There was no more relaxing for Dawson and I. I couldn't help but ask a million questions about what would happen next. There were limited answers that could be given, Dawson not wanting to put the case in dark waters by saying too much.

Concentrating on the movie playing in the dark living room was almost impossible. Had Dawson and I been watching the comedy in another situation, it would have been great, funny, but with the menacing cloud hanging above our heads, we couldn't muster up the energy to laugh, or even to smile. Like zombies, we stared at the flickering television, our minds both completely elsewhere. Just by Dawson's composure, I could see he was on edge, alert.

The reputation of the Renegades was a nasty one. They were ruthless, fearless and had no problem with hurting people to get what they wanted. The more Dawson spoke of them, the more concerned I became for my safety.

My head was pounding, the vessels in my brain swelling, creating pressure on my skull. My eyes were heavy, and by late afternoon, I could feel the lack of sleep overwhelm my body. Intending to rest, leaning my head back, I had fought sleep, afraid of the darkness behind it. I'd lasted an hour and some, and then I could no longer deny myself what my mind and body craved the most.

Cold and unblinking, brows furrowed, the glare on me was burning like a razor sharp icicle that pierced through my chest. Heat radiated through my skin, my body shaking when a loud pop rang through my head, louder than I'd ever heard it before, like a firecracker set alight beside my ear.

I squeezed my eyes closed, my arms lifting to protect my head, but it was futile. Instantly I could feel pain, and when I opened my eyes, the dark shadow stood in front of me, all but his Arctic eyes protected by darkness. Smoke slowly drifted into the air directly in front of me, the circular steel of a gun smouldering after having been fired.

Warmth began to spread throughout my middle, a searing pain shooting through my muscles, my veins, my body as my legs gave way. Landing hard on my knees and glanced down, examining the source. Instantly, my breathing became heavy, gurgling in the back of my throat as I lifted my fingers to the centre of my chest.

Deep crimson liquid rapidly seeped across my T-shirt, staining it in a thick coat of blood.

I could see the open wound, I could understand my agony, I had been shot.

Within seconds, my rapid breathing turned into struggled breathing, warmth rising from my throat, lifting into my mouth as my lips parted. I choked and lurched forward, a cough of blood escaping my wails, splashing onto the ground, onto a pair of boots in front of me. I tried to scream, but I couldn't, I could feel a coldness slithering up my fingers and my toes. Panic set me frantic, my body attempting another scream, and this time, it escaped, loud, piercing, waking me from my nightmare.

"Jasmine, Jasmine, hey, hey!" My body was shaking, but a pair of hands were on my cheeks, steadying me "Wake up Jas, wake up, you're okay" Dawson repeated from in front of me, his hazel eyes urgent, forced on me

"Look at me, you're okay" He continued to assure me, the reality returning, my chest tight as I controlled my breathing

"I'm sorry" I breathed out roughly, forcing back sobs that tempted to break me

"Don't apologise" He let out a lengthy sigh, moving himself from my skin, sitting beside me "Are you okay?"

I nodded, leaning back, running a hand along my chest, just to make sure.

"You want to talk about it?" Dawson offered

Shaking my head, I looked toward him "No"

"You know, I might be able to speak to someone, get you something to help sleep.."

I nodded this time. I wasn't one for drugs, I didn't like the idea of pouring chemicals into my bloodstream unnecessarily, but there were always solid reasons as to why it needed to be done. This was starting to become one of those solid reasons. I couldn't function without sleep, I couldn't concentrate, I couldn't get through the trauma of what I'd endured, and with what was to come without a good nights sleep.

For the remainder of the night, I lay awake, or drifted in and out of small bouts of sleep. Dawson hadn't left the living room, I could feel his eyes on me every few minutes leading up the moment he could no longer deny sleep himself. He was a good man, he was kind, I felt he genuinely worried for my mental state as well as my physical state.

When morning broke, warm sunlight settled against my face and eyelids. It began as a comforting sensation, but slowly irritated the deep sleep I'd at some stage settled into. I groaned and turned, my body becoming entangled in a thick throw draped over my torso.

I didn't care what time it was, where I was, how the blanket had come to be over me so snug, so comforting, all I wanted was to drift back into the darkness I'd desperately needed.

Shifting positions, I outstretched, pulling my muscles tightly.

I buried my face into the couch, sighing when my brain teased me, taunting me that no further rest would be available.

When my eyes adjusted, I lifted my head in time to see and hear Dawson move down the stairs. He was rushing, pulling at his sleeves. He had dressed in his usual professional attire. He looked like a cop again, not the relaxed man that had been lying across from me on the couch, sound asleep.

"Where are you going?" My voice came out deeply as I watched him from over the arm of the lounge

"Detective Harding will be here soon to go through photos with you, while that's happening I'm going to head into town" He explained, packing his files into boxes, hiding the clutter "I'll find out more about the arrests and I'll speak with a psychiatrist I know about getting something to help you sleep"

I watched, he seemed nervous, adjusting his belt, shuffling paperwork, running his hands through his untidy hair.

