Right was subjective.
And it was a slippery slope.
If a man didn’t have his honor, he had nothing.
And there was something else. He wanted to be the man that Orion could count on. A steadfast, capable, and dependable man. All she knew were monsters. All she knew was violence. So as much as he would love to wipe his hands of monsters being taken care of by someone, he couldn’t. He was in love with Orion.
As doomed as such a thing was, he couldn’t change it. He wanted to sometimes, when she looked at him with those cold, empty eyes, when he woke up in the middle of the night in a cold sweat, knowing that nothing would ever be easy between them. It made him a weak man in those moments when he wished to want an uncomplicated woman who would give him children, a safe haven from the life of wearing a badge and looking at horrors.
But as much as he craved that, he knew it wasn’t going to happen. So he’d continue to torture himself. He’d continue to wait for her.
The phone rang and Eric picked it up, speaking for a few minutes. He threw in a “yeah” and “uh huh” here and there. When he hung up, he glanced toward Maddox, excitement in his eyes like a kid on Christmas morning.
“Looks like St. Louis PD has video of the possible suspect,” Eric said gleefully.
Maddox’s eyes went wide. “You gotta be shitting me.”
“No, sir. Cameras from a business a few blocks away. Some pawn shop. They have video of someone hooded, running to an SUV. They’re guessing it’s a Range Rover. From the outfit, they’re thinking female, five foot five to five foot eight.”
“A female?”
“A female.”
“Any video of the perp’s face?”
“They said it’s grainy. Hard to make out much of anything with her hood up. But it’s something.”
Maddox nodded along. “Okay, see if you can get those videos.”
Eric shot him a finger gun. “Already in your inbox, buddy.”
She woke up in the middle of the night to banging.
No, pounding.
Her sleep was thin at best, so it didn’t go on for long before she opened the door. She didn’t have anything in her hands to defend herself, but if someone was intent on hurting her, they wouldn’t be banging like this, announcing themselves to all of her neighbors.
She also had a vague idea of who this was. She’d been expecting this. Maddox was a good cop. He was observant, more than most. If there was anyone who could catch the connection, it would be him. Which is what she had been counting on.
She knew there was no such thing as a perfect crime. Orion wasn’t a perfect criminal. It took ten thousand hours to become an expert at something. She did not have ten thousand hours under her belt. Not yet at least.
But she was pretty darned good.
Because she had planned for failure. For getting caught. She’d gambled on Maddox figuring it out. And she’d gambled on him coming here first, too tangled up in his feelings for her to arrest her. He was a good man and a good cop, but he loved her. So it could go either way. She was manipulating him just like April did.
She should’ve cared more, but she didn’t. There was something broken in her.
The light in the hall was harsh and bright, but his anger, his fury, made it look like a fucking single match next to an inferno.
He pushed past her.
Physically.
She had never seen that from Maddox before. She’d never seen the fury, never seen him so close to the edge that his awareness of her, his instinct to protect her was swallowed.
Some sick part of her liked it, the ugliness of this. At least it was honest.
Orion stared at the empty hall for a beat, took a breath, and closed the door.
When she made it to the living room, Maddox was pacing. He stopped when her eyes locked on his.
“Tell me I’m wrong.”
His voice was so soft it was the sharpest blade she’d come in contact with.
Orion took great pains to jut her chin upward, to maintain eye contact. Keep her dignity. She had planned for this. She knew Maddox looking at her like this was a possibility.
With everything she’d planned, Orion thought the killing part would be the hardest. That it would hit her soul, fracture the remaining pieces. But if she were being honest with herself, it didn’t bother her that much. What bothered her was how little it bothered her.
But Maddox, standing here in the living room his sister designed, looking at her like she was a monster, that was the hardest.
And she was a monster.
“Tell me I’m wrong,” Maddox repeated. His voice was rougher this time. There was something else in it too. He’d turned it into almost a plea.