God’s back was straight, showing no outward appearance of being stressed the fuck out. His partner, his fiancé, was almost killed tonight, and he’d come too damn close to being a second too late. Never again. But he couldn’t let it appear that his and Day’s relationship affected him doing his job and running his team. “It’s been a tough night, sir. I got a man in the hospital I’d like to check on.”
“My son said there’s no permanent damage to Ro’s arm, they’re just keeping him overnight for observation, he should be released early tomorrow,” the chief commented. Ro and the chief’s son, Johnson, were living together now. When Ro finally came out, Johnson didn’t hesitate to scoop the handsome man up for himself.
“That’s real good news. Can’t have my star players going down. You all were outmanned and outgunned; yet still only one officer was injured. I appreciate the job your men did today.” The mayor flashed a camera-worthy smile, clamping God on the shoulder before claiming the seat next to him. Everyone sat back down as the mayor continued. “The deputy mayor is getting the statement ready for a press conference first thing in the morning – well, in a few hours. This is huge, I’m sure you all realize.”
The chief spoke up again. “Of course, sir. I’ve been informed that Artist is dead. We injured two of his top men, both are in critical condition. If they recover we may get some more names of who’s doing the smuggling on the waters and some of the dockworkers.”
The mayor looked sternly at the IA officers. “Death is never to be celebrated, but I’m going to contend to the press that Godfrey’s task force reacted professionally and within their scope. And make no mistake – the APD is still adamant about clearing out the drugs from this city.”
“Thank you, sir,” God replied.
“I think your men can take a little time and regroup, God. We have the trial coming up on that huge bust six months ago, and I need you prepared to testify, lieutenant,” the DA chimed in. The man was always on God and Day’s side, too. He often came to their cookouts and football nights. God wasn’t surprised his friend recognized he was strung tighter than a piano wire. They’d been going non-stop for months.
“Agreed, counselor,” the chief added. “Godfrey, go on and check on your team. You’re dismissed.”
“I’m not done with my questions,” the IA officer argued, flipping some pages in his thick file.
“You most certainly are, for now.” The chief glared at him. “God has provided enough details in this briefing that he can go for now. Godfrey, be available tomorrow please, just in case.”
“Yes, sir.” God got up and left without another word. He was glad most of the officials had his back. His team did push the rules to almost the point of fracture, but they never were malicious in taking a life and they never broke the law.
God moved through the precinct quickly, getting back to his department. The bullpen was rather quiet this late at night, but the few that he passed gave him a solemn nod. He came through the glass doors that read Narcotics Special Task Force in bold lettering, looking for only one face. Green sat at his desk, still working on his own report, but he didn’t see Ruxs or Day.
“Ruxs was stinking up the office from lying in that garbage truck so I sent him to the showers,” Syn said, perched on the edge of Green’s desk, helping him word his statement. He looked freshly showered himself but God saw the suture strips on his forehead where he’d been hit with a piece of flying drywall, which only reminded him, even more, how close he’d come to losing his men. “Day’s still down in the showers, God.”
Syn knew exactly what God needed to hear. He turned on his heels and moved with determination, his chest and head aching the longer it took to get his man in his arms. God burst through the locker room doors, scanning the long rows of lockers. He saw Ruxs easing on a clean pair of jeans, drops of water still clinging to the dark hairs on his chest. When he saw God, he didn’t say a word, just pointed towards the showers.
The shower area was dark, except for the lights filtering in from the locker area, but God could see steam rising from the last stall. His boots were loud on the hard floor and he didn’t hesitate for a second to yank the thin plastic back and step inside the hot stall. Day’s back was to him, his hands braced on the tiles in front of him, his head hanging low while the hot water pelted his tense neck and shoulders. He never flinched at the intrusion, as if he’d been expecting God any second.