by LaQuette
“So, when do I officially take over my new command, Captain?”
She leaned back and tapped her fingers against her desk. “About that.”
Elijah had known Heart Searlington for too long not to be concerned by that statement. Something wasn’t right.
“What’s up, Captain?”
“There was a situation last night.”
Elijah repositioned himself in his chair, instinct telling him he needed to seek comfort. His superior was crossing her arms against her chest, so he figured things were about to get uncomfortable for him.
“Brass has delayed your transfer into Cybercrimes,” she answered. “Instead, they want to put you on a protection detail for a high-profile target.”
Elijah shook his head before he found his voice. “Captain? This wasn’t what I agreed to when I came back. They promised me Cybercrimes. Brass can’t take that from me.”
She held up her hand to stop him. “Stephenson, we both know brass can do whatever the hell they want. You and I are only here to do what they tell us. This comes directly from the top cop, Elijah. Even I can’t ignore it. You protect this guy for a few days. Then you’ll get your command afterward.”
“And what happens if I refuse?” His question lingered in the air for a moment. She sat straighter in her chair, pushing her shoulders back, painting the picture of authority in the room.
“If you refuse,” she began, “then I’ll be taking that new position and that shiny new lieutenant’s badge. I told you, Stephenson, this is coming from on top. You’ve built a career on not being afraid of shit and taking on any foe. They want someone with that kind of heart to head this detail.”
Elijah pulled his hand down his face and let a long breath escape his lips. He’d been cracking heads and making busts for years. It had never put him on anyone’s radar before.
“What’s happened? Why does brass want me on this instead of cybercrimes?”
“As I hear it, the DA asked for you by name. She said she trusted no one else to protect her number two but you. So, if you’re blaming anyone for this, point a finger at her.”
Elijah closed his eyes and shook his head. Lindsey Chavez, Brooklyn district attorney, Elijah’s longtime friend, and the resident busybody in his life. He should have known his friend’s hand was involved.
Captain Searlington picked up a file and slid it across her desk in his direction, pulling his focus back to their conversation. “Here’s what you need to know. They’re called The Path of Unity.”
“The church group?” He’d seen advertisements for them on the train and on television. He couldn’t say he knew much about them other than that half of Hollywood seemed connected with the group.
“They’re a cult with a history of organized crime, Stephenson. If they were Sicilian or Russian, we’d call them the Mob. They’re passing themselves off as a church. We’ve known of their criminal activity for years, but we couldn’t build a solid case against them. A few months ago, we found a way into the organization and discovered enough info to indict the top man, Lee Edwards, and two of his cronies. The DA’s office could bring charges and make them stick. They’re in the middle of a trial right now. Edwards is out on bail, but if the prosecutors do their job, his days of freedom are numbered.”
“So, what’s the problem?” Elijah knew there was more. There was always more when dealing with crazy situations like this one.
“They tried to take out the prosecutor assigned to the case,” Captain Searlington answered. “They put a bomb under his car. The only reason he survived was that he stopped for gas. Getting out of the car to go pay the attendant saved his life.”
“Shit,” he replied. “A bomb? They weren’t playing, huh?”
The captain shook her head as she stood up from her desk and walked around to the front.
“This ADA they tried to get at wasn’t just your run-of-the-mill prosecutor. He’s the executive assistant district attorney. His father is the chief judge in the New York Court of Appeals.”
“Captain, this sounds like it’s gonna be fucked on all sides. I didn’t sign on for this.”
She crossed her arms over her chest again, letting him know she was pulling rank on him in just that simple move.
“Doesn’t matter,” she answered. “It’s your detail, or it’s your career. If you want that cushy job, you’re gonna have to protect this executive ADA.”
She leaned over the desk and pushed a button on her phone. “Send him in,” she said before returning her attention to Elijah. “I know it’s fucked-up, Stephenson. But it’s the job.”
