Chapter Fiveteen

"Your heart is beating so fast," Mike says, dropping me onto the mattress.

Of course it is. This was probably the scariest five minutes of my life, not knowing if I could pull off the lie. Thanks to Zain, it worked.

"You kissed me the entire way through the house," I say. "Of course it's beating fast."

Mike slides on top of me and presses his lips to mine, kissing me gently. He runs his hand through my hair, kissing down my chin and neck, until he gets to the base of my throat. He pauses and looks me straight in the eye.

"Do you love me, Najwa?" he says, his question coming straight out of left field.

I swallow and then nod.

He pushes up onto the palms of his hands. "Well then, say it." I force a smile as I look up at him. "I love you, Mike."

He stares at me a moment as if he has an internal lie detector and he's waiting to see if I passed. He slowly lowers himself on top of me and buries his head in my neck. "I love you, too," he says. He rolls onto his side and pulls me to him. He holds me, rubbing his hand in soft circles over my back. I don't remember the last time he touched me in this bed without it being directly related to sex. He kisses the side of my head and sighs.

"Don't leave me, Najwa," he says firmly. "Don't you ever fucking leave me."

The fierce yet desperate look in his eyes paralyzes me. I shake my head. "I won't, Mike."

His eyes scroll over every inch of my face. Lying here wrapped in his arms, watching him watch me with such intensity—I don't know if I should feel loved or terrified. It's a little of both.

He presses his mouth to mine and kisses me hard. He shoves his tongue deep into my throat like he's trying to claim every inch of me from the inside out. There's nothing tender about it, and when he tears his mouth from mine, he's gasping for breath. He lifts up onto his knees and pulls his shirt over his head. "Tell me again," he says, reaching to me and pulling both my shirt and bra over my head. "Tell me you love me, Najwa. That you'll never leave me."

"I love you. I'll never leave you," I whisper, praying the latter will soon be a lie.

He brings his mouth back to mine and runs his hands down my stomach until he reaches my pants. He's kissing me with such intensity, it's hard to catch my breath. He tries to pull my pants down, but he can't seem to break away from my mouth long enough to do it. I lift my hips and remove my clothes, just like the whore I've become for him.

Because is this not the definition of a whore? Someone who compromises his or her self-respect for personal gain? Even if my personal gain is something selfless and has nothing to do with me and everything to do with my brother, it doesn't change the fact that I'm having sex with him in exchange for something. Which...by definition...makes me a whore.

His whore.

And from the possessive look in his eyes, that's all he'll ever allow me to be.

***

POV Zain/Malik

There are few things worse than my sense of timing. As soon as I open the back door to walk inside the house, my ears are met with the final sound of Mike's grunts coming from upstairs. I pause in the kitchen, not even sure why I'm listening to what he's doing to her. Just the thought of it makes my stomach turn, especially after knowing what he just did to Jess a matter of two hours ago.

When I hear footsteps upstairs and the bathroom door shut, I snap out of my trance and walk to the refrigerator. There's a magnetic dry-erase board, covered in phone numbers, stuck to the front of the fridge. I grab one of the markers and press it to the board and write. Footsteps descend the stairs and I snap the marker back into place, then turn around just in time to see Mike round the corner.

"Hey," he says. He's barefoot and the only thing he's wearing is his unbuttoned blue jeans. His hair is in disarray and he has a smug grin on his face.

"What's up?" I lean against the counter and watch him as he walks to the cabinet and grabs a bag of potato chips. He opens it and leans against the counter across from me.

"How'd it go last night?" he asks. "I haven't even had a chance to ask you."

"Good," I say. "But I was curious. What if we could get to his supplier directly? There really isn't a need for a middleman anymore, if the only reason you were going through him was for translation."

Mike pops another chip into his mouth and licks his fingers. "Why do you think I brought you in?" He sets the bag of chips down and turns to the sink, running his hands under the water. "My hands fucking taste like pussy," he says, scrubbing them with soap.

This is one of the few moments in my career when I wish I had chosen something a little lamer. Something a little less emotionally draining. I should have been a poetry teacher.

"How long have you been dating that girl?" I ask. Part of what I'm here for is to pry, but the only questions I seem to want to know the answers to are questions related to Najwa.

He dries his hands on a towel and grabs the bag of chips, then takes a seat at the bar. I stay where I am.

"A while. Two years maybe?" He shoves a handful of chips into his mouth and wipes his palm down the leg of his jeans.

