Page 76 of Under Cover
And how Garcia used to love the dance clubs in Miami, where he’d go to jump up and down and primal scream after a bad run in the ATF or his stint as a county mountie.
And that Crosby thought he was clumsy on the dance floor, but he’d love to see Garcia dance.
And Garcia wanted to dance with him, so very bad, because he’d never danced with someone he cared about and he thought it might blow his mind.
They’d assembled a list of movies they wanted to watch together, television shows they needed to shotgun, places they wanted to visit where nobody knew them or would care.
That Garcia had texted him was not a surprise—but that he knew what he’d texted Harding was.
Are you in the field?Crosby asked unhappily, thinking they had to be close together for Garcia to jump his shit so fast.Don’t worry about me in the field!
Back from the field. The op was successful. YOU’RE BLEEDING?
At the same time Harding texted him, and he sighed.
I’m fine. Gonna brief Harding—going to get stitched now.He paused.Not that I don’t wish you were here. This never would have happened if you’d had my back.
If Garcia hadn’t been able to make the climb, he would have said something. But then, Garcia would have learned to levitate to have his back.
Is that the only reason you’d want me there?
Without warning, Crosby felt the full weight of the last hour. The ripping fire and burning ache exploding in his left arm, the moment of horror of seeing the rookie shot, that fearful, breathless pause before checking to see if he was okay.
The dead man behind the shattered remnants of the brick façade.
That total second of terror when the woman had jumped on his back and he’d realized that he was alone, totally alone, and no backup was coming.
I want you here because I’m a pussy and this whole fucking day sucks. But that’s not gonna happen—just know it would if I could.
He ignored Garcia then because he had to, updating Harding on the sitch. He finished withThe Forty Third needs people Davies can trust. If you’ve got some ideas, hit her up.
There was a pause, and then,Do you need us to pull you out?
Crosby closed his eyes and fought the temptation to beg.
We still don’t know the big fish,he replied, feeling like shit. He thought of Barnes and his willingness to come in and run to be the cop his division needed, and of the poor rookie who’d been so afraid to contradict Crosby he’d almost gotten killed.
Good people, dammit. Gambini, Davies—good people.Theyneeded to trust their fellow officers. They needed help.
I can’t abandon the division,he answered after gnawing on his lower lip.They need us.
Roger that. But we need you too, kid. Don’t forget to holler for help if you need it.
Roger that.
And throw Garcia a bone. He looks like you kicked his puppy.
Oh God. Apparently this was his day to suck. He switched to Garcia’s text string and saw,I want to be there for you too.
Unexpectedly his eyes burned, and his thumb started to cramp as he texted, he needed the words down so bad.
When this is over, we can go find a cat or something. We can go to Chartreuse’s dance club. We can take a week and go to California and play on the beach. It’s supposed to be fucking cold, but I don’t care.
And then?Garcia, who usually sounded so together, was begging, and Crosby couldn’t let that stand.
Then we go back to your place in Queens and play house until I tread on your last fuckin’ nerve.
Won’t happen, Cowboy.
