Embracing His Syn (Nothing Special 2)

“Don’t try to act like you know me or what I was thinking,” Sasha hissed at him.

“I do know what you were thinking. I’m the fuckin’ whore whisperer,” Syn bit off nastily. He already knew he’d overstepped when the words tumbled out of his mouth. But this skank tried to hurt someone very important to him. So fuck her.

Sasha’s lawyer gasped, her face turning a bright red. She leveled an angry glare at Syn. “Do I need to get your Captain in here, since your Lieutenants aren’t doing a thing about your misconduct? This has gone beyond any interrogation I’ve ever been a part of. My client doesn’t have to sit here and be ridiculed because of her profession, Sergeant Sydney.”

Syn heaved a disbelieving laugh. “Profession. Seriously, counselor. What the fuck is her degree in? A Bachelor of bitchiness?”

“Sergeant! Outside, now!” God’s abrupt yell startled everyone, but Syn had been expecting it. He was emotionally involved in this case and it was fucking him up. Syn looked up and saw God motioning for him to leave the room with him. Day got up as well. Damn. Syn didn’t say another word. He just jerked the door open and slammed it behind him.

The three of them stood outside the room. Syn was going to try to apologize to his Lieutenants for his inappropriate conduct but God cut him off. “Don’t fuckin’ speak. I know you got it bad for your first piece of dick and all, but you better get yourself under fucking control and I mean right-the-hell-now. I won’t tolerate your goddamn tantrums in my interrogations, Syn.” God’s low growl was intimidating.

“Wait a minute, God,” Day chimed in, his tone soothing and calm. “Don’t you think it’s fair to hear his side?”

“Fine. What’s his damn side?” God barked, his green eyes sparkling with anger.

Everyone fell silent. Syn scratched the back of his head. Day’s brow scrunched in concentration, obviously neither of them able to concoct an excuse that was good enough to condone Syn’s outburst. God waited impatiently, one eyebrow cocked.

“Okay,” Day drawled out. “Back to your side, God.”

“This is no time to be a wise ass, Day.” God glared, turning his attention back to Syn. “Despite your vomiting insults at that girl, you better hope she’s still willing to talk because if I miss the chance at that dealer, y’all are going to see me get very angry. Then I’m going to take it out on your ass Syn, and not in the way you’d like.” God turned and went back into the room without letting Syn say a word.

Syn ran his hand through his hair, tugging on the length at the top. “Damnit. I fucked up.” Syn said between clenched teeth. “Fuck, man. I’m sorry, Day.”

Day continued to watch through the one-way window. God and Ro were back to negotiating with Sasha after apologizing for Syn’s behavior. Syn was saying a silent prayer of thanks that their suspect was still talking about a deal. Syn dropped his chin to his chest. He felt Day’s hand squeezing his shoulder.

“Don’t beat yourself up too bad Syn. We've all been there,” Day whispered, his eyes still watching Ro write down all the information for their next bust. “Go on home, we’ll finish up here. Strategy meeting at 0700 sharp.”

“I don’t need to go home, Day. I’m good,” Syn argued.

Day finally turned to look at him. “Syn. Go home. It’s not a request. The fear of almost losing someone you care about and then being able to stick it to their attacker is a hard opportunity to pass up. Have a stiff drink, go to bed, work it out of your system. We’ll handle all the details in the morning.”

Syn turned to leave. Before he rounded the corner, Day called out to him.

“Hey Syn.”

“Yeah.”

“The whore whisperer?” Day laughed heartily. “Classic dude.”

Syn couldn’t stop his leer. Leave it to Day. He turned the corner and made a beeline for the back doors, not really in the mood to run into anyone for a stop-and-chat. When he was finally outside he’d realized he’d ridden in with God and Day.

Damnit.

Syn went back inside to his office and grabbed a set of keys off the board for one of the team's SUVs. He quickly signed his name and hurried back through the bullpen. He didn’t stop and breathe until he was barreling down N. Decatur Blvd. toward Emory Point. He needed Furi.

‘Clash of the Friend and Lover’

By noon, Furi had already turned off his cell phone after receiving the fifth threatening text message. Fuck. He knew who it was. Goddamn him. Should’ve known he wouldn’t bow out gracefully.

“Furi. Are you even listening to me?”

Furi’s head shot up at Doug’s loud voice. “Y-y-yeah, I’m listening.”

“Soooo. Receptionist or no receptionist?”

“Umm. Even though we have it in the budget to hire a receptionist, I think we should just buy a good office phone system for now, have cordless receivers around the shop and let the mechanics take turns answering the phones. If it gets busy fast, then we’ll hire someone.” Furi checked off a few notes, flipping through a ton of other papers they had spread across the six-top table.