Page 95 of Strays
Her phone buzzes, and she picks it up.
“It’s Jayme,” she says, reading the text. “I talked to Alice earlier today, and she must’ve told him you’re willing to accept his help. He says he wants to talk about the case as soon as possible. He’s asking if you can meet with him tomorrow.”
I don’t want to talk about the damn criminal charges. Not after today. Before, I was handling it, or trying to, at least. But getting bumped to Tier-Two, transferred to Special Ops with this hanging over our heads… it was the last drop. If it were up to me, I’d pretend it’s not happening. Just shut it out.
But I can’t, so I sigh and answer her. “Tomorrow’s probably not a good idea. It’s our first day at the garrison, and we don’t even know what time we’ll be home. Maybe we can reach out once we know our shifts?”
Jo bites her lip as she types, probably letting him know. “He says that’s fine. He’ll wait for you to get in touch.”
It’s almost ten when we finally get home. As I pull into the driveway, the truck’s headlights sweep over the gravel strip beside the house. Jo leans forward, squinting.
“Is that a basketball hoop?”
“Kind of,” Shane replies. “It’s a little crooked.”
“You guys really are into basketball,” she says with a small smile.
When we get inside, she heads straight for a bath, and soon after, the spice inher scent hits my senses. I hear her calling out for us.
She always bathed with the door closed, so her call catches me off guard. But we don’t hesitate.
When we enter, she’s in the clawfoot tub, her head tilted against the rim, hair damp and skin flushed. The clear water reveals all of her, bare, gleaming, and devastating. Jay drops to his knees beside her. Shane perches on the edge behind her, and I squeeze in last, shutting the door with my back. It’s cramped. But the air is thick with her scent, so none of us are thinking about space anymore.
I still have her taste in my mouth when I wake up in our nest the next morning. I never thought sex with Jo could be better than it already was, but it’s insane how free she seems now. Like she’s dropped all restraint.
She’s still on leave from work, but she gets up with us anyway. In her absence, we started taking turns making breakfast instead of the three of us crowding the kitchen together like we used to. Today is Jay’s day. Shane and I sit at the table with her while Jay makes eggs and toast.
“First day, huh?” she asks softly, her eyes flicking between us. “You nervous?”
“A little,” I admit. “The garrisons are classified. All we know is there are no humans, and they only work with federal agencies.”
Jo smiles. “Sounds so secretive and fancy. I feel like I’ve got my own James Bonds.”
It’ll take nearly an hour to get to the garrison, counting the drive across Great Sky and the road that leads through the restricted area inside Stone Ridge State Park. And first, we need to stop by the unit to clear out our lockers and sign the papers, so we hit the road right after breakfast.
When we walk into the unit building, the fact that we’re leaving feels off. When we enter the squad room, Fontes is already at his desk. He stands and crosses the room, hand extended.
“Sarge told us about the transfer during end-of-shift yesterday,” he says. “You’d better not get all weird on us now.”
Jay grins and takes the handshake, then me. Shane claps him on the shoulder.
Sergeant Wilsbone appears in the doorway like he’s been waiting for us. “My office,” he says.
We follow him down the hall, past the break room, past the gear cage. Inside his office, he sits behind the desk while we stay standing. There’s still only one chair in front of him. That never changed.
“Well,” he says. “Looks like D.C. wants their investment back.” His tone is dry, but not cold. “You did good work here. All three of you. You showed up, you put in the hours, no bullshit.”
We all nod.
Jay clears his throat. “Thank you, sir. For treating us fairly. We won’t forget it.”
Wilsbone gives him a look. “Don’t thank me for doing my damn job.” But his mouth twitches with the ghost of a smile.
He stands, and for the first time, offers his hand. “Good luck.”
We shake it, each of us. Then it’s done. No ceremony. Just the quiet reality of moving on.
Before we leave the unit, we go through the standard offboarding process: turning in our department-issued firearms, badges, body cams, radios, and vests to the quartermaster. Everything’s logged, scanned, and signed in triplicate. Even the cuffs.
