THIRDS: Book One
When homicide detective Dexter J. Daley’s testimony helps send his partner away for murder, the consequences—and the media frenzy—aren’t far behind. He soon finds himself sans boyfriend, sans friends, and, after an unpleasant encounter in a parking garage after the trial, he’s lucky he doesn’t find himself sans teeth. Dex fears he’ll get transferred from the Human Police Force’s Sixth Precinct, or worse, get dismissed. Instead, his adoptive father—a sergeant at the Therian-Human Intelligence Recon Defense Squadron otherwise known as the THIRDS—pulls a few strings, and Dex gets recruited as a Defense Agent.
Dex is determined to get his life back on track and eager to get started in his new job. But his first meeting with Team Leader Sloane Brodie, who also happens to be his new jaguar Therian partner, turns disastrous. When the team is called to investigate the murders of three HumaniTherian activists, it soon becomes clear to Dex that getting his partner and the rest of the tightknit team to accept him will be a lot harder than catching the killer—and every bit as dangerous.
DURING THE Vietnam War, the use of lethal biological warfare led to the spread of the Melanoe virus, infecting millions worldwide and causing the deaths of hundreds of thousands. Although no country would take credit for releasing the virus, the world’s top scientists came together to create a cure. The vaccine known as Eppione.8 used strains from animals found to be immune to the virus, but one year after distribution, the course of human history was forever changed. A dormant mutation within the virus was activated by the vaccine, resulting in the altering of human DNA, and giving birth to a new species: Therians.
When the first infected Humans began changing in the late seventies, some didn’t survive. Their Human bodies were unprepared for the shift. Others died of cancer or infections due to weakened immune systems, while others vanished. Rumors ran rampant about governments trying to clean up their mess. When it was clear the “problem” wasn’t going to go away, the US government tried to regain control of the masses, creating the Therian database and quickly passing new laws that would force all surviving Therians to register and get marked, supposedly for their own safety and that of their fellow Human citizens.
The government had been treating the first wave of Therians as a side effect of the war, one that would eventually die out. Then in 1976, scientists discovered what was really happening. The first generation of purebred Therians had been born. The mutation had perfected itself. Solidified, inside these First Generations. Suddenly, there was an advanced new species and along with it, a whole new set of fears.
In an attempt to restore social order, the US government quickly put new regulations and laws into place, along with a Therian branch of government. In 1990, Human and Therian legislators launched the Therian Human Intelligence, Recon, Defense Squadron A.K.A the THIRDS, an elite, military-funded agency comprised of an equal number of Human and Therian agents and intended to uphold the law for all its citizens without prejudice.
As long as Humanity continued to repeat the mistakes of the past, organizations like the THIRDS would be needed to ensure Humanity had a future, even if they had to stumble along the way to get there.
FUCK. MY. Life.
Dex closed his eyes, wishing this was nothing more than some freakishly vivid dream where any moment now, he would wake up and everything would go back to the way it was. Of course, when he opened his eyes, nothing changed. He splashed more water on his face in an effort to ease the tension, but it didn’t help. Not that he’d been expecting it to. After wiping the excess water from his face, he paused to glare at the man in the mirror. The guy staring back at him looked like shit, pale with reddish-brown circles under his eyes that made him look as if he’d either been crying or using crack. There were definitely a hell of a lot of sleepless nights involved. Dex didn’t like the guy in the mirror. What an asshole.
“Are they out there?” His voice came out rough, as if waking from sleep—deep or otherwise—had been out of his reach for some time.
A hand landed on his shoulder, offering a sympathetic squeeze. “Yes. Remember what we talked about? As soon as you’ve had enough, you walk away.”
Dex let out a snort. It was way too late to walk away. Had been about six months ago. He straightened and snatched a paper towel from the automated dispenser. It was like drying off with newspaper, the same newspapers that had his image plastered all over their pages. Images that had been run through some Photoshop douchebag filter to make him look like even more of a prick. He chucked the paper into the wastebasket and stood there, finding it difficult to face his lawyer.
“Hey, look at me.” Littman stepped up to him and patted his cheek. “You did the right thing.”
Dex looked up then, searching for something, anything that might help the pain go away even for a little while. “Then why do I feel like shit?”
“Because he was your friend, Dex.”
