Page 34 of Hide and Seek
I blow out a heavy breath and grab my wallet, keys, and phone from my locker before quickly closing it up. Most of the guys will hang back and shower before leaving, especially those who just ended up working a double, but I prefer to shower in peace at home.
“I’m out,” I tell the boys, closing my locker. “You guys good here?”
“Yeah, boss,” Diesel says from beside me, eyeing Ace with venom as he walks by.
“Ease up on him,” I warn Diesel. “It’s not his fault you morons have the same taste in pussy.”
Diesel clenches his jaw, and I have to laugh. Diesel, Ace, and I have been in this together since the beginning. We were all rookies together, been through the worst you could imagine, and because of it, they’re my closest friends. They have always had my back, just as I’ve always had theirs. The only time we ever clash is when there’s a woman involved.
These two assholes are permanently single. They like no-strings fucking, but where it all goes wrong is when it comes down to who they’re going to take home. If they’re out at a bar and there’s a room full of women, they’ll both want the same one. It’s been an ongoing issue. Honestly, it would be easier if they buried the hatchet and just shared.
Diesel mutters to himself, and I can only imagine the insults flying from his lips, but I’m too fucking tired to care. Instead, I keep it moving, watching Ace with a close eye, knowing it wouldn’t take much to set him off, and considering whatever bullshit that’s going on between them seems fresh, I wouldn’t put it past him to create a Diesel-shaped hole in the wall.
Ace takes his ass into the bathroom, and I let out a sigh of relief before leaving, knowing I won’t have to worry about those assholes tonight. If they didn’t break just then after the night we’ve had, then they’ll be alright to keep their fists to themselves. But come tomorrow, there’ll be one hell of a nasty sparring session.
My bets are on Diesel though. He can be a rough motherfucker when he snaps. He’s the silent brooding type, but fuck, when he lets go he really fucking lets go.
I make my way down to the parking garage, and just as I reach my truck, I see Detective Gray pulling in. After throwing my shitinto the back of my truck, I wander down to Gray, waiting for him to park his car and get ready for his shift.
“Yo, Gray,” I call out, approaching him as he’s heading toward the station.
“Slater,” he mutters, giving me a hard stare. “Still an asshole?”
“Try me and find out,” I tell him, all too aware of the many times we’ve butted heads over the years. He’s a pretentious prick, and I don’t have time for that shit. Naturally, we’ve never gotten along, but when it comes to working a case, we’ve always been able to put our differences aside.
Gray rolls his eyes. “What can I do for you?”
“I just have a question about the homicide you picked up last night? John Doe. Stab wounds. You dropped him at the morgue.”
Gray pulls away, his brows furrowed as he looks back at me, his head already shaking. “I picked up a case, but it wasn’t a homicide. I attended the scene of a house fire. An old Korean couple suffered from smoke inhalation. The husband passed at the scene, but I didn’t accompany the body to the morgue.”
“No shit,” I murmur, wondering if in Harper’s panic, she named the wrong detective. “Do you know anything about the John Doe?”
He shakes his head again. “Not sure. It’s been a busy few days. I haven’t heard anything,” he tells me. “Let me get in, and I’ll ask around.”
“Thanks, man. Appreciate it.”
He simply nods and takes off, ready to start his shift, and I make my way back to my truck, feeling as though I just took a massive step back. It’s been killing me that I don’t know anything about the asshole who’s been tormenting Harper at work and leaving disfigured bodies in the form of fucked-up little messages. She doesn’t deserve that shit, and soon enough, it’s going to escalate, and when it does, I need to be there tomake sure she doesn’t fall. However, there’s no denying how much easier it would be if she weren’t such a stubborn little vixen and told her boss that she can’t work the night shift anymore, but I understand her reasoning. That doesn’t mean I agree with it.
After getting in my truck and backing out of my space, I hit the gas and start heading home, more than ready to call it a night. It’s a little after four in the morning, and I’m fucking wrecked, but what’s new? That’s the risk you take when you work as a SWAT officer. It’s just part of the package deal.
I get halfway home when I’m hit with an alert from my home security app, and I pull out my phone to check my cameras. Glancing between my phone and the road, I see a familiar car pulling up on the curb outside my home.
“What the fuck?” I mutter to myself, watching as Harper-Rayn bails out of her little Honda Civic, crossing her arms tightly over her chest, and rushes to my front door. She knocks furiously and hits the doorbell a few times, despite me clearly not being home.
“Fuck,” I hear her through the cameras.
She begins pacing in front of my door, and I press the gas harder, knowing she wouldn’t show up out of the blue unless something happened. Keeping my eye on the road, I exit out of my security feed before opening the phone app, and within seconds, Harper’s voice is coming through the Bluetooth in my truck.
“Knight, I—”
“What’s wrong, Morticia? Are you okay?”
“Wait. How did you know I was—cameras. Right.”
“Answer the question, Harper. What are you doing hovering outside my door looking like you just saw a fucking ghost? And why are you shivering like that? It’s not even cold.”
“I . . . I can’t help it,” she rushes out, her teeth chattering. “I can’t get warm. I got locked in the refrigeration unit and—”
