure imprisoning someone against their will is a crime.”

“Not to mention bartering with illegal narcotics,” I called out from behind him.

“You’re just as guilty of that as I am,” she said.

“I’m not a cop.”

“Both of you, go back to your apartments.” When my man spoke, it had bite. Bite that turned me on. I flashed him a grin and he glared at me. Reaching forward, I grabbed at his belt, hooking two fingers underneath the top of his pants, and kicked open the door, pulling him in with me. He didn’t resist, pushing the packages inside before stepping into my apartment, his palm swinging at the door and slamming it shut.

When Jeremy turned to face me, he was mad. I saw it in the lines of his forehead, the rigidity of his shoulders, the strength of his stance. He was mad, which was inconvenient, because I was horny. Dr. Derek would find issue with that, with the correlation between a violent outburst and soaked panties. But it wasn’t my hands around her throat that had made me horny, it’d been the force in Jeremy’s tone, the aggression in his vowels, the order. Both of you, back to your apartments. On the plus side, a woman being aroused by her man’s dominance is entirely sane, so maybe this was an item I could share with Dr. Derek. Omitting the strangulation incident, of course. Dr. Derek doesn’t seem to respond well to slips.

“Jesus, Deanna.” He stepped forward and I stayed in place. When he gripped my arms, the squeeze hurt, the intensity of his grip painful. I looked up into his face, the pinch of his features saying as much as the fear in his eyes. “You can’t do—you can’t fly off the handle like that.”

“She locked me in. She wouldn’t unlock the door.”

“No, Simon locked you in. Like he always does. You created that. That’s your doing. She should have unlocked you, yes. But you are the catalyst for this situation. Own that.”

I tried to step back and he held tight, the second time that day I was in a place I didn’t want to be. I looked down at his right hand and he released me. Stepped back and ran his hands through his hair. Spun away from me, and that hurt more than anything. This wasn’t my fault. This was her fault. I was just defending my freedom, asserting my opinion, giving her what she deserved.

“She’s a cop, Deanna.” He spoke toward the pile of boxes, his head down, back tight, shoulders hunched.

“I know that.”

“Do you? ’Cause I don’t know a hell of a lot about your secrets, but I’m pretty sure that the one thing you don’t want is a cop getting pissed at you.”

I turned away, walking to the fridge and grabbing a water. Didn’t offer him one while I twisted open the top. There, take that. My shun via poor manners went completely unnoticed, and a small part of me mourned.

“I don’t have anything to hide.” My lie came out white and confident and beautiful. If it were on paper, I’d have had it framed.

He didn’t even laugh, just shook his head. Pulled out his keypad and scrawled my signature on it. “I’ve got to go.”

“Just like that?” I set the water bottle down.

“Yeah. I can’t… I just can’t deal with this today.”

I just can’t deal with this today. I just can’t deal with you today. That’s what he was really saying, in between his pauses and tight muscles, in between his eye contact with her and his curses at me. I watched him walk out and said nothing to stop him.

It was a quiet moment when the door clicked shut behind him. Too quiet for the magnitude that it was.

CHAPTER 47

Past

IT TURNS OUT that worries over my relationship are stronger than thoughts of death. I was free, my door unlocked, Chelsea licking her wounds in some dirty corner of Simon’s apartment, and all I could think of was Jeremy.

“I can’t… I just can’t deal with this today.”

He can’t deal with this. And then he left. It had been eleven hours since I stood at my window and watched his truck pull off. In eleven hours I hadn’t thought about killing once. Not even Simon, the very thought of whom made my blood boil. All I could think of was what I’d put in jeopardy. I ignored the late hour and picked up my cell. Called the person I knew would answer, and who would ground me.

He was asleep. I heard evidence in the rasp of his hello, the soft clear of his throat, his second hello, which sounded more professional than the first. The first spoke of messy sheets, a dark room, a bare torso, cock semihard in his boxer briefs.

“Hey, Doc.”

“What’s wrong?”