“Count on it.” Mac’s wife gave Dix a hug. Her hair had finally grown in enough that she didn’t need a wig. She had colour in her pallor again, too.
Dix squeezed her hand. “You look great.”
“I feel great. Better than I have in months. Tonight was just what I needed.”
“Me too!” Abby Walters joined them. Her hand was tucked through the arm of a tall, dark-skinned man in a stylish suit. “Everyone, this is Dr Rylon Taylor, Chief of Emergency Medicine at County General.” She introduced her friends.
“Pleasure to meet you.” Dix shook his hand.
Bryan added, “We hope to see you around the restaurant often.”
“Absolutely. It’s just what this neighbourhood needed. You’re going to have a raving success on your hands.”
Bryan raised his brows at Dix. “Hope we can live up to those kind words.”
Dix waggled his brows in return. He had no doubts. His friends sauntered off and Rae Scott stepped forward.
“The place is very festive,” she remarked.
“Rae! I’m so pleased you could make it.” Bryan gave her a hug.
“You’re very kind. I wanted to say goodbye. Howard and I have packed up the last of our things. We’ll be leaving for Atlanta in the morning.”
“I’m glad. A fresh start will be good for you both.”
She looked around. “I hope this fresh start for is good for your family, too. And that Sami is doing okay.”
“Sami’s great. No worries. She still sees a therapist occasionally, but even he is amazed at how well she came through everything.”
“Good.” She tried to smile, but her sadness showed through. “I love the Christmas decorations. You fit right in with the Plaza.”
“It’s a nice time of year for the opening,” Bryan agreed. “A month earlier wouldn’t have hurt, but we’re happy to be open a few days before Christmas at least.” He squeezed Rae’s hand before she turned to leave.
To Dix he said, “The Christmas decorations do look great. I’m actually looking forward to celebrating this year.”
“It’s going to be a great holiday.” Dix felt it in his gut.
Bryan glanced at the door and said quietly, “Maybe greater than you realised.”
“Hmm?” He glanced up to see a man in uniform walking their way. “Oh, my God. Jared?”
The Marine smiled. “Hello, Dad. It’s good to see you.” He glanced at Bryan. “Hello, Mr Scott.” They shook hands.
“Please, call me Bryan.”
Dix tried to keep his jaw closed as he looked at his lover. “You knew about this?”
Bryan shrugged. “We’ve talked a couple times. Jared was coming home for a visit anyway. He agreed the time was right.”
His son faced him. “I’ve missed you, Dad. We have a lot to talk about. I have some apologies to make.”
“Nah, you don’t.” Dix drew him into a hug. “It’s just so good to see you again.”
The hug was returned in full force. “It’s good to see you, too. I love you, Dad.”
“I love you too, son.” Dix tried not to bawl like a baby, but one tear managed to escape. When he pulled back, he wiped it away quickly.
Bryan reached for his hand and squeezed.
“Oh, he’s here!” Sami’s squeal filled the room. She and Kayla descended on them and were hugging Jared before he ever knew what hit him. “We’ve always wanted a brother!”
Jared laughed as the girls held his arms.
Bryan grinned and pointed. “Kayla. Sami. Jared.”
“We know!” Sami clung to his uniform sleeve.
“Take it easy,” Bryan told her. “Don’t overwhelm him.”
“It’s fine.” Jared grinned. “It’s been too long since I had a sister to torment. Really looking forward to it.”
“Two of us. Double trouble,” Kayla agreed.
Sami hugged Jared’s shoulder. “This is so great!”
Dix slipped an arm around Bryan’s waist. “Yeah, it is, isn’t it?”
His lover grinned and winked.
Also available from Totally Bound Publishing:
Night Shift
Jenna Byrnes
Excerpt
Chapter One
Cullen Ryder stared at the TV in the homicide detective bullpen at his station house. Bernard Houtz, media spokesman for the chief of the Chicago Police Department, was giving a press conference outside city hall.
“We don’t have any suspects at this time, but I can’t go into further detail.”
The small group of officers surrounding the set murmured various comments, while their captain folded his arms across his uniformed chest. “We’ve called you down here to tell you we have nothing to tell you.” He looked at Ryder with a wry smile. “He could have put out a press release, but no.”
