Taylor scoffed, sitting up but banging his head hard enough to rattle his teeth. “Ouch,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck.
“Now,” Johnny whispered, digging his fingers into Taylor’s shoulder. “Before they fuck us up.”
Eventually, Taylor managed to form a coherent thought long enough to back out from under the desk, only slightly bumping one of the other officers’ legs with his arse. He grinned and looked up at him, debating whether to twerk his way to standing just to piss the boss off even more, but reconsidered when the other officer didn’t smile back. Not even a twitch of the lip.
Miserable fucker.
Taylor’s brain was fried. Well and trulyscrambledlike the eggs he and Johnny had had for breakfast that morning.
“I’m not going to ask again, PC Campbell,” the inspector said, fingers gripping the desk so hard the veins on the back of his hand popped out. “Firearms. Now.”
Taylor’s gaze slid back to the desk. Then to the other alphas in the room. Back to the boss. Then finally back to the table. Johnny’s Glock and Taser were already laid out, cold steel next to bright yellow plastic.
Clearing his throat, Taylor said, “Seriously, boss?”
Johnny made a choked sound from behind him, and when Taylor glanced over his shoulder he saw that he was looking up at the ceiling.
Praying, probably.
Johnny did that a lot.
“Yes,” the inspector said, snapping the pen that was still in his hand clean in two. “Gun and taser. I’ll take your fucking PAVA if you aren’t careful.”
Taylor sighed, shooting Johnny one final look of disapproval before popping open his holster and withdrawing his handgun. There was a moment of tension as the other alphas pulled in closer, the smell of stale sweat and gun oil radiating from their stab vests.
“Alright, chill out,” he murmured, blowing out several short breaths.
He thought about drawing the moment out, making them all sweat some more, but Johnny laid a hand over his wrist and forced the gun onto the desk with a thunk.
Taylor’s hand looked like a pale, freckled spider trapped under Johnny’s dark counterpart. And Johnny had a dozen bracelets looped up his forearm, the jumble of coloured plastic beads making it look like he’d been to an exceptionally productive kids’ party.
Eventually, Taylor slid his hand free and unclipped the taser, giving it a little twirl around his forefinger like a gunslinger before setting it down on the desk. He flicked the inspector a look that said,‘happy now?’as Johnny righted the plastic chair that lay abandoned on the shitty blue carpet tiles, and pulled Taylor down into it.
“Let’s just cut to the chase, boys,” the inspector said, pushing a piece of nicotine gum around his mouth. “I’ve kicked the can down the road for as long as possible. Your disciplinary records are shite and I’m afraid running over the custody cat was the final straw.”
Taylor threw an ankle across his knee, the stiff Kevlar plates of his stab vest creaking in the quiet room. “Purrlock survived, didn’t he? Jesus, why’s everyone so upset about a bent tail?”
“It’s not about the fucking cat!” the inspector shouted, spitting the gum onto the desk. Taylor wrinkled his nose, and the inspector flushed as he swept it onto the floor with the side of his hand.
“It’s about taking naps on shift, not turning in paperwork, eating the superintendent’s fucking birthday cake, for Christ’s sake!”
Nowthathad been some fantastic lemon drizzle.
The inspector rubbed the deep wrinkle between his eyebrows. “Look, the force gave both of you grace after Samantha passed away. I know it hit you lads hard, but you had a cushy job in Major Crime and you blew it.”
“Murdered,” Johnny said, leaning forward and resting his elbows on the desk. His bicep twitched beneath the rolled-up sleeve of his black tactical shirt, showing off the toned line of muscle.
Fucker had arms to die for, whilst Taylor’s were kinda flabby.
“She was murdered, boss,” Johnny continued. “She didn’tpass away.We were with her that night.”
The inspector’s nostrils flared. “I know, PC Ateba. And her absence is felt every damned day.”
The inspector had that right. Samantha had been the bitchy, short-tempered face of West Newton Police Station. In fact she had been sogoodat being bitchy and short tempered that the number of people reporting crimes at the front desk had gone down by seventy-eight percent.
Except, then she wasn’t there anymore. One night they’d been having drinks with her at Tokyo Treasures, and thenpoof.
Gone.
