Michael was that guy. The one that everyone was cautious of. Maybe it was the tattoos. Maybe it was the way he gave off a "don't screw with me" vibe. Maybe it was because he just told them to leave him the hell alone. Regardless, people gave him his space. He was screwed up, and everyone knew it. He got tattoos because he liked the pain. He was standoffish. He didn't have many friends outside of work. And the only thing he had going for him was that he was a good cop. Everyone wondered about him, but no one asked. The only one that didn't treat him as if he was screwed up was Nikki Pena, a woman that he couldn't have. Nikki was that girl. The one that everyone loved. The one girl that he'd destroy if he let her have her way. What did she want? Him. But, he couldn't give her him. She didn't deserve what it would take to be with him. So Michael would suffer in silence . . . or so he thought. The woman who loved him had different ideas. Contains mature themes.