I sat up "Harding? He was at the funeral?"

I recognised the name when my mind fully awoke to the conversation. He'd been at Tony's funeral, the detective who had been working the assault cases I had helped to solve.

"He's in the robbery unit, they're working along side us, those men didn't just murder Tony and assault you, they also stole, we're going to take them down for every single crime they committed that night"

I nodded as he paused, standing still, his gaze moving to me "How are you feeling?"

I pulled the hair band from my hair, swooping the mess into a low messy bun, somewhat organised, neat "I'm fine"

He took a step forward, his eyes on mine "It's okay to not be fine, this is a safe place, not just for you physically, but for you mentally too.."

"I know" I nodded "Thank you"

His expression seemed to soften, a slight smile creeping, the smirk pulling one from within me. The quiet was soothing, his green and brown swirl of colours captivating me, urging me to look closer. I was getting lost, we were locked and caught between the stare when car tyres on the gravel beside the home pulled Dawson instantly away. He was at the window, on edge and then his shoulders fell again.

"Harding is here"

The announcement had me standing, now panicked at the state of my appearance.

I moved towards the stairs, turning briefly "I'm going to.."

Dawson had already understood, nodding "I'll see you later"

Before Harding had entered, I disappeared upstairs to fix myself. I began with a quick shower that had lasted no longer than five minutes. Brushing the knots from my hair, I organised the strands into a neater version of my previous low messy bun. Frantically, I brushed my teeth, dressed in jeans and a Rolling Stones shirt before re-emerging.

The last time I'd seen Oliver Harding, he'd been dressed for a funeral. This time, he looked different. I took more notice of his face, his stance. He had been leaned over the table, reading over his paperwork, no Dawson in sight.

"Jasmine" He smiled charmingly when he had heard me reach the bottom of the stairs

"Harding?" I approached

"Oliver" He corrected "It's good to see you again"

"I wish the circumstances on both occasions had been different" I tried to gentle joke

"Me too" He agreed with a smirk "This doesn't seem all too bad though" He glanced around the room, his dark chocolate eyes taking in the vacation home

"Again, under different circumstances" I told him

"Of course, it must be rough" His expression turned serious again, turning to his job at hand

"Let's take a seat" He pulled a dining chair out, sitting down. I followed his lead and sat opposite him.

His long fingers opened his thin folder, pulling out two A4 pieces of paper. Instantly, I could see there were portraits of 6 men on both pages. This was it. Nervousness took over.

Oliver held the papers between his hands, hesitating as he watched me.

"Now I want you to take your time, have a good look, if you see anyone you recognise, point them out"

I nodded, sighing

This was for Tony.

When he slid the photos towards me, I remained looking to him. He had a dimple in his chin, light skin and dark hair that was cut neatly and evenly over his head. Stubble had grown over the sides of his jaw, rough, attractive.

"Are you okay?" He asked when he realised I'd been staring blankly at his face, taking in his features so directly

Pulling my gaze down, I nodded

Slowly, my eyes glanced over the faces of the various men in front of me.

I did as Oliver had said, I took my time. I didn't doubt myself, I knew that I could recognise them, they'd had eyes I would forever remember, yet even on paper, they frightened me.

As my eyes moved down on page 1, they immediately caught hold of a strong pair of ice blue eyes. My blood ran cold, my body flinching. My teeth clenched and anger boiled.

"This one" I pointed

"Are you sure?" Oliver watched me carefully

I nodded confidently "Yes"

"Okay, circle it, sign it" He handed me a pen

I did as he instructed and began my search for the other. It wasn't hard, it had taken a mere few seconds. Like the first, my body reacted the same. Without saying anything, I circled the second, signing it. These were the men that had stolen Tony's life, these were the men that had tried to take mine. Adrenaline raced through me, justice having finally taken a step forward.

"You're brave Jasmine, you'll get through this" Oliver took the pictures from me, stuffing them back into the folder

"I'm not.." I shook my head

"You are, I can see it in your eyes"

I leaned back, my arms over my chest, it was in that moment my stomach decided to growl, loudly for detective Oliver Harding to hear

Instead of pretending to ignore it, he let out a small laugh, his body relaxing "Haven't had breakfast yet?"

"Not yet" I responded, unable to hide a smile

Oliver stood and moved to the kitchen, opening cupboards and exploring the pantry.

"What are you doing?" I stood, watching him

"I'm making breakfast" His perfect teeth appeared beneath a grin "It's the most important meal of the day, is it not?"

Oliver Harding had spirit, he was bold and charming. Oliver Harding was the type of man I recklessly fell into a night of regret with. The idea caused me to cringe, yet I leaned into his confident personality.