lips of an angel

He wouldn’t have put it past his partner to have bugged his phone – Ricky wouldn’t have been able to use a damn thing from it in court, but if he’d continued to harbour suspicions about him, he might’ve done it anyway. Guilt by text message. Or Google search.

Joel propped a boot against the edge of the desk, slumping down in his chair. If Ricky had been there the disapproval would’ve been as inescapable as a bad smell in a moving car. He’d stepped out though, not offering up much of an explanation before he’d gone – that only went one way, of course. These days he was too tired, too focused on getting Dolly somewhere safe to worry about his partner’s hypocrisy. Sooner rather than later Dacre was going to end up behind bars, his club nothing but rubble after they’d pulled apart every inch of it (and his abilities guaranteed that it wasn’t even standing anymore). They’d examine the fallout then, see if Ricky wanted to keep this partnership going or more likely set IA on him and move on, scraping the dirt from his shoes as he went.

Dragging a thumb down his phone, Joel hissed on a sigh. A couple of years ago he might’ve handed himself in if he’d found himself in this deep with a potential witness. It was crossing so many damn lines, breaking every vow he’d made in his adult life. But it was Dolly.

The house he’d been looking at disappeared with a flick of his thumb, replaced by another. Thirty miles outside of Cunningham. Practically home. Somewhere Doll could start to shed the shackles of the life Dacre had set her up with here. This one had stables, enough room for a half dozen horses. She could ride again, breathe air free from the stink of booze and cheap perfume. They could both put all of this behind them. He could put Jo behind him.

Guilt hit like a sucker punch, dropping his foot to the floor with a thump. His elbows hit his knees and he hunched around that new life, feeling the sticky fingerprints of the one he was living now dotted over his skin like reminders of just how far apart he and Jo had drifted. Hers had faded, even the ones she’d laid on him in those brief glimpses of a marriage she’d given him recently, like she’d known that she was losing him. Dinner the other night, the two of them sat opposite one another at the kitchen table, smiles over the washing up, her hand on his arm as he’d told her he’d handle it. For a moment he’d almost choked the words out, but as Jo closed the door on the spare bedroom she’d flipped into her home office, they vanished from his throat.

Thumbing the phone off, Joel set it down on the desk and stared at the board in the corner of the room. They couldn’t go anywhere until this case was done. Dacre and the rest of his nest of rats had to be dealt with first. Slow and stiff, like he was saddle sore, Joel got to his feet. He was halfway there, to pore over the pathetic amount they had on them so far, when the door opened and closed with a click. Dread choked up in his throat like it’d be Ricky standing there, dark eyes narrowed as though he’d been able to tell what was on his partners mind with just a look.

”Doll…” His gaze darted past her, to the glass pane in the office door, the one that would do nothing to stop de la Peña catching an eyeful if he chose that moment to come back. The frown was settling in as he looked back, seeing the dark smudges of make up smeared beneath Doll’s eyes, the heels clutched in her hand, the … fuck. He didn’t need to have caught the stuttered words that tripped from Dolly’s lips to start the explanation surging through his head. Bruises marred her skin, the clothes she had on beneath her jacket as tattered as the make-up that usually would’ve been perfect (when she arrived at least). Pale skin showed through a tear in the lace of her bra, the mildest sign of violence.

Forget feeling sick before, now the back of his throat burned as he snatched up his jacket from the back of his chair, reaching out to settle it around Doll’s shoulders with shaking hands. ”You got no reason to apologise, honey. You know you can always come to me, you know I’m always here for you.” He shouldn’t have been touching her, that little voice in the back of his mind shrieked ’evidence’ but the thought of keeping it all pristine fled on a tidal wave of anger and grief. Of course Hector had done nothing to protect her, the son of a bitch was little more than a pimp, slowly tearing women like Doll apart … and he’d let it happen. Wrapping his arms around her, Joel drew her in. His hands continued to shake, hovering an inch from her back before he let them settle gently against the cover of his jacket. ”Tell me what happened Doll. Who was he? Who hurt you?” The second he had a name he was dead. They might find parts of him eventually, but that was all there was gonna be left of both Hector’s friend and the scum sucking asshole himself.

Tagged: HANNYA * Word Count: 917

All his promises to keep her safe – his failed promises – burned on Joel’s tongue now. He’d begged Doll to go with him and would’ve left town the minute she’d agreed to it, but she hadn’t agreed to it. He should’ve thrown her over his shoulder, tossed her in his car, bolted from this cursed place with the cancerous rot of the club at its heart. Instead he’d ignored every screaming instinct to just take Doll and go and these were the consequences. Someone had hurt her and he hadn’t protected her. What good was the badge if he couldn’t even do that?

Joel’s fingers tightened in the front of his coat, drawing it together over all the damage someone had done to her as more tears welled in Doll’s eyes. As kids they’d patched up each other’s war wounds, the scraped knees and bloodied noses, jammed fingers and ankles sprained playing in the barn (going to his dad would only have ended up with lectures about not messing about on the farm). Band aids pressed lightly into places, tears – if they’d come at all – all dried up. Those little kindnesses weren’t gonna work this time, it was too much, the damage too bad.

He winced as he wrapped his arms around Doll, like just touching her was gonna hurt her more. His touch as gentle as possible, as though the Doll he’d known as a tough, brave little kid had become fragile as glass. It broke her heart to see her like this, hollowed out by Dacre, left in a position to be hurt by that son of a bitch. Joel felt his eyes sting at the clutch of Doll’s hands, the scrape of her nails over his back and the pressure of his clutched shirt over his ribs fading into insignificance in comparison to the emotional pain.

Doll’s story started to spill out in those sputtered, broken bursts he’d heard from victims before. Hearts pounding between syllables, the hammering of fresh trauma forcing a stutter into their voices. Joel dipped his head as Doll pressed her face into his chest. That voice in the back of his head that tried to remind him to hold onto his professionality, the one screaming evidence now, was brushed aside as his hand settled gently on the back of Doll’s neck, his lips brushing the top of her head. Manny. Not a name from Ricky’s board, but there were so many blanks up there that the son of bitch could have slotted in just about anywhere. ”He’s involved in the club,” he croaked. Ricky had been sending him in for months, but what had they actually gotten from it so far? Nobody was in jail, the worst of them were able to stroll right into Hector’s apartment (he wasn’t gonna think of it as theirs) and brutalise Doll.

”If you did he might’ve have hurt you, darlin’,” Joel breathed. He’d seen what happened to women who’d thought back before, each of their protests stamped and cut into their flesh. If Doll had fought back he might have been standing over her body in Dacre’s apartment now, or been wondering why she’d run out on him again after days of silence from her, what this beast had done to her covered up by the asshole who was supposed to love her. ”Hector told him he could touch you? He gave Manny permission to hurt you? Does he know this happened? Doll, did you tell him?” If he found out Dacre had given his buddy permission to hurt her this way they were both dead. Fuck Ricky’s investigation.

Feeling the ache of his failure, of guilt, working its way through his chest, Joel took half a step back. He refused to let go of Doll for the moment, but was guiding her towards a chair. ”I should get them to call a doctor in. Someone should examine you. I’m so sorry, baby, we need to examine you. After what you went through, I know it’s scary, but we need to make sure you’re alright. Where did he hurt you, Doll?” All of this should’ve been documented, the questions asked in a clinical setting as they gathered all the evidence possible from Doll’s body. The thought of other hands touching her after what he was imagining she’d been through left him feeling sick. They’d usually use the evidence to nail a perp in the courtroom, but they weren’t gonna need that this time, not if he got to Manny first.

Tagged: HANNYA * Word Count: 754