Total pages in book: 95
Estimated words: 92043 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 460(@200wpm)___ 368(@250wpm)___ 307(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 92043 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 460(@200wpm)___ 368(@250wpm)___ 307(@300wpm)
But he had to. A man like Connelly Reid deserved so much better than a punk who couldn’t even take care of his own rent and agreed to get his dick sucked by a stranger just to save his friend from having to do lap dances again.
Z clutched his knees until his knuckles whitened.
“Detective Reid, I didn’t know you were still here.”
“Catching up. What’s going on?” Connelly was still standing behind him, but the recognition was clear by the tone of his voice.
“Questioning a suspect, sir.”
“Victim,” Z said with a growl and a squint at the officer.
Connelly came around into Z’s view and they studied each other. Z’s gaze took in Connelly’s haggard expression, the dark circles under his eyes, and the five-o’clock shadow on his jaw. He looked as beat as Z felt.
“Azariah.”
“Detective.”
“You know this guy?” Officer Uptight asked.
“I’ll take it from here, Briggs.” Connelly took Z’s elbow gently and helped him stand. “Come with me, Azariah.”
“But—” Briggs stood as if to argue.
Connelly looked at him and held out his free hand. “Your files?”
With an angry sigh, Briggs grabbed the papers he’d been scribbling on and slapped them into Connelly’s open palm. Connelly turned away and guided Z carefully, supporting his weight on his bad side.
They’d only gotten a few steps when, under his breath, Briggs said, “Guess the fags gotta stick together.”
Connelly let go of Z’s elbow, spun around and pushed into the cop’s space.
“Say that again to my face,” Connelly said.
Officer Uptight blinked but didn’t say anything. Connelly took a step forward, forcing Briggs to back up until he was practically sitting on his own desk.
“Come on, what’s the problem? Don’t you have the balls to confront me directly, Briggs?”
“Get away from me,” Briggs said.
“Why? I thought you wanted my attention. Why else would you be so stupid?” Connelly slapped Briggs’s cheek in what seemed like a friendly pat. “I’ve had a bad fucking day, don’t push me.”
“Back off.”
Connelly nudged closer, almost growling. “Do you like your job?”
Briggs’s throat bobbed and he nodded.
“Then I suggest you keep your fucking opinions to yourself from now on. Got it?”
Connelly didn’t wait for a reply, just stalked back to Z. But instead of taking his elbow again, Connelly slipped his arm around Z’s waist, looked over his shoulder and glared at Officer Uptight.
“Got anything to say?”
Briggs shook his head.
“Smart.”
A few seconds later, they’d rounded the corner out of sight and Connelly’s arm slid away.
Stupidly, Z missed it.
Chapter Twenty-One
Connelly took a deep breath. He really shouldn’t have done that. It was definitely going to come back and bite him in the ass someday. But Jesus, he felt like he’d just gone a round or two with a nasty criminal. Wait a minute, he had. John was as nasty as they came. And then he had to get the shock of his life by seeing Azariah again—at the station being questioned wearing a small plastic ankle brace. He didn’t even want to think about the big dark blue discoloration on his jaw or the cuts on his arms and hands.
He was bruised, beaten, bleeding. And all Connelly could see was the broken body of the trans woman at the bottom of the stairs. Every instinct Connelly possessed had him in protection mode. Adrenaline had started coursing through his system as soon as he’d heard Azariah’s voice. Then he’d seen him antagonizing Briggs and taking that abuse with his customary attitude, and Connelly had choked on the need to save him.
He was still choking on it.
Fuck. Every mark on Azariah’s skin made him want to rip something to shreds.
He really needed to get a grip. They were in the middle of the precinct and he’d already made one enemy from this situation. He couldn’t afford to screw up again.
He guided Azariah back to his desk and pulled up a chair next to it. They both sat. “So, first, hello. It’s nice to see you again.”
One corner of Azariah’s full mouth tipped up but there was sadness in his eyes. “Really, Hot Fudge? That’s all ya got?”
“Second, what the fuck happened?”
“That’s better.”
“Start with that.” He nodded at the bandaged foot barely tucked into an unlaced Converse.
“Sprained my ankle.”
“Bad?”
“I’m not supposed to be walking on it but that asshole Briggs wouldn’t get the crutches I dropped.”
“So, that’s probably why you haven’t been at Sal’s.” It was a rhetorical question but Azariah answered anyway.
“Yeah,” he said. “I offered to waddle around but the boss wouldn’t hear it. Why? Didja miss me?” His smile seemed forced. Connelly didn’t confess that, yes, he really had. Instead he asked the one question that was burning a hole through his middle.
“And the reason you haven’t returned any of my calls?”
That shut Azariah up fast. His Adam’s apple bounced and he glanced away as if he couldn’t stand looking into Connelly’s eyes.