There were a million questions in his mind he wanted to ask. But suddenly, the most pertinent impulse seemed to be his need to close his eyes and succumb to the darkness.
Chapter Two
ELIJAHStephenson stood outside of the metal double doors of the seventy-fourth precinct. Half of him was ready to walk away while the other half nudged Elijah to open the doors and step inside.
Fourteen years of running in and out of this place and he’d never hesitated to enter its walls. This was Elijah’s house, his home, and his brothers and sisters in blue lived inside. Yet standing there on the outside, disconnected like a severed limb, phantom memories of a career path lost to him haunted Elijah’s soul.
Six months had passed since he’d last entered this building. Then, he was Sergeant Elijah Stephenson, badass vice detective who stared down the bottom feeders determined to bleed his Brooklyn community dry. He stomped on the pimps, drug dealers, and gun runners in East New York, and he’d taken pleasure in doing it. He was on a professional high until he was shot, beaten, and left for dead in an ambush.
Elijah took another breath, trying to squash the memories that threatened to creep through his subconscious and make it to the forefront of his mind.
He’d survived. That was the mantra he kept repeating whenever flashes of the attack returned. It was something his department therapist had taught him. No matter what happened in the past, he was still here in the present. He was still alive.
He was still alive, and things had changed.
He’d taken the lieutenant’s exam before he was injured. His receipt of his passing test scores and a letter of intent regarding his promotion had helped pull him out of his slump and given him motivation to work on his injuries, both inside and out. Now, he stood in front of these doors, Lieutenant Stephenson, and as soon as he built up the nerve to open them, there would be a new, safer command waiting for him.
This new command was so much more than a new duty assignment. It represented a new life for Elijah. He’d work from an office. He’d work normal hours and have weekends off. He’d be able to sleep in his bed at night, even go out, and do something as routine as go on a date.
Damn, when was the last time you had a date, man?
He stood there trying to recall his last real date. He’d had hookups, but hooking up for a night wasn’t the same thing as dating. He spent just enough time with those men to get his rocks off and move on to the next man, the next case, that came afterward. But the last date he remembered was with that asshole his friend Lindsey had set him up with five years ago.
Cocky and stuck on himself, the man was sexy as hell. He was clean-shaven and too pretty for Elijah to ignore, and against his better judgment, he’d let the date progress until they were back at Elijah’s place, sweating up his damn sheets. The guy’s arrogance notwithstanding, Elijah had never forgotten his touch or his taste. A fact that still pissed him off after all this time.
With not so much as a “See you later. Come lock your door,” his date absconded while Elijah slept and had never contacted Elijah again.
He was pissed about it. In part because Elijah had always been that guy who snuck away, but also because the man had left his door unlocked. As a cop who knew what lurked outside in the streets, sleeping with an unlocked door was a game he didn’t play.
Elijah carried the sting of that brush-off for as long as he took to realize the brunet cutie had done him a favor. The lifestyle he led as a vice cop would have allowed nothing more than a few sessions in his bed.
But it was over now. Elijah had paid his dues and sacrificed more than enough to the job. This new appointment meant Elijah was getting his life back. All he had to do was walk inside and claim it.
“You can do this, Stephenson. Just man up.”
He pulled one door open and entered the concrete walls of the seventy-fourth. The familiar smell of industrial cleaner was the first thing to grab his attention. He coughed as the potent chemicals made the back of his throat tickle.
He shook his head. In the fourteen years he’d spent in and out of this building, Elijah never noticed how caustic the stench of that cleaner was.
Maybe it’s not the cleaner. Maybe you’re not up to this anymore.
Somewhat shaken by the thoughts zipping across his mind, he closed his eyes and reminded himself of what awaited him. Vice was behind him. He’d given his all and then some to the streets. Now, it was time for a different life. A more fulfilling one that didn’t involve him getting shot at as a normal job occurrence.
When he made his way into the squadron, the bustling sounds customary to a busy police station stopped, and the open space filled with quiet. Elijah looked around the room and watched as his fellow officers focused their eyes on him.
The awkward pause made his heartbeat speed up and his brow dampen with a thin mist of sweat. The silence seemed endless until Elijah heard the distant sound of flesh slapping together in the distance. The sound grew, one officer after another joining in the applause until the sound of hand-clapping filled the room.
Elijah nodded, keeping his eyes focused on Captain Searlington’s office, trying his best not to make eye contact with any of his fellow officers. He didn’t want their praise. Didn’t deserve it. Not when he’d lost the best part of himself in those streets during his attack. A cop with no nerve, was there anything more useless?
He plowed through the throng of officers, accepting their welcome-backs and cheerful slaps on the back as he kept moving toward his destination. As he reached the metal door with the acrylic window that readCaptain Searlingtonon it, he tapped against the glass, then waited for the customary “Come in” before he entered.
When he opened the door, a tall woman with deep brown skin, an athletic build, and her dark brown hair pulled into a tight ponytail, stood up from her desk and walked around to greet him with her hand extended.
“Glad to have you back, Stephenson,” she stated as she offered him her hand. “How are you feeling?”
“I’m fine.” He gave her a brief smile as he answered and took the seat she offered him in front of her desk.
“I know what it’s like getting injured in the field. I wouldn’t blame you if you needed more time off. Lord knows you’ve got it banked.”
