Alston's Gun Shop is between a liquor store and an adult movie arcade. I keep my eyes on the LED sign for Absolut, as Tobey picks the lock to the gun store.

"Remind me why I'm doing this," I say.

"Because you believe in justice so much that you would break the law to find it," he says.

"Oh, G.o.d," I mutter, "I'm breaking the law."

"No, you're not. You just happened to come upon a door," Tobey swings the door open, "that happened to be wide open and you went inside to investigate."

He walks into the store without looking back, so I hurry inside after him. Gla.s.s is all over the floor, along with a riflescope that was either dropped by the killer or simply unwanted. I'm distracted by the blood splatter patterns, while Tobey jumps over the gla.s.s case. He moves to a door in the back and goes into another room.

I form my hand into a gun shape and pretend that I'm shooting Tim Alston. Tobey is about the height of the murderer. I glance around the room. There's two surveillance cameras. One is in the back corner and the other is above the register. According to Tobey, the videos didn't show the man's face. It only showed the same hoodie that Tobey wore earlier in the day.

As I look at an empty wall display below one of the cameras, I realize that all of the plastic hooks that are used to hold up the rifles are in pairs of two except one of them. I walk over to it and see that it can turn. I turn it one notch and a drawer pops out. A single videotape is inside the drawer, so I take out the tape.

"Tobey!" I call out, as I slide over the counter and walk into the room where Tobey is shuffling through papers on Alston's desk. I set the tape in front of him and watch his eyes widen.

"Where did you get that?" he asks.

I shrug and simply say, "Secret drawer."

He gapes at me and then laughs, shaking his head. He pops the tape into a VCR in the corner and the TV screen immediately comes to life.

"I thought the police took all of the surveillance tapes," I say as the video begins to play.

"Tim was always worried about being robbed, so it was rumored that he had another camera in the back of the shop," Tobey says. "Maybe he knew he was going to be murdered and this shows the killer."

The video shows a policeman loading a.s.sault rifles into the back of his car. Tim appears and talks to the policeman, but the policeman suddenly takes out his handgun and points it at Tim's chest. The policeman appears to be shouting. Tim raises his arms, showing he's defenseless, then the policeman forces him back into the shop.

"That must be the same policeman that Tim told you about. The policeman wasn't questioning him about selling guns illegally in order to arrest him," I say, as Tobey pushes eject on the VCR and takes out the tape.

"He was questioning him to figure out if he could buy or steal guns from him," Tobey says, finishing my thought. We stare at each other, the implication of this evidence sinking in.

"We need to get that tape to the police. As soon as they get it, you won't be the prime suspect anymore," I say.

Tobey nods, places his hand on my arm, and says, "Thank you, Grace. You didn't have to help me, but you did. It means a lot to me."

I take his hand and squeeze it. "Just because we went our separate ways doesn't mean that I stopped caring," I say.

He leans forward and he's so close to me that I can feel his hot breath against my mouth. I turn my head away, but he grabs my chin and forces me to look at him. "I have never stopped thinking about you," he says.

"We can't be together. I have to think about my future. I can't be with someone who breaks the law every time it's inconvenient for him," I say.

"Can you be with me?" he asks. "A man who never stopped loving you?"

I open my mouth, but I can't find the words to articulate anything that I'm feeling. I turn away from him and walk out the door. I just need a moment to collect myself and figure out what it is that I'm feeling.

I hear the click of a safety being turned off on a gun before I see the policeman in the middle of the store. He points his Glock 22 at me. I freeze as Tobey steps out and stands behind me, but I can feel the tension in his body.

"Why don't you give me that tape? Or I'll shoot your girlfriend's head off her shoulders," the man threatens.

Tobey takes a step forward; although the policeman eyes him, he keeps the gun trained on me.

"The rest of the police force will realize that there is another surveillance camera, and then they'll know that there's a tape missing. They'll become suspicious and start asking the customers of the liquor store and the p.o.r.no store questions. Your description is bound to come up."

"It's not going to be missing," the policeman says. "It'll be edited. I'll delete the part I'm in and make it so it looks like the same moment is happening over and over. Because it is."

Tobey flips the tape in his hand and asks, "Why did you frame me?"

"I was in the back when you came in the shop that day," he says. "I heard your whole scuffle with Alston. I knew you were Tobey Walker, enforcer for the Beasts; so, I also knew it would be easy to pin the murder on you. Now, give me the f.u.c.king tape."

"Yeah, it's interesting that you refer to me as an enforcer. I guess we both uphold our own kind of laws," Tobey says, as he tosses the tape toward the policeman's feet. It lands between his toes. As the policeman bends down to grab it, Tobey picks up the riflescope from the floor and slams it across the policeman's head. Tobey jumps back over the gla.s.s case, grabs my hand, and we run toward the backdoor.

