Facing the officer again, I nod. I’m not sure what’s going to happen, but one thing I do know is that I will not let that man rot in a jail cell for saving me tonight. I’ll do whatever I have to do to make sure that doesn’t happen.

  ***

  Since arriving at the police station, I’ve been sitting in a small office, waiting for the Chief of Police to come in and talk with me. It’s been almost an hour, and I haven’t seen or heard anything from anyone. I can’t stop thinking about my savior, fearing what he may be going through right now, all because of me.

  Finally having enough of the waiting game, I get up with angry movements and head toward the door to light a fire under someone’s behind, but before I can take two steps, the door opens.

  A tall, bulky man walks into the room with a file in his hands. He’s got what looks like jelly on the belly of his shirt, and when he goes to wipe the sweat from his forehead, I see stains under his arms too.

  “Sorry to have kept you waiting, Ms. Hock,” he says as he plops down into his chair, sounding completely out of breath. He looks and sounds like he just got done running a marathon, but he doesn’t even look like he’d make it around the block without falling over from fatigue.

  “What’s going on?” I ask in a hard voice, but I can’t help it. After everything that’s happened tonight and now the unknown, I’m a little on edge and cranky. I just want to know what they have done with the man who saved my life.

  “Why don’t you start by telling me what happened tonight, Ms. Hock? We weren’t able to get anything out of Dominic Veralli, and Gordan Black is currently unconscious due to the stab wound he suffered at the hands of Mr. Veralli,” he informs me as he leans back in the chair. He places his elbows on the armrests with his hands steepled in front of his lips.

  Dominic. Now I have a name to go with the face of my hero, and I must say, it fits him. I like it. A lot more than I probably should.

  Then his words sink in. The man who tried to hurt me—Gordan—is in the hospital being treated. I guess he made it after all. And it makes me angry. I’m angry because he shouldn’t be allowed to live after what he tried to do. I’m angry because he shouldn’t be treated like he’s an innocent bystander. And I’m angry because I’m afraid Dominic is going to jail, regardless of the reason behind him stabbing a man.

  No, that’s not going to happen.

  Without thinking it through, I say, “Mr. Veralli didn’t stab that man. I did.”

  And it’s too late to take it back now, even if I wanted to.

  But wait! The knife! I have no idea where it’s at, or if it was even Dominic’s. What if the police have it and they find out I’m lying? Well, I guess I’ll cross that bridge when it comes. For now, I’m going to run with my story and do everything I can to make the chief and everyone else believe me.

  He doesn’t respond for a few minutes as he looks at me, stunned. Then his look shifts into disbelief. “You stabbed Mr. Black?”

  “Yes,” I say simply.

  Looking down at my hands, he seems to be searching for something. Blood? I want to fidget and hide them behind my back or sit on them, but that will make me look guilty of lying.

  Finally looking up at me, he asks, “Why did you stab him, Ms. Hock? And where did you get the knife?”

  Not giving myself time to think about it too much, I reply, “The knife was his. It was in his pocket, and when he grabbed me, I took it. I was afraid for my life and did whatever I needed to do to protect myself.”

  I look him right in the eyes as I speak.

  “And where’s the knife now?”

  “I don’t know. I dropped it after I stabbed him, but then there was a struggle. He tried to hit me again, and that’s when Mr. Veralli stepped in.”

  The words flow smoothly through my lips. It almost makes me question if what I’m saying is actually the truth. I’ve never been good at lying before tonight.

  I can tell he doesn’t believe me, but now I know they don’t have any evidence to disprove my story. Not yet, anyway.

  Blowing out a long, exasperated breath, he picks something up off his messy desk. “All right, Ms. Hock. I’ll need you to fill out a statement. Then, once we gather all the evidence, we’ll be in contact with you.”

  He stands, leaving me to write down what I just told him to make it official. I reach out and grab his arm as he passes me. “What’s going to happen to Mr. Veralli?” I ask, needing to know he won’t be charged with anything. I don’t make a habit of lying, but I would do it again in a heartbeat in a situation like this. I just need to know it wasn’t for nothing.

