Chapter Sixteen
Tyson
Monday morning came way too fucking early.
Hamish gently answered my text asking how he was with a not now, please.
That ate me up.
Donovan texted that he’d stayed the night at Cole’s. Reading between the lines, he’d shared just about everything with Cole, Caressa, and Michael.
That meant I couldn’t procrastinate any longer.
As I sipped my coffee, watching the sun rise over the Fraser River, I acknowledged my mind was made up.
The commute took extra long. I should’ve headed out before the sun crested the horizon so I could miss the worst of the traffic, but the languidness from the weekend lingered.
Regrets mingled with sweet memories. For all his innocence, Hamish sure knew what to do with his mouth. I could get hard again just remembering the blow job.
What really stuck, though, was the conversation at the diner. Where we’d basically agreed we had something special and that we’d do whatever was needed to move us forward as a triad. Which was all kinds of nuts—we barely knew each other.
Yet I’d never been so certain in my life. I was meant to be with these two men. If giving up my career as a cop was the price to be paid, then I’d do it.
I was not, however, going to ask Hamish to make the same sacrifice. He’d shared little about what happened at his bosses’ home. He’d shut down almost entirely. Appropriately, for certain, but being shut out hurt. I wanted to comfort him, but he wanted space.
After I parked, I made my way to the street and headed for the nearest coffee shop. As much as I didn’t mind the coffee in the squad room, I wanted something…fancier. As if the fortification in the sugar-free vanilla syrup-laced latté would somehow soften the blow of what I was about to do.
Ha.
Not a fucking chance.
Still, I gazed around longingly as I made my way to my desk. Would I still be part of this, or was I about to lose everything?
To my surprise, Mariah sat at her desk. She was staring intently at her computer.
“Anything interesting?”
“There’s a rumor about Cole Hamilton, Caressa Klein, and Michael Dubois.”
“Oh?” I hung my coat on the hook but didn’t sit.
“Apparently, Cole’s speech at the Golden Globes has set tongues wagging. Geneva Alvarez, over at CNC, has done an entire story about it.”
Still, I didn’t sit.
She eyed me. “You were with me when we first interviewed Caressa. You saw the men being protective of her.”
“Sure.”
She pursed her lips.
I sighed. “I was at the Hamilton residence the night of the Golden Globes. A very long and personal story that isn’t of any relevance.
But yes, I can confirm they’re together.
But that stays between the two of us.” Mariah might be a bit of a flake sometimes, but she wasn’t going to blab this.
Not about famous people. That would look bad on both her and the department.
“When were you going to tell me?”
I shrugged. “Not relevant to the investigation. We have our perpetrator in jail. We have all the witness statements written up and ready to hand off to the crown prosecutor. We’ve done our jobs.”
She arched an eyebrow. “And we have four other unsolved murders and a bunch of crimes to investigate. Why are you standing?”
“I need to speak to the sergeant.”
“Huh.” She leaned back in her chair and gave me the once-over. “Reyes or Riggs? I mean, I’m assuming not Hamilton, but I could be wrong—”
“It doesn’t matter.”
She snickered. “Oh, it matters. I know you’ve been lonely since—”
“That’s not relevant.” And I’d been lonely for a lot longer before my wife officially left me. I hadn’t wanted to see the writing on the wall—that relationship had been circling the drain for a long time. “I haven’t…you know…”
“Told me whether it’s Reyes or Riggs either…
” Mariah narrowed her eyes. “Oh. Okay. I wasn’t sure if you swung both ways—being married and all that—but…
” She snickered again. “Well, at least he’s a looker.
Hope he’s good in bed. Does he…” She made what I interpreted to be a lewd gesture. “Or do you…” She repeated the gesture.
I groaned. “We haven’t, and it doesn’t make any difference.” The last thing I wanted was to be discussing my sex life with my gossipy partner. By the time I was fired, the entire department would know my sexual proclivities.
“So you’re willing to throw away your career, and you don’t even know if he’s a good lay?” She arched an eyebrow yet again. “Hell, I’m not even sure if I believe you—that you’ve kept your relationship chaste.”
My cheeks heated at the memory of the blow jobs. And of all the other kisses Donovan and I’d shared. Chaste sure wasn’t the word I would use. Restrained? That sounded better.
Mariah whistled. “Splash cold water on your face. You shouldn’t have shaved. A couple days growth might’ve hidden your reaction.” She snorted. “Or not.”
