Page 29 of Tear Me Down (Descent to Darkness Trilogy #2)

“No, I’m serious, man,” the dealer slurs, nodding his head lazily, “that shit will make you see stars. It’s going out for real cheap, too. I can get you some.” Now, that catches my attention and checks another box on the ‘what could piss me off today’ list.

“Why is it so cheap?” I ask, but the dealer shakes his head and snarls his lip.

“I’m not talking to you. You’re mean,” the dealer, my fucking captive , complains, and my jaw drops. Is he serious? He can’t be serious. Carter turns to look at me and grins. A cocky, playful smirk curls at the corner of his lips as true amusement sparkles in his eyes.

“Yeah, D, you’re being really mean,” he coos.

Fuck you. I mouth, and he snickers just before he turns back to the dealer.

“Come on, bud. Why is it so cheap?” Carter coerces him.

“He wants everyone to have it and everyone to want it. Anywhere popular? That's where we're supposed to go.”

“Like where?” I ask, stepping back up to him.

“You know, everyday spots. The college campus, the clinics, bars, liquor stores, gas stations, pretty much anywhere we can find a lot of people willing to have a good time.”

“Hold on, D,” Carter interjects. “That's a lot of exposure that they didn't have before.”

“Yeah, Dad wants our name out there real bad.” The dealer nods and agrees, almost like he's proud of himself.

“You'd think a drug empire wouldn't want that much attention.”

I think about that for a moment. Carter's right.

Up until now, Dust has always been very discreet.

Selling to only the users that prove themselves, keeping their locations hidden and out of reach—but they're changing the game by leveling the playing field, knowing that we also operate in the shadows.

They may have most of the police department at their disposal now, but the few good cops that are left are another story.

Not to mention the state troopers that make their way through town occasionally.

“We're thinking about this wrong,” I finally say. “We need more information, and we're not going to get it this way.” I gesture back to the dealer. My thoughts are torn again as my phone buzzes in my pocket, and when I pull it out to check the messages, my heart swells.

My Love

Zeke and I are headed to the Attic now.

Okay, baby. Be safe.

The anger fades as I read her message, leaving nothing but a warm fog in my chest. This time last year, I never would've thought something as simple as a text would fix all of my problems, but my life has drastically changed since then.

Morphed into something so perfect, yet so terrifying at the same time.

I know she'll be tired, and hopefully hungry, after her long day, so I need to make sure she's comfortable while we talk upstairs.

She had asked that I start training her today when she got off work, but I don't see that happening.

She's been exhausted once she gets here after her shifts, even napping in my lap a couple of times while I've worked in my office.

She was right, it seems almost everyone was waiting for her to come back to work, so she's been really busy while she's been there.

“Go get the conference room ready, I'll finish this. Is there still fruit in the kitchen?” I should've checked once I got here today, but I was so caught up in this dealer, I had planned on telling Zeke to stop and get her something.

Stupid . She's finally upgraded from puréed foods to at least solid fruits and thinly cut vegetables, and I'm determined to get her to the finish line sooner than later.

Her weight is finally holding steady again, even though she lost about fifteen pounds during her recovery.

Derek wants to see her hold meat and grains down before he fully considers her healed, but at least this is a step in the right direction.

“Yeah, Zander ran out this morning and restocked for you.”

“Awesome. I'll text him, thanks. ”

Carter pats the dealer on the knee and stands to leave, grabbing his laptop and heading upstairs.

“You know, you should really be nicer like your friend,” the dealer oh so politely suggests and plucks my last nerve. I finally pick up my favorite knife, feeling goosebumps rise along my arms as the blade scrapes the counter.

“Yeah, I really should be,” I tease, then turn, stalking up to him quickly and jamming the knife into his throat.

We're sitting in the conference room, waiting on Alex to get here before we all brainstorm.

I can't help but stare at my girl as she sits beside me at the head of the table, looking like the fucking queen she is.

I had gotten her fruit ready and met her outside to check on her before we started, wanting to make sure she was up for this.

I was right, she's exhausted, but I suppose it's the good kind.

Her routine was something she clung to for so long, that the normalcy of it calms her.

