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Felicity hit him full force before he could recover.
They slammed into the ground in a violent tangle that knocked the breath from her lungs. Dirt scraped across her cheek. Pain shot through her shoulder as Voss twisted beneath her, fighting with desperate, ugly strength.
He nearly rolled free before she drove a knee into his spine hard enough to flatten him face-first into the dirt. She locked onto his wrist and drove her forearm across the back of his neck.
“You have the right to remain silent,” she snarled, wrenching his arm behind his back.
“Fuck you!”
She read him his rights, the first cuff snapping around his wrist. A savage pulse of satisfaction tore through her chest. She yanked his other arm back while he cursed and struggled beneath her, slamming the second cuff into place with a metallic click that felt better than it probably should have.
Two DEA agents closed in beside her, grabbing Voss by the arms and hauling him upright. Dirt streaked his face and shirt, his broken sunglasses dangling from one ear.
He twisted toward her and spat.
Felicity sidestepped neatly, the saliva hitting the dirt beside her boot instead.
The sunglasses fell. “Is this revenge because I wouldn’t fuck you?” he sneered.
Disgust curled cold and sharp through her chest. “No,” she said evenly. “It’s because you’re a disgrace to the badge you carried, and I was smart enough to figure it out.”
His expression darkened.
A woman screamed somewhere across the yard.
Felicity looked up in time to see Sofia Velasco being escorted from the main house in cuffs, struggling violently between two agents as they dragged her toward a waiting SUV.
“Oops,” Felicity drawled, turning back to Voss. “Isn’t that your wife?”
Voss went rigid.
“Take a long, last look at her,” she said. “Hope she was worth it.”
The hatred in his eyes could’ve stripped paint. “You have no idea what you’ve brought down on yourself,” he ground out.
Felicity gave a humorless smile. “Don’t worry about me,” she said. “I’ve got bigger problems on my plate.”
And hell. She was such a hypocrite.
If anyone was a disgrace to a badge, it was her.
31
Homecoming
Felicity pulled into her driveway on fumes and sat for a moment in the stillness. Her body had taken a beating from tackling and restraining Voss, and everything in her ached. The last few days clung to her — coffee gone bitter on her tongue, grease sitting heavy in her gut, nicotine stitched into her nerves.
She dragged herself out of her Bronco and gave Ronan’s truck a long look. Her pulse kicked up at the thought of seeing him, and she suppressed a sigh as she hauled her bag from the back.
She wasn’t sure she had the strength to withstand his attentiveness tonight.
The pugs lost their minds at the sight of her, throwing themselves at the gate in a frenzy of snorts and nails on wood. She barely had the energy to brace—
A sharp whistle cut through the chaos.
They froze, turned, and waddled back, plopping down at the foot of the steps. And waited.
Having Ronan around certainly had unintended benefits.
