Chapter 10
Liv
My day off starts with coffee, bad coffee. Because apparently, even when I’m not working, I still end up at the station.
Normally I don’t mind the coffee here because it’s provided by the station, but when I could be enjoying a better roast with salted caramel creamer at home, then I really hate this stuff.
“This is a cry for help,” I mutter, string into the cup like it personally offended me.
“It’s free,” Scott says, quoting my usual comeback to him when he complains about the coffee. He doesn’t even look up from the report he’s half-heartedly filling out.
Smart ass.
“That doesn’t make it good when I don’t have to be drinking it.”
“No, but it makes it tolerable. It’s also not the coffee’s fault that you’re here. That’s on you.”
I scowl at him, then take another sip, immediately regretting it.
“Still bad,” I confirm.
Across the kitchenette, Alice snorts, perched on the counter like she owns the place, swinging one leg lazily. “You say that every time you’re here while off duty. Yet here you are, again, drinking it anyway.”
“Because I have a problem,” I deadpan.
Jett huffs a laugh from the table beside Scott, leaning back in his chair with his arms crossed. “We’ve been trying to tell you that for years.”
“Wow,” I shoot back. “And here I thought you all cared about me.”
Scott finally looks up, completely unimpressed. “We do. That’s why we’re concerned.”
“Rude.”
Alice grins, pushing off the counter and grabbing her own cup. “So,” she says casually.
I freeze because that tone is never good. “So,” I repeat cautiously.
She takes a sip, watching me over the rim. Then she sets her cup down at the table beside Jett, flopping into the seat next to him while he watches her every move like it gives him life.
“How’s your boyfriend?” she asks.
I choke on my coffee. “Sorry, my what?”
Jett perks up immediately, his attention suddenly yanked off of Alice.
Scott doesn’t even try to hide the way his attention shifts.
Alice shrugs like she didn’t just drop a grenade into the room. “The detective.”
I set my cup down very carefully. “He’s not my boyfriend.”
“Mm-hmm.”
“He’s not.”
“Then why is he showing up at your apartment with food?”
I open my mouth, then close it, thinking over my words very carefully. “…Who told you that?”
Alice beams. “Jett.”
I turn slowly. Jett raises both hands defensively. “Hey, I didn’t mean to tell her. It just came up.”
Bullshit. “How does that just come up?” I demand.
Scott snorts. “Probably the same way everything else does around here. Loudly and with zero filter.”
“That’s not helpful,” I mutter at him then turn my attention back to Jett. “And how did you find out anyway?”
“Driving home yesterday. Saw him walking up to the front door of your building with takeout bags,” Jett says with a dismissive shrug.
Alice leans forward slightly, eyes gleaming for more. “So. Food. At your apartment. Alone.”
“It wasn’t like that.”
“Then what was it like?”
I hesitate. Because I could lie, but they know me too well.
“He wanted information,” I admit finally.
The shift in the room is immediate, subtle but there. Scott’s expression tightens. Jett sits up straighter. Even Alice’s smile fades.
“…About the fire?” Scott asks.
“About the neighborhood,” I say. “Patterns. What I’ve seen.”
Jett exhales slowly. “Yeah. That tracks.”
Alice sets her cup back down. “Liv-”
“I know,” I cut in dismissively. “I know how it sounds.”
“It sounds like he’s using you,” she professes plainly.
I shrug, even though it doesn’t feel casual. “He’s a detective. That’s literally his job.”
“That doesn’t mean you have to make it easy for him,” Scott insists.
I look at him. “And what was I supposed to do?” I ask. “Lie? Pretend I haven’t noticed things?”
“No,” he attests calmly. “But there’s a difference between answering questions and getting involved.”
“I’m not involved.”
Silence stretches across the table for an uncomfortably long amount of time until Jett breaks it with a quiet laugh. “You keep telling yourself that.”
I glare at him.
“I’m serious,” he adds, leaning forward now. “Liv, this isn’t small-time stuff. What came out of that fire? That’s organized. That’s long-term. It’s dangerous. And he’s practically outing you as a narc by hanging around your apartment.”
“I know that,” I snap, taking it way too personally.
“Do you?” Alice asks softly.
It hits differently in her sweet voice. Because I do know. I just… “I’m not doing anything illegal,” I say instead.
Scott sighs. “Legality isn’t the issue.”
“Then what is it? Because there’s no reason for anyone in the neighborhood to think I’m a narc. He’s coming into my building. No one’s seen him come into my apartment.”
