Day jumped up out of his chair. “Jesus, fuck, Ronowski! Why don’t you just take a goddamn picture of me so you can jerk off to it later?”
Ronowski gasped and his porn star lips twisted into an angry snarl. “Fuck no! I hate you.”
“Then get the fuck away from me! Why the hell are you standing over me?” Day fumed.
“No one gives a shit about you or where you put your dick,” Ronowski fired back.
Day threw his hands in the air and exaggeratedly flopped back down in his chair. “You’ve got to be kidding me. Ronowski, I swear, you are the fucking stupidest smart person I know. How the hell can you have a master’s degree in psychology and be so completely fucked-up in the head?”
Day looked over at God and saw him leaning back in his chair with his hands steepled together, smirking at him.
Vikki chose that moment to come over.
“Detective Seasel, can you call down to the records department, your partner needs to have a look at the de-nile file,” Day said turning his glare back to Ronowski.
“Fuck you, Day.”
“You wish, you closet case. But people in hell wish they had ice water… lesson here is you can’t always get what you want,” Day retorted.
“Come on, Ro, we have a call to follow up on,” Vikki said while tugging Ronowski’s arm off Day’s desk.
“Call me a fucking closet case when your bodyguard’s not around, ass-muncher,” Ronowski spat.
“To thine own self, Ronowski,” Day answered drily.
He watched the red-faced officer continue to shoot daggers at him. He rolled his eyes dramatically and turned his attention to Vikki, who was leaning on God’s desk, not paying attention to his and Ronowski’s feud. He watched her through squinted eyes.
“Good afternoon, Detective Godfrey. I like your hair when you pull it back like that… it looks sexy.” She smiled and ran her thin fingers through God’s chestnut waves.
Day didn’t give God a chance to respond. “Didn’t you say you had a follow-up to respond to, Vikki?” Day’s harsh tone startled her out of her lust.
She frowned at him in confusion before turning and walking off with Ronowski.
God looked back at him. “You want to come cock your leg up and piss around my fucking desk too, Leo?”
Day didn’t hesitate. “Maybe.”
God watched him for several moments, those intense green eyes leveled on him. It made him think about how he’d look on his knees in front of Day, staring up at him.
“Come on, we have work to do.” God unlocked his drawer and pulled out a few files.
“Of course… just like I said would happen. You stroll in here late as hell… we can’t talk… all we can do is work,” Day huffed.
“Stop whining, little girl. I’m gonna talk to you later.” God tossed the file at him and they got to work.
Four hours later they had all their files spread out in the conference room while the ADA and two profiling detectives gave them feedback on their new theory. Someone was bringing large shipments of marijuana and cocaine into the city, and they were most likely using the water and the unmonitored ports. They’d concluded that it had to be someone with power and connections; all they needed was a break to crack this one.
God was standing in front of the dry erase board with his legs apart and his muscled arms folded across his chest. His eyes were focused on the notes and diagrams they’d drawn over the last few hours. Day couldn’t put together any of the case’s connections today, because he was having the hardest time concentrating. He kept picturing the open, emotional man that had clung to him on his couch this morning. During those few hours, something had changed between them.
After God had sent him that text, saying no one wanted him, Day had realized that he wanted the man. The bad-ass, tough-as-nails, cocky sonofabitch that had stuck up for him four years ago for no reason, Day wanted that man… and he wanted him bad. What was fucking up Day’s head was the way God had held him and kissed him this morning. He knew God was straight—or so he assumed—although it appeared that he limited his conquests to one-night stands and quick hookups.
During the entire time that he’d known God, the man hadn't mentioned a love interest or brought anyone to meet Day. Day found himself wondering if God had ever taken anyone to meet the mother that he always jumped through hoops for.
Day’s thoughts were interrupted when Detective Johnson strolled into the conference room and announced proudly, “Detective Day, you are going to love me, handsome.”
“Oh yeah, you finally got me that date with Channing Tatum?” Day quipped.
Day heard God huff with annoyance, not bothering to turn around and face them.
“Whatever… even better,” Johnson replied. He slammed a clear evidence bag down on the table, the contents making a loud clank against the wood surface. Johnson pointed at it. “That right there my friend, is the weapon that killed fourteen-year-old, street level drug runner, Enrique Lopez. Ballistic reports are a sure match. The number of rounds found at the scene is even consistent with what's missing from the clip.”