A thin smile played over Kincaid’s mouth.“Ahhh, pillow talk among LEOs,” he said.“It’s a genre of its own.The thing is, Deputy, we don’t have to be enemies.We don’t have to be friends.You just have to stay out of my way.”
Cloister reached and brushed a bit of leaf off Kincaid’s shoulder for him.It wasn’t a smart move, but Kincaid apparently brought out the Witte in him.The casual invasion of space made Kincaid’s face tighten with annoyance.He stiffened, a muscle in his jaw twitching, and Bon broke her silence with a soft, rumbling growl.Kincaid didn’t back off, but he did lean back.
“Call off your dog,” he warned.
Cloister gestured for Bon to settle.
“I’m a pretty big guy,” Cloister said as he lifted his beer bottle to his mouth.“People usually see where I’m standing in plenty of time to avoid me.”
BournevilleburpedinCloister’sface.
Her breath smelled like pup cup and sardine treats.He grimaced as he craned his head back and pushed her narrow head to the side.
“You know, Javi at least pretends it wasn’t him,” he said.
Bon just yawned in his face and jumped down off the passenger seat so she could sprawl out in the back.They were three hours, two crying gang-bangers, and one peeping tom into their shift.It had done a good job in settling her down from the aborted search earlier.
Cloister absently shoveled a mostly cold burger into his mouth as he took advantage of the lull between calls to get a head start on his reports.Halfway through noting down the use-of-force against the prowler, the background noise of radio chatter and Bon’s snuffling snores tugged at his attention.
“K-9-23,” Mel said.“Respond.”
Cloister reached for the radio, his thumb leaving a greasy smear on the console.“Copy,” he said.“You need me?”
He shoved the last bite of burger in his mouth as he waited for a response.
“You need to 10-19, K-9-23.Lieutenant wants a word,” Mel said.“Switch to TAC 3?”
The burger didn’t taste great anyhow, but suddenly it was mush in Cloister’s mouth.He had to choke the tasteless, sponge-like mass down his throat, the congealed clumps of cheese making him gag, as he fumbled the channel change.
“Dispatch,” he said.“K-9-23.On 3.What—”
Instead of Mel’s familiar voice, it was Lieutenant Frome who replied, his voice clipped and irritated as it crackled out of the speakers.
“Witte.I need a word.If you’re clear, swing back to the station.”
Cloister hadn’t expected that.He hesitated for a second before his mouth cut in on autopilot.
“Copy,” he said, then asked, “Want to give me a heads up on—”
“No.Come and see me as soon as you get back.”
“Is it about Javi?”Cloister asked quickly, the words sore as they scraped out of his dry throat.He quickly corrected the question.“SA Merlo?”
There was a slight pause, and then Frome bent enough to say, “No.Clear,” before he unkeyed the mic.
Relief.
That was what Cloister felt as he leaned back in the driver’s seat.He could feel it as his chest and shoulders loosened, the sickly taste in the back of his throat just meat and carbs again.
Is it about Javi?Cloister snorted to himself.What was that about?
…
Cloister had to stop himself there.That was pathetic.It was one thing to lie to yourself; it was another to do it sobadlyit looked like your first time.He shoved the detritus of his meal back in the takeout bag and gave his hands a desultory wipe on a napkin.The bag got tossed into the footwell for later as he started the engine and pulled out of the burger joint parking lot.
Besides, it was fine.He had a boyfriend now.It was normal to worry about your boyfriend.Even more so when Javi was on the trail of a missing FBI agent.
He had to remember that Javi wasn’t family.
