“That’s not what I heard,” she laughed darkly in a singsong tone.
I froze mid-step and stared down at her. “Does it actually make you feel better about yourself if you put another woman down?” I shook my head, appalled. “Are you one of those people? Because that’s pretty dishonorable and screwed up if you are.”
“What?” she stammered, looking up at me wide-eyed.
“Brooke Fury didn’t sleep around with everyone in the office. If there is someone who is spreading that rumor, it’s only because they want to tarnish her name and make her look bad.” I leaned in close to her and touched my fingertips to her desk. “If I were you, I would be pissed off that someone would want to do that to another colleague of mine—instead of joining in on the crucifixion. You’re just slut-shaming her, and she didn’t do anything to you. You don’t even know the whole story.”
She stood up, jamming her hands on her hips. “You sound like it has something to do with you, like it’s personal. You didn’t take what she’s been offering everybody have you?”
“And now, you just sound jealous,” I said, shaking my head, walking away.
I launched myself into the hallway, trying to calm my accelerating pulse. How the hell could a woman be so cruel to another woman? Why so jealous? I didn’t understand them at all.
Once I reached the Sergeant’s door, I knocked hard.
There were a few beats of silence before I heard Kannon’s voice call out, “Yeah, Come in.”
As I opened the door, a young, uniformed officer was just stepping out. “Thank you Sarge,” she said. As she walked past me, she looked up, and her wide brown eyes looked startled—almost scared—as if she was just caught with her hand in the proverbial cookie jar.
I stared down at her and nodded a hello. A wall of strong perfume hit me, making my eyes sting. I shook my head and blinked rapidly.
The girl turned beet red, but said nothing. I held the door open for her, waited until she was in the hallway and closed the door.
Sergeant Kannon had his phone up to his ear, waving his hand for me to come in and have a seat.
I felt a twinge of unease as I slid into the chair across from him. He seemed to be yelling at someone over the phone, and it sounded personal. I leaned forward in the chair, and twisted my neck, trying to unstiffen it. There was a picture of Kannon’s family on a shelf to the side of me—his wife and two daughters. I had met his wife at the Holiday party, a quiet woman, the kids, both of them, two fiery balls of energy and voice. I remembered someone said his wife was a writer, and there was some sort of whisperings that she wrote erotic literature. I couldn’t picture it.
Kannon slammed the phone down grumbling.
I shrugged and rolled my shoulders again—they were stiff and achy from sleeping all night on my couch. Next time, I needed to make sure to hang my legs over the edge and not my poor neck.
“What’s going on, Cage?” Kannon smiled, tightly.
“I need to talk to you about Brooke Fury,” I said, glancing behind me, quickly, to make sure the door was fully closed.
“Dean’s sister?” he asked, shuffling a bunch of papers on his desk.
“Yeah. She’s pretty shaken up,” I said, tapping my fingers on my knees.
“I could imagine. The entire precinct saw her in all her glory yesterday. I heard she’s staying with you?”
“Well, yeah. Captain Anderson made her take leave until the whole thing is sorted out, and my brother’s been staying with me. She was helping me watch him while I’m at work—”
“Cage?” he interrupted.
I tilted my head, “Yeah?”
“You’re making this personal, aren’t you?”
“I’m not going to lie. I like her. But it’s been strictly platonic. But Sarge I’m here because the guy in the photos with her? It’s someone here, and he’s been harassing her—”
“Cage. If PO Fury feels harassed by a fellow officer, she needs to speak to someone from the Office of Equal Employment Opportunity.”
“What she needs is our help, sir.”
He sighed deeply, “I take it she was sleeping with the guy?”
“Yeah,” I said, a little embarrassed for telling her story.
“You know as well as I do Cage; it’s not going to look good for her. If she files a complaint, she’ll look like a whiny, brokenhearted girl, who wants to get back at him. Nobody will want to work with her, and it’ll most likely get her transferred to a shittier place than this. You know how this job works.”
