Jay Crownover - Asa

Dixie snorted. “That’s not what it looks like to me.”

It might look pretty cut-and-dried from the outside. Royal was pretty, I was pretty, and we definitely had a spark, but I hadn’t lasted as long as I had screwing over everyone whose path I crossed without learning how to look deeper, how to see the danger looming, and it was obvious to me that Royal was dangerous in more ways than one.

“That’s a very pretty girl with a very ugly hurt, and somehow she got it in her head that she deserves to be punished, to hurt even more.”

“So she’s trying to drag you to bed to punish her? That sounds kinky and fun.”

I tossed my bar towel at her and pushed up from the bar so I could do the nightly cash-out and go home. Now the idea of Royal in her handcuffs and nothing else was going to be running around in my head for the rest of the night. Like she needed any help being unforgettable.

“She feels bad and she’s doing everything in her power to make herself feel worse.” I didn’t know all the details of what had started Royal’s recent decline, but I did know her partner on the force, who really was her best friend and had been for most of her life, had been injured pretty badly in the line of duty and that Royal was currently on administrative leave while the department investigated the circumstances that had led to two cops being shot. One of the officers hadn’t made it and the other was still in the hospital. The other being Dominic, Royal’s partner. “I’m not looking to be any part of that.”

I had used enough people in my life, even those that loved me unconditionally, to know what being a means to an end for someone else looked like. I wasn’t going to help Royal self-destruct.

Dixie gave me a soft little grin that reminded me that even though she was tough as nails when she needed to be, she was really a romantic sweetheart at her center.

“Maybe you should give it a shot and you could make her feel better, and maybe she could make you finally see that you have changed over the last year or so.”

I just gave my head a shake and told her flatly, “That’s not what I do.” Nope; I destroyed things not repaired them.

I never lied about the man I had been for most of my life or the things I had done. There were so many kinds of really ugly, twisted, and dark things I was capable of and yet everyone that knew me now seemed to be under the impression that I had undergone some kind of transformation after coming out of the coma I had been in after I died and came back. The truth of the matter was I was never going to be a good guy. I was never going to be the type of man that made things better. Regardless of what anyone wanted to believe or how desperately it seemed Royal needed someone to wade in and pull her out of the mire, I wasn’t made to be a hero or a savior. I was already so far under the thumb of the specters of my past mistakes there was no way I could pull anyone else to safety.

The old saying was true, a leopard never changed its spots; and just like the lurking jungle cat, I was a predator through and through even if others wanted to think I had somehow become a house cat.

When my phone, which I had left lying right next to my head the night before, went off the next afternoon shrieking Britney Spears’s “Toxic,” I almost rolled out of bed onto the floor in my haste to turn it off. I felt terrible. Partly because I was hardly sleeping anymore, so slipping into a restless catnap in the middle of the day was all that was sustaining me, but mostly because the number on the phone was the one I had been waiting for week after agonizing week to show up.

I silenced the bubblegum-pop song with a swipe of my finger across the screen and tried to sound more alert than I actually was when I gasped out a shaky greeting. I didn’t care what anyone thought of my awful taste in music. I slummed in the gutter all day long. I tangled with junkies, and wife beaters, and parents that neglected their kids every single day. I refused to listen to anything that wasn’t upbeat and full of infectious pop. My job wasn’t always fun, so I tried really hard to make sure the rest of the things in my life were.

“You do know I’m busting out of here today, right?”

I shoved a tangled hank of dark red hair out of my face and scrambled up to the edge of my bed. I chomped down on my bottom lip and tried to regulate my breathing. Of course I knew he was getting out of the hospital today. What I hadn’t known was if he was going to want me anywhere around him when he finally got the green light to go home. I squeezed my eyes shut and was so grateful that we weren’t face-to-face. Dominic Voss knew me better than any living soul on this planet, and if we were in the same room he would be able to feel the guilt and self-loathing I had been drowning in lately. Hell, if my current state of distress was apparent to someone as disconnected as Asa Cross, there was no way my best friend and partner could miss it. Dom being Dom, he would know it all came from what had happened to him on that callout from hell.

“I know. I wasn’t sure if you wanted me to come or not. I know your sisters are coming to stay with you until you get back on your feet and I didn’t want to get in the way.”

I sounded pathetic and ridiculous to my own ears.

Dom and I had been inseparable since we were five years old. There had never been a time when he didn’t want me around. There had never been a single moment in our friendship where I was ever in his way, and his entire family thought of me as one of their own. I think that made what had happened weigh even more heavily on my shoulders.

I heard Dom sigh and then he swore. His deep voice sounded strained as he gently scolded me. “Get your cute ass here, Royal. I’ve let you sulk for two goddamn weeks. Get over it. Shit happens and it’s gonna keep happening because that’s what being a cop is about. I’m in a fucking cast from my ankle to my junk. I have a broken shoulder and I can’t breathe without it feeling like I’m drinking acid. I look and feel like hammered dog shit, and my best friend hasn’t been around for any of it. Can you maybe knock it off now?” I couldn’t stop the tears that were starting to leak out of my eyes. I used a knuckle to swipe at them as I climbed to my feet. His next words stabbed through me like I was sure he intended for them to do. “I need you here, girly.”

We had always needed each other, both in our day-to-day lives and on the job. That was why I felt so bad. It was why I couldn’t get my head around how badly I had let him down. I was supposed to have his back like he had always had mine, and instead I had almost gotten him killed.

“I’m on my way.”

I hung up the phone after he barked at me that it was about time, and rushed around my apartment trying to make myself look presentable. After a hard night of drinking I never exactly looked great, but throw in a sleepless night and yet another rejection from an outrageously sexy, southern bartender and I probably could match Dom in the looking-like-crap department. I had dark shadows under each eye, I was way paler than normal, fine red veins threaded through the white in each eye, and I had really ugly bruises surrounding each of my wrists, which made shame and regret battle the guilt for the top spot in the flood of emotions I was choking on.

I knew better, I really did. I wasn’t the type to go out and lose control. I rarely drank, and when I did I always acted responsibly because I had a big picture to think about. Only lately that big picture had narrowed to tunnel vision and all I could see was Dom getting hit by bullet after bullet and falling over the edge of the fire escape on the side of the building. When I wasn’t seeing that, I was seeing the wife of the officer that hadn’t survived the shootout collapsing in the hall of the ER as another officer told her that her husband hadn’t made it. If that wasn’t enough to eat at my soul, the memory of my lieutenant telling me I had to turn in my gun and badge and go on administrative leave while the department conducted an investigation danced around in my head every second of every day.