Chapter Seven
NIKKI
Once again, I was assigned to clear and reorganize the evidence locker.
Burke obviously still had a stick up his ass from my outburst the other day.
While I had managed to keep my mouth shut this morning, although I had to grind my teeth through the meeting and satiate myself with images of launching myself across the table at him, the man wasn’t going to let it go that easily.
If I wanted to keep a decent standing at the station, I’d need to keep my mouth shut for longer than a single day.
Long enough, in fact, that he’d believe I had let the issue go, and I doubted that would be done within a few days or even weeks.
But three years had been a long time to suck it up, and it started to grate on me.
I needed better resources, and I couldn’t do it alone.
So, I was stuck working in the station, refused even traffic duty, and trapped inside a dusty room while the sunlight streamed through the high window, teasing me with its warmth.
It wasn’t a punishment as such, the work needed to be done and was important, but it was no secret that Burke assigned certain tasks to those he didn’t like, and his message was clear.
“Kline.”
I looked up at the voice and managed to keep the scowl from my lips. “Torres,” I replied, nodding at her.
Karolina Torres often worked with Officer Kim, and she’d made no secret of her distaste of my performance the other day.
After the morning meeting she’d demanded I look for files she knew damn well weren’t stored in our precinct and then insisted I had somehow misplaced them.
She was one of the two officers who had not so subtly escorted me from Kim’s wake after I asked his wife a few questions.
“Did you enjoy your day off to mourn your father’s suicide? ” she asked.
The comment was unnecessary and obvious bait. Unfortunately, it turns out I didn’t have the willpower to let the remark slide without saying something back. “Murder,” I muttered.
She smirked, knowing exactly what she was doing. “It was signed off as a suicide.”
I should have been a stronger person, strong enough to resist some petty teasing.
It wasn’t the first time, and it certainly wouldn’t be the last. Of course, it happened when you made an outcast of yourself and insisted an investigation was done incorrectly, the implication heavy of foul play within the force floating around every conversation but never quite verbalized.
But I was raw from yesterday, from the reminder another year had passed, and I could find no reason why a clearly experienced killer would target my father.
Sure, he had property, but so did a lot of people.
Why him? Without a clear motive and help from the resources I should have access to as a cop, I was running in circles.
I was letting him down, and time was draining from my life around me.
Finally, I had actually reached out and grabbed on to someone—Cade—and I didn’t plan on letting him go as long as those sparks flared between us, his easy smile making my legs weak.
But I had already damaged several friendships because I wouldn’t let the case go, and I couldn’t help the guilt that bubbled in my stomach, feeling as though I was being selfish by wanting a life.
But I also demanded justice for my father.
So, foolishly, I took the bait. “I don’t care what it was signed off as, I knew my father. What do you want, Torres?”
“Just helping one of the detectives with a current case, and it might be related to one from a year ago. I need the evidence box for 12-1-00193-3.”
Casting a glance around, I gritted my teeth, trying to convince myself it was a coincidence she was asking for that box at this exact moment when it was clear I was midway through organizing that shelf, and the boxes were strewn across the floor.
It was organized chaos, but I had them in a certain order so I knew which order to put them back on the shelf. Moving one now would throw me.
I don’t believe in coincidences.
Bitch.
Plastering on a smile I hoped looked as fake as it felt, I said, “Sure thing.” I stepped awkwardly over the boxes to find the one she needed. Placing it on the table, I moved to sign it out to her, and after she scribbled her name on the page, she muttered something.
“What was that?” I asked, sickly sweet and dripping with malice.
Her smile told me what I needed to know before she spoke. She was going to test me again.
Don’t take the bait.
“I said…” Karolina started, her shit-stirring grin looming.
What the fuck did she know that I didn’t?
Why was she bothering to torture me with this?
I found it difficult to believe this was all because of her loyalty to Kim.
To me, Torres was just as corrupt as he was.
She licked her lips before continuing, savoring the moment of torturing me.
“Maybe your father shouldn’t have assumed his empire would never fall. ”
She knew something.
I wasn’t strong enough to be the bigger person, and I snapped. Grabbing her shirt collar, I yanked her forward until we were face to face. “What the fuck did you say?”