Ryder nodded and glanced back at the TV. Houtz was fielding questions in his own, inimitable style.
A well made-up blonde with a large microphone addressed the spokesman. “This makes ten murders. Are you saying the police don’t have
any
leads on the identity of the South Side Cleaner?”
The media crowd snickered, and Houtz raised his hands to quiet them. “The Chief does
not
think labelling this person the ‘South Side Cleaner’ is a good idea. To clarify, the Chicago Police Department is giving full attention to this matter. Effective immediately, the Chief has assigned top agents from an elite Special Task Force to the case.”
“Excuse me?” Ryder looked at his captain. “What ‘Special Task Force’?”
Captain Grainger took Ryder by the arm and motioned towards his office at the end of the large room. “Let’s talk.”
“Fuck me.” Ryder ran a hand through his shaggy mop of brown hair.
“Calm down.” Grainger guided him into the office. He closed the door and pointed to a chair.
Ryder sat. “This is
my
case. I’ve made some headway. My team is interviewing local business owners as we speak.”
“I was going to tell you about the task force. I’m not taking you off the case. You’ll be working with them.”
“
With
them or
for
them?” Ryder glanced through the large office window overlooking the bullpen and spotted three men in suits entering the station. The last two he’d never seen, but even though they’d never actually met, he recognised the large, black man in front.
Trevor Stone.
“No. Please don’t tell me
that’s
the task force.”
Grainger followed his gaze. “Trevor Stone, the one in front, is the only guy I know. The other two he brought with him.”
“Fuck me twice,” Ryder muttered.
With an exaggerated roll of his eyes, Grainger stepped to his door and called out, “Stone, in here.”
The detective nodded and headed in their direction.
“He’s been on the Vice Squad for quite a few years,” Grainger told Ryder. “He’s gotten several commendations. I’m not surprised the chief assigned him to this task force.”
“Oh, hell no.” Ryder wasn’t surprised, either, but he wasn’t happy. Stone looked like a big shot with testosterone and attitude to spare. There was no doubt who’d be running the case, now.
The man stepped into Grainger’s office, henchmen on his heels. “Captain.”
Grainger extended a hand, and they shook. “Good to see you, Stone. We’re happy to get your help here in homicide.”
Happy.
Right
. Ryder watched the exchange with interest. Homicide and Vice cops only worked together when they were forced to, and it was never what could be described as ‘happy’. He continued to study the two men. The captain stood six foot two but didn’t tower over Stone. The darker skinned man wasn’t as wide but looked buff and muscular in his crisp, stylish suit. Stone’s closely cropped hair and chiselled cheek bones added to his cool façade.
There was something else Ryder couldn’t quite put his finger on. When it hit him, the idea sank in his stomach like a rock.
The man’s hot
. Ryder’s cock twitched, confirming the thought he tried to ignore. His already snug jeans grew tighter. He swallowed nervously.
What the fuck?
It was no secret he liked men, but his physical reaction to this guy surprised even him.
“I’d like to get a look at whatever you have on the case,” Stone told Grainger. “Do you have someplace we can work?”
Grainger pointed at the nearest wall. “Use the conference room next door. I’m having all the files delivered there now. Detective Ryder will bring you up to speed.”
“Fine.” Stone gazed coolly at Ryder. “Shall we get started?”
Ryder stood, mustering as much composure as possible. From here on out, he’d be known as the cop who couldn’t solve the South Side Cleaner case so the chief had to send in reinforcements.
Shit.
“This way.” He prayed his erection had deflated, pissed he had one in the first place.
He felt the gazes on him of the other officers in the bullpen as he led the way to the war room. Centred in the space was a large conference table topped with a stack of folders.
My files.
It’s all about solving the case,
he reminded himself. It shouldn’t matter who did it. The damned murderer needed to be stopped. Ryder ran his fingertips along the top file folder.
But it does matter.
Every cop knew how much it mattered.
“This will do fine.” Stone circled the room, examining the large whiteboard and the bulletin board suitable for pictures and clippings. He paused next to the table.
“Ryder, is it? This is Detective Moss.” He motioned towards the shorter of the two men, a redhead with thick, black-framed glasses.
