What had happened with Calvin wasn’t just fueled by a hot body and a hotter mouth. He believed me, knew I hadn’t hurt anyone, despite what his growing pile of evidence said. He supported me when Neil hadn’t. He told me himself, against all reason.
I believe you, baby.
Call it a hunch, but I was pretty certain he didn’t make it a habit of calling his persons of interestbaby. So—what? Did he like me? Should I pass him a note during class?
Do u like me? Circle Y or N.
One thing was certain. Calvin made me feel safe. Not only in regards to this case, but his presence was just so unbelievably comforting. Soothing, in a sense. It always felt like he had full control and would leave no man behind.
I tacked the garland in place at the top of the beam and started the long process of draping it around the shop overhead. I got past the counter and register and reached my collection of photos and maps when I had a curious thought about Calvin.
I knew nothing about him.
Good God, I’d let basically a stranger suck my dick.
All right, not a complete stranger. I knew his name was Calvin Winter, and he had fiery red hair. He was a homicide detective with NYPD and lookedso finein a suit. In comparison, he knew my boyfriend, my father, my assistant, where I banked, where I lived, and that I preferred boxer briefs. I could stand to learn a thing or two about him. Pretty much anything you want to research can be found on the Internet these days.
I wasn’t climbing down from the ladder and going into my office to be a creep, of course.
I powered up the desktop computer and signed in.
He had that authoritative presence that intrigued me. If I had never met him in my life and just saw him standing in a crowded room, I’d have imagined him to be in charge. He gave off a natural aura of authority.
I liked it. It piqued my interest.
Besides, wasn’t it fair to know basic information about one of the cops investigating you?
I typed “Calvin Winter NYPD” into Google and let it fly. The search brought up a ton of links to articles and several military sites. After glancing through a few, I realized exactly why Calvin was the way he was.
Twelve-year Army veteran. Four tours, three in Iraq and one in Afghanistan. Retired with the rank of major before returning to NYPD as a detective in major cases. Recently promoted to homicide.
I scrolled through an article listing Calvin’s extensive achievements while in service before I came to a paragraph that covered his awards, and my jaw hit the desk.
Medal of Honor. Silver Star. Purple Heart.
At first, admittedly, I thought perhaps it was a different Calvin Winter, because what would a Medal of Honor recipient be doing in a stressful, shit job like homicide? What would he be doing with me? But there was a photo of Calvin in full military uniform. His hair was shorter and he looked a few years younger, but it was him.
His story was included in another article that covered recent recipients of the Medal of Honor. Apparently his patrol, while in Iraq, had been ambushed and outnumbered. Calvin had run from cover into the open to rescue his fallen comrades, all of them living because of his efforts. He was shot by insurgents while hauling the wounded soldiers to safety, but kept going and kept fighting with his own weapon and throwing back live grenades as they were lobbed at him.
Holy fucking hell.
This couldn’t be—but no, this was real.
Calvin was a real-life hero.
A few of his fellow soldiers had been quoted in the article, saying they owed their lives to Calvin. One said every day that he looks at his daughter’s face, he has Calvin to thank for it.
My chest got tight as I read.
His other awards had included saving civilians in Afghanistan who were being used as human shields. He had rescued one man, three women, and three children, then had been shot again and apparently was unable to save an elderly man and his grandson because of it.
I was at a loss for words.
His wholewalk into the room and immediately be given respectthing made sense. Twelve years of military service.Twelve. And most of it not pretty. Active and dangerous combat, and a lot of it.
What I found interesting was that his authority didn’t go to his head, at least not around me. He was in command, for sure, and even when he had been with his partner, he had been shown respect, but he never seemed to power trip. He was unreasonably quiet, actually. But maybe people knew. Maybe he didn’t have to bark orders or throw around his rank because he had already earned everyone’s respect.
I wondered why he had decided to leave the military, but I couldn’t find anything about it. There weren’t any interviews with him regarding his various awards, just a few photos of when he was given the Medal of Honor by the President of the United States.