  “Well, since you say you were the one to stab Mr. Black, and we don’t have any evidence to say otherwise, we don’t have anything concrete to hold him. He’ll be released as soon as the paperwork is filed.”

  “And Mr. Black? What about him?”

  His eyes soften this time, and I hear real sincerity in his voice when he says, “After he regains consciousness—if he regains consciousness—he’ll too be questioned and charged with assault. Unfortunately, since we don’t know what his intentions were, we can’t charge him with anything until we get his version of the events, but if you feel more comfortable, we can file a restraining order so he won’t be allowed anywhere near you again.”

  I want to laugh at this. I’ve never understood restraining orders. I mean, it’s not like a piece of paper has any power or hold on anyone. Having one doesn’t guarantee that you’ll be safe.

  “No, that won’t be necessary. I think it was a random act of violence. He doesn’t know who I am, so he won’t know where to find me. But thank you.” No reason to sound ungrateful.

  Nodding his head, he says, “We’ll make sure to keep your name out of the questioning, Ms. Hock.” Then he turns on his heels and walks out of the office, leaving me to the task of writing my statement. I just hope that when they question Dominic, he’ll collaborate my story. I find that highly doubtful, though.

  It takes me a little over thirty minutes to finish with my statement. I didn’t want to leave anything out about the truth and how I came to be in the wrong place at the wrong time, but I also had to elaborate on the story I fed the chief. I had to really think about it and try to make it sound as real as possible without going off into wonderland too much. I had to make it sound like it actually happened that way.

  Finally satisfied with what I’ve written, I make my way out of the office and down the hall to where I saw a bunch of officers sitting at cubicles when I first walked in. I have no idea who I’m supposed to give this to, or if I need to stay for anything else, but I’m suddenly so tired. I just want to go home and fall into my fluffy bed and sleep. I don’t want to think about what I’ve been through tonight, or what could have happened if things didn’t go the way they did.

  Passing my statement to one of the officers, he tells me they will keep in touch with any updates about charges pressed against Mr. Black and that I was free to leave.

  I don’t know how I’m going to get home, and I’m not calling my parents. No way in Hades am I telling them about this, though by the feel of my face, I may have to make something up. Maybe I’ll tell them I ran into the bathroom door in the middle of the night. Yeah, that could work. Not like they’d care anyway.

  I’m just about to walk out the door when I hear the chief speak with disdain. “I don’t know how you got someone as sweet and innocent as the preacher’s daughter to lie for someone like you, but I will find what I need to lock you up for a very long time.”

  I turn around just in time to see Dominic look over in my direction, and his gaze collides with mine.

  Embarrassed, I push through the front doors, needing the fresh night air to cool my face.

  Looking both ways, I can’t decide which way to go. If I go left, it will save me the embarrassment of facing Dominic, but I’ll be forced to go around the block. That’s not something I really want to do, especially after what happened tonight. It’s after midnight now. I don’t know what could be out there waiting for me.

  Before I can make the decision, I hear the door to the station open. Holding my breath, I wait—for what feels like forever—for him to either walk right past me or talk to me. I don’t know what I want more at this point.

  Neither of those things happen. It’s completely silent, like he’s not even there anymore.

  Turning around slowly, I see him right behind me. Jumping back out of shock—and maybe a little fear—I almost scream but stop myself at the last second.

  He just stares at me like he’s confused, like he can’t believe his eyes. It makes me want to fidget or slap him, though I’d probably never do the latter. I’ve never wanted to slap anyone before in my whole life, not even my parents. Yell, scream, and cry? Yes. But never hit someone. So why do I want to slap him? For scaring me, or for staring at me like I have three heads, or maybe something else entirely?

