Dixon's Duty
Page 12
Sorting through the miscellaneous paperwork killed most of the afternoon, and it was almost quitting time when Stone stepped out of the war room. “Ryder. Got a second?”
Ryder looked at his watch and stood. “I can give you two.” He strolled past Stone and took a chair next to Pickett, who was still surrounded by stacks of case files.
Stone closed the door and faced the three men. To Ryder, he said, “I’ve gotten the pertinent details, and I have a couple of questions. It looks like you’ve confined your men to canvassing roughly a twelve-block area. Don’t you think it’d be wise to spread out a bit?”
What a stupid, fucking question. Ryder nodded his head thoughtfully. “I’ve got a team of two plus myself. How far out do you suggest we go?”
Irritation flashed in Stone’s dark eyes. He tapped his neatly manicured nails on the table. “I think you’re limiting your possibilities by focussing on such a small area. Take the evidence you have and question people further out.”
“Good idea,” Ryder said, as if it were something new. “So I send my team out in one direction and tell them not to stop until they reach Deerfield? We might never see them again.”
Stone’s face hardened. “You don’t have to be quite so literal about it. Just expand your fucking target zone. Unless you and your team need a break, in which case I can speak with the captain about removing you from this case all together.”
Ryder waved a hand. “Consider the zone expanded. Anything else?”
The other man hesitated a moment then seemed to compose himself and glanced at a file on the table. “You have a personal informant by the name of Danny Burns. He lives within the twelve block radius, I understand.”
“Yes, he does.”
“Have you sent him out there at night? He might be able to talk to some people who aren’t too interested in speaking with us.”
“You think?” Ryder couldn’t resist. Stone was obviously trying hard to come off as knowledgeable. Maybe too hard?
The man’s face was turning a burgundy shade of red and looked as if his head might explode. Before anything bad happened, Ryder thought he should answer the question. “Danny’s done a lot of work for us during the day. I’ve hesitated to send him out at night, given the climate of the streets. Pretty dangerous for a long-haired kid who looks like he could be a dealer.”
“Yeah, well, effective immediately, everyone in this room is on night shift. That includes your snitch, who’s going to start pulling his weight or get his ass thrown in the slammer.”
“Night shift?” Ryder repeated sceptically. “Look, I’ve put in my share of nights, and I’ll continue to do so. But it’s next to goddamned impossible to get anything bureaucratic done at night or to speak with managers or people in positions of authority. We need a presence during the day to get things taken care of.”
“Your ‘team’ can stay on days and do whatever jobs you assign them to. You, me and my team are going to hit the streets, tonight and every night, until we find the son-of-a-bitch who’s muddying Chicago’s South Side.”
Ryder shoved his chair back and stood. “Christ, save it for the press conference. I can see you already in your five-hundred-dollar suits, standing up there next to Houtz. You’ll be the chief’s new golden boy.”
Stone moved around the table and faced him. “Who are you calling boy, boy? If you have problems working with a black man, let’s take it to the captain, now. I’ve come too far in this department to put up with taking shit from anybody.”
Surprise, then embarrassment, raced through Ryder. “Hey, look, that’s not what I meant. I was talking about your pricey wardrobe and that metro-sexual thing you’ve got going on with manicured nails and shit. I was not taking about the colour of your skin.”
The man stared at him, not responding.
Ryder felt the need to keep talking and rambled on. “I mean, because, hey—if anyone understands discrimination, it’s me. You know I’m gay, right?” Somebody shut me up. “Not that it matters or anything. People don’t give me static, and I don’t give them any crap. I just do my job.”
He ran out of air, paused to take a breath and this time kept his mouth closed.
Stone’s eyes narrowed. He closed the top file on the table and addressed his next words to Pickett. “Everyone shove off, get something to eat and maybe catch a nap. Be back here at ten ready to hit the streets. Dress down, the scruffier the better.”
He turned, tossing one last disparaging glance at Ryder. “You won’t even need to change.” He walked out.
Ryder looked over his jeans and polo shirt, normal workday attire for routine shifts. He chuckled, relieved he hadn’t made an irreparable gaffe.
“See you at ten,” he called after Stone. He looked at Pickett and Moss, who’d sat with bland expressions throughout the last few minutes. “Umm, yeah.” Ryder walked out.
He straightened his desk, logged out and walked to the parking lot. As he dug in his pocket for the keys to his old, black Jeep, a large, silver SUV pulled alongside him. Looking at the sleek lines of the shiny Lincoln Navigator, Ryder knew immediately who it belonged to. When the tinted passenger window lowered and he saw Stone’s face, his guess was confirmed. “Nice ride.”