He meets my eyes. “Proximity.”
My mouth pops open, ready to argue, but he’s right. It’s not about whether he’s seen in my apartment. We’re both emergency services; we’re lumped together in the public’s eye.
The word, proximity, settles heavily in my chest.
“I can handle myself,” I say, quieter now. Trying to convince myself as much as them.
“I know you can,” he replies immediately. “That’s not the point.”
“Then what is the point, Scott?”
Tension coils in his jaw. “The point is,” he says, “you don’t see how far in you already are.”
I look away because I don’t have a good response to that.
Alice breaks the tension first. “Okay,” she chirps, clapping her hands lightly. “Let’s not turn this into an intervention.”
“Too late,” Jett mutters.
She ignores him, which instantly sets him on edge. “Let’s talk about the actual case,” she continues, oblivious to what she did to Jett’s emotions. “Because this isn’t the first time I’ve seen something like this.”
That gets my attention, as well as Scott’s.
“What do you mean?” I ask.
Alice leans back in her chair, crossing her arms. “Couple of years ago,” she says, “we ran calls in a different district. Same kind of setup. Run-down buildings, low traffic, people minding their own business because they didn’t want trouble.”
My stomach tightens.
“Trafficking ring?” Scott asks.
She nods. “They used abandoned properties,” she continues. “Moved people in and out constantly. Never stayed in one place too long.”
“That’s what the woman said,” I murmur, glancing at Scott who nods in confirmation.
“Exactly,” Alice says. “Keeps them harder to track. Victims don’t know where they are half the time, and even if they do, by the time someone checks it out? They’re gone.”
Jett leans forward, elbows on his knees. “We’d get calls sometimes,” he adds. “Overdose, injuries, panic attacks. But they were always vague. Different locations. No patterns that could be pinned down.”
“Until there was one,” Scott guesses quietly.
Alice nods again. “There’s always one.”
A chill runs through me. “What happened?” I ask.
She hesitates, just for a second. “A fire,” she says.
Of course it was.
“One of the victims started it,” she continues. “Same as this one. Only difference is… that time, they didn’t get as many people out.”
A heavy silence falls over the room.
“They escalated after that,” Jett recalls.
“How?” I ask.
He grimaces. “Tighter control. More movement. Less chance for anyone to fight back.”
My stomach twists, the coffee feeling like it’s about to come back with a vengeance. “So, this could get worse,” I say quietly.
Scott nods. “It usually does before it gets better.”
I press my lips together. Suddenly this doesn’t feel like something is happening around me. It feels like it’s closing in. And I was already living in the center of it…
Alice exhales softly, then shakes it off like she always does. “Alright,” she exults, forcing some lightness back into her tone. “Enough doom and gloom.”
“Bold strategy,” Jett mutters.
She shoots him a look. “Speaking of distractions,” she says, turning to me, “how hot is he really?”
I blink. “Are you serious right now?”
“Yes.”
Jett perks up again. Scott looks like he’s questioning all of his life choices.
“He’s attractive,” I admit carefully.
“Define attractive,” Alice presses.
I hesitate. Because there’s “attractive.” And then there’s him. “…Annoyingly so,” I settle on.
Alice grins. “Oh, you’re in trouble.”
“I am not.”
“You are,” Jett agrees.
Scott sighs. “I hate that I agree with them,” he mutters.
“I’m not in trouble,” I repeat.
Alice tilts her head. “Did he touch you?”
My brain short-circuits. “What- no!”
“Did you want him to?” she gushes immediately, grinning like the devil.
“ALICE.”
She laughs.
Jett nearly falls out of his chair. Scott looks like he’s reconsidering not quitting sooner.
“I’m just asking questions,” she says innocently.
“Stop asking questions,” I snap.
“Funny,” Jett mutters. “That’s what the detective said too.”
I grab a napkin off the pile at the center of the table, wad it up, and throw it at his head.
“Okay, okay,” Alice digresses, still laughing. “I’m done. For now.”
“For now?” I echo.
She winks. “For now.”
I groan dropping my head into my hands. Because this, all of this, it should feel normal. Like just another day, just another conversation with my coworkers. My friends. But it doesn’t.
Because underneath the teasing and the jokes, there’s still a threat looming out there, right by my apartment. A threat that I don’t even fully comprehend yet.
And the one man that may well be dragging the attention of that existential threat directly towards me, is the man that I don’t want to stop talking to.
The man I want more of.