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“Am I really the one to do that?”
“Would Captain Russell put you out there if you weren’t?”
“I guess not.” They had their differences, but she was a good leader.
“Then quit whining. Ignore the questions you don’t want to answer and make the department proud.”
Gray raised his brows. “You sound like you’re auditioning for a cop drama.”
Bryce shook his head. “On a TV show, they’d never send the gruff bear for the interview. They’d send someone like?—”
“Jack.” They both said his name at the same time, then clinked glasses.
“You’ll also be doing something good for all the gay cops out there,” Bryce said, serious tone returning.
Gray sighed. “I need another drink.”
Bryce obliged him, filling his glass.
Gray had wanted to be out, to be able to be himself. Now he was going to get a chance to do it on TV.
“I still hate the idea of being the ‘face of the department’.”
Bryce nodded. “I get that, but you’re good at it. You manage to come across as honest and trustworthy. You’re the protector everyone wants on their side.”
“But I just want to solve my cases. I don’t want to be some media star.”
“All I wanted to do was fight fires. Keep people safe. Rescue people who needed someone to save them. Then I realized I was good at investigating, at solving the puzzle of how a fire started, and guessing at the pieces that weren’t obvious at first. I resisted that. I told myself I wasn’t a cop.”
“You’re damn good at what you do,” Gray insisted.
“Yeah, I am. Sometimes our gifts aren’t what we expect or what think we want.”
Gray polished off his second drink. “I might have to hate you now.”
Bryce smiled. “Go right ahead.”
At five the next day, instead of being home nagging Jack to work faster as he made his famous lasagna, Gray was in an interrogation room, wearing a suit that itched and shoes that pinched the fuck out of his feet. As if that weren’t enough to piss him off, a woman who looked like she hadn’t eaten so much as a bite of lasagna—or much of anything else—in her whole life was putting makeup on him. It was all he could do not to growl at her. But at least he hadn’t had to film the segment at the TV station. Here in his element, he’d handle it better.
Finally, after what felt like hours, she deemed him presentable, and he was escorted to his own fucking desk where a bossy ginger told him how to position himself and where to look once the cameras—which seemed to be everywhere—rolled.
After another long wait, the vivacious, giggly Mindy entered. Dear God, she was even more cheerful in person than she was on the air.
Several people fussed over her for a few minutes and then, thank God, they were ready to begin.
The cameraman held up his fingers. “Three. Two. One. And we’re on the air.”
Mindy patted her hair and flipped it away from her face. “Hello everyone. I’m at Precinct Seven of the Durham Police Department to talk to local hero Detective Gray Sadler.” Giggle. Giggle.
Gray took a deep breath. He could do this. The segment only lasted a few minutes.
“Detective Sadler, you look so strong and brave in all the clips I’ve seen from the day you were taken hostage. And I must say you look quite good in person as well.” Was she really going to flirt with him during the interview? “Were you scared at all that day?” Giggle giggle.
More laughter? Hostage situations were apparently quite humorous. “Of course I was scared. Anyone in their right mind would be, but I wanted to stay alive and so did the young woman Whittaker held.” They had not yet released any details about Jenna’s identity.
Tee-hee. “What were you thinking as you rushed in to save the hostage?”
Did she seriously laugh at everything? “I thought, as I do anytime I’m in the field, that it was my job to get her out alive and keep the situation from escalating.”