“It’s more than that, Max.” I stood up and paced in front of his desk.
“Then, let her make the accusation, let her file a complaint. But, my advice to you is to steer clear of it, because when it comes down, this place will be crawling with people. Everyone will be pointing fingers at you along with her.”
“He physically assaulted her, about a month ago,” I seethed.
“And she said nothing then? So she’s a cop who allowed a domestic incident to happen? How’s that going to look?” He leaned his hands down on his desk, giving me a serious expression.
I stared at him blankly, anger boiling in my chest. I knew how it would look.
“Like it really didn’t fucking happen.” He leaned forward, folding his hands together. “If I were you, I’d just watch her back. Something is going on here, and I don’t know what it is, but I know it’s big. Keep her safe and stay out of it until we can find out more.”
I narrowed my eyes trying to read between the lines.
“Internal Affairs has been here since yesterday,” he said in a hushed tone. “Don’t get involved in anything corrupt.”
“She’s not corrupt,” I said, stunned.
“Then, she’s got nothing to worry about.”
Dean was no help either. He had court all day and never came into the office. At ten o’clock the rest of the team and I were called to investigate a double homicide with an attempted shooting of a police officer. Besides questioning witnesses and looking at evidence, I questioned other police officers on what they knew of Brooke Fury.
Every male cop thought she was great. Beautiful, fun, and a seriously good police officer. They all said she wasn’t afraid to get her hands dirty or get into a fight. Some even went so far as to say they’d rather partner with her than most of the other female officers, because she was tough and trustworthy.
The female officers didn’t have anything bad to say either. They told me she was awesome when it came to kids on the street, and how just last week, she talked a jumper into going with her for a cup of coffee to talk about his problems. Not one person had anything bad to say about her, except for Lydia Martinez, who told me she’d heard Brooke slept with the entire vice squad and all of the K-9 unit.
Vice never even heard of Officer Brooke Fury.
Neither had anyone in K-9.
When I finally caught back up with Lydia, I told her I really didn’t think a date was the best thing to happen between us, and we should continue our strictly professional friendship.
“What? Why?” she asked, giving me a disgruntled face. “Are you being serious?”
“Yes,” I said, gathering all my stuff on my desk. I offered her nothing more.
“What the fuck?” she said, slamming her hands on her desk. “I cancelled plans with my girlfriends this weekend to go out with you.”
“I’m sorry. I’m sure you can call them back up, and everything will be fine.”
“But you haven’t given me a reason. You’re kind of being a dick.”
I stopped in my tracks and spun around, “No, all the things you said about Brooke Fury? That was being a dick.”
“What? I was just repeating what I heard. It’s not my fault she was sleeping with everyone and anyone—”
“Right. Well, for your information, all the people you named before, have never met her,” I said, walking away.
“You asked everyone?”
“I’m a detective, Martinez. I find out the truth. I
t’s what I do.”
“You are so fucking rude,” she whined.
“I’m not being rude. You’re just feeling insignificant and tearing down someone else to make yourself feel better. I’m not going to take that personality trait out for dinner.”
I didn’t get back home until almost ten that night.
It was on the drive home, tired and stressed, when I realized how I had anticipated seeing Brooke all day. The call after call, the dead bodies, finding truth in evidence, watching someone’s blood dry up while his family members wept on the front steps. I walked the perpetrator to the investigations room as he mumbled and cursed when he realized he didn’t kill the cop he’d shot at. I listened as he called me a pig—how he said I’d beaten him—when I hadn’t even shown up to the scene yet. His name was Adonis. He even spit on a black officer’s face, and screamed fuck the police.
Through it all, I kept thinking when I get home, Brooke will be there.
When I walked in, she was sitting on the couch, watching the news. Cameron was asleep in the guest room. “Hey,” she whispered, groggily. “Busy day, huh?”
I stood frozen in the doorway, staring at her.