  Needing to break the silence and this awkward standoff, I clear my throat. “Um…t—thank you for what you did for me tonight.” I stutter at first but strengthen my voice at the end. There’s no reason to be scared. This man saved me. If he wanted to hurt me, he would have let Gordan Black do it or joined in to help him.

  He doesn’t say anything, but in an instant, his features change. It’s like I’m looking at a completely different person. The look is his eyes is now one of disgust.

  Swallowing the lump in my throat, I open my mouth to say something but have no idea what there is to say. I’ve already thanked him. There’s nothing left to do but leave.

  Dropping my head, I start to turn, but his rough voice stops me. “What you did in there was stupid, little girl.”

  What does he mean it was stupid? I saved his butt in there! And the way he calls me a little girl makes me angry. I’m eighteen for goodness sake, not a child.

  “Saving your ungrateful behind was stupid? Maybe I should go back in there and tell them the truth then, huh?” I say with attitude I’ve only ever possessed when around my parents.

  I start to walk past him to head back inside, with no real intention of recanting my story, but I don’t make it very far before I’m being grabbed by my arm and whipped around to face him.

  It’s almost the exact thing that happened to me hours earlier, but this time it’s my savior grabbing me, not the monster.

  “What do you want from me? A thank you?” he asks through a cocky smile that has me practically drooling. “Or are you wanting somethin’ more? Maybe a ride on my bike? No, I know. You want a ride on my cock.”

  His comment stuns me but also has me feeling hot all over. From embarrassment or arousal, I don’t know.

  Stepping closer, his breath fans across my face like a sensual caress.

  “Yeah, that’s what you want, baby, isn’t it? And I can give it to you,” he says, his voice raw and sexy.

  His hand comes up and runs from my temple—being careful of my hurt face—down my neck, and stops just before reaching my breast. My chest is heaving, breathing heavily. His hands leave me wanting. I want him to keep going, to touch me where no one has touched me before, but he doesn’t. His hand moves away, making me feel a loss that makes me want to cry.

  “I could take you for a ride on the wild side. I could fuck you till you couldn’t even remember your name. I could do things to you that you couldn’t even spell. But it wouldn’t change what you are.” He says that last part with loathing and hatred. “You’re just daddy’s little angel, aren’t you? You’re the preacher’s daughter,” he spits, then turns around and walks away.

  A tear rolls down my face as I’m suddenly filled with hate. Hate for him making me feel lustful and hate for making me loathe myself. Hate for my parents, even more than I already had, for making me be this person I dislike so much. And finally, hate for myself for allowing it all to happen in the first place.

  “Angelica!” my mother yells out from somewhere behind me. You’d think she’d sound distraught and concerned for why she’s here, worried about what had happened to me, but no. She sounds angry and annoyed. Turning around, I see both my parents looking at me with shame and disgust.

  In that moment, I decide to rid myself of them for good. To rid myself of everything I hate about my life. Tonight, I’m going to change. I’ll leave here and never look back. I’ll never again be judged by my parents or anyone else for that matter. And I’ll never do anything to make someone else help. From here on out, I’m living my life for me.

  I listen to my parents berate me and tell me that what happened tonight is the exact reason they aren’t allowing me to make my own decisions when it comes to college. That this is the reason they won’t allow me to live on my own. They can’t trust me. Because no potential husband would want a wildcat for a wife. As if I was going out tonight to search for trouble. But it goes in one ear and out the other. I don’t care what they think or what they say. Nothing matters anymore besides what I need to do to leave this life for good.

  I’m no longer Angelica Hock, daughter of Pastor Hock. I’m no longer the good girl who never breaks the rules. She died tonight in that alley when she found a new life waiting for her just around the corner. And I’m glad she’s dead. It’s the best thing to ever happen to me. She was weak and had no spark. But now, the spark is so hot and shines so bright, no one can see or touch me. I’m alive for the first time in eighteen years.

  Once we’re home, I lock myself in my bedroom. I can hear them talking about how to keep this quiet so no one hears about it. I block them out. I have work to do.

