Chapter 8 #2
“Douglas Sawyer.”
Those two words curled around Ciaran’s insides, warm and lovely. It was all he could do to offer a nod and a smile because what he really wanted to do to him—
“Thank you for not taking my door off its hinges.”
What?
Niceties dissipated along with Ciaran’s manners, his mood darkening.
But Sawyer smiled. “Wouldn’t like to explain that to head office.”
“Hmm.”
“Though I reckon those hinges are cast iron, so they’re probably safe. They don’t make ’em like that anymore.”
Ciaran was confused.
Were they really going to talk about the door?
Then Sawyer laughed. He actually laughed. “I’m just joking. Thought I’d try an icebreaker. Didn’t work. I can see that.”
“Hmm,” Ciaran tried again, keeping his temper in check. He was trying to keep his humanity in check too. “I should apologise. I haven’t exactly been welcoming.”
Sawyer studied him for a long second, and Ciaran felt more scrutinised than he liked.
“So,” Sawyer finally said. “To what do I owe the pleasure of this visit? I met your cousin today. Hendrix, is it? Seems like a nice kid. Bit of a wild one.”
“Hm, yes. He is a bit...” Ciaran’s mouth was suddenly dry, given what he was about to say next. Could he ask him for a coffee? Would that be too cliché? Too premature?
Isn’t that what humans did on first dates?
Oh hell, was he asking him on a date?
“Said he’ll be heading back to Hobart soon,” Sawyer added, clearly unaware of Ciaran’s internal turmoil. “Said one of your friends is MIA?”
Oh shit.
“He said that?”
“He’s chatty,” Sawyer said.
He certainly was.
Ciaran was going to kill him.
“He’s not MIA,” Ciaran lied. “He just needed some time. He’ll come home. He always does.”
“So he’s done this before,” Sawyer hedged. “Dylan—is that his name?”
“This was a mistake,” Ciaran mumbled, turning for the door.
“I can help locate him,” Sawyer said.
Ciaran paused with his hand on the door. “We don’t need your help.”
“I have contacts in the Hobart PD—”
“I said no,” Ciaran barked with more bite than he’d intended. So he softened it with a quiet “Thank you. But there’s no need to concern yourself.”
“Okay, then,” Sawyer said. “I won’t.”
Ciaran stopped and turned to find Sawyer was now standing and leaning against his desk.
Was he just going to give up? Was he not going to pry and push like every other cop he’d known would have?
Sawyer shrugged. “Not my jurisdiction, and if you say Dylan’s not technically a missing person, then there’s not much I can do. I was just offering to put in some calls, that’s all.”
Ciaran paused, mollified and annoyed this interaction wasn’t going to plan.
Then of course that damn cat ran in through the door he was holding open.
“Just great,” Sawyer griped. “You’re letting in all the cold air and the cat.”
The cat, Salem, walked right up to Sawyer, and, putting his paws on Sawyer’s leg, demanded to be picked up.
Which he did.
He just picked it up, and the damned cat looked right at Ciaran while he purred against Sawyer’s chest.
Ciaran had to unclench his jaw, and he swore the door handle creaked under his grip. He sneered at the cat and huffed as he opened the door with a little more force than necessary and then stomped out of there.
Even above the thumping of blood in his ears, he heard Sawyer’s voice. “What is it with him and doors?”
He saw Fray leaning against the railing by his place, waiting. Listening.
Smiling.
“You can’t kill the cat,” Fray said as he got closer.
“I can fucking try,” Ciaran griped.
Fray snorted and clapped his shoulder. “You did good. You had a conversation with him. It’s a start. He’s a nice guy.”
“He’s hot,” Hendrix hollered from inside.
Ciaran heard Otis hiss at him, “Do you want to fucking die? I won’t stop him if he tries to kill you.”
Ciaran heard Hendrix laugh, and he sighed. “I need to apologise for before,” Ciaran murmured.
“Nah, we’re good,” Fray said. “Did you get some thinking done while you were down there?”
Ciaran nodded. “Yeah.”
“Good.” Fray gave Ciaran a grin that he hadn’t realised just how much he’d really needed. “Come on, let’s get this over with.”
They went inside, and everyone was there, waiting. Everyone except Dylan.
Ciaran cleared his throat. “Okay, before we get to order of business, I need to apologise to you all. I haven’t been the leader you’ve needed these past few days.”
“It’s understandable,” Kellan offered. “These are not exactly normal circumstances.”
Ciaran winced. That was beside the point. They needed a leader, and he’d let them down.
“Anyway,” he said dismissing the concerned looks from his brothers.
“Order of business. Three things. The first one is Dylan. Tobin, Fray, and Hendrix, go back to Hobart and find out all you can. Who saw him last, who he spoke to. If the Bass Strait boys have anything to do with it, we need to know.”
“Bag’s already on the boat,” Tobin said. “Ready to leave when you are.”
Ciaran appreciated Tobin so much.
“Two,” he continued. “Otis, Kellan, and Aurin, take a trip out to the trench. Something felt off there the other day. It was too still, too quiet.”
“You think it’s related?” Fray asked.
Ciaran gave a nod. “With a new cop turning up in town at the same time? It’s too much of a coincidence.”
Hendrix snorted. “You think Hottie McCoppie is up to—”
Ciaran cut him off with a snarl, anger boiling in his belly. “Don’t call him that.”
Otis whacked Hendrix with the back of his hand. “Told ya once. I won’t stop him.”
Fray sighed. “I think I should stay,” he said quietly.
Ciaran knew Fray would like to go with Tobin so they could spend some time together, even if Hendrix was with them.
It was why he’d suggested it. For Fray. “I’ll be fine.
And these three will be back from the trench by morning if they leave tonight.
I won’t even see him until tomorrow now, anyway, so what’s the worst that could happen? ”
Fray raised an eyebrow at him. An eyebrow that said, “I’ve had to intervene how many times already?”
Ciaran sighed in defeat.
Tobin was first to stand up. “Leaving in five. Can give you three a lift to the drop-off point if you like? Save you some time.”
“Sounds good to me,” Otis said, standing up.
Kellan paused on his way out. “For what it’s worth,” he said quietly, “he seems a very nice man. Smart, funny.”
Ciaran wasn’t sure about funny....
“And he did ask about you,” Kellan added.
“And he’s single,” Aurin said. “Just sayin’.”
Ciaran groaned. He hadn’t even thought about Sawyer not being single....
Otis made a face. “We just had to find out if we needed to get rid of some opposition, that’s all.”
“And he’s hot,” Hendrix said, then dashed out the door before Ciaran could grab him.
When it was just Fray and Ciaran, Fray gave him a rueful smile. “I know what you were doing, suggesting I go with Tobin.”
“I just thought....” Ciaran shrugged. “Just trying to help.”
“I think we can forget it. I think I need to forget it.”
Ciaran frowned at him. “Sorry. I... I dunno. Who needs boyfriends anyway, am I right?”
Fray’s quiet laugh faded. “What’s the plan for tonight, then? Gonna go sit outside his window again, listen as he plays Bruce Springsteen on his record player?”
Ciaran resented the fact that he’d actually done that. Even more than that, he resented the fact that Fray knew about it.
He had planned to do exactly that, but now he wasn’t. “No.”
“You’re not killing the cat,” Fray said. “You know Aurin loves that thing.”
The image of the cat against Sawyer’s chest, all smug and purring...
Ciaran had to stop thinking about the damn human and do his job.
“No,” he said. “I need to make some calls. What time is it in New Zealand?”