I suppose with such a chaotic life like ours, a little repetition isn't such a bad thing.

Darnell let Daisy stay with us again after they were done with her daily work, and now her furry head is lying in Ashia's lap.

That dog has been attached to her hip whenever she's here at the Attic, and my sweet woman is taking full advantage, spoiling her rotten and making sure she gets all of the affection a dog could crave.

She keeps sneaking her little pieces of watermelon and giggling to herself as Daisy chews them up, just to go right back to nuzzling her snout in her lap.

It's surprising how attached she’s gotten to Ashia, but Darnell puts it off because Daisy hasn't been around a lot of other women.

I know it's because of what a good heart she has.

It's the same reason kids adore her so much.

She also loves dogs as much as I do, and I'm not surprised they're just as fond of her.

Should I get her a dog? I could train it so it doesn't allow anyone near her but me.

Well, and maybe Zeke, but that's only until things die down a little.

Though, Daisy is a special case. Most working dogs remain in their on-duty mindset until their normal downtime—but with Ashia?

She's always like this. Every day for the past week, once Ashia gets here, this dog turns to putty, and it's one of the most heartwarming sights.

She finally tears her attention away from Daisy and looks over at me again. A small grin creeps onto her face, mouthing ‘what' as she playfully shakes her head. I can't resist the urge to lean over and press a soft kiss to her cheek, needing to feel her in some way .

“I love you,” I murmur in her ear, and she nudges her face against mine in a sweet gesture.

“I love you too,” she whispers back, and I brush a strand of her hair behind her ear.

“So, really, how are you feeling today?”

She pulls back a little to look me right in the eyes, her face softening.

“A little better,” she says truthfully.

“You didn’t get sick?” Thankfully, she shakes her head in response, easing my worry even more.

“Good. Do you want to go to the office and lie down? Your blanket should still be in there.” She doesn’t know this yet, but I bought about twenty of those blankets, half for the house and half for here, plus one in my car.

I didn't ever want to be unprepared in the event that she needed one.

“No, baby, I'm okay. I want to know what's going on.”

I nod, not wanting to argue and make her feel like I don't want her here. Logically, I realize she knows better than that, but I know the way her anxiety works, and I don’t want her to feel underappreciated.

If my woman wants in on what's happening, then she's going to be in it.

I promised her that I would never shut her out, and I don't plan on breaking that.

She rests her head on my shoulder and my lips move to meet her forehead, kissing her softly and lingering until the door opens after a few seconds.

“Sorry, D. You caught me in the middle of a session,” Alex apologizes confidently, but I know what he really means.

He was fucking his wife, Trina, and more power to him.

They’ve been trying for a baby for a few years with no luck, so they've been tracking and trying every natural remedy before they turn to treatments.

When he confided in me a year ago, I offered to pay for the testing and treatments, happy to help them, but Trina has had a hard time accepting that they might need it.

So, I stepped back and waited until they decided what they wanted to do.

“No problem, Alex.”

He waves lightly to Ashia as he sits down, greeting her respectfully and turning his attention to the huge screen on the wall.

The large touch display shows our new digital crime map and a collage of the photos my brilliant fiancé captured from the party.

I sit back in my chair, lacing my fingers through hers, needing her to ground me so I can think straight.

“Alright, let’s think this through. We’re missing something here.

” I stare at Hugo’s photo, the one in the center of the panel.

It’s like he’s staring directly back at me, taunting me through the silence like an angry spirit.

Maybe that’s why I’m so caught up in this, so far buried beneath the truth that I’m too far down to dig my way out.

I want him dead, and I haven’t been very quiet about that—but now, maybe it’s clouding my judgment.

“What if…” my woman begins to speak but then stops, second-guessing herself like always.

I give her hand a reassuring squeeze before my ot her one slides up to meet her chin, grasping it confidently and lifting it to look her in the eyes.

If she has an idea? Everyone is going to fucking hear it.

A stupid joke? They better laugh anyway.

I don’t care if she talks non-stop for twelve hours.

She will be heard for every second of it.

No one is ever going to silence her again.