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What the fuck is this really about? Now Iwantto arrest her. I want to bring her in and interrogate her within an inch of her sanity and see how close an association she has with Stevens. And what went down with Layla.
“You okay, buddy?” Adam pushes his glasses higher, a sure sign he’s nervous. “You look pissed.”
“Don’t tell anyone about this yet,” I warn. “Keep this close and hold on to it for now, alright? I want to check her out myself before I waste anyone’s time. I’m going to her apartment. What’s the address?”
“Not a good idea,” he replies. “I wouldn't do that. She’s not home.”
I glare at him, and Adam, with an unprecedented show of bravery, grins at me despite my black mood.
“I heard you getting your ass handed to you in your briefing this morning about taking off after a woman—this particular woman—and then heading home from the crime scene. So, I may have taken it upon myself to attach some tech to ping her phone. You know, right after you texted me to ask. Once I got the identity down, I started following her virtually. She’s at a business complex an hour outside of town. Something called the Galleria.”
I’ve been there before, with Kimmy, when she wanted to go shopping. On my dime. Which I didn’t mind, of course. I wanted to give my girl everything she wanted, but it’s a pricey place. Where I got the coat, actually.
Makes sense when I think about it because the clothes and the shoes all suggested Aria liked the finer things.
A muscle in my jaw ticks, my eye twitching in tandem, the sensation wholly unpleasant. “So send me the details,” I reply, punctuating every word to leave no room for misunderstanding. “Please.”
Adam nods hard enough to have his hair flopping and his glasses sliding down to the tip of his nose. “Sure thing, boss. You got it. Anything.”
I start to walk back to the bullpen to grab my keys and stop before my hand wraps around the handle. “Adam, one last question?”
He skids to a stop behind me. “What is it?”
“Why have you been so loyal to me? When I’m assigning you all of this under-the-table bullshit? I wouldn’t blame you if you told me to shove it up my ass because this is above your pay grade.” And a little shady, if I’m being honest.
I’ve got to know.
Adam’s back to looking ill at ease, shifting from foot to foot, and he shrugs one shoulder while simultaneously tucking his phone back into the pockets of his jeans. “I mean…you don’t ask me how I get my information. Me, or Bill. You respect my boundaries, and I’ll sure as hell respect yours.” He grins. “Not to mention, you respect my skills, which is more than a lot of the people here do. They treat us like freaks.”
I used to be one of them.
But he’s doing a decent thing, and I’m grateful for it. One of the good guys in a world where that’s rare.
“You really are the man.” I mutter the last bit under my breath and walk out.
My phone pings on the way back to my desk, and it’s the information I’d requested from Adam. Shit, I don’t want to know how easy it is for those guys to do their job.
I just need more of a life away from this shit.
Off the grid and gone.
Not the kind of life where I go shopping at the Galleria and sit down for high fucking tea, but something, anything, to bring me back to myself. To ignite the spark I used to feel when I was going through the academy to get to the ultimate goal: helping people.
I’d felt so alive, filled with purpose, and somewhere along the line, it all turned to shit.
“Hey. Hey, Dev! Where are you going now?” Naomi stands and pushes away from the desk in one movement, staring at me with the imploring kind of gesture puppies use when they want another biscuit. “Please tell me you’re not taking off on me again.”
I’m vaguely aware of Captain Ashcroft in the periphery of my vision, his arms crossed as he watches our display.
“I’m following a lead.” I grab my keys from the desk drawer and palm them. Pocket them. “Stay here and keep trying to find connections linking our latest body to the Syndicate.”
“Devan, don’t leave me behind. Especially after this morning. I thought you’d be more focused and maybe a little more willing to bring me into the loop.”
Naomi sounds so sad I can’t help but smile at her reassuringly. “The meeting did the trick, and I am focused,” I tell her with uncharacteristic gentleness. Something else I’ve lost along the way. “I won’t be long. A couple of hours. Okay?”
I fold myself down so both elbows are on the desk and I’m eye level with my new partner. She’s cluttered up the space, for sure. I’ve got my framed commendation letter, a red stress ball, and a computer.
Naomi has a kitsch, in addition to the pink personality and the obsession with vanilla and cinnamon.
