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)
Vasquez folded over with a choked gasp, arms clutched around his middle as the air whooshed out of his lungs.
“What the hell are you doing, lieutenant?” Joshi hollered.
He hoped Joshi didn’t jump into this. He didn’t want him hurt. Ruxs and Green worked together like a professional wrestling tag team. Most didn’t stand a chance against them.
Green twisted his arms behind his back in a hammerlock and pivoted, slamming him face-first into the side of the desk so hard he saw flashes of bright lights behinds his lids.
“Fuck!” He gasped, eyes watering.
“Hey! Get me some help over here!” Joshi yelled.
Nobody moved. Cops and admin staff stood frozen, eyes wide, some half-heartedly lifting phones to record and probably show to the ones who’d missed it.
Ruxs dipped low and surged forward, shoulder-checking him square in the ribs.
The last of his air exploded from his lungs as he was slammed to the floor, arching the moment his back connected.
Ruxs yanked Vasquez off his feet and flung him toward his partner as if he was throwing a bag of garbage down a chute.
As if Green had been tagged in. He planted his feet and landed a vicious backhand across his mouth, snapping his head to the side, making a fine mist of blood spray from his mouth.
Before Vasquez could even drop, Ruxs grabbed a fistful of his uniform and hauled him back upright.
Green grinned coldly, shifted his weight, and hit him with a savage uppercut that cracked his chin and almost lifted him off the floor.
Vasquez collapsed in a boneless heap, eyes glassy, blood dripping from his lip and eye onto his uniform.
“Back off! Or I’ll have your goddamn badges!”
Joshi was standing close as if trying to protect him, but there was no stopping the freight train that was God and Day’s enforcers.
Day stepped forward, looming over Vasquez like a judge in a courtroom. He grabbed a handful of his hair and yanked his head back until their noses were inches apart.
Day’s voice was grated and lethal. “Stay the fuck outta my department. And the fuck outta of my marriage. You hear me?”
Vasquez tried to speak, but nothing came out.
Day’s grip tightened as if he could rip him bald if he wanted.
“It won’t be long before I nail your snitchin’ ass to the fuckin’ wall. I know you’re dirty. And I’m gonna make it my life’s sole purpose to prove it.”
Day flung him back to the floor, as if he was offended he’d even had to touch him before he walked away.
“Don’t move.” Joshi squatted near his head.
Vasquez stayed limp, dazed, staring past him.
Joshi pulled out his cell phone. “I’m calling their captain. You’re pressing charges on those assholes.”
“No,” Vasquez grunted as he struggled to get up.
When he stumbled, Joshi put his arm under him and helped him stand.
Joshi glanced around with an enraged expression. “You all witnessed that, right? I’m gonna need you all to make statements.”
The crowd of officers dissipated. Some murmured awkwardly as others just drifted away as if they’d wanted no part of him.
Nobody would make a statement, just as they hadn’t lifted a finger to help.
Vasquez wasn’t surprised. He was alone and always would be.
Joshi’s voice trembled. “Ramon… Are you okay? You really should press charges. That was assault—”
Vasquez wiped the blood from his split lip, and flexed his jaw, hoping it wasn’t broken.
Maybe Day had intended to have it wired shut.
“’M fine,” he mumbled.
He rotated his arm, wincing. Thankfully, nothing felt broken. His ribs were probably bruised all to hell, but he’d heal.
Then he saw it, Joshi’s Tupperware open on the floor.
Meat and lettuce were scattered across the dirty tiles. Oil and vinegar seeping into the gray cracks.
For a moment, that sight hurt worse than the punches.
That had been made especially for him. Not to mention he’d needed that meal.
Joshi slammed his hand on the top of the desk.
“Fuck that. I’m going to their captain right now.”
He turned and strode away too fast for Vasquez to stop him.
He stood in place for a long time, staring at his ruined sandwich.
Finally, he swiped a few paper towels from his desk and began quietly cleaning the mess.
Not a word escaped his lips.
I have to get my dad and me as far away from here as possible.
God
God sat in the captain’s conference room, arms folded, shoulders aching from strain.
Day sat beside him, silent and rigid, a deep furrow between his brows. Ruxs and Green were sprawled on the other side of the table, trying to look relaxed and failing miserably.
Syn hovered near the wall, dark circles under his eyes, while Hart leaned against the door, arms crossed, molars grinding.
Inspector Joshi paced like a caged panther, suit jacket thrown over a chair, shirt askew, fury radiating off him like heat waves.
“…and I witnessed the entire thing,” Joshi said, voice sharp and cold as ice. “Vasquez was doing nothing except having a conversation with me. And these three”—he waved his arm in a wide arc at Day, Ruxs, and Green—“storm in like a fucking medieval brute squad and start beating the shit out of him, not caring who was watching!”