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)
A few reporters blinked, clearly thrown by his response. He was known as the easy, lighthearted one who diffused the tension with humor.
But he was fresh out of smiles.
A wave of applause went through the surrounding crowd.
Captain Murphy clapped God on the shoulder, then Hart.
“Damn good work. I think we got ’em this time.”
Day lowered his head, pinching the bridge of his nose.
“You’re about to ruin the rest of my night, aren’t you?”
Captain Murphy groaned, lines of exhaustion carving deep grooves around his eyes.
“I hate to say this, fellas. But don’t get too comfortable. IA wants you back at the precinct for debrief in an hour.”
Day tilted his head back, staring at the swirls of lights overhead.
“Are you fuckin’ serious?” Hart snapped. “What the hell ever happened to the courtesy of allowing us to decompress?”
“They’re already waiting,” the captain said with finality. “Don’t make ’em wait too long.”
God let out a murderous groan.
“I need a drink the size of that goddamn fire engine,” Day muttered.
God glanced at him, voice dry as dust. “Looks like we’ll be day-drinking tomorrow.”
As they loaded into their blacked-out SUVs, the crowd went crazy, clapping, whistling, and chanting their names.
He stared out of the window at the battered building they’d just stormed. These were once homes that low-income families lived in before they were forcibly made to move. Some of them were now without housing.
Their job wasn’t over.
Yes, Mercer was going down, and that was one big, venomous snake off the streets.
But Day knew there’d always be more snakes, dope, overdoses, and more victims.
Tonight was a win.
But tomorrow, there’d be war all over again.
Day
Day came through the precinct’s glass doors behind his husband, boots dragging, helmet dangling from his fingers.
He had one hour to peel off his gear that was drenched with sweat, hit the showers, and down some coffee dark as motor oil and thick as syrup.
The digital clock above the duty desk glowed 1:03 a.m. in taunting bright-red numbers.
The bullpen erupted into applause as they walked past—it looked as if every officer on the night shift was in the office—all of them pounding their fists on desks. Someone let out a long, shrill wolf whistle that grated through his mind like sandpaper on raw nerve.
Day appreciated the support, but goddamn, he needed some peace and quiet…and to lie in bed for a month.
Ruxs grinned, slapping Law’s shoulder so hard he nearly toppled him over.
“Told ya we’d make the evening news!”
Day was glad his team felt good, but before they could enjoy the praise, reality dropped on him like a two-ton weight.
The chief of police was talking to the deputy mayor and about three or more of the city’s council members outside the department’s conference room.
If the bigwigs were there at this time of morning, it wasn’t to deliver good news.
Day shook his head. He was out of all fucks to give.
God
God settled into a chair in the precinct’s largest conference room, arms folded, back aching, eyes gritty.
But beneath the exhaustion, a different ache pulsed in his chest.
He needed time alone with his husband. He’d ignored Day long enough.
The job had devoured every spare hour, every piece of him he should’ve been giving to the man he loved. And after tonight, God wanted nothing more than to put all his focus on Day, to prove he was the most important thing in his life.
Day had been fucking incredible tonight. A warrior at his side. Unwavering and fierce.
He spoke of being tired and worn, but he didn’t move or fight like he was.
Now he sat four feet across the table from him…too far away.
God couldn’t stop staring at him. Even dog-tired, his husband was gorgeous. Sexy as hell.
His damp hair was pushed back, eyes shadowed, smelling like clean soap and something warm and familiar that always lured him in.
All God could think about was getting him home, drawing him a steaming Epsom salt bath, and sliding his hands over every hard line of his body, massaging away the ache and stress that’d been there for months.
Then he’d make slow, gentle love to him until they both forgot the criminal world existed. He’d hold him tight in his arms until morning and wake him with breakfast in bed…that he’d have DoorDashed.
He was lost in that perfect future until a sharp voice cut through his fantasy like a rusty blade.
“Lieutenant Godfrey.”
He blinked hard.
An IA senior officer stared at him over a pair of black-rimmed glasses.
“I asked you a question.”
His husband gave him a subtle wink as if he’d known exactly where his head had been.
His team was lined up around the table, looking worse for wear, but always strong and ready.
Free was at the front, remote in hand, about to press play on the video feed from their helmet cams, drone angles, and body footage.
“Why did you decide to breach and deploy a full-on assault instead of waiting for Mercer to leave?”