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)
Vasquez pressed his lips tight and instead lifted his phone cautiously as if he were holding a live grenade.
“Just look at this video before you throw me out.”
He stared at the phone, considering telling Vasquez to shove it up his ass—but there was something in the asshole’s eyes that made him rethink it.
Vasquez was passing it to him when the door burst open, slamming into the wall.
Hart stormed in first, looking pissed enough to put Vasquez’s head through the wall. Syn ghosted in behind him, silent and watchful.
“Damnit,” Vasquez muttered, tucking the phone behind his back.
“What do you want?” Hart snapped.
Vasquez shook his head. “Nothing, never mind.”
“Fuck that,” God barked, pushing up from his chair so fast it flipped over. His body felt too big for his skin, fury crawling just under the surface. “You got the balls to come into my office, show me your video so you never have to come back.”
Vasquez swallowed. “It’s not the right time.”
Hart lunged and snatched his phone out of his hand.
“Hey! Gimme my damn phone back,” he protested, reaching for it.
God shoved him back, adrenaline surging. “Shut the fuck up. You don’t get to make demands in here.”
Vasquez stumbled into a filing cabinet, the metal rattling as some of the files fell to the floor.
Hart found and hit the play button.
The moment the video began, God’s insides went cold.
The grainy footage was dark and shaky as if shot by someone with trembling hands, but there was no mistaking the man in the video was his husband standing outside his favorite coffee shop.
His shoulders were caved in, his expression raw and unguarded in a way God hadn’t seen in months.
The video was taken earlier this week because he recognized what Day was wearing.
He felt a ripple of guilt roll through him, until a sleek, luxury vehicle pulled up to the curb and he stepped out.
A stranger. Tall. Handsome. Clean-cut. The kind of man Day had never spared a second glance, or so God thought.
His husband looked as if he were aching for this man before he fell into his arms and buried his face in the guy’s throat.
God’s vision tunneled. He wasn’t listening to whatever Hart or Syn was babbling beside him.
All he could hear was the blood rushing in his ears.
Day hugged the man as though he’d been waiting his whole life to feel him.
A soft kiss was placed on Day’s cheek and words whispered against the shell of his ear.
Then the two of them got into the fancy car—another man’s hand on his husband’s lower back—and disappeared behind the tinted windows.
No. No, no, no. Leo wouldn’t…
This is fixed, some kind of Photoshop or AI manipulation.
But God had been a cop too long to lie to himself. He knew that expression—the way Day held that man, the way he let himself be touched. It was intimacy. Familiarity.
It was more fucking betrayal.
God’s jaw locked so tight his teeth ached.
He rounded on Vasquez and gripped him by his throat. He surged forward, slamming his back against the wall.
“You fuckin’ with me?” he growled in Vasquez’s face.
Vasquez did his best to shake his head and talk through the constriction. “No. I swear. I saw it all myself.”
Hart tried to pull him off.
“Get off me!” God roared, shrugging Hart away so hard he almost tumbled over the desk.
He snatched Vasquez’s phone from Hart’s grip and replayed it.
When the video ended the second time, he turned and stormed out of the office.
The hallway felt too narrow, the fluorescent lights too bright. The walls seemed to press in on him as he charged toward the exit.
He made it ten paces before his rage boiled over.
With a snarl, he hurled Vasquez’s phone into the concrete wall, shattering it into a mess of plastic and glass.
He blew through the precinct doors, the cool air slapping him in the face, but it couldn’t contend with the heat radiating from the top of his head.
He stormed across the parking lot, the video playing over and over in his mind.
He yanked open the door of his truck and dropped into the driver’s seat so hard the cab rocked.
He had to get home. Day was going to look him in the eyes and fucking explain what he’d just saw.
God threw the truck into reverse, about to peel out, when a heavy palm slammed against the driver’s side window.
God glared at Hart through the glass, baring his teeth. He powered the window halfway down.
“Get the fuck outta my way, Ivan!”
Hart’s voice was calm but edged with seriousness. “I’m not letting you leave until you take a breath and calm yourself.”
God’s voice was rough. “I’m breathing, now move so I can go home.”
Hart climbed up on the footboard, preventing him from taking off.
“Think, Cash. You know Day. You know him better than any man breathing. You’re really gonna believe a grainy cell phone video that Vasquez showed you over your partner of fifteen years?”