“Exactly. And I fucked him over. Some friend.” He went back to leaning over the sink, his fingers gripping the porcelain so tightly, his knuckles hurt. “Goddamn it!” That son of a bitch! What the hell had Walsh been thinking? Obviously he hadn’t been, or neither of them would be in this mess. Or worse, maybe Walsh had thought it through. Maybe he’d been so certain Dex would have his back that he thought “fuck it.”
Dex closed his eyes, trying to get the man’s face out of his mind, but he could still see it clearly. That face was going to haunt his dreams for a long time coming. The mixture of anger and pain when the verdict had been given—anger directed at Dex, and pain brought about by what he’d done—had been there for the world to see, especially Dex.
“No,” Littman insisted. “He fucked himself over. All you did was tell the truth.”
The truth. How could doing the right thing turn out so goddamn bad? Had it even been the right thing? It had seemed like it at the time. Now he wasn’t so sure. Regardless, he couldn’t hide out in the restroom all his life.
“Let’s get this over with.” A few deep breaths and he followed Littman out into the corridor. The moment he stepped foot out there, the locusts swarmed him, microphones buzzing, recorders and smartphones at the ready, flashes going off, cameras rolling, a litany of questions flying at him from every direction. It was as if he were underwater, hearing everyone outside the pool yelling and screaming as he sank to the bottom like a stone, no discernible words, only muffled sounds. Littman stepped up beside him, one hand behind Dex’s back in assurance, the other held up to the crowd in a vain attempt to bring order to chaos.
“Detective Daley will do his best to answer your questions, but one at a time, please!”
A tall, gray-haired man in an expensive suit pushed through his gathered comrades, ignoring their murmured grunts of displeasure, to place a microphone in front of Dex. A half a dozen more swiftly joined it.
“Detective Daley, what would you say to all the Humans who believe you betrayed your own kind?”
At least he’d been prepared for that one. Dex buttoned up his suit jacket, the gesture allowing him a few seconds to calm his nerves and collect his thoughts. Smoothing it down, he met the reporter’s gaze. “I joined the Human Police Force to make a difference, and sometimes that requires making tough calls. I chose to tell the truth. No one is above the law, and my job is to enforce it.”
A blonde woman in a tailored navy blue pantsuit swiftly jumped in. “Is it because your brother is Therian? Are you a LiberTherian Sympathizer?”
It was hardly the first time he’d been accused of such. Having a Therian brother was the sole reason the Human Police Force had taken longer than necessary to consider him when he’d applied ten years ago. If his father hadn’t been a respected detective on the force, Dex was certain he never would’ve been considered, much less hired. Knowing what they thought of his brother should have been enough to make him walk away, but it was those same close-minded individuals Dex had wanted to reach. That was why he’d joined the HPF, to continue making a difference from the inside, like his dad once had. It turned out to be a whole lot harder than he’d imagined, but that only succeeded in strengthening his resolve.
“My brother and I share the same beliefs when it comes to justice. Our fathers taught us to treat both Therians and Humans as equals. I may be liberal-minded, but my strong belief in justice for both species hardly makes me a sympathizer.”
An auburn-haired man with a shit-eating grin shoved his smartphone in Dex’s face, almost hitting him in the teeth. His expression told Dex he didn’t much care if he had. Dex calmly pulled back, his jaw muscles tightening. “Detective Daley, why haven’t you joined your father and brother over at the THIRDS? Is it because you didn’t qualify?”
Dex returned the asshole’s grin. “Whatever you’re paying your sources, it’s too much. I never applied to the THIRDS.”
“But you did go through their training.”
“I was offered the opportunity to take the three-week training course in the hopes I might reconsider becoming a candidate. I complied as a courtesy to my family, and I admit, a part of me wanted to know if I was up to the challenge.” And damn, had it been one hell of a challenge! Three weeks of intense physical training and skill-building exercises, rappelling, fast roping, room entry procedures, building searches, close quarter combat, and tactical weapons training. Dex had been pushed to his limits, and when he thought he couldn’t give any more, he was forced to reach deep down and give an additional 10 percent. It had been the most grueling, demanding, psychologically stressful three weeks of his life. Nothing he’d ever done had come close to what he’d been put through in those three weeks, not even the HPF training academy.
The THIRDS were the toughest sons of bitches around, and Dex had wanted to prove to himself that he could hack it. But join them? That was something else altogether.