I couldn’t decide if I would miss her snide remarks or not. After making a mental inventory of everything I would need to toss into a box when I got my walking papers, I headed to my boss’s office.
Wendy Mathers was a force to be reckoned with.
She stood a statuesque five-feet-nine inches.
She had a dozen years on me, putting her in her mid-forties.
Her blonde hair was always pulled back into a severe bun, accentuating her high cheekbones, square jaw, and widow’s peak hairline.
Her aquamarine eyes always assessed everyone—daring them to offer bullshit that she’d quickly pick apart.
She didn’t accept excuses, but she was also damn fair.
All in all, she was someone I would want to emulate—were I ever in a position of authority.
Which distinctly felt like an impossibility at this moment.
“Come in, McGillvary.” She didn’t look up from her computer.
I stepped into her office and closed the door.
She glanced up from her monitor. “Are you going to sit, or are you here to deliver news that’s going to piss me off, and you’re aiming for a quick escape?”
“Both?”
Her frown intensified.
I sat. Normally, I would search for a way to get comfortable in her distinctly uncomfortable visitor’s chair, but I didn’t bother today. Instead, I hunched forward, placing my hands on my thighs. I took a deep breath.
She held her gaze steady. When I didn’t speak, she arched an eyebrow.
“It’s the Hamilton case.”
“Okay.” She gave nothing away.
“I…haven’t acted inappropriately.” Much. “But now that the case is officially closed, I would like permission to see one of the victims.”
“Socially? Romantically? Sexually?” She continued to hold my gaze with her fathomless blue-green eyes.
“Yes.”
She leaned back in her chair. “You know the policy, Detective. The rules are very clear about this. Victims are in a vulnerable position and often see law enforcement officers as some kind of saviors. Those feelings are not appropriate…nor are they the basis for any possible relationship. So we just say no. End of story.”
The dismissal was within reach. She was about to send me on my way—believing I would follow the rules. Because that’s what I was—a rule follower. Even when I should’ve spoken out, I hadn’t. I’d held the line. My conscience still didn’t like that decision. I had plenty of regrets in my life.
Donovan and Hamish weren’t going to be two more.
I cleared my throat.
Wendy sat forward.
“Not this time. First, the case is done. Resolved. Signed off. We’ve always had the perpetrator in custody, so I’m not anyone’s savior.” At least here, I could be honest.
She quirked an eyebrow.
“He’s…not in distress. Yes, being shot—”
She shot out of her chair. “Holy shit.”
“Oh no.” I put my hand up. “Not Cole Hamilton.”
Her forward momentum stalled. Had she planned to physically throttle me? I wouldn’t have put it past her. She would make a challenging adversary.
“You’re talking about Donovan Riggs?”
I nodded.
She continued to stand, looking down at me.
Should’ve stayed standing. I was at a complete disadvantage—obviously the way she wanted it.
“Same rules apply, Detective.”
Ouch. In private, she tended to use our first names—trying to remind us that we were people first, cops second.
“Can I try to explain?”
She put her hands on her hips but didn’t stop me.
“I want to say he came on to me—which is true—but the attraction’s mutual. I can’t explain it—”
“And yet you’re trying.” Her irritation came through loud and clear in her words.
“Because I need you to understand. You, Wendy. Not as my sergeant, but as someone I consider a friend.”
She frowned. But didn’t stop me.
“You know I’m a rule follower.”
“To your detriment. Some of the time.”
I winced. She knew. Had probably always known. But I hadn’t spoken up, and now was far too late to do the right thing. Yes, I’d held the line. I shouldn’t have, but the unspoken rule was we had each other’s backs.
“Is this Donovan your way of making up for past errors in judgment?”
The air quotes came through plainly. Still, I bristled.
“His ethnicity has nothing to do with this. What happened…” I cleared my throat.
“As you said, it’s too late. I was wrong.
I regret my actions. Or rather, my inaction.
If I had it to do over, I’d make a different choice.
But whether Donovan had come into my life or not, I’d feel that way. Self-reflection hasn’t been kind.”
“Okay, so this isn’t because Riggs is Black.”
I shook my head. “It’s what’s within him. He comes across as strong and in control—which he is—but he also shows me a different side.”
“A vulnerable side.”
My mouth opened, then snapped shut. Fuck.
