I growl at him, my anger bringing only noises instead of words. Because I know he’s not wrong.
“Three years is a long time, and you did fucking incredible, kid, but…”
His rundown on my career comes to a screeching halt when we turn the corner and the chopper in the middle of the oval becomes the elephant in the room.
“Really?”
He doesn’t answer me until we’ve pulled to a stop.
Beating me out of the car, he opens my door like a gentleman. His arms are around me before I can object, because I would. I’m not exactly a fan of all this touchy-feely stuff, especially from him.
“Take the break. Go enjoy yourself, and hopefully, our paths don’t cross.” He corrals me to the open door. A headset getsdropped onto my head at the same time Debrovnik lifts me into the cabin.
And before I can say anything, he slams the door shut and races away.
He’s always said when our time came, there’d be no goodbyes. I never really prepared myself for it, though. The tears tracking down my cheeks as I fumble with one of the shoulder belts are as real as ever. I make sure he sees them too; our eyes stay glued on each other as the helicopter gains altitude.
I watch him until he fades from view.
“We’ve got three hours of flying time. Help yourself to the complimentary in-flight refreshments, but keep your hands off the medication. Doctor’s orders.” The pilot's voice echoes in my head as I lean over and accept the bottle of water and the prepackaged food from the co-pilot, along with my bag. A quick check reveals all my stuff from the shop got collected, and I feel more like myself when I slide my weapon back in place and hang my badge around my neck.
My time gets split between working through the standard procedure and protocol required after a bust and catching up on some necessary sleep. Working undercover isn’t something I ever considered, but when I got the veritable tap on the shoulder, it was for an opportunity I couldn’t say no to.
Even now, knowing I had a small part in what happened today makes my stomach churn. But I signed up to the police force to stop the bad guys. Today, sadly, the person I was tracking down was a police officer turned bad.
I can’t say I’m overly sympathetic to any of the people we investigate, the dead man included. The truth is, like the rest of those working for Tommy Smithers’s gang, he’s a criminal, and like every other criminal in our world, Barnett—the now dead cop—could have gotten a good lawyer. He could have stood upin a court of law to argue why he was breaking into the diamond exchange with me, but he chose not to.
The decisions he made have nothing to do with me.
The only stain on my soul is the fact I’m undercover. But the duplicity is necessary, given the recent surge of organized crime.
Chapter Two
TALLY
“Ahh, here’s our little honey trap. Nice of you to join us, Murphy. We need to get your slow arse back to The Farm for some training.”
“Fuck you too, Grimsby,” I slap back, loud enough for the room to hear.
Undercover work is definitely a man’s world.
“How about some respect, goddamn it,” he snaps, rubbing a hand down his face. He looks at me, exhaustion in his eyes. As if that’s a plausible excuse for him being a condescending dick. Newsflash—it’s not.
“My bad, sorry.” I offer a bland smile, flipping him the bird on my way through the department. “Better? Honestly, it’s been months since I was last here, and it’s the same BS today as it was then.”
I choose the path right past the new guy's desk, snatching the last donut from the box, stuffing half of it into my mouth before anyone can argue. “What’d I miss?”
“Are you serious?” the new guy offers back, his voice way too quiet.
If he doesn’t find a way to speak up, he’s going to last a few weeks, tops. But that’s on him. I learned a long time ago not to waste my time telling Alphas what to do.
“Alright, let’s take this circus to the briefing room. We’d ask Murphy to join us, but word is, Captain is waiting to see her pretty face in his office.” He pauses to check his watch. “Five minutes ago.”
I roll my eyes and walk past him. “I’m watching you, Wazowski.”
His face burns bright as he tries to figure out if I insulted him. I don’t stick around, instead throwing a wave over my shoulder to make my way to the meeting I’m now really late for.
It’s never a good sign when the captain draws his blinds down low, stopping everyone from seeing who he’s meeting with. Still, I tap over the crown logo the National Crime Authority uses. While I wait, I flick my phone to silent, checking a few messages and replying to an email to forensics on an older case, letting them know I’ll come collect the report myself.
