I slowly open my eyes as I hear a loud knock at my door.
My heart stills in my chest. I have no clue who would come over here this late at night. I wait with anxiety trickling through my limbs for a voice. But I don’t hear anything. I walk silently, but quickly to the end table and pick up my gun where I left it. I hold it down and walk steadily as I hear a loud knock again.
Bang. Bang. Bang! On the third, I hear his voice say, “Open up, Tonya.” Relief washes through my body and I almost put the gun down, but then I think twice.
I look at it in my hands and remember how angry the other members of the Valetti familia were. In two days, I’ve managed to piss off more men than my mom has in her entire life. That's saying something.
“I know you’re in there, you may be a bad girl, but I don’t want you pushing me right now.” His voice doesn’t come out hard, but it's not playful either. It’s almost a little worried. Like he’s fairly confident that I’ll answer him, but scared that I won’t.
I like that.
I like making him wait. Not because I don’t want to answer him, I do. The wild side of me is jumping at the chance to answer him. But I also like keeping him on edge.
I put the gun down on the end table. It may be stupid, but I don’t care right now. I walk to the door and unlock it. I wait a second to see if he’ll open it. But he doesn’t. He respects that boundary. I close my eyes and take a deep breath. I can’t let myself go back to how it was before. This is going to be professional.
I open the door and curse myself as my eyes land on his hard, muscular body. Fuck, I want him. I want all of him. I close my eyes and don’t open them as he speaks.
“What are you doing snooping around?” He gets right to the point, and anger rises within me. Enough so that I can stare back at him.
“Snooping around?” I’m not snooping. I’m simply trying to get answers.
“You need to knock it off.” His voice is stern and admonishing. It pisses me off, but also lights something else in me. Something I need to let die.
“I don’t need to do anything, and as far as you’re concerned, you weren’t giving me what I needed, so I had to go somewhere else.” I know the double meaning there. And I hate that it slipped out. I feel fucking pathetic.
His eyebrows raise, and he looks me up and down like he’s sizing me up, but I can see he’s angry. “Is that so?” he says with a neutral tone.
I start backpedaling the best I can and say, “I need answers for my own sanity.”
“You’re a cop, you think they’re going to give you anything?” He raises his voice as he continues to lay into me, “They’re not like me, Tonya. They aren’t going to treat you like I do.”
“So they aren’t going to fuck me and then toss me aside?” I’m so fucking bitter I can’t help but spit it out. I don’t feel any anger toward him, but apparently some part of me does.
“Is that what you want from them?” he asks.
“Fuck off, Thomas.” I start to close the door. I don’t have the energy for this. If he’s not going to help me, fine. If he doesn’t want to fuck me anymore, that’s fine, too.
Thomas stops the door and pushes it open so he can lean in. “What the fuck? You trying to piss me off, Officer Kelly?” I don’t like the way he’s saying my name. Like he’s asking if he’s talking to me or someone else, someone who he doesn’t trust. I’ve never been anything but honest with him.
“What do you want?” I ask with irritation coloring my voice, but I’m not irritated. I’m hurt. I want him to say, “You.” I want him to come in and take me. I want him to make everything better. And that realization makes me feel weak. It makes me feel sick to my stomach.
“I wanna come in and talk.”
“Now you wanna talk?” I shake my head and try to push down the bit of hope growing in my chest. It’s stupid. I shouldn’t be hoping. This can’t happen.
“You gonna let me in?” he asks, like I might actually say yes.
“No.” I shake my head and open my eyes, making sure to only look at his face. The thought of him coming in here only makes me want to test whether or not he can make my bed creak and groan like he did his. This is bad. Real fucking bad.
“Why the fuck not?” He sounds all pissed off.
“‘Cause I don’t have to, that’s why.” I'm flippant as I say it.
“Don’t push me, baby.” He narrows his eyes at me as he says it.
“I’m not your baby. I’m not your anything.” I at least have a little pride knowing that those words came out strong.