It was a job that seemed to have him by the balls whether or not he wanted to admit it. He picked the file up off the desk and flipped through its pages. If he would put his neck on the line for some legal VIP, the least he could do was know what he was up against.
“It’s about time. You’ve kept me in the bowels of this building, locked up like I’m a criminal. In case you’ve forgotten, it was my car someone blew up last night.”
Elijah’s ears tingled at the sound of that voice. There was something about its tone that his mind latched on to. Confident, and not just the normal “I’ve got a big set of balls” bluster. No, there was the eerie sound of expectation coloring the tone of his words. As if he knew he was important enough to listen to.
Elijah’s body tensed as he remembered the last time he’d heard that voice. Goose bumps raised the hairs on his arms, making his skin prickle with either anticipation, anxiety, or anger. The truth was his heart was beating so fast as he processed the familiar voice, he couldn’t say exactly which was the case.
“It can’t be. No, it cannot be,” he whispered to himself as that voice continued to carry on behind Elijah.
“Mr. Warren, I’ve just finished briefing my lieutenant on your case. He’s a decorated officer, and he will keep you safe until we lock the crazies away,” Searlington said.
Elijah rolled his eyes and shook his head as he heard the name Warren cross Captain Searlington’s lips. Tapping his foot on the floor as he tried to ignore the tightness building in his chest, Elijah refused to believe this could happen to him.
He’d left his house ready to begin a new chapter in his life, a safer, more relaxed phase. Instead of giving him the pencil-pushing gig brass had promised, they slapped him straight in the middle of hell.
“So where is this great detective? I can’t sit around in your precinct all day, Captain Searlington. I’ve got a trial to prepare for.”
Elijah replaced the file on his captain’s desk and stood up. He turned and found the owner of the pushy voice. Even before he’d laid eyes on him, Elijah’s mind had conjured up the five-year-old image in his head. Jet-black hair, blue eyes, and lips soft as butter. A brief flash of Elijah running his tongue across that mouth, tasting every inch, flitted across his mind.
The memory was appealing at first. Then, the uncomfortable aftermath popped into Elijah’s head and pushed the memory to the back of his mind where it belonged.
“I’m right here, Camden,” Elijah said. “Or has it been that long you no longer recognize me?”
Chapter Three
CAMDEN turned around at the call of his name. His gaze followed the familiar sound until he was staring into eyes he hadn’t seen for five years.
Still tall, with long locs still hanging just below his shoulders, and a trimmed goatee. Skin still the same color as smooth, tanned oak. Camden’s eyes continued to travel down a broad chest and shoulders that made his fingers itch to caress them. Arms still wide with carved muscle, and a lean waist that tapered down into a thin vee made Camden swallow to push the dry knot blocking his airway free.
He forced his eyes closed as his gaze fell on the metal belt buckle sitting at the bottom of this walking memory’s waist. If he continued his perusal, if he kept remembering the fire that burned through him with every touch and taste of his tormentor’s body parts, this encounter was liable to turn into something very different from a police
matter.
“Elijah?”
Camden shook his head, uncertain why he’d said the man’s name as if it were a question. This was Elijah Stephenson. Hard, beautiful, and so sexy he made Camden’s mouth water.
“You remember my name? I’m impressed,” Elijah added.
Remember? Camden laughed at that. Who in the hell could forget a real-life walking sex dream? If big, muscular men with an imposing presence were your cup of tea, Elijah Stephenson was a person you wouldn’t soon forget.
Camden was no slouch. His bulk remained tight with a personalized fitness plan that kept his muscle shirts filled and his jeans fitted. But Elijah didn’t need a gym plan or a personal trainer. His physique and power came from things like running down criminals on the street and lifting cinder blocks or some such real-world thing Camden would never engage in. He didn’t care to get his own hands soiled, but a man who liked to play in the grit of life was always Camden’s weakness.
