Total pages in book: 87
Estimated words: 84871 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 424(@200wpm)___ 339(@250wpm)___ 283(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 84871 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 424(@200wpm)___ 339(@250wpm)___ 283(@300wpm)
I offer him a polite smile, but it’s difficult. I’m not exactly comfortable with this man standing in my living room.
Dempsey, bless him, remains right beside him, arms crossed over his chest and wearing a scowl. I love how protective he is. It’s nice knowing I have someone to confide in who will always have my back.
“Officer Thurman, I’m just going to get right to it and cut to the chase,” Tanaka says, dropping a file folder on the coffee table. “Internal Affairs will be investigating you.”
I start to sit up but wince in pain, deciding not moving is a better option if I want to continue to breathe without crying. “What? Why? I’m on paid administrative leave. I was defending myself and another officer.”
“Patel said the same thing. The shooting isn’t why you’re being investigated. It’s why you were there in the first place.”
“Because it’s my job,” I hiss, fisting my hands. “We were called there. It was an ambush!”
“Again, I know this because Patel said the same thing.”
“You don’t believe Aisha? Me?”
“Aisha, yes, as she’s not given me any reason to question her. You, however, have been there every damn time I turn around. You’re in every case, nosing around, working cases you’re not assigned to, responding to situations that are a conflict of interest.”
I gape at him, blinking in shock. “Since when is caring about doing the right thing a bad thing, Chief?”
Don’t cry.
Don’t freaking cry.
Stupid meds have my emotions clogging my throat.
Dempsey, seeing my reaction, clenches his teeth together. His expression is murderous as if he’d like to punch Tanaka in his perfect face.
“I took this job because our precinct was in dire need of cleanup. I’m still trying to determine if you’re the source of the mess or an annoying distraction.” Tanaka gestures at the folder. “I’ll come back later for the signed documents. IA will be reaching out to talk to you. If you’re hiding anything, Officer Thurman, they’ll uncover it. You’ll learn nothing gets past me.”
With those words, Tanaka turns on his heel and brushes past Dempsey on his way out. Neither of us speaks until we hear his engine start outside.
“That guy is such a dick. I want to knock him off his high horse,” Dempsey grumbles as he comes to sit back down on the floor beside me. He takes my hand, stroking my skin with his thumb. “You have nothing to hide. He’s reaching. Your job is safe, babe. Don’t worry.”
I want to believe him.
I really do.
My job may not be safe now that IA is involved, but that doesn’t mean I have to go down without a fight. If Tanaka wants to report me, so be it. I’m about to sing like a canary about all his wrongdoings and all my suspicions of him.
Tanaka is hiding something, not me. He’s corrupt and I suspect he might have more information on Trevor that he’s let on.
Two can play at this game.
I will win.
Losing my career over all this mess may be inevitable, but I’ll be damned if I lose my nephew over it too.
Dempsey
“Dammit, woman, sit your ass down,” I grumble, rushing over to take a plate out of Sloane’s hand. “I’ll unload the dishwasher. You’re supposed to be resting.”
She was shot a week ago. A goddamn week ago. You’d think she was completely healed by how eager she is to do stuff around the house.
She blows out a huff of air. “I can’t just sit around all day. Yes, it still hurts, but I’m going stir-crazy. The doctor doesn’t want me lifting anything heavy, but I can handle unloading the dishwasher.”
As much as I want to coddle her and make sure she’s taken care of, I know she’s right. Sloane’s best bet at healing is to start doing more and more. I just fucking worry about her hurting herself.
“Fine,” I grumble. “But don’t do anything that requires you to stretch.”
I’m rewarded with a triumphant grin at having gotten her way. I decide it’s sexy and I’ll let it slide.
“You should be working anyway,” she tells me, eyes narrowed. “That piece won’t illustrate itself.”
She’s right. I’ve been commissioned by the artist lady, Mona Angel, I met at the art gala for a couple of pieces. One for her and one for one of her high-end clients. They’ll earn me five thousand a piece, which I thought was ridiculously high but am not going to complain. Then she went on to tell me if I do a good job and as word gets around, the commissions will go up in price, meaning they’ll pay me even more than five thousand. Of course she’s taking a small cut on anything she refers to me or later if I sell anything in her gallery, but it’s still better than I could do on my own.