“I thought you and I should talk. Want to grab a bite and clear the air?”
You’re freaking kidding, right? He couldn’t think of a worse idea. Stone’s aftershave smelled like sex-on-a-stick and wafted from the Navigator. Ryder didn’t want to like the man, but the thought of jumping his bones wouldn’t go away.
“We don’t need to talk. I’ll cooperate. It’s a little unnerving when someone comes in and takes over my case, but that’s something I’ll have to deal with. The main thing is catching the psycho, right?”
Stone’s expression didn’t change. “Is there somewhere you need to be?”
Christ, give me a break! Ryder shifted uncomfortably. “No, but—”
“Get in.” Stone turned and looked straight ahead.
With a sigh, Ryder shoved his keys back into his pocket and climbed into the Navigator. “This really isn’t necessary.”
The other man continued to look out the front window. “Seatbelt.”
“Fuck me,” Ryder muttered and fastened the clasp around his waist.
Stone snorted as he pulled from the car park.
Ryder glanced at him curiously, but the detective just drove. “Where are we going?”
“My place is nearby. I thought it’d be easier to talk there than in some restaurant.”
“Your place?” Holy hell! Somehow, thrust into the privacy of the man’s home, he had to remain focussed and professional. He wouldn’t have his Jeep if he wanted to escape, so he needed to play it cool. Heat flushed his cheeks and neck, making it difficult already.
Stone pulled into a carport next to a nice condo building. He parked and got out, tossing his keys into the air and catching them.
Ryder followed, trying not to appear too impressed. His apartment was nothing compared to this place, but high rise living wasn’t his style. If he were going to purchase something, it’d be a house with a yard where he could get his hands dirty.
“Nice place,” he commented as they climbed a flight of steps to the front door.
“I like it.” Stone unlocked the deadbolt and walked in, apparently still expecting Ryder to follow. He slipped out of his jacket and folded it over the back of a deep blue, leather sofa.
Ryder entered, glancing around the stylish, almost formal living room. A collection of framed photos lined a small table by the wall. Ryder spotted one of Stone with his arm around a smiling, pretty woman with long, black hair. “You’re married?” He exhaled a sigh of relief. At least he wouldn’t have to be alone with the man.
“Married?” Stone walked towards him, rolling up his shirt sleeves. His gaze followed Ryder’s to the photos on the table. “Oh, that’s my little sister, Renee. The day she graduated from Yale.” He smiled, showing his pearly white teeth for the first time.<
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Don’t smile like that. Shit! Ryder’s cock twitched, and he moved away quickly, as if he were interested in the rest of the house. “So, you live here alone?”
“Yep, just me.” Stone walked past him into the kitchen and returned with two beers. “I know we’re back on shift in a few hours, but I figure one won’t hurt.” He handed a bottle over and twisted off the cap on his. He took a long pull and sighed. “That tastes good. Been one long, fucking day.”
Ryder smiled and nursed his beer. “It’s about to get longer, thanks to the new boss who put us on the night shift.”
“Bastard.” Stone’s eyes sparkled as he played along. “We’ll show him. Let’s not go back.”
“What, and leave Pickett and Moss sitting in the war room like androids with no programming? I swear, their expressions never changed once during that little ‘misunderstanding’ we had.”
Stone chuckled. “You have a point. Neither of them will win congeniality awards. But they’re damned good cops. The chief recommended them for my team.”
“That’s good to know. Too bad you didn’t get to choose the rest of your crew.”
Stone took a step towards him. “Who says I didn’t?”
Smiling uncomfortably, Ryder stepped back. “I, uh, sort of came with the case.”
The taller man pressed forward until their faces were mere inches apart. Stone licked his lips. “Which doesn’t mean I didn’t choose you.”
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About the Author
Jenna Byrnes could use more cabinet space and more hours in a day. She’d fill the kitchen with gadgets her husband purchases off TV and let him cook for her to his heart’s content. She’d breeze through the days adding hours of sleep, and more time for writing the hot, erotic romance she loves to read.
Jenna thinks everyone deserves a happy ending, and loves to provide as many of those as possible to her gay, lesbian and hetero characters. Her favourite quote, from a pro-gay billboard, is “Be careful who you hate. It may be someone you love.”
Email: byrnes.jenna@yahoo.com
Jenna loves to hear from readers. You can find her contact information, website and author biography at http://www.totallybound.com.
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