Dead as fuck.
The inspector let out a long breath. “Look, there’s no easy way for me to tell you this. But, due to your continued piss-poor behaviour, you aren’t just being booted back to patrol. The Chief Sup wants you out of West Newton.”
The words hung heavy in the room, the air turning thick as rice pudding. It made Taylor’s head swim, and he blinked rapidly as though developing yet another agitated tick.
The other officers shuffled behind them, one coughing on his neck. Taylor’s lip twitched over one fang, somewhere between a smile and a snarl.
It couldn’t be right. They’d always policed West Newton. In fact, they were sogoodat policing West Newton they’d been moved into the Major Crime unit.
Head hunted, that was what the inspector had said.
Taylor opened his mouth. “But—Major Crime—you said—” The words didn’t quite come out how he wanted.
The inspector clenched his teeth. “I said you’d been promoted just to get you both out of my report-writing room. Honestly, lads, you’re fucking useless.”
Taylor’s jaw was turning numb, so he rubbed it to try and get some of the feeling back. His eyes slid to Johnny, but Johnny was just staring at the inspector, chin dipped to his chest, gazeunmoving. His hand crept under the desk again, palm ghosting over Taylor’s thigh.
Taylor fidgeted, knowing full well what that touch meant.Let me handle this.
“I would ask where,” Johnny said, sucking his teeth. “But judging by these lot, I’m assuming Falkington.”
The boss picked at a loose thread on the cuff of his white shirt. “Yes. D Division. You start tomorrow. These lads will escort you out.”
Johnny drew in a breath. “D Division?”
The inspector nodded. “Dingly Heath. Leave your kit downstairs and?—”
“Boss, I’m pretty sure HR need to sign off on?—”
“HR have signed off on it. Both of you were sent letters. Emails. Left voicemails asking you to come in for a meeting. Fuck, boys, they even put a Post-it note on your stash of Red Bulls in the sodding fridge. Didn’t you read any of them?”
Taylor could feel the other officers’ eyes on the back of his head. “We moved house recently,” he said, trying to contribute to the conversation.
After the landlord kicked us out for having the music too loud. And setting the shed on fire. And pissing off the local MP. Fuck. Shit.
Taylor leant forwards. “This isn’t fair?—”
The boss let out a loud bark of laughter, one that cut through the room like an iron rod to the skull.
“Isn’t fair? What isn’t fair? That you get given the cushiest firearms job in the nick butstillchoose to doss about all day every day? It isn’t fair that you’ve shagged two thirds of the omegas in the stationandbroken up more marriages than I’ve had hot dinners.”
“Hey now! We’re all consenting adults,” Taylor said, ignoring the way Johnny’s fingers tightened around his knee.
“It’s called professional integrity, PC Campbell. It’s literally in the code of fucking ethics.” The inspector stood up, ripped a poster off the wall and stabbed it with his finger. “Do. Not. Shag. Your. Colleagues.”
Taylor huffed and crossed his arms. “Well, it doesn’t quite say?—”
“Especially the ones that are mated!” the boss continued, totally ignoring Taylor’s protests. “Jesus Christ, you two are a fucking disgrace.”
Something popped in Taylor’s chest, like a pin hitting a cartridge inside a gun. Johnny gripped his knee so hard his nails scraped Taylor’s skin through the fabric of his combat trousers.
Disgrace. You’re a fucking disgrace.
Those had been Taylor’s daddy’s words.
Before Taylor could stop himself, he stood, the chair clattering to the ground again. “Say that a-fucking-gain,” he snarled, driving his fist into the desk, fangs fully out.
He shouldn’t have done that. Damn, he shouldnothave done that, but the computer virus was gobbling up his rational thoughts again.
