Dirty Law

I swiveled my head to the right and could see some lone people walking down the street. Downtown wasn’t much of a metropolis past ten o’clock. Things started closing at ten and everything was closed by twelve. It was three in the morning so any people up now were getting ready for the day, not ending the night like Law and me. Law took another step closer and I surreptitiously reached for the gun in my purse.

“I just wanted to know why you would lie.” Law took two steps back. “I don’t like lying.” There was now considerable distance between us. I breathed, unaware that I had been holding my breath, and took my hand away from my purse. I scoffed at his words.

“I’m beginning to hate that,” Law said.

“What?” I asked, scoffing again. “I just find it utterly laughable that you don’t like lying.”

“What the hell does that mean?”

I yawned, preferring to divert the conversation rather than confront Law. “It’s getting late, and I have work tomorrow—to

day, I guess.”

“I’ll drive you.”

“Nope.” I nearly scoffed again but thought better of it. “No thanks.”

“I’m not about to let you drive in the state you’re in.” The state I’m in? I’d had two drinks and they’d since settled, thankyouverymuch.

I rolled my eyes to the side and smiled acidly. “Let’s get this straight, Law: you don’t tell me what to do, what to think, what to wear, how to act, or anything else, got it? If you’re looking for some girl to boss around and make you feel like a man, you’ve picked the wrong one. Maybe you heard my story and thought I was damaged and could be groomed easily, I don’t know, but you picked the wrong target.” I coughed, feeling drained. It had taken every ounce of emotional energy I had left to make that speech.

I was fearful. Fearful that I was an easy target, that after what had happened to me, men could groom me. Part of me was beginning to think the reason Law was being so inquisitive in my life was because he had figured out who I was and thought I was an easy target. I hadn’t yet told him my name for that very reason. Still… I hoped Law wouldn’t question me or my speech, that he would just take it at face value and fuck off.

Law took another step back, his face a mix of emotions. “I’m sorry.”

“What?” I hadn’t expected that.

“I wasn’t trying to groom you, or shit, I don’t know. I uh…think I should go.” Law rubbed a hand through his dark blond hair.

I grabbed his arm. “Why did you follow me out of the coffee shop? Why have you been following me?”

His eyes snapped to mine, so fierce they were almost shining yellow. “I’ve seen that face before.”

“My face?” I froze. My fears were materializing. He thought I was an easy target. I was becoming a Nami smoothie, ground up and sucked up.

“One of complete terror and isolation. It’s the face a victim gets when she sees her attacker. ”

I sucked in a breath, snapping out of my whirling thoughts. “How the fuck do you know that?”

“My line of work is…unique,” Law replied, ever the inscrutable one.

I scoffed. I was starting to believe him; how dumb of me. “Your line of work?”

He eyed me incredulously and repeated my words, almost annoyed. “Yes, my line of work.”

“As a fucking political puppet?” I couldn’t help my response. I wasn’t a seasoned liar—unlike the company I kept—so it was hard to keep my tongue in check.

Law craned his neck to the side, eyeing me with confusion. “What are you talking about?”

I fingered my gun again, in case things were about to get ugly. “I know what you do, okay? I know who you work for and I know why you’re out with me. Stop pretending.” I pushed my gun against my purse, so the outline was visible. “And just so you don’t get any funny ideas.”

He eyed my gun, less than impressed. “What are you talking about?”

“You have your reasons for needing the drug stopped,” I repeated the words Law had said to him icily. His face went ashen, just for a moment, before he narrowed his eyes on me.

“What have you gotten yourself into?” Law asked.

I shrugged. “Nothing I can’t handle.”