Obscenities fall from Alister’s mouth as he reaches underneath for the clasp of my jeans and rips the snap open. His forearm braced across my back, he yanks at my jeans, and my heart lurches into my ears. All sound is muted against the roar of my blood. My vision wavers.
The paralyzing fear of being trapped grips me so fiercely, I break through the helpless desperation and lash out against the darkness closing in around me. The smell of crisp fall air raids my senses. The hazy glow of lampposts bleeds into the dark, and I feel hands tighten around my throat.
I scream only to have the sound muffled by a coarse palm sealed over my mouth.
The sensations come on strong. Beyond Alister’s attack, a montage of violence flickers across my vision. Unlike the ritual, there’s no comfort from Kallum to chase back the terrifying imagery. A memory is triggered from the depths of my subconscious, and it tears into my soul.
The flashback projects into the current moment as Alister restrains me against the desk, his cruel words slithering around me as he grabs at my clothes.
“This is how you want it, bitch.” The shrill sound of a zipper ripping threads my muscles, fear a living force inside my body. Then a sinister voice rises up from the trenches of my mind.
I’ll show you, bitch.
The two voices overlap, stretching the bounds of my sanity. Before my brain shatters, the weight of Alister’s body is suddenly gone. The racket of a struggle crashes against the ringing in my ears.
Legs trembling, I press my palms to the desk surface and drag in a full breath, then push onto my feet. When I turn to face my attacker, I’m met with the intensity of Kallum’s heated eyes.
It’s only a moment, one suspended second where he confirms I’m all right, then his lethal, sole focus is on the man held in his clenched grip. Kallum shoves Alister’s back against the wall, his fist following in pursuit as he drives inked knuckles into Alister’s face.
Delivered with relentless fury, the blows don’t stop. Kallum unleashes a torrent of strikes on Alister, losing himself in the violence. He is a demon made of wrath, his brutality administered with each enraged drop of his fist. The sickening wet sound of bloody punches infuses the room.
The devious gleam in Kallum’s striking eyes says he’s going to destroy Alister—and he’s going to revel in that destructive carnage.
Kallum throws the agent to the floor, sending a round of kicks to his rib cage, before he straddles his torso and drops his fists in relentless punishment.
And I know he’s going to kill him.
Desperation scrapes my insides. I try to enter the fray to prevent what’s about to happen, and arms bracket my waist. Agent Hernandez pulls me away from the scuffle as an officer rushes the scene.
“Kallum. Stop.”
Blood-stained fist held aloft, Kallum’s eyes find mine past the haze of fury long enough for me to reach him. Then a handcuff is latched around his wrist. Kallum is hauled to his feet and thrown against the wall, where the officer shackles his wrists.
I watch in detached shock as Alister staggers on his way to his feet, then spits a trail of blood to the floor. He turns enraged eyes on Kallum, sending his fist into Kallum’s stomach. Then he looks at Hernandez. “Put him in holding,” he commands the agent.
Face stained and swollen in patches of red, Alister locates me next. “I will have you removed from the case. I’ll make damn sure.”
I lift my chin in defiance, barely containing the rage within that wants to finish what Kallum started.
Alister pins me with a challenging glare that translates: my word against yours.
I shrug out of Hernandez’s hold. Then, bypassing Alister, I push close to Kallum. “I’ll call your lawyer. Don’t say anything in there.”
“I know my rights. Not my first time, sweetness,” he says. The smile he forces clashes against the brutality I still see simmering in his depths. “Do not trust anyone, Halen. No one. Go to the hotel and stay there. I’ll be out by morning.”
“I think you’re overly confident on that,” I say.
“We’ll see.”
Agent Hernandez escorts Kallum out of the room, first sending me a guarded look over his shoulder.
“Get her the fuck out of this office,” Alister orders the local cop before he grabs his gun harness and follows after Agent Hernandez.
A chill envelops me, adrenaline still rampaging my system. I shove my hair out of my face, my breath sawing my lungs. Amid the chaos, something was unlocked inside me. I saw more. I felt more.
And the only person who can answer my questions has just been apprehended for assaulting a federal agent.
The officer in uniform lays a gentle hand on my shoulder, propelling me out of my thoughts. I flinch away. He’s the same cop I saw patrolling the hallway earlier. “Sorry,” he says. “Are you all right?”
Shaken, I glance over my disheveled clothes. The torn hem of my shirt. My unsnapped jeans. I fight down the noxious mix of shame and anger that rises up to strangle my voice.
“I think I need a second to…” I tug at the clasp of my pants. The zipper is broken.
Mouth rimmed tight, the officer nods. As he turns to offer me privacy, I quickly snap my jeans and drop down to palm the keys on the floor.
“If you need to make an incident report or something…” He trails off, tone unsure.
I slip Alister’s keys into my pocket. “No. Not right now,” I say. “But I do need a restroom. To collect myself.”
He looks relieved not to have to be the one to issue a report against a federal agent.
Once the officer has me escorted outside the restroom, I look down the hallway to see Kallum being taken to holding.
“Thank you.” I cross my arms over my midsection, pausing in front of the door.
Wariness draws the cop’s features tight. He glances around the empty department, as if questioning whether or not to leave me alone.
“I’ll be fine,” I reassure him.
He again inspects the condition of my clothes. His instincts tell him something more than a fight between a consultant and agent went down, and I’m that something, but there’s nothing he can do now.
I wait to see him push through the double doors before I exhale an aching breath.
I touch my stomach, feeling the tender bruising now that the adrenaline has started to ebb. Before this is over, I will have the final say with Agent Wren Alister.
Right now, I have to make sure Kallum won’t be charged with two crimes come morning.
I pivot away from the restroom and go straight to the forensic lab. I try three keys before I gain access, then I search the racks for my canvas bag. “Come on… Where is it?”
Not finding it on any of the evidence racks, I give up the search and snatch the bagged knife from the cart and slip it beneath my shirt. I tuck the torn hem into my jeans as I head toward Alister’s office.
Dropping to my knees, I flip the laptop around and exhale a tense breath. Alister is still logged into the department network. I delete the interrogation room footage of Kallum and I together, then I bring up the security logs. My fingers shakily hover over the keys as an internal battle wages.
Removing the security footage will erase any evidence of Alister’s attack on me. It really will be my word against his.
I stare at my fingers, inspecting the epithelial cells beneath my nails from scratching his face. There might be enough for a DNA match—but will it be enough proof to go up against a federal agent?
“Dammit.” I shove the sick feeling down deep into the pit of my stomach and proceed to delete all traces of me from the building after the conference. Then I toss Alister’s keys to the floor on my way out.
With every step that takes me closer to the exit, my forearm braced around my waist to conceal the knife, I shed a layer of guilt. Whatever shame I might have harbored for violating my morals, Alister remedied the moment he tried to violate me.