She had on a baggy tee-shirt with a pair of shorts that looked like they’d come straight out of the 1970s.
“Hungry? I saved you some dinner.”
My heart squeezed in my chest. “You waited up for me?”
She shrugged, “Yeah, is that okay? I just wanted to make sure you ate.”
“Yeah. I’ll eat.”
No matter what was happening at work—no matter what she’d done with all her wrong decisions—it was staggering how perfect it felt coming home to her.
Chapter 13
Brooke
There was heavily bruised skin under Ryan’s eyes. I was positive sleeping on his small sofa was uncomfortable. Add on the long hours he worked, he must have been exhausted.
He ate dinner quietly, deep in thought.
I wanted to ask him a thousand different things. I wanted to know how his day was—if anything exciting happened—if I missed anything interesting. I wanted to know about Harris, but I didn’t want him to think I still cared about the asshole. Ryan’s Sergeant called me on my job phone earlier today, asking if I needed anything, so I knew Ryan went to see him. Max Kannon didn’t get into any specifics, but he did tell me where to go and who to speak with if I was encountering any trouble.
All of it made me see Ryan Cage in a different light. The arrogant, loud-mouthed, jackass was a decent man. Someone good to have on your side or on patrol with. Someone who had your back.
Selfishly, I wished I had met him before I ever set on eyes on Harris. Now that Ryan knew all of my secrets, he saw me differently, and I wasn’t any good in his eyes. Lydia Martinez was a lucky girl. I hoped she knew that.
“There’s no way I’m letting you sleep on the couch again tonight, Cage. You look like someone hit you with a truck,” I laughed, as I watched him finish the last bite of his meal.
“I’m fine, don’t worry.” Always the gentleman, I thought.
“Would you like more? I have a ton left,” I said, standing and reaching for his plate.
He blinked his eyes and cleared his throat. “No. Thank you, that was delicious.”
I felt my cheeks warming with his compliment and looked quickly away, embarrassed. He complimented my dinner; that was it. To him, I was still a stupid, desperate woman, who got herself jammed up at work by sleeping with the highest ranked dick in the building. God, I didn’t think I could feel any more awful about myself.
I walked swiftly to the sink and ran the water. For a moment, I hesitated and stared down at the dish in my hands, silently. I swallowed the giant lump that was lodged in the back of my throat—the one made of humiliation and regret—and began the tedious chore of washing and rinsing.
The warmth of his arm settled in beside me as he walked up next to me and reached for the rinsed dish and toweled it dry. “Do you usually blush when people thank you for dinner?”
“It was the compliment that got me,” I said, wiping my hands on the towel he’d just used. “I usually get complaints.”
He looked up suddenly, a strange emotion swirling in his eyes. It was probably just exhaustion. He hesitated, eyes lingering on mine, before stepping away and asking, “So, how was Cameron today?”
“Good,” I said, relieved to talk about something else. “We froze our bottoms off at the park. He’s obsessed with the swings. We hit the game section in Target. Then, we came home for lunch, and he spent about five hours putting together the puzzles I bought.”
“Really? Puzzles?” His expression was filed with awe.
“Yeah, then dinner, his nighttime routine, and now he’s out cold,” I murmured, feeling my cheeks heat under his stare.
“Thank you, Brooke.” He was still looking at me in that strange way.
I shook my head, exhaling heavily. “So, anyway, I am going to let you get to sleep,” I smiled, walking backward into the hallway. “In your own bed.”
His hand was instantly around my wrist, pulling me closer to him. My entire body hummed with nervous butterflies. I stopped short, and stumbled, terrified of what was going to happen, what was going to be said.
I pressed myself against the wall, and he leaned in next to me. His body was warm. I could feel the heat of him through my clothes. “Ryan?” I questioned.
“Do you still love him?” His voice was low, gentle.
“No,” I said in a rush, wondering where this could be leading. “No. I told you I was over him. I’m just completely and overwhelmingly ashamed.”