“You’re making my point, Tyson. He’s vulnerable—because of getting shot. You starting a relationship with him is taking advantage.”
“But it’s not—”
“So you say.”
“Yeah, so I say.” My back went up. “I think I’m a good enough judge of character. He’s had every opportunity to walk away from this relationship. Yet he hasn’t.”
“You ever wonder if it’s the uniform?”
“I would’ve thought it’d be a detriment.
” I drew in a sharp breath and let it out on a long exhalation.
“The truth is I honestly don’t think he cares about the uniform.
I mean, he’s cognizant I’m a police officer…
but that doesn’t seem to sway him.” I hadn’t spent a lot of time examining this—but I believed it in my heart.
If I hung up my uniform today, Donovan would still want me.
“And you’re willing to risk your career over him?”
I expected derision, but she offered a level tone.
“I could’ve tried to keep it a secret.”
Another eyebrow arch.
“But I’m not ashamed of my relationship. He might never want to go public with it—that’ll be up to him. But I want to be able to go over to his house and not feel like I’m doing something illicit. Like I have to sneak around. Like my job will be on the line if I get caught.”
“Make no mistake, your job is on the line.”
My breath caught and held—she had the power to fire me. I could grieve it with the union…but her word would carry a lot of sway.
She sat back down at her desk. “Two weeks’ suspension and you have a visit with the department psychologist. She clears you, then I’ll consider reinstatement. Fight me on this, and I’ll take harsher measures.”
Firing.
“Those are fair conditions.”
“I’m writing you up, Detective. This goes on your record.” She picked up a pen. “You still have time to reconsider. But once you’re out the door—”
“I won’t.” I almost used her first name, but that didn’t feel right.
“He must be a very special man for you to risk your career.”
“Frankly, he is. I’d give it up and more—”
She held up her hand. “Good detectives are hard to find, and despite my questioning of your judgment yet again, I think you’re good at your job. Two weeks.”
Seeing the dismissal for what it was, I nodded and headed out. I uttered, “Thank you,” before exiting and closing the door behind me. Barely breathing, I headed back to my desk.
Mariah was scrolling on her phone but looked up when I grabbed my coat. She gaped. “You shit.”
“Two weeks suspension and a visit to the department psychologist before being returned to active duty.”
She whistled. “You got off easy.”
“I know. I really do.”
“What’re you going to do for two entire weeks? You don’t have…anyone to care for.”
She had known about my father—had even sympathized. I’d burned through a lot of vacation and sick days while caring for him. I was only just starting to rebuild them.
“I’ll keep my ear to the ground and keep researching a couple of our cases—”
She waved me off. “Take a fucking vacation. Spend some time with the man you were willing to risk everything for.”
“It’s complicated.” Like the fact I want Hamish as much and, most importantly, want the three of us together. I hadn’t mentioned that to Wendy. Likely wouldn’t have gone over well.
“Well, do some grand gesture or something. Like, if you’re willing to risk everything, maybe you should make certain he knows that.”
She had a point. To now, I hadn’t done anything really big.
Except almost lose your job.
Yeah. That was also a good point.
Would I have given up everything for him? For a relationship that was barely a couple of weeks old and involved just a few heart-stopping kisses?
I didn’t have a suitable answer for that. So I donned my coat, grabbed my cold coffee, nodded to Mariah, and headed out into the fresh air. The temperature had gone up a few degrees, and I didn’t need my gloves.
At loose ends, I walked down to Granville Island. The walk did me good as I tried to clear my mind from all the shit going on. I moved from vendor to vendor, eyeing their wares and trying to find something that might suit Hamish or Donovan.
Nothing.
I considered and disregarded many things. Most had some cheese factor that I just couldn’t overcome—while others implied a level of intimacy we didn’t have yet.
Eventually, I gave up and headed back to headquarters so I could grab my car. Instead of heading to New West, though, I pointed my car north, drove over the Cambie Bridge, and headed into downtown Vancouver.
You’re nuts.
I made it as far as Hamish’s office before remembering he was also on suspension.
And I didn’t know where he lived.
Somewhere close by, if memory served. In Vancouver, however, that meant little. The office towers sat next to the condos—everything blending together.
I sat in my car and stared at my phone.
Finally, I found my courage and sent the text asking to come over.
After forever, he responded.
—Yes.—
I did a happy dance.