Camden blinked his eyes again, flipped the switch in his head that turned on his prosecutor’s facade. Hands on his waist, shoulders pushed back, and eyes narrowed at his target. Camden stepped toward Elijah, refusing to let his memories or the delicious sight Elijah made shake his fortitude.
“Why are you here, Elijah? How are you involved with my case?”
“I’m your assigned babysitter, Counselor.”
Camden caught the faint hint of amusement in Elijah’s voice, and his mood soured. To keep his calm, he dismissed Elijah with a cold glare and turned to the captain at his side. “Not a possibility. Get someone else,” he demanded.
“Mr. Warren,” Captain Searlington began. If the deep breath she’d taken just before she said his name was any sign, she wasn’t all that thrilled with Camden now.
Camden sighed and pressed his fingers firmly against his temple. If he were the man his father raised him to be, he’d be throwing his weight around right now, making demands of everyone in the room. But after how poorly Camden behaved five years ago, treating Elijah like a discarded one-off, he found it difficult to muster up his practiced asshole tendencies.
“Mr. Warren, Lieutenant Stephenson has an impressive career record. He is the best at what he does.”
Camden ran a frantic hand through his raven locks. “And what does Lieutenant Stephenson do?”
“He has a nose for sniffing out the bad guys. He’s the best tactical mind I’ve seen in our house in a long time. He also has a protective streak for simpletons who find themselves in situations they can’t get out of. And when he’s called on to protect someone who can’t defend themselves, he locks like a Pit and doesn’t let go until either he or the threat is destroyed.”
Camden’s shoulders rose with every breath he drew in through his flared nostrils. Did she call him a simpleton? Did she reprimand him without so much as raising her voice?
“So,” Captain Searlington continued, “are there other officers I can assign this case? Yes. But if you want to live through this experience, I’d suggest Lieutenant Stephenson is the man for the job.”
The lady captain sauntered back to her desk, otherwise unbothered by the exchange they’d just had. “Lieutenant Stephenson,” she continued, “the office next to Lieutenant Smyth’s is now yours.” She opened a desk drawer and plucked out a set of keys, tossing them in the air to Elijah. “You can move in now. Take the ADA there and get started on his case. As of now, you’re attached at the hip. Are we clear, Lieutenant?”
Camden watched in quiet awe as Elijah nodded his head, agreeing to the calm command given by his superior. Even though this woman might be Elijah’s boss, she wasn’t Camden’s. He wasn’t about to let her decide how to keep him safe while she acted as if Camden wasn’t even present in the room.
“Your cop might agree to that, Captain. But I don’t. I will not allow this man to invade my privacy.”
The woman sat down in her chair and made a slow point of removing her gun from her hip, then setting it on her desk as she gave the weapon a gentle caress. The move was simple, but it drew his attention and kept Camden’s eyes on her. A fact he was certain was the point of her actions.
“Mr. Warren, it’s either your privacy or your funeral. Which do you prefer?”
Camden swallowed hard as a chill spilled down his spine. After last night’s events, choosing between the two alternatives wasn’t difficult at all.
“Which way to your office, Lieutenant Stephenson?”
ELIJAH sat back in his new, mostly empty office, trying to get his head right. Unfortunately, Camden Warren’s presence was an unavoidable distraction he couldn’t ignore.
“If this is your new office, I’d hate to see what the old one looked like,” Camden commented while he stood in the center of the small room and turned in a slow circle to survey the place.
“The office is new to me, as in it came with my new rank and command,” Elijah responded.
“You’ve been promoted? I always knew you’d make something of yourself. What kind of unit are you being assigned to?”
Did this motherfucker just low-key insult me? Elijah threw the file Captain Searlington had given him onto the empty desk and leaned back in his chair. “Listen. There’s no need for the small talk. I’m here to do a job, and you’re here because someone is trying to kill you. If you haven’t been worried about my life enough to call over the last five years, my new promotion shouldn’t be of any concern to you now.”
