Total pages in book: 155
Estimated words: 157672 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 788(@200wpm)___ 631(@250wpm)___ 526(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 157672 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 788(@200wpm)___ 631(@250wpm)___ 526(@300wpm)
Boyd’s eyes flare. “You get a promotion since you walked into the station?”
Ford remains quiet.
“Why is it always you four who think you can tell me how to manage my department?” Boyd asks, then throws up his hand. “No response necessary. I’m not in the mood for your mouths. I’ll read your reports, which I expect before you rookies breeze out of here.”
I make a show of checking my watch, already knowing our shift ended over an hour ago. Since moving Willow into the house, overnight shifts aren’t as irritating. But I’m ready for this one to end.
And I’m not alone.
Boyd crooks his eyebrows expectantly, reading my thoughts. “You got somewhere to be?”
“Someone a lot prettier than you is expecting me.”
“All of you are pains in my ass.”
I crack a grin, my mood lifting with the chance to fuck with him. “Peewee, Peewee, Peewee, you know you hit the jackpot with us.”
He glowers. “More like rock bottom. You make a man consider retirement.”
All teasing halts. The man can outperform half the men who work under him. Most avoid him at all costs, knowing he sets high expectations. Our relationship is different. We may push boundaries, but Boyd gives as good as he takes.
He’s a powerhouse of a leader who would be a loss for the force.
“You serious?”
“Came out of the academy at eighteen, edging up on thirty-two years.”
“What the hell would you do with yourself?” Ace responds flatly.
Boyd shrugs. “Got options.”
The calmness of his response is a tell. The man may be an abrasive hard-ass, but he’s methodical. No way he’s taking retirement at fifty and playing golf.
The wheels in my head spin, recalling anything unusual. My eyes scan over his desk, catching the edge of a black folder with the familiar gold-blazed emblem.
Several things fall into place.
The closed-door calls.
Mid-day disappearances.
Ford and Rowan’s shower. Boyd and Tom in a private discussion that appeared serious.
Tom left the force to open his bar. He and Boyd worked together for over twenty years.
Boyd has no interest in opening a bar, but he would go to his friend for advice.
The gold-blazed emblem is a dead giveaway.
The four of us exchange a look, coming to the same conclusion.
“Fuckin’ A, Hayes Security poached you.”
Boyd remains stoic.
“Private security comes with its own red tape. But working with James Hayes comes with a different set of rules,” Major states.
“He sure as hell pays a fuck load of money,” Ace throws in.
“James’ team is top-notch,” Ford remarks.
“You guys would know, considering your experience.” Boyd breaks his silent stare-down.
“When is this happening?” I mentally roll through his possible replacements.
“No decisions made yet. There are some loose ends here. You four specifically.” He digs through his desk and tosses a folder our way. “You cocky asses came in here with your mind already focused on the next steps.”
I don’t have to see what is in the folder to know it’s our SWAT recommendations.
We fast-tracked through the academy process and started at this station. A lot of people were pissed and doubted us.
We made our intentions clear early on that our goal was SWAT. There was no reason to dance around the inevitable.
Captain Boyd was less than impressed with our brazen declaration and let us know our asses were on the line.
He predicted we’d fuck up.
We came to an understanding.
He set expectations we kicked the shit out of.
Our injuries sidelined our original timeline, but we’re coming up on the application window.
He knows we go together. SWAT takes us all or nothing.
“Think of how awesome it will be on your record to have us accepted on the first try? Go ahead and plan that retirement party,” I suggest.
“Arrogant badass shits.” He chuckles lightly. “You four make the cut, then I decide on my next steps.”
“Don’t worry, we’ll make you look good.”
“Get out of here and get my reports done. I’m already paying overtime.”
“But we’re worth it.” I flutter my eyelashes and duck to dodge the pen he throws across the room.
We go to our desks, fire up our computers, and log into the interdepartmental application system.
The reports can fucking wait.
If it wasn’t so fucking cute watching her pout as she stomps around the room, I’d throw her on the bed and fuck the attitude right out of her.
My cock twitches at the thought, and I adjust myself, watching her disappear into the bathroom.
Cabinet doors open and close, a clanking clinks on the counter, followed by a muffled, “Shit.”
I fight to hide my grin when she returns with an overnight bag.
“Where do you think you’re going?”
“I am going to spend the night with Chase and Wyatt.”
Chase gave me a heads up an hour ago Willow was on a tangent. It didn’t take a detective to know why.
It’s been four days since we completed our SWAT applications. The process typically takes time, but we’d heard that our names made the cut for the next stage.