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“I passed?” Trueheart’s throat worked. “I passed?”
“Flying, I hear.” He shook Trueheart’s hand, then embraced him. “Good work, partner.”
“I passed,” he said again, almost like a prayer, and shut his eyes.
When he opened them again, he looked straight at Eve. He exchanged another manly backslap with Baxter while the other cops in the room applauded. Then he stepped over to Eve.
“I wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for you.”
“I dropped you in, you made the grade. Congratulations, Detective.”
He shook her hand, then wrapped his arms around her.
Because he was young, and it was a moment, Eve let him.
“Don’t hug your LT,” she advised.
“Yes, sir. No, sir.” He broke away, laughing.
“The Blue Line,” Baxter announced. “After shift. Every-damn-body. I’m buying. We’re going to celebrate my boy here.”
Applause turned to cheers at the prospect of free drinks.
“I’ve got —”
Roarke squeezed Eve’s shoulder to stop her from declining.
“Nothing either of us would rather do,” he finished.
He ran his hand down her back as cops got up to slap Trueheart’s back, shake his hand, rag on him a bit.
“I told you no more cops tonight,” Eve reminded him. “You don’t have to do this.”
“His lieutenant should raise a glass to him, and I’d like to do the same myself. We’ve room for a few more cops in our bright spot. I’ve some things to see to. I’ll find you, end of shift.”
Yeah, he would, she thought, watching him go. They’d raise a glass to a good, young cop. Maybe another to a hard job, well done. Then they’d have a date.
It wasn’t a bad way to end a long day.
