CHAPTER NINE
Marlon Barton
Four days of near perfection. It was almost like being back with Sam, except with no humor or easy camaraderie. Definitely no friendship. Still, the past shifts with Andrew had been better than Marlon had thought possible.
There’d been no double-meaning insults or borderline racist comments. He treated the people they stopped with respectful, if somewhat dismissive, behavior. Andrew hadn’t even insulted Marlon’s driving. Exactly like he’d been the day after seeing Marlon and Vahin together.
It was weird, and it made Marlon nervous.
Marlon was sure the case against Vahin and Mary’s would be dropped, more confident than he’d let on to Vahin, just in case the worst happened. Maybe Andrew believed the same as well and was trying to smooth things over in advance.
Whatever Andrew’s reason, it was driving Marlon crazy. Bad enough that none of his fellow officers had so much as mentioned his outing. Most were giving him a wider berth than normal, and a couple had cuffed him on the shoulder or back in what Marlon took to be a supportive acknowledgment. But he’d been prepared for all-out war with Andrew, to have each shift be nothing more than constant arguing, maybe even culminating in Andrew finally losing his shit and doing something to get dismissed over.
By six that evening, Marlon pulled their cruiser into the gated police station parking lot, claimed their normal spot, and told himself to bite his tongue. Instead, he pulled the keys from the ignition and turned to Andrew. “How did you know Vahin worked at Mary’s?”
Andrew had already opened the door and had one foot out of the car. He paused midmotion, long enough it was clear he was debating whether to do this or not. In a matter of moments, he pulled his foot back in, shut the door, and leaned back in his seat. He turned to Marlon with an innocent expression and cocked his brow.
Marlon waited for a response, but Andrew gave none.
“So, what? You’re going to pretend you didn’t go after Vahin because of me?”
Andrew’s gaze flicked to Marlon’s chest.
Of course. In a smooth, irritated motion, Marlon unbuckled his seat belt and got out of the car. He unfastened his body camera and bulletproof vest, and made a show of placing them on the hood of the car. He finished it off by pulling out his badge and tossing it on top of the pile before getting back in and shutting the door with a slam. “Better?”
Andrew’s lips curved into a partial grin, suddenly looking more like himself. “I didn’t ask you to do that. I’m not worried about being recorded.”
That’s a first.Marlon was able to keep the thought to himself, knowing it wouldn’t help to start off with sarcasm. He tried again. “How did you know Vahin was at Mary’s?”
Andrew considered things for so long Marlon decided he was going to play it all off as happenstance. He didn’t. “After I saw you on Santa Fe, my date got a craving for dessert, so we went to D Bar. It was amazing.”
Marlon waited, then grew impatient. “What does that have to do with it?”
Andrew shrugged. “Well, she wasn’t quite ready, needed to let dinner settle or something, so I drove around. D Bar is on 19th, so I just hopped on over to 17th, and while we were seeing all the changes to the neighborhood, I noticed your car parked by the burger place.”
Like he didn’t have the fucking name memorized. Marlon gritted his teeth but forced his tone to be as calm as he could make it. “So you followed me to—” Andrew opened his mouth to speak, but Marlon changed tactics. “You drove around before dessert and saw my car at Mary’s. That doesn’t explain how you knew about Vahin being their bartender.”
He gave an exaggerated eye roll. “There’s a little thing called the Internet, Marlon. I know you’re older than me, but surely you’ve heard of it. Your…friendserving drinks is one of the main pictures on the restaurant’s home page. It seemed like he’d had a hard time finding a shirt big enough for him that day, or one with sleeves.”
“I bet youhatedlooking at that.” The instant the words were out, Marlon mentally kicked himself.
Andrew’s tone shifted from taunting to angry in an instant. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
Marlon should’ve gotten out of the car and walked away. Should’ve played it cool and given an answer that would’ve de-escalated the moment. Should’ve done a million things that wouldn’t run the risk of aggravating the situation before there was a conclusion to the whole ordeal. Should’ve… but the buildup of anticipation of the past four days crashed down over him.
“It means that because you couldn’t handle your feelings as you looked at Vahin, you decided to try to ruin him. Or is it me you want? What was harder for you? That you wanna get naked with a guy, or that the men you’re attracted to have a shit ton more melanin than they’re supposed to?”
There was a flash of fear—that would’ve confirmed Marlon’s suspicions if he’d not been certain about it for a long time. The fear only lasted a heartbeat before igniting an inferno of rage. “I’m not a fucking faggot. Not like you.” Andrew’s voice dropped to a dangerous whisper, and he moved his hand toward the handle of his gun.
Marlon reared back in his seat, nearly reaching for his own, then forced himself to wait. “Andrew, stop. I’m sorry.”
Andrew had unclipped the handle with his thumb and had begun to pull it out. He paused at Marlon’s words, his eyes growing large. He didn’t draw his hand away, but he didn’t pull the gun out any farther.
Marlon held up his hands. “I was wrong. Sorry. I was talking shit.” He stared into Andrew’s blue eyes and saw raw fury and fear. And though he was close to hating the man, Marlon actually felt a sliver of pity for him.
There was no way for him to get to his gun before Andrew pulled his.
He spoke again. “Sorry, really. I’ll never say that again.”
