Total pages in book: 83
Estimated words: 82187 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 411(@200wpm)___ 329(@250wpm)___ 274(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 82187 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 411(@200wpm)___ 329(@250wpm)___ 274(@300wpm)
“I live alone, and cooking gives me something to do. Y’know?”
Vasquez nodded, watching the steam rise from the curry. “I get that.”
“I bring leftovers sometimes. No one ever asks for any though. Most people get weird when they see Indian food. They say it’s too ‘fragrant…or spicy.’”
Joshi smiled as though he didn’t care, but there was a flicker of solemnity in his tone.
“I think it smells incredible,” Vasquez said without thinking. “Better than anything I’ve had in weeks.”
He wasn’t sure what shifted, maybe it was the way Joshi looked at him, steady and unflinching, or maybe it was the constant anger and disappointment in his chest giving way to something…softer.
“Thanks,” Joshi said quietly, dabbing his mouth with a napkin. “I’ve got extra if you’re hungry.”
Vasquez hesitated. He shouldn’t. This guy was higher in rank than him…could be risky. Besides, detectives didn’t give much thought to desk jockeys in ugly, stiff polyester.
Especially ones with offshore secrets.
But right now, he didn’t feel like a desk jockey. He felt like a man watching the possibility of warmth slide across the table.
“Sure, I’ll give it a try,” he said after a beat.
Joshi pushed the container toward him. “Careful, it’s spicy.”
“I can handle heat,” he murmured, and for the first time in years, he smiled.
Day
The precinct was quiet, a rare thing for one in the morning.
Day stood in the doorway of God’s office, watching his husband scowl at an overflowing case file as though it was the source of all his problems, and not his stubbornness.
God’s black T-shirt was rumpled and his shoulders were tensed up to his ears, probably from being hunched over his desk for hours.
His thick hair was wild from pulling and running his fingers through it until it was now a tangled mess.
He was clearly exhausted. Still handsome as hell, but exhausted.
Day leaned against the doorframe. “We haven’t had lunch or dinner. You realize that, right?”
God didn’t answer or look up.
Day stepped inside, keeping his tone light. “I know you’re pissed at me. But I’m allowed to disagree with you, Cash. That’s what partners do. That’s what husbands do to.”
God kept reading.
Day drug his hand down his face, trying not to let his disappointment show.
“I care about getting the bad guys just as much as you do. But I care about my family more. The guys aren’t getting any younger, Cash, and they all have something, someone, very important to live for.”
Still nothing.
Day lowered his voice. “There’s always gonna be another monster waiting in the dark. But we don’t get another Michaels. Or Syn, Tech. Or another Wes and Law. You think I don’t wanna clean up Atlanta? I adore you for wanting to make everyone safe. But sometimes I think you forget we’re not invincible, and you’re only one man.”
That got a reaction.
God glared at him for a long moment, but he didn’t cower away.
“Mercer forced an entire community out of their homes, Leo.” God’s teeth were clenched as if he was struggling not to yell. “Women, kids, elderly. He took over a whole damn building and made it a fuckin’ stronghold.”
God slapped his palm down on his desk.
“He’s practically daring me to come for him. And I’m gonna give him exactly what he wants. Because Mercer won’t stop until he’s swallowed every square inch of that neighborhood. And he won’t care how much blood he sheds doing it.”
Day sighed. He knew Mercer’s body count. Men. Women. A nineteen-year-old kid who shorted him twenty dollars.
“I know, but when we start to make this shit personal, we make mistakes,” Day said softly. “We could lose one of our own trying to stop him with your ‘by any means necessary’ method.”
“My team is always my first priority, and they’re the fuckin’ best. It’s why we chose them. None of them has doubted their abilities in the field.” God leveled him. “Only you.”
Day crossed the room, hands in his pockets.
“Come home, Cash, please. It’s late. We’re both drained, and you’ve been at this desk for hours.”
“I’m waiting on a call,” he muttered.
Day scoffed. “From who? It’s one in the morning.”
God’s mouth tightened. “A movie star, philanthropist, bigwig in LA. He got a key to the city like six years ago. Mayor Jensen gave me his number. I was told he’s got a lot of pull in Hollywood, he might be the one to talk up Law and Wes.”
Day shook his head. “I doubt this person’s gonna call a police lieutenant back at this time of morning?”
“It’s only ten in LA. I can’t miss the call when he does.” God’s glare was sharp enough to cut. “I’m now on a short-ass leash since my husband made it clear I’m out of control and my judgment can’t be trusted.”
Day frowned. “That’s not what I said—”
“You said it without saying it,” God growled. “In front of the captain, Syn, Hart, Law, Wes, and a goddamn IA inspector. An inspector, Leo! You fuckin’ betrayed me today.”