"Doesn't seem like she approves of what you do," I say, treading lightly. "You think she'd ever out you?"

"Hell no," he quickly replies. "I'm all she has. She's got no choice but to accept it."

I nod and grip the edge of the counter behind me. I don't trust a word that comes out of his mouth, so I'm really hoping the fact that he's all she has is just another one of his lies.

"Just making sure," I say. "It's hard for me to trust people, if you know what I mean."

Mike narrows his eyes and leans forward. "Don't ever trust anyone, Zain. Especially the whores."

"I thought you said Najwa wasn't a whore," I challenge.

He keeps his eyes locked with mine—unmoving and angry. For a moment, I'm worried he might do to me what he did to Jon earlier. Instead, he brings his hand to his jaw and pops his neck, then leans back in his seat again. The flash of anger in his eyes dissipates with the sound of Najwa's footsteps descending the stairs. She walks into the kitchen and comes to a pause when she sees both of us.

Mike takes his eyes off me and looks at Najwa. He laughs and stands up, scooping her against him. "People have to earn my trust," he says, looking over her shoulder at me. "Najwa earned hers."

She puts her hands against his chest and pushes against him, but he doesn't release her. He sits back down and pulls her against him so that she's standing between his legs with her back to his chest, facing me. He wraps his arms around her stomach and rests his chin on her shoulder, making eye contact with me again.

"I like you, Zain," Mike says. "You're all business."

I force a half-smile, gripping the counter with all my strength as I try not to look in her eyes. I can't handle the fear I see in them every time he has his hands on her.

"Speaking of business," I say, "I'll be back in a couple of hours. I've got a few things I need to do." I straighten up and walk past Najwa and Mike toward the front door. When I do, she looks up at me with appreciation in her eyes.

Mike bends down and kisses her neck, then lifts a hand to her breast. She squeezes her eyes shut and grimaces, then turns away from me.

I keep walking and head for the front door, feeling completely helpless. I have to remind myself that I'm here for one reason and one reason only— and she isn't it.

I text Lewis before I pull out of the driveway and tell him I'm going to the station to do a few write-ups. Instead, I just start driving, not having a clue as to where I'm going. I turn on the radio and try to rid the murderous thoughts I'm having of Mike, but all my other thoughts are of Najwa...and every thought I have of Najwa leads back to murderous thoughts of Mike.

I realize I have a duty. My duty is to complete the job I'm being paid to do...which is to bust the largest campus drug ring in collegiate history. The drug problem at the local university has multiplied tenfold in the past three years alone. Rumor has it that Mike is the sole reason for that. Mike and all the people in his circle, which is why Lewis and I are here—to identify the key players. Lewis and I are only a small part of this sting, but it's the small parts that make up a huge whole, and every one of our roles is vital.

Mike is ruining countless lives and Najwa's is just one of them. I can either focus on what I'm here to do and help take down everyone involved in his entire operation, which will in turn save lives...or I can save one girl from her abusive boyfriend.

Having to separate what I'm here to do and what I want to do makes this situation feel like General Patton's theory, how sometimes it's necessary to sacrifice the lives of the few for the good of the many.

It feels like I'm sacrificing Najwa's life for the sake of all the others that Mike is ruining. And the thought of that kills me.

I find myself second-guessing whether or not I'm cut out for this profession for at least the third time in the last week.

After an hour of driving around, I decide to head back to Mike's. Lewis stays there most of the time, but he told Mike I live on campus during a conversation they had a couple of months ago. Therefore, I had to actually

get an apartment on campus in case Mike ever decides to run a check on me. I'm at Mike's more often than not, though, because that's where I'll ultimately get most of the info. Well...from being around his "crew" and...possibly Najwa.

I know Lewis is right. I know I need to utilize Najwa for the advantage of the investigation, but that would mean she would have to remain in the situation she's in. I'd much rather sneak her some cash and force her to run as far away from Mike as she can get.

When I close in on Mike's street, I notice Najwa sitting at a park bench two blocks from their house. She's seated alone with books laid out in front of her on a picnic table. I slow down the car and pull over to the side of the road. I scope out the area, ensuring she's alone.

I sit in my car and watch her awhile, contemplating what I should do. If I were smarter, I would keep driving and refocus my attention where it needs to be. If I were smarter, I wouldn't be shutting my car door, preparing myself to cross the street.

If I were smarter...