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Even now, there are times that I can’t look at Avery without seeing the bruises that once marred her pretty face. The cut that tore through her bottom lip. We got the guy, yeah. He can never hurt her again. So why can’t I move on to the next case?
And a
ll this shit in my head…it’s pretty simple. I haven’t been with a woman since Jenna left. That was almost four months ago. My wife—soon to be ex-wife—decided she couldn’t stand being married to a cop anymore. And even before then, it had been a while since we fucked. Damn, a while doesn’t quite stress the full year I’ve spent hard-up and sex depraved.
Having to keep my head in the game during the chase for the killer got me through the roughest part, but I’m damn near ready to find any piece of ass and bury my cock just to get some relief.
You can’t fault a guy there. Maybe it would clear my head, and by the time Sadie returns from her vacation, all these inappropriate thoughts will stop. They need to stop.
It’s either that, or transfer out of the department.
That thought sobers me right up. It’s been a gnawing consideration since the conversation I had with Sadie in the hospital. That’s the night I sold my soul. For Sadie, for my partner, I’d do it again. Not just because of the annoying attraction to her—fuck that. I’m a pig, but I’m not a complete asshole. I care about her, but as a member of my team and because she’s my partner. And that’s why I did what I had to do. I looked the other way. It was the first time in my life that the right choice wasn’t written out in bold font.
So I chose to do nothing.
Even now, it’s a complicated mix of emotions that I’m not at all comfortable exploring, and it’s why I can’t stand the sight of myself in the mirror. For the first time in my whole career, I went outside the law.
For that, I should transfer Sadie or myself to another department.
But there’s also a reason why I can’t let that happen, either. The detective in me needs to keep her close, observe her. Investigate. I told her that I didn’t want to know—and on some level, I still don’t—but that won’t stop me from seeking the truth.
It’s what I do. Who I am. Turning a blind eye to her involvement in the murder of Lyle Connelly momentarily stripped me of my own damn identity. Some days, I’m sure the only way to get that back is by uncovering everything.
Simon may’ve taken the wrap for Connelly’s murder, but with both Simon and Connelly dead, and no one left to interrogate, one very big question remains: who covered up for Sadie? And the even bigger one: why?
Regardless if the case is closed, everyone involved with it satisfied with the neat way it was wrapped up, I know these burning questions will eventually tear through our partnership. Only, what the fuck will I do with that truth once I have it?
I’m right back to that festering pus pocket, but of a different nature. The kind that will eat me alive if I ever let anything bad happen to Sadie.
It’s a fucking vicious cycle.
A knock sounds at my door. Shoving the sickening thoughts down farther into that twisting pit, I look up from my desk. “Yeah?”
Carson peeks his head inside. “Detective Quinn, you have a call.”
My brow furrows. “Why the hell didn’t they call my cell if they wanted me?”
Carson shrugs, but the concern on his face already tells me something’s wrong. “It’s Avery. She sounds…drunk.”
He has my undivided attention. “Shut the door.”
His head jerks back, surprise registering on his boyish features for a brief second before he does as ordered. At the soft click, I stretch out my arms and crack my knuckles. Crick my neck to the side, preparing myself to take this call.
Deliberately checking my emotions, I clear my throat and pick up the phone. “Avery.”
A blast of loud music greets my ear, followed by shouts crackling into the line. “Quinn! Can you hear me?”
My fingers curl tight around the receiver. “Where are you?”
A pause where more music bleeds through the line, then: “Somewhere. A bar. I think…” A pause. “I might need a ride,” she slurs, stretching out the last word awkwardly.
“Why didn’t you call Sadie?” I squeeze my eyes closed at my condescending tone. As if both Avery and Sadie have some inseparable bond that now unites them as victimized women. That’s not what I meant to imply.
I go to correct myself when she blurts, “I’m sooo horny. Cooome get me.”
Jesus H. Christ. I set the phone on the desk for a second so I can collect myself. Running my hands down my face, I stare at the whiteboard again. I no longer understand what is happening in my department…if I ever did. It’s possible I’ve been wearing blinders this whole time. The separation with Jenna causing me to overlook obvious disparities within my own ranks.
When did my eyes open?