“Did you pass?”
Dex couldn’t help his pride from showing. “Top of the class.”
“Will you be applying now?” another journalist asked.
“I intend to continue offering my services to the HPF.”
“What if they don’t want you? Do you think they’ve lost their trust in you, knowing you helped send a good man, one of their own brothers, to prison?”
And there it was.
Dex turned his head to whisper Littman’s name. His lawyer smiled broadly and held a hand up. “Thank you all for coming. I’m afraid that’s all Detective Daley has time for. Please respect him and his family during this difficult time.”
“What about Detective Walsh and his family? Have you spoken to them? How does his family feel about what you did?”
Dex waded through the toxic pool of newspersons, refusing to think about the hurtful and hateful phone calls, texts, and messages from Walsh’s family. People he’d once had barbecues with, whose Little League games he’d attended. He’d never wanted to bring them so much pain, to take away their son, husband, father. Being on the receiving end of their anger was the least Dex deserved.
“Detective Daley! Detective!”
He ignored the onslaught of questions, from what his boyfriend thought about the whole thing to whether his career with the HPF was unofficially over, and everything in between. He wasn’t going to think about any of that now. All he wanted was to get home to said boyfriend and maybe cry a little.
Dex walked as fast, but calmly, as he could, with Littman at his side, making a beeline for the north entrance of the Supreme Court Criminal Branch. Outside, the news teams tried to crowd him in, and officers did their best to control the growing mob. The railings on either side of the exit only proved to be a nuisance, corralling him as he tried to push his way through. The steps were blocked, so Dex grabbed Littman’s elbow and hurried him down the makeshift ramp to the sidewalk. Thank God they had a car waiting for them.
Dex tried to be nice about getting the journalists to step back so he could get into the backseat. When a couple of jerks tried to cram in, Dex was left with no choice. He grabbed their smartphones and tossed them into the crowd behind them.
“You’re going to pay for that!” one of them called out as he scrambled to retrieve his device.
“Bill me!” Dex climbed into the car and slammed the door behind him. The town car pulled away from the curb, and he slumped back against the pristine leather, letting out a long audible breath. Finally, it was over. For the time being anyway.
“You sure you don’t want to be dropped off at home?” Littman looked nearly as haggard as Dex felt.
“Nah, the parking garage is fine. I need to drop off the rental anyway.”
“You know I would’ve been happy to pick you up at your home and drop you off.”
“I know.” Dex stared out the window as they drove up Centre Street, made a left on White, and then drove down Lafayette. When they made a right onto Worth, the Starbucks on the corner had him pining for some frothy caffeine goodness. “I needed to drive around a while before court. Listen to some music, try to relax a little.” He’d made sure to rent a car with the darkest tinted windows on the lot and a slamming sound system. Music was probably the only thing that had kept him from going crazy through this whole ordeal, what with his boyfriend’s busy schedule. It would have been nice to have Lou there with him, but he understood the man couldn’t drop everything for him. They both had demanding careers and sometimes sacrifices had to be made. Still….
“I understand. You should lay low for a while until this blows over. There’s talk of that heiress—the one who’s been having a not-so-secret affair with her Therian personal trainer, being pregnant, and Daddy’s not taking it well. That should keep the vultures busy for a while. I suggest you take some vacation time, maybe surprise Lou with a nice little penthouse suite in the Bahamas or something.”
In no time, the car pulled up to the curb in front of the deli next to the parking garage, and Dex mustered up a smile, holding his hand out to his father’s old friend. “Thanks. I appreciate everything you’ve done for me.”
“You know I’m always here if you need me.” Littman took his hand in his and gave it a pat. “Dex?”
“He would have been proud of you.”
The thought brought a lump to his throat. “You think so?”
Littman nodded, the conviction in his words going a long way to assure Dex. “I knew your dad a long time. Believe me. He would have been proud. And so is Tony. He’s left me about ten messages asking about how you are. Your brother’s probably worried sick as well.”
Dex pulled his hand away to remove his smartphone from his pocket and chuckled at the fifteen missed calls from his family. He held it up. “You think?”
“Call your family, before Tony hunts you down.”
“I’ll give them both a call soon as I get in. Thanks.” After saying good-bye to Littman, Dex once again thanked him for helping him keep his sanity throughout all this