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LM:You are so right. It’s not nearly enough. I’ll tell my CO you said so.
Grady:Just don’t tell him where I live.
LM:*She* and I totally will. She doesn’t yell a lot, but she *is* scary.
That was comforting. Grady needed to ask Lake whether the officers yelled like they did in the movies, or if that was for dramatic effect. Lake was an officer. Didheyell like that? Grady had a sudden urge to watch a military movie with him and see whether the inaccuracies brought forth some snide comments. Grady enjoyed snide comments. Maybe he could find a copy ofBlack Hawk Downat Big W before he went home tonight.
“New boyfriend?”
“Are you still here?” Grady asked, scowling up at Devlin.
“We went and had a quickie in a storage room, but we’re back now,” Devlin said with a devilish smirk.
“Fuck off.”
They better not have. Grady hadn’t been on the phone that long, and if he had to wander around the precinct and worry about walking in on Quinn balls deep in Devlin, Grady was going to chuck the biggest fucking hissy fit the world had ever seen. It was bad enough that he had to watch Quinn go all gaga withthreeguys, but to have to watch out in case he found any combination of them fucking? No, thanks.
“Didn’t you just hear what I said? We already did that.”
Grady wanted to tell him what he could do in that storage room, and it wouldn’t be a pleasant experience for him.“Shoulda let those assholes shoot you last year,” he muttered. Would have saved him so much fucking trouble. Quinn’s sad eyes would have faded eventually. Grady would have bought a box of tissues, said the right thing, and they both could have moved on.
“Hindsight isn’t your strong point.” Devlin traced a finger across the curve of Quinn’s hip. “Will said I had to kidnap you for lunch.”
“Kidnapping is a felony,” Grady said. “But do it so I can arrest you.”
“So was what we did last night,” Devlin murmured, kissing Quinn again.
Jesus fucking Christ. Did he really have to sit here and deal with this? “Can’t you guys be disgusting and in love somewhere else?” Grady muttered. He’d hated it even when he’d been in a long-term relationship; he hated it even more now. It could all die in a fire and leave him out of it. He pushed away from his desk and stood. “Rules need to be established,” he said firmly. “PDA at a minimum. And by minimum, I mean this is grade school: keep all your hands to yourself. Got it?”
“You might need to write it down for me,” Devlin replied.
“I fucking hate both of you right now,” Grady muttered to himself as he headed for the break room. He needed a fucking coffee. With a triple shot. And some whiskey. He bet Gideon had some stashed in here. Or Greer—another detective that worked out of the precinct—because if anyone was going to drink on the job, it would be that waste of space.
As if the thought had conjured him, Grady almost ran right into Greer, who was coming in from the back of the precinct.
“Oh, look who it is,” Grady drawled. “I forgot you worked here.” First Devlin, and now Greer. What had he done today to deserve that? He hadn’t even gotten out and arrested the man who had walkedright in front of his caron the way to work, forcing Grady to slam on his brakes. The man had even flipped him off as he’d gone by, and Gradystillhadn’t gotten out and flashed a badge. He deserved a fucking medal, not to have to deal with these two assholes.
“I wish I could say the same, but you’re always here,” Greer sneered in response. “Forget how to do legwork?”
“That’s rich, coming from you.” Grady looked behind Greer. “Where’s your partner?”
“Do I look like his keeper?”
His typical response. What their boss, Riley Sinclair, thought he was doing when he assigned their rookie, Henry Campbell, to Greer, was beyond him. Greer might have been the one without a partner, but they could have shuffled around so that someone who could handle Greer was paired with him. “You’re a fucking waste of a good detective, Greer. Get out of my way.”
Greer stepped to the side and waved his arm with a flourish. “Be my guest.”
Just another person on Grady’s list to fucking punch. Was it Asshole Day? Grady was sure somewhere in the world that was a themed day. There were fifty million different themed days. It would be like Pancake Day, but worse. He hated pancakes. Fluffy pieces of bullshit. Waffles were where it was at.
He dropped his phone on the counter and opened it up to Lake’s texts while he made his coffee. The dork had sent through two more pictures—one Grady thought was supposed to be a selfie but was blurred, and it looked like Lake had antlers but was probably the blur… maybe—Grady wouldn’t have been surprised if he’d been walking around the base wearing antlers, to be honest—and a string of haiku poems.
Grady:Did you google those?
LM:Why? You don’t think I could be a budding poet?
Grady:…
LM:Okay, you caught me. Keegs sent them to me last night. Guard duty is theworstpart of the Army. They say it’s the rations, but they’re lying. Have you ever had to stand for eight hours and stare at nothing while your rifle gets progressively heavier every hour?