“I talked with Sergeant Kannon today. Asked him for some advice for you.”
I flattened my body closer against the wall, angling away from him. “Yeah, I figured. He reached out to me today and told me who to call and what to do.”
His fingers reached out and brushed the back of my hand, creating a ball of fire burning in my rib cage. “What are you going to do?”
I closed my eyes and thudded my head back against the wall. “I want to transfer and never show my face there again.” The words were whispers, full of despair.
He straightened, stepping closer to me. “Damn it, Brooke! Promise me you won’t be an askhole.” His nose flared, and his eyes narrowed.
“A what?” I said, matching his gaze.
“An askhole. Someone who asks for advice and then ignores it.”
I rolled my eyes, laughing. “Okay, okay. I promise.”
He tugged me into the bathroom and shifted my body until I was standing in front of the mirror. His hand reached up and gently forced my chin up. “Look in that mirror, Brooke.”
An ache ripped through my chest. I didn’t want to look at myself.
“You can’t even look at yourself.” I felt his body step closer, felt his hand get tighter. “Look at that strong woman in the mirror. She doesn’t think she deserves to work where she does.”
I looked up and looked straight into my own eyes.
“You deserve so much more. Never let anyone in this world put you down. No one has the right to make you feel less than you are. Let no one change who you are.”
My breath pushed out in a low gasp. My eyes widened, and his fingers dug into my skin. “That strength you need? That strength you want? It’s in there,” he growled, pointing to my chest. “Find it, Brooke. Don’t let someone else break you. Stay and fight that asshole. I got your back.”
Then, his hands were off me, and the heat of his body was nothing but cold emptiness as he stormed out of the bathroom, leaving me breathless.
Chapter 14
Ryan
Monday was my weekend.
I slept late, barely aware of Brooke getting Cameron ready for school. I recognized her bright laughter, and it made me dream of her lips. By nine o’clock, I could sleep no more. The house was too silent, and my back still ached from sleeping on the couch the first night she spent here.
I rolled up and
dangled my feet off the bed. The floor was icy cold and stung at the bottoms of my feet as I stood and stretched. Wiping the sleep out of my eyes, I stumbled out of the bedroom and into the hallway. I took a deep breath when I hit the bathroom and opened the door.
Brooke was inside, draped in a loose towel, steam billowing out from behind her. I’d forgotten about the lock I’d broken on the door, kicking it in to get to Cameron.
“Damn lucky towel,” I mumbled under my breath, as she looked up with wide eyes.
“Ryan,” she gasped, holding the towel tighter to her chest. “Thought you would be still asleep,” she said, low. In the mirror above the sink behind her, I could see the towel wasn’t fully wrapped around her body. She was just holding it up, blocking my damn view.
“I always hated that towel,” I chuckled. Her cheeks bloomed deep red.
“I’m sorry,” she murmured, looking up at me. Somehow, I was closer to her without realizing I had moved. That’s not good. “I should have asked if it was okay to take a shower. I was going to uh…go where you and Sergeant Kannon said. File a complaint.”
“Okay. Good. I heard you say something about a towel and handing it to me,” I said, gazing longingly at the way her neck curved into her shoulders and that stupid damn towel.
She snorted cutely. “Did you need to use the bathroom?” she asked.
“Yes. Probably. Yes. Right,” I stammered.
She held the towel tighter and tried to pull it around her back without dropping it. “Shoot,” she mumbled, looking down.
“Is it too heavy? Want me to hold it for you?”
“There you go, back to your flirty self,” she smiled, shoving me softly with one hand.
I caught her fingers in mine, both of us stilling, laughter quickly falling from our lips. I tugged her hand up to my lips and kissed her knuckles, like I did the very first time I met her, months ago.
Slowly, she pulled her fingers away, a frustrated look across her face. Briefly, I wondered about her agitation. Then, I remembered of course, telling her about the date with Lydia. I had never told her I cancelled.
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