Her smirk waivered at my aggression, realizing a moment too late at our physical difference—while I was younger, I was taller and fitter.
Once again, I was underestimated, and this time it worked in my favor.
A hint of fear sparked in her eyes as she replied, her voice small and lacking the glee from a moment before. “You heard me.”
Tugging her down, I held her in a headlock under my arm, and when she tried to break free, I twisted her arm painfully until she cried out. “Tell me what you know,” I said, gritting my teeth as she dug her nails into my arm, trying to squirm out of my hold.
“Kline!”
Fuck.
Releasing Karolina, angry tears stung her eyes as she stumbled away, and I glared at her even as I faced Burke, lowering my eyes to the floor. I was in deep shit. “Sir.”
“Don’t you sir me, Kline! Someone tell me what the hell is going on in here?”
“She attacked me, sir.” Karolina stood with her back straight, angry red marks appearing on her neck as she rubbed it.
“She said—” I started.
But it didn’t matter. I’d already made an enemy of the sergeant on more than one occasion. Besides, her baiting me really wasn’t a reason to attack, I knew that. I had no defense, and I was about to pay for my lack of willpower.
“I don’t give a goddamn what she said, Kline,” Burke bellowed, my name sounding like an insult from his lips.
“We don’t tolerate violence in this precinct.
” Karolina’s face was barely containing her smug expression, and I scowled as Burke continued, “Apparently, you’ve got too much going on in your personal life to conduct yourself in a professional manner here.
Take some time. Effective immediately, you’re suspended—”
“Sir!”
“For four weeks. One more word from you, Kline, and I’ll double it. Now go downstairs and sign over your gun and badge.”
My mouth hung open, and I stared at him.
“Just one word, Kline…” Burke muttered, eyeing me, daring me. “Give me a reason.”
Closing my mouth, I said nothing, hoping I could glare the man to death.
After a beat, he hollered, “Dismissed!” and Karolina marched out of the locker room with the evidence box, leaving me to skulk past Burke before he followed, making sure I went straight to administration to sort out my suspension.
They asked where my handcuffs were, and I told them the truth—they were at home, and I hadn’t found them due to recent renovations.
Okay, only partly true.
Burke’s face turned a new shade of crimson at my confession. Losing police property was no laughing matter, and I ground my teeth, hoping the guilt wasn’t written across my face.
Because right up there with losing police property on the list of things you should absolutely not do was using it for kinky sex games.
What was I thinking?
After stomping my way through the parking garage in what I know was a childish show of emotion, but unable to stop it, I drove home in a rage, pulled into my garage, and tilted the seat back in my car.
Staring at the car ceiling as the roller door finished closing, I was encased in almost complete darkness.
I picked at a loose thread on peeling fabric as I dialed my phone, feeling the weight of the situation wash over me, my anger dissipating into despair.
“Nikki.” His voice was as smooth as ever, and I sighed loudly at the sound of it. Something simply about hearing my name from him was enough to send a chill through me and calm my nerves, dimming only some of the anger, but it was enough for now.
“Cade,” I answered. “We speak again.”
“You can’t stay away, can you?” There was silence when I tried to gather my thoughts. “Angel? Are you okay?”
I closed my eyes and sighed again. He had used that nickname in the note he left me and a couple of times when we went on our picnic slash messed-up date, and I never corrected him.
Because he wasn’t doing it to tease or out of malice but genuine endearment, and there was something so sweet about that, so I allowed it.
Anyone else and I’d kick their ass.
“Why do you ask?” I whispered, aware of the emotion bubbling in my voice but trying to ignore it.
“You sound different.”
“I’m in the garage.”
He huffed out a laugh, a single deep note. “No, I mean, your voice sounds different. What’s going on? Are you okay?”
The last few words were tinted with an almost frantic edge, and something told me if I called him to my side, he’d be here in an instant and beat up anyone who had made me feel bad. Despite myself, I smiled. “Just got suspended.”
“What? Why?”
I shrugged before remembering he couldn’t see the gesture. “Got into a fight over my father.”
“Oh.” Cade’s voice dropped again, filled with sorrow. “I’m sorry, angel.”