Total pages in book: 125
Estimated words: 125248 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 626(@200wpm)___ 501(@250wpm)___ 417(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 125248 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 626(@200wpm)___ 501(@250wpm)___ 417(@300wpm)
He didn’t hurry, fidget, or appear impressed. His confidence saturated where he stood, and Day watched half the room respond to it before they knew what it was.
The stares held until they reached the main desk.
“Get me your lieutenant,” God demanded.
A polished boy-scout-looking officer blinked back and forth between them, and Day could almost hear his thoughts. ‘Not local. Not here to file a complaint. Too much badge. A whole lot of muscle, and attitude.’
A uniformed sergeant walked out of a side corridor before the officer could respond.
“Lieutenant Godfrey?” he asked.
God nodded. “Sergeant Benoit,” he said. “Captain wants to speak with you. If you’ll follow me.”
God’s expression didn’t change. “Where are my detectives?”
The sergeant’s mouth tightened. “They’re being processed.”
Day stepped close enough for God to feel his warning.
Benoit cleared his throat. “Captain Hela will brief you.”
They followed Benoit through a set of frosted doors into the working side of the precinct.
It was even cleaner back there.
The hallway walls were lined with framed commendations, city maps, and glassed-in workspaces.
Benoit led them into a conference room and stepped aside.
Inside, a long table dominated the space, surrounded by expensive, black ergonomic chairs. A wall-mounted screen showed a paused security clip of Ruxs and Green in mid-chase on a busy street.
The four men already waiting inside stood when they entered and Benoit began to make quick introductions.
The first man he pointed out was slim and silver-haired, with a square jaw. “Lieutenant Dominic Salazar. Threat management operations.”
“Detective Nolan Greer. Major Crimes.” The second man was bald with wispy hair barely clinging to the sides of his head. He wore a navy suit jacket with a blue tie that made his blue eyes even sharper.
The third was younger, neatly groomed, and had city attorney written all over him. His style of clothing was so similar to Tech’s, Day had a hard time taking his eyes off him. “Jason Aranda. District Attorney's Office, Stalking and Threat Assessment Team.”
The fourth wore street clothes, all designer, and his badge on his belt. “Detective Ralph Pike, Hollywood Special Investigations.”
God didn’t bother introducing them or himself. “Where are my detectives?”
Lieutenant Salazar gave him a dry smile. “Not so fast, cowboy.”
God stepped forward and the lieutenant retreated so fast his hip bumped the table.
God lowered his voice. “Da fuck did you just call me?”
Salazar’s face drained a shade. “It was a joke. Damn, man. Chill out.”
Day caught God by the back of his belt and whispered in his ear, “Do not let your mouth write a check your ass can’t cash.”
The conference room door opened before the situation could escalate, and a man in a tailored black suit, who looked to be in his late fifties, walked in.
“I’m Captain Vega,” he said briskly. “Gentlemen, have a seat.”
Day took one of the chairs because he had nothing to prove, and his knees were begging him to. Free slid into the chair beside him and placed his tablet face down on the table. Tech sat with perfect posture, tablet resting on his lap. Steele ignored the chairs and propped one hip against the table beside Tech.
God kept standing.
Captain Vega glared at him. “Lieutenant?”
“I’m not tired,” God gritted. “Where are my men?”
Pike’s attention dropped to God’s holster, where the twin Desert Eagles rested at his side. Chrome. Ten-inch barrels. Twenty-four-karat gold appointments catching the fluorescent light. Custom black walnut grips, each one etched with a lion’s head, because Day had never believed in gifting his husband anything subtle.
Pike scoffed under his breath. “Overcompensating where you’re coming up short?”
Day turned his head slowly, fixing Mr. Fancy Pants with a glare sharp enough to cut glass.
“Trust me,” Day said. “He’s not.”
Vega sat at the head of the table. “Let’s not start off on the wrong foot, Lieutenants.”
“Too late,” Day murmured.
“I’ve spoken with your captain in Atlanta,” Vega said. “Your reputation precedes you. He had nothing but good things to say about your field instincts, and your loyalty to your team.”
Day almost smiled until…
Vega continued, “He also said trouble follows you wherever you go.”
No shit, Day thought. And they followed us by way of first class.
Vega eyed each of them and asked, “What are you doing in Los Angeles?”
Day leaned back in his chair. “We’re on vacation.”
The captain sighed.
“Our friends Wesley and Lawson invited us out for a little R and R in your wonderful city,” Day said. “To enjoy the overcrowded beaches, the pungent smog, an opportunity to be snubbed by the overprivileged, and sit in traffic jams that make me wanna shoot myself in the kneecap. You know. Typical LA vacay.”
No one laughed except Free.
Vega glanced at Salazar, then back to Day. “You expect me to believe you flew several members of your tactical investigations unit to Los Angeles for vacation?”
Day shrugged. “Sure, why not.”
Sergeant Greer opened the folder in front of him. “Why were your detectives chasing a man down Vesper Lane?”