“That’s Pickett,” Stone added, nodding towards the taller, blond beanpole.
Ryder acknowledged each of them before facing Stone. “Anything you want to know, just ask. I’ve been working this case for two month. I’m familiar with the details.”
“Sounds like it’s time we brought in a fresh perspective.” Stone gazed at him. His eyes shone like glassy marbles, his lips parted in a slight pucker.
Ryder thought he could kiss the man or, just as easily, punch him in the nose. He wasn’t sure which would be more satisfying. “Do you want me to brief you or not? ’Cause I’ve got a doughnut in the break room with my name on it. I’d like to get to it.”
“Go. Enjoy your doughnut. We’ll read through the files and see if we can decipher what’s what.” Stone peeled off his suit jacket and hung it on the back of a chair.
It took most of Ryder’s self-control not to continue the exchange of barbs. He knew it wouldn’t be smart to alienate the man who controlled whether he’d remain on the case. The rest of his restraint was swallowed up trying not to ogle Stone’s ass before the man took a seat and settled in.
“Call if you need me.” Ryder left the room, got a cup of coffee and walked around the building like he had someplace to go. Eventually, he wandered back to the bullpen and slipped into the chair behind his desk. He flipped through the remaining papers on it to see what was left now the Cleaner files were gone. A bunch of insignificant odds and ends. He’d worked on nothing but those murders recently, slowly piecing together the scant clues left by the serial killer.
Sorting through the miscellaneous paperwork killed most of the afternoon, and it was almost quitting time when Stone stepped out of the war room. “Ryder. Got a second?”
Ryder looked at his watch and stood. “I can give you two.” He strolled past Stone and took a chair next to Pickett, who was still surrounded by stacks of case files.
Stone closed the door and faced the three men. To Ryder, he said, “I’ve gotten the pertinent details, and I have a couple of questions. It looks like you’ve confined your men to canvassing roughly a twelve-block area. Don’t you think it’d be wise to spread out a bit?”
What a stupid, fucking question
. Ryder nodded his head thoughtfully. “I’ve got a team of two plus myself. How far out do you suggest we go?”
Irritation flashed in Stone’s dark eyes. He tapped his neatly manicured nails on the table. “I think you’re limiting your possibilities by focussing on such a small area. Take the evidence you have and question people further out.”
“Good idea,” Ryder said, as if it were something new. “So I send my team out in one direction and tell them not to stop until they reach Deerfield? We might never see them again.”
Stone’s face hardened. “You don’t have to be quite so literal about it. Just expand your fucking target zone. Unless you and your team need a break, in which case I can speak with the captain about removing you from this case all together.”
Ryder waved a hand. “Consider the zone expanded. Anything else?”
The other man hesitated a moment then seemed to compose himself and glanced at a file on the table. “You have a personal informant by the name of Danny Burns. He lives within the twelve block radius, I understand.”
“Yes, he does.”
“Have you sent him out there at night? He might be able to talk to some people who aren’t too interested in speaking with us.”
“You think?” Ryder couldn’t resist. Stone was obviously trying hard to come off as knowledgeable.
Maybe too hard?
The man’s face was turning a burgundy shade of red and looked as if his head might explode. Before anything bad happened, Ryder thought he should answer the question. “Danny’s done a lot of work for us during the day. I’ve hesitated to send him out at night, given the climate of the streets. Pretty dangerous for a long-haired kid who looks like he could be a dealer.”
“Yeah, well, effective immediately, everyone in this room is on night shift. That includes your snitch, who’s going to start pulling his weight or get his ass thrown in the slammer.”
“Night shift?” Ryder repeated sceptically. “Look, I’ve put in my share of nights, and I’ll continue to do so. But it’s next to goddamned impossible to get anything bureaucratic done at night or to speak with managers or people in positions of authority. We need a presence during the day to get things taken care of.”
“Your ‘team’ can stay on days and do whatever jobs you assign them to. You, me and
my
team are going to hit the streets, tonight and every night, until we find the son-of-a-bitch who’s muddying Chicago’s South Side.”
Ryder shoved his chair back and stood. “Christ, save it for the press conference. I can see you already in your five-hundred-dollar suits, standing up there next to Houtz. You’ll be the chief’s new golden boy.”