Page 74 of Hard Game

I half skip from the office, my smile wide as my colleagues greet me with warm hugs and high-fives.

“News travels fast,” I say, waving my badge in the air as my team hoots their approval. I flush with pride until I remember that none of them know the real me—the one that watched one of their own get shot in the eye and did nothing to stop it. I gnaw on the inside of my cheek and scan their faces, but no one is faking their happiness at having me back. If anything, they look relieved, and I can’t blame them. They’d lost Taron, then nearly lost Elijah, and of course, Carmen. Then I’d nearly lost my job…I shudder. So much had happened, but it was time to move on.

“At least there’s nothing pressing today, huh?” A young guy says from his desk, grinning up at me. “No dead women, I mean.”

I blink in shock, about to put him in his place, when he realizes his mistake and holds his hands up, practically choking on his words.

“Shit, I didn’t mean…”

“It’s alright, just be respectful, okay?” I tell him as he nods, his eyes wide.

“I’m sorry to hear about your sister,” he says, cheeks flushing. “And, uh, Taron.”

Poor kid. He must be new here because I’ve not seen him around before. “What’s your name, kid?”

“Platt. Luke Platt.”

“Okay, nice to meet you, Luke. I’m Lauren, but everyone calls me Diess.”

“Okay, Diess.” He grins as a pretty redhead enters the room, staring at a document in her hand so intently she walks straight into me.

“Oof! I’m so sorry!” She shoves her glasses up her nose and then stares at me, her eyes like saucers. “Holy smokes, you’re the one they sedated!”

I sigh. It’s going to be a long day.

The office is pretty quiet, and I’m glad. It means, as Luke rightfully pointed out, that there are no dead women on the streets. I allow myself a wide smile and lean back in my desk chair, gazing at the ceiling. An email pings, and I lean forward, my heart lurching when I see the sender.

[email protected]

When you finish work today, meet me at the coffee shop on Lockwood Main.

Tassa.

I stare at the screen, reading the email repeatedly until I have it memorized, and check my watch. I leave here in an hour, and my stomach tightens with excitement. Tassa is Maddox’s best friend. She might know how he is or where he is…Stop!

I can’t think about Maddox like this. It’s not healthy.

I try to reply, but my email bounces back, confirming no such email address exists. Of course.

I watch the clock, hunched over my desk, as I drift through mundane paperwork, but happy that’s all my job is today. I don’t want to hear about any dead women, missing girls, or fucking cats for a long time. I grab my jacket and say a hasty goodbye to Luke, who seems to be wherever I go today, constantly asking if I need any help. I remember when I first came to this team, I was as eager, if not more so, than Luke to please, so I can’t blame him for trying.

“Get some sleep while you can,” I tell him with a wink, pushing open the double glass doors. I stop, casting a longing glance at Elijah’s office, filled with cards and balloons for when he returns. I can’t wait to see him.

Luke grins and gives me the thumbs up. “Yes, Ma’am.”

I wrinkle my nose. “Diess, please.”

He salutes me, and I can’t help but laugh. It feels good.

When I leave the building, the crisp air hits me, and I suck it in gratefully. I cross the road and hurry to the coffee shop Tassa mentioned, dragging out my phone to get my loyalty card ready. I love the coffee here, and the scent of it makes me moan with longing when I enter the store. A bell announces my arrival, and I immediately scan the place for Tassa, but I can’t see her.

A guy with a baseball cap sits by the window, hunched over his phone and steaming coffee. Two ladies at another table gossip over a crossword and chai teas. In front of the register, a handful of office workers are queuing to grab a hot drink before their commute home.

I join the small line and study the menu, wondering if I should be that detective and buy a donut. When it’s my turn, I wrinkle my nose and tilt my head, wondering aloud to the barista whether to opt for the salted caramel or pink glazed donut when the man in the baseball cap turns my way.

“The salted caramel is delicious,” the barista gushes. “I highly recommend it.”

Emerald-green eyes fasten on mine, and my stomach drops. The full lips part as he shakes his head, muttering under his breath. My heart hammers in my chest, and for a moment, I can’t hear anything but a loud ringing. My legs buckle, and I grip the railing beside me, sucking in a breath of air as the man rises to his feet, pushing his cap up to reveal more of the face I’ve missed so much.

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