  Packing up everything I can fit into my suitcase and school bag, I wait until I know they’re asleep. Once I’m positive they won’t hear me, I sneak into their room to grab her purse and his wallet. I don’t have any money, not even a savings account. They wouldn’t even let me get a job, thinking I wouldn’t need it since they were the ones controlling my life.

  I’m able to grab a few hundred dollars’ cash from their wallets and take their credit cards. I’ll withdraw as much as I can from each of them before tossing them in the garbage.

  Then, I go into my father’s office and use the key under his chair to unlock his cabinet. I let the key drop to the floor and pick up the wooden box hidden behind a few of his ministry books. He’s been hiding cash in here for years, never knowing that I knew about it. I’m not sure how much is here or even what he’s been saving it for, but I take it all, figuring they owe me for everything they’ve put me through over the years.

  Once I have everything, I sneak quietly out of the house, heading to the ATM to withdraw the money from the credit cards. With the cash from the ATM in hand, and the rest in my bag, I pull out my cell phone and call a cab before throwing that into the garbage, along with the credit cards. I don’t have any contacts in there worth saving, and I don’t want to risk being tracked. I’ll just buy a new one once I get to where I’m going.

  The cab driver pulls up about twenty minutes later—I made sure to call an out-of-town cab service so I’m not recognized—and I tell him to take me to the nearest bus station. From there, I’ll figure out where I’m going and make plans for tomorrow. But one thing is for certain, it’ll be better than whatever awaits me here.

  Chapter Four

  Torq

  It’s been almost a week since I was released from police custody. I still can’t believe what happened. How is it that I was able to find the man I was looking for and save someone in need at the same time? I don’t usually believe in luck, but maybe in this instance, I had a little bit of luck on my side.

  I don’t consider myself a savior or a protector of the innocent, going out of my way to right wrongs and search out the bad guys. I’m no vigilante. Fuck, I’m technically a bad guy. But I won’t stand for abuse against women. Especially not a woman like her—Angelica Hock. The woman with the face of an angel and a body I’d kill to have under me. If I had her, I’d gladly search out evil wrongdoers to make sure that not an ounce of harm or fear ever touched her again.

  Thinking about her and that night reminds me of why I’m not behind bars right now and it makes me seethe all over again. I want to spank that girl for not only being in that part of town and putting herself in jeopardy, but also for how she covered for me. Like I needed her to lie to the cops. As if I cared about sitting in jail for a night, or even a year for that matter. Been there, done that. It’s not the first time and it won’t be the last.

  So why did she do it? Did she feel like she owed me for saving her? But even so, why would she lie? I’m sure being who she is, the preacher’s daughter, she wouldn’t need to lie to get what she wants. But she did. She lied for me.

  Sitting on my bike, I stare at the sign that says, ‘Welcome to Linksburg.’ I haven’t left yet, and it has nothing to do with the cops telling me not to leave town until I’m completely cleared of all crimes. I wish I could say it’s because I still have club business, which of course I do, but that’s not the reason either. It’s because of her.

  I want to see her again, knowing it would be a bad idea. She’s too good for me and not my type, but I still want to see her, taste her, fuck her. I want to soil her good girl persona and make her my bad girl. I want to show her how good I can make her feel and teach her how to please me. I want her to crave me, need me in every possible way.

  My phone ringing snaps me out of thoughts of dirty sex with the daughter of a preacher. Something that will send me to hell just for thinking about it. Not like I’m not heading to heaven anyway, so I guess I should enjoy the pleasures while I can.

  Looking down at the caller ID, I see it’s Bear, the president of my club.

  “Hey, Prez,” I say, waiting patiently like a good soldier for orders.

  He knows about what happened, or at least, he knows about most of it. I told him I found Georgie and that I was able to find out that what we heard was true. But I was interrupted by the cops when I was in the process of killing him. I never told him about the girl or about the arrest. And I sure as fuck didn’t tell him that the girl saved me from staying behind bars. I’m sure he’d get a kick out of that.