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)
“Freeman—Free—is our eyes and ears. There’s literally nothing he can’t do from a computer.” Syn gave them a hard glare. “And don’t touch anything over there if you don’t want your credit score lowered to less than a hundred.”
Free lifted one hand without turning around.
“This is Captain Hart,” Syn said. “He runs the SWAT team that leads our entries. You’ll get acquainted with him soon. He’ll be training you with the enforcers.”
The mountain of a man—bald, ten inches of beard, built like a battering ram—stood wide-legged behind Free, massaging his shoulders.
Very touchy-feely crew.
“And just outside the office”—Syn pointed to a row of desks occupied by three women and two men—“is our admin team.”
They were all staring inside, waving before they turned and went back to work.
Law waved back, but before he could speak, Wes lost his shit.
“This is the worst idea ever.” Wes yanked Law by his collar.
“It can’t be the worst.” Law chuckled.
“This isn’t funny, you reckless bastard. Look at that fuckin’ guy.” Wes’s voice got louder as he pointed at Steele. “Who the hell looks like that? And the geeky guy, come on! No one wears a bow tie and has guns like that! He’s a wolf in sheep’s clothing.”
Wes heard the guys laughing at his meltdown, but he didn’t give a damn. He wanted to leave. He wanted to go home and not owe anyone a fuckin’ thing.
“Wes.” Law sighed.
“No! Do you really think we have the stomach to do this kinda shit?” Wes pulled them nose-to-nose, ignoring how Law’s eyes dropped to his mouth. “Your stunt went too damn far this time. You got us indebted to a real-life suicide squad.”
“Okay, okay, I know this seems bad, but come on, Wes, if you really think about it, we’ve gotten ourselves into far worse. What about the Malibu F16 incident, or the time I destroyed the set in Prague?” Law snapped his fingers, eyes widening. “What about the fire in Vegas that got us banned and you almost had to marry that casino manager’s daughter so he didn’t sue us?”
Wes stared as if Law were certifiable.
Law gave him that hot leer when he was thinking their arguing was about to kick into a different gear.
“And the time I punched that Oscar winner over the shrimp fountain at the wrap party for calling your work ‘mediocre.’” Law licked his lips. “You didn’t mind the trouble we got into with the Academy that night. If I recall, you—”
“Shut up, Law!”
“Enough! Both of you shut the fuck up!” God’s voice brought the yelling and laughing to a halt. “I can hear you dumbasses all the way across the bullpen.”
The officers on the other side of the glass had stopped what they were doing and was staring in their direction, most of them shaking their heads or hiding their grins.
All they needed were reclining seats and buckets of popcorn.
Law’s smile vanished as Wes hurried and unclenched his fist from around Law’s collar.
The quick-witted blond lieutenant—if Wes remembered correctly was called Day—followed God.
“My husband sure knows how to pick ’em, huh, guys?”
Wes’s mouth dropped open as he looked God up and down. “He’s you husband.”
Day nodded. “Yep. I’m too big of a stud to be fucked by a puppy.”
God rolled his eyes while the rest of the team groaned as if they were used to those kinds of remarks from their boss.
“Fuckin’ hell, Leo. Can we please not get an inappropriate comment complaint for just one damn day?”
“I’ll do my best,” Day deadpanned.
What the hell kind of police department is this?
Lawson (Law) Sheppard
Law leaned against the wall, arms folded, expression indifferent. But he was listening to every word.
Across the conference table, Godfrey stood in a wide-legged stance, shoulders squared. Beside him, his husband lounged in a chair with his boots resting on the polished wood surface, holding an oversized steel mug.
The man seated across from them—Captain Murphy, the precinct’s division chief—looked less than impressed.
“So let me get this straight.” The captain dragged his hand over the tired expression on his face. “You want me to approve you bringing on two unlicensed-to-carry, Hollywood blocklisted rejects, with zero police training into an already unstable, morally challenged task force, and just—what? Start blowing shit up?”
God didn’t blink, as if he knew he’d get his way.
Syn took over.
“They wouldn’t be blowing anything up, Capt. Wesley and Lawson would be creating diversions, chemical pressure and psychological illusions. And in turn, we’d have to use less lethal tactics. I’d be overseeing their training myself.”
“Lord help me.” Captain Murphy sighed, glancing at Day. “You already have enforcers running over pedestrians in crosswalks and costing the city thousands a month in damages. Hell, three-quarters of the complaints I get have your team members’ names overflowing in the margins.”
God shrugged. “Yet crime rates drop every time we close a case.”
“Just ’cause it’s a crosswalk doesn’t mean you can just step out into traffic,” Day murmured.