Once we're outside, Tobey is almost dragging me down toward the street. He slows to a walk as we reach the front of the liquor store, but he keeps his grip around my hand. He pushes open the store door and we walk in. The store owner doesn't acknowledge us and Tobey leads me toward the back of the store.

"You needed that tape," I whisper. "Once he changes it, it's going to be hard to prove your innocence."

"I needed to get you out of there first. Your life is worth more than my freedom."

I shake my head. "You didn't commit that murder. You shouldn't go to prison for it."

"I won't," he says. "I made quite a bit of money working for the Beasts. I have a cabin in Pennsylvania that I'll hide out in. It's not under my name, so the police won't think to look there."

"That's not justice," I say.

"It would be justice if you came with me," he says. "I wouldn't feel like a fugitive if you were there."

I take his hand and trace a tattoo of a claw tearing into his flesh, the symbol of the Beasts. He puts his finger under my chin and lifts it, as I gaze into his eyes.

"You don't have to come," he says. "I only thought-"

"I want to come," I say, as I press my hand over his tattoo so my palm covers his pseudo-wound. There were predators that thought that they were stronger than him because they drew blood. Those predators didn't know Tobey. He would fight until he was dead or the battle was won.

Tobey's cabin would be better defined as a small log house. It's almost the size of my home and it has a porch that circles around the front and the sides. When I walk inside, I'm overtaken by the smell of spruce trees and the sense of open s.p.a.ce. I step into the living room and sit down on a sofa covered with a quilt. Tobey sits next to me.

"My grandma made this quilt," he says, picking up a corner of it. "It's made from my grandfather's old t-shirts."

"Really?" I ask, as I glance over the quilt and admire the different colors and patterns.

Tobey leans toward me. His breath tickles against my ear as he speaks, "I've imagined you in this cabin since I built it."

"You built this?" I ask and he nods.

"It took me about five months. It would have been less time, if the Beasts didn't need help doing every single f.u.c.king thing."

"You should have built houses for a living," I say, but he smirks at the idea.

"No," he says. "The crime life works for me. I work when I want and for whoever I want. I also get to give the big f.u.c.k you to any person, organization, or ideal that says that I have to act a certain way."

I lean back on the sofa's armrest and set my feet on his lap. He slides off my shoes and caresses the sides of my feet. I laugh and pretend to kick him, then he grabs my ankle and kisses the top of my foot. In response, I shake my head at him.

"The rules are there for a reason, Tobey," I say. "For example, so you don't get framed for murder because you were threatening the life of a gun shop owner."

He laughs. "I could have been a law-abiding citizen and the cop would have framed me anyway."

He slides one of his hands up my leg to my knee.

"But you're not a law-abiding citizen," I say, as he grabs my arms and pulls me onto his lap. I swing one of my legs over his thighs, so I'm straddling him. He moves his hands back to my legs, his fingers gripping the back of my thighs.

"It's like we never left high school. Do you remember in junior year you had that fake ID and your name was Jesse Jameson?"

"I thought it was clever," he says. "And I keenly remember that you refused to take the ID I had gotten for you. You were always the good girl."

"Is that such a bad thing?" I ask.

"Maybe you're not as much as a good girl as I thought," he murmurs, as I feel his fingers wrap around the string of my thong "Is that such a bad thing?" I repeat. He smirks, shaking his head. I rub my p.u.s.s.y against his groin and his hardness is immediately apparent, pushing up against his jeans.

"f.u.c.k, Grace," he says, unbuckling his jeans, "if you do s.h.i.t like that, I'll only be able to last as long as I did in high school."

"Hmm," I say, smiling. I get off his lap, as he kicks off his shoes and pulls off his pants. "Maybe I should make you wait then."

"Now you're just downright cruel," he says.

He only has his boxer briefs on now and they're tented by his erection. He grabs my arms, pulls me tight against him, and then, he kisses me. As his mouth opens my lips, I can taste his need. He grips my waist and drops me onto the sofa, draping himself over me and pinning my wrists against the sofa cushions. His mouth covers mine and I find deliverance in his tyranny.

When he lifts his head, I can see l.u.s.t overtaking his eyes, but something else plays at the edges, too. "I love you," he says. "I never loved anybody before or after you in the same way as I love you."

Common sense tells me that nothing has changed since high school. I know that I should heed my mother's advice and move on with my life. I also know that I shouldn't give my heart to a criminal.

I'm sick of common sense.

"I love you too," I say. He moves my right wrist up so that he can hold down both of my wrists with one hand. He pulls down his underwear and then my thong with the other hand. He returns to using both his hands to hold me down and I feel his c.o.c.k hot against my entrance. His c.o.c.k seems to have gotten thicker and longer since high school. If I wasn't so wet already, his girth would scare me.

He thrusts into me, hard and fast. I was unprepared for him, my p.u.s.s.y tight from years of celibacy and smaller c.o.c.ks. The friction hits against my c.l.i.t in the most provocative, shameless way and I arch my back to meet his thrusts. I can't stop my moans, as Tobey blasphemes every G.o.d in the universe.