Elijah returned his focus to the file as he heard Camden take the few steps to the seat in front of Elijah’s desk.
“Bitter much, Detective?”
Elijah pulled his nose from the papers in front of him and lifted a skeptical brow.
“Bitter? To be bitter, I’d have to care. We fucked. It was fun, but that’s all it was. I had no illusions it would be otherwise. The dick was good.”
A flash of memory zipped across Elijah’s mind, reminding him just how good Camden had been. Good didn’t accurately describe the way the lawyer made Elijah’s entire body burn with need that night.
It didn’t matter, though. Elijah for damn sure wasn’t about to share that bit of info and contribute to Camden’s already inflated ego. Nope, he’d just swallow the appreciation he had for Camden’s stroke game and keep it to himself.
“But just so you know,” Elijah continued, “I don’t make a habit of laying with bad fucks. You weren’t special. It didn’t mean shit then, and it has no bearing on how I do my job five years later. Get over yourself, and let’s get to work on your case.”
Camden’s Adam’s apple bobbed as the man swallowed.
He shoots. He scores.
The minor action told Elijah he’d stuck a pin in Camden’s “I’m better than everybody else” perspective of himself. With that settled, maybe they’d get some work done since their focus was off how sexy Camden was then—and now, if Elijah was to be honest.
“Executive ADA Warren,” Elijah stated with his matter-of-fact cop tone in play, “why does the Path of Unity want you dead?”
Chapter Four
“I’M not the first prosecutor to bring these monsters to trial,” Camden began as he pondered the long history that stretched between his office and the Path. “They’ve been charged and brought to trial twice before by the Brooklyn DA’s office. Each time, the trial began, and the moment the prosecution’s star witness was to take the stand, that witness would turn up dead. We have a witness, someone whose testimony will cinch this thing for us.”
Elijah began to take notes, his head down, his long locs tucked behind his ears to keep his hair out of his face. Camden tightened his hand around the armrest of his chair as he remembered how those dark strands tickled his skin, leaving him in excruciating need. Grateful Elijah was paying more attention to the notepad in front of him than to Camden, he readjusted his position in the chair, hoping to distract himself from the beautiful specimen of man sitting before him.
“So, if they’ve killed witnesses before, why escalate their crimes by killing an
ADA? Why not just kill off another witness?”
“Because I’m the only person who knows where she is,” Camden answered. “This witness has been through enough at the hands of these people. I didn’t want her to sacrifice anything more for them.”
“But I’m sure the defense knows who she is and what she has to say. Didn’t you have to turn over that info in discovery?”
Camden shook his head. This wasn’t your typical case, and he’d had to commit some serious legal acrobatics to get things this far. The Path was smart, and lethal. They had no issues with doing whatever was necessary to win. Whether it was a witness or an officer of the court, they’d annihilate any threat to them.
“No. I petitioned the court for an ex parte meeting. After citing the suspicious deaths of the previous witnesses, the judge agreed that I could hide this witness and deliver her to the court for her testimony,” Camden answered as he thought back to his conversation with the judge. Judge Simmons was a by-the-book judge. It would take an act of God to get her to do anything unorthodox in her courtroom. He’d had to put together a compelling argument comprising circumstantial evidence and witness affidavits to get her to even consider allowing him to keep the witness stashed from the defense until testimony. “She’ll grant a brief continuance after the witness’s testimony if the defense so desires, but Judge Simmons isn’t announcing the witness’s identity to anyone until she’s called to testify in court.”
“So, if they can’t kill or scare the witness, they’ll move on to the prosecutor? That’s a ballsy strategy,” Elijah commented as he dropped his pen on the writing pad and leaned back in his chair.
“These people have proven to be ruthless. They’ll kill whomever they need to remain free.” That knowledge made Camden shiver. In doing his job to protect the public, he’d placed himself right in the sights of a murderous foe.
