Total pages in book: 83
Estimated words: 82187 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 411(@200wpm)___ 329(@250wpm)___ 274(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 82187 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 411(@200wpm)___ 329(@250wpm)___ 274(@300wpm)
God let out a sarcastic laugh. “Hart didn’t even wanna go. He’s only going because—”
“Because Free loves those shows and he’s doing it for him.” Day glared. “Because a night of ridiculous entertainment is at least a small reprieve from the constant evil shit we deal with every day.”
“Day, I’m tired. It’s been a long-ass week. I don’t wanna go to some loud-ass club.”
“I had the same fuckin’ week, but you made me come home and cook instead of going out.”
“It’s not like I went in the den, kicked my feet up, and waited for you to serve me.” God threw his hands up. “I did the dishes!”
“Oh, you did the dishes,” Day droned, clapping dramatically. “Why am I sitting here when I should be on the phone with the Nobel Prize committee?”
God scowled. He wasn’t in the mood for this.
“Day, I said no because I’ve got work in the morning. I can’t go into the office smelling like cheap vodka, strawberry glitter, and bad choices.”
“You don’t have to go in on Saturdays, Cash. Going over reports can wait until Monday. We have an entire support staff that can do that. You go because that’s what you wanna do.”
“Don’t do that.” God pushed his plate away, his appetite fading along with his patience.
“Why? That’s all you care about. Fighting crime non-fuckin’-stop, like you’re fuckin’ Steven Seagal or some shit.” Day got up with his near-full plate and dumped it into the sink with a loud clatter. “Everyone else has a damn life. Ruxs and Green, Steele and Tech, hell even Fox found a way to protect and serve in a way that doesn’t involve dodging bullets, diving headfirst to the pavement, wrestling three hundred-pound men, or getting set on fire!”
God stayed seated long after Day stormed out of the kitchen. It was too quiet when he was gone. The silence made the seconds drag by.
He pushed away from the table, took his plate to the sink, and rinsed his and Day’s plates before putting them in the dishwasher. His actions were mechanical, as his head pounded.
Damn, it’d been a long fucked-up week of meeting after meeting, with everyone from the deputy mayor to the department head of internal affairs gunning for him about his new recruits. And now this.
He hated when Day was upset. He was the light and peace in his very dark and dangerous world. And when he wasn’t happy…
God rubbed hard at his temples, which only made his headache worse.
By the time the kitchen was spotless and he’d ensured the doors were locked and the alarm was set, all the lights were already off in his bedroom.
There was a soft glow spilling from beneath the bathroom door. God shed his clothes and went in that direction.
Day was in the Jacuzzi tub, earbuds in, eyes closed, with the back of his head resting on a thick towel. Steam rose off his chest, skin slick and delectable. He looked so calm, but God knew he was anything but.
He sat on the edge of the tub, then reached over and pulled out one of Day’s earplugs.
“Can I get in with you?”
Day didn’t open his eyes. “I’m about to get out.”
God sat there a second longer, naked and frustrated, before he went to the shower and got in.
The hot water did nothing to ease his tense muscles or warm the frigid air between him and his husband.
When he went back into the bedroom, Day was already under the covers, his back to him, scrolling on his phone.
He slid under the sheets and eased in close behind Day, snaking his arm around his waist.
He kissed him gently along the back of his neck and over the curve of his shoulder, his cock already half-hard at the feel of Day’s hot skin.
“You said you were tired, Cash,” Day bit out, not turning around. “Get some rest.”
God gaped as Day slammed his phone down on the nightstand, turned off the lamp, and buried himself deeper under the blankets.
After staring in disbelief for several minutes, he rolled onto his back, threw his arm over his forehead, and stared at the slow rotation of the ceiling fan until he fell asleep.
Wesley (Wes) Drake
Three weeks later...
Wes reclined in his chair, with his ankle crossed over his knee, casually flipping his matte-black Zippo open and closed with a quick snap of his thumb, the familiar clicking settling his nerves.
He rolled the flame with muscle memory, watching the fire dance, twist, and curl around his knuckles as if it knew who its master was.
It was too early for all the feelings stirring in his gut.
At the front of the room, Lieutenant Godfrey paced back and forth, arms crossed over his big chest, voice barreling through Wes’s thoughts.
“We’re not screwing this one up, fellas. This isn’t just some downtown corner hustler. This is Cade Mercer. His empire is one of the largest we’ve ever tried to bring down, and add to that, he’s smart as fuck. He’s taken over an entire apartment building, with multiple labs, lookouts on every floor, and runners in and out on a sporadic schedule. But there’s also civilians renting there.”