I feel like I can't get close enough to him and the feeling builds up to an unbearable precipice. Every nerve feels like it's overcharged and ready to explode; I want them to. I want the electricity to surge out of my body like a lightning storm.

He pounds into me without remorse. He bows his head to kiss my mouth, then moves his lips to the side of my neck. He bites into my flesh and the pain is the spark that triggers the explosion. My body trembles as my p.u.s.s.y grips onto his c.o.c.k. Pleasure shocks me, rushing through my body with incredible speed. I feel Tobey's c.u.m flood inside me and he collapses onto my chest.

"I love you," he repeats, still trying to catch his breath. I run my fingers through his hair and his sweat clings to my skin.

"I love you," I say back to him. I meant to add the word too again, but I don't think our love is the same thing. His love for me is a lightning storm, striking down with enough power to obliterate. My love for him is the calm after the storm. I don't know if I can exist in his dangerous world and I know he can't live in a world determined by rules; but, somehow we combine, forming something unfathomable.

I stretch as I wake up and my hand hits against a piece of paper. I grab it off the pillow that Tobey must have put under my head.

Grace, First, you need to know that I love you. I love you more than you could ever understand. Because I love you, I cannot stay with you. I am wanted by the police, the dutiful kind and the a.s.shole kind, and you should not have to live like a fugitive. I know the dirty cop has already seen your face, but I will take care of him and then disappear. Don't try to find me. I am taking the hard path for the first time in my life. I hope that this choice will make you think better of me than the s.h.i.tty person I've been in the past.

All of my love, Tobey He says he's going to take care of the dirty cop. Does that mean he's going to kill him? I can't let him do that. I remember the faces of the three accused murderers that I defended. They all had an emptiness in their eyes that reminded me of the expression in the faces of the corpses in the morgue. You don't return from murder as the same person you were. It destroys you the moment your victim's heart stops beating.

I pull on my clothes and run out the door. Tobey left his Jeep in the driveway. I jump into the driver's seat and shift the car into drive. I have to get to the cop before Tobey does. I have to remind Tobey of who he is.

It's rare for a public defender to have a friend in the police force, since it's our job to reverse the arrests that they made; but, Officer Sauers and I bonded over a case where a defendant shot her abusive ex-husband. Sauers had no problem giving me the dirty cop's address after I told him I accidentally took his cellphone when I b.u.mped into him at a coffee shop.

The dirty cop's name is Robert Wright. He lives on Oak Street on the second floor of an apartment building. It takes me ten minutes to drive there. The front door is locked and it has an intercom system. I press the b.u.t.ton that says "Ettinger." There's no answer. I press the next b.u.t.ton, labeled "Perry."

"h.e.l.lo?" a woman's voice asks.

"Hey, I locked myself out. Could you let me in?"

The lock clicks. I fling open the door and run inside. I race up the flight of stairs and find apartment 202.

The door is slightly ajar. I hear Wright's voice, as he says, "...thrive in prison. You can threaten and beat the s.h.i.t out of people until you reach the top. It won't be that bad for you."

My stomach drops as Tobey's voice responds, "If I'm going to prison, I'm going to go there for the crime I committed."

"Killing a cop is different than killing a civilian," Wright says. "They will bring back the death penalty just for you."

"At least you'll be off the streets and the people I care about will be safe," Tobey responds.

There's the sound of a gun c.o.c.king. I shove open the door and rush inside. Both Tobey and Wright have a handgun pointed at each other. They glance at me, but their gaze quickly returns to each other.

"Grace," Tobey says through his teeth. "What in f.u.c.k's name are you doing here?"

"Trying to prevent you from committing murder," I hiss. Wright shifts his Glock 22's aim at me. Tobey's nostrils flare and his finger seems to tighten on the trigger of his Smith & Wesson pistol.

"Well, it's kind of a bad time," Tobey growls. "Can you come back after I give this guy a third eye?"

"No," I say. "You can't kill him, Tobey. I can't let you do that."

"It's not up to you, Grace."

"You said you wanted me to think differently of you," I say. "If you kill him, I will think of you differently. I will think of you as a murderer."

"He wants to kill both of us. I need to end his life to prevent that," Tobey says.

"No, you don't. Tobey, please. Don't do this."

"f.u.c.k," he snarls. He lowers the gun as if he's about to drop it and a gunshot goes off. I flinch, closing my eyes, as the sound rattles through my bones. When I open my eyes, I glance over Tobey's body, but I don't see any bullet wounds and his face is calm. I turn to face Wright. He drops his gun and bends over. Tobey kicks the gun away from him and I see his groin area has a spot of blood that is quickly spreading out toward his thighs. He collapses onto his floor, clutching between his legs.

Tobey walks around him and grabs the surveillance tape that's next to a TV. He finds a phone on Wright's kitchen counter and dials three numbers.