The question was so ridiculous I had to laugh. I’d never had an issue with alcohol, though I’d claimed I did in order to get him to approve an extended leave of absence after Paul, my partner, had died. Davis, a recovering alcoholic, understood addiction. What he didn’t understand was the depths of my feelings for my partner, and I sure as shit hadn’t wanted to explain it to him.
Davis’s face went entirely red. “Is this funny? Do I look like I’m laughing?”
“No,” I said immediately. “No, sir.”
“Talk to me, Harris. What’s going on? It seems like you’re barely here anymore.”
“I’m here all the time. I’m always fifteen minutes early. You know that.”
“Harris.”
“I’m not drinking again.”
“Then what’s going on? Talk to me.”
I took a sip of my coffee, considering what I could tell him.
The problem was my closing rate had been due to a homicidal vampire who’d since reformed and taken his vigilante justice up to Seattle. But I couldn’t tell Davis that.
And I sure as hell couldn’t tell him I missed the psychotic vampire who had essentially taken over my life last year.
Or that I had been having lucid dreams every single night ever since meeting Reed three months ago—the werewolf I’d met exactly one time, who had made me realize I was, in fact, bisexual, just by laying eyes on him.
And definitely not the worst of it. Without the distraction Cole represented in my life, I was sliding back to becoming the person I’d been after Paul died—dangerously depressed and isolated—and this job was the only thing slowing down my descent.
“I haven’t been sleeping well,” I said at last.
Davis gave me a blank look. “They make medication for that.”
“You asked, I’m answering.”
He raised his eyebrows. “Not sure I like the attitude. I get that no one likes being ambushed, but I’m doing you a solid and not terminating you.”
Anger flashed through me. “Wait—termination? That doesn’t make any sense! I haven’t done anything wrong.”
“You haven’t done anything. You’re like a ghost. When it comes to your job here, it’s like you’ve suddenly got a death—”
“Adeath wish?” I demanded, my fingers tightening on the cup of coffee in my hand. “Is that what you were going to say, Lieutenant?”
“Careerwise.” He shrugged. “And people talk. You know that. They talked after Paul. And they talked when your luck was justa little too good. A half-dozen suspects who you just happened to find, right after they had dropped dead? It’s a little too coincidental.”
My gut knotted with dread. “Weirder things have happened.”
“Not really.” He paused and let out an angry-sounding breath. “IA is officially looking into you.”
“Internal Affairs?” I gaped at him in disbelief. If IA was doing an investigation on me, they wouldn’t turn up any evidence I had done anything wrong, because I hadn’t.
That was the good part.
But the bad part was the entire time they dug into me—days, weeks, or even months of them going through all of my cases with a fine-tooth comb—I wouldn’t be allowed in the field. I’d be consigned to desk duty. Or stuck filing paperwork.
I’d have plenty of time to think about all the things I was trying to avoid.
“I didn’t report you. I don’t know who did.” Davis sounded exhausted. “If you say it’s not a relapse, I believe you. For now. But you need to get your head on straight, pronto.” His expression hardened. “And you’re suspended for the foreseeable future. Until IA is done with their investigation.”
“Wait!” Panic ripped through me and the words tumbled out faster than my brain could keep up. “Davis, you don’t understand! I need this job. I need to keep busy. I need the distraction—”
“From what?” he demanded, his brows shooting up, a probing look in his eyes.
