Tangled In Strings

Chapter Fifteen

"My doorman saw him leave," I blurt out.

"Did he see him inside your apartment? Did he see him leave your apartment?"

I sputter, holding out my hands. "No, he didn't! But there are fucking cameras so you could see him leaving from there! Goddammit, Tom! This is your fucking job!"

He breathes in, sticking his hands into his pockets. "Scarlett, why don't you have a seat, okay? Calm down. I'll get you a coffee, and we can–"

"Don't tell me to calm down," I bark. "I just came home to find my ex-husband hiding in the fucking shadows! Just like before! So, how about you put aside the fact that you're his fucking friend and serve the law like you're supposed to!"

His mouth sets disapprovingly. "Why was he there? Just to scare you?"

I nearly say it.

In my flustered rambling, I nearly tell him he threatened me with blackmail. But I stop myself, knowing I'd blow up Giovanni's life and he'd not even know it was coming.

Not even my fear can make me do that to him.

I close my eyes, feeling my phone buzzing in my purse. Fuck, I can't be doing this.

I look at the door.

"Scarlett, just wait here. He gets off his shift in a few minutes. I can talk to him then–"

"Just get the tapes to the building, alright? You'll see him enter and leave my apartment. And don't tell him I told you any of this–"

"I have to, Scarlett. I need to know what the hell is going on here."

"YOU KNOW WHAT IS GOING ON!" I shake my head, laughing through my anger. I walk to the door. "For fuck's sake!"

I swing the door open and stalk down the hall, reaching into my purse for my phone, which hasn't stopped buzzing.

"There she is–?"

I look up, and my eyes land upon Dixon's. He blinks, and in one split second, he transforms his features into a look of shock and disbelief as he approaches me, giving an Oscar-worthy performance.

"Scarlett, what's wrong? What are you doing here?"

Mother. Fucker.

I feel something inside finally implode, seizing control of my body. I discard my bag onto the floor and meet him halfway. I don't say a damn word.

I slam my hand into his cheek, and drag my nails along his skin, hearing a snarl come deep from my chest. He cries out, backing up, but, blinded by my hatred, I continue coming at him. I shove my fist into his neck, his cheek, wherever I can get before I'm being pulled off of him by someone else.

I hear Tom's voice in my ear. His arms are holding me tightly. I struggle against him, eyes searing into Dixon's face, pleased I drew blood.

"What the fuck are you doing?"

...

I lean back in the holding cell, staring out through the bars, my arms crossed over my chest. I'm alone. Earlier, there was another woman but she was bailed out over an hour ago.

I could care less that I'm in here.

In fact, being in here means I'm frozen in time for a moment. There's nothing I can do to change my circumstances from here. I stare at my feet, realizing how damn depressing that thought is.

I look up when I see Dixon entering the hallway, blowing out a large, calculated exhale and I know that he's going to be a dick about this. His cheek is marked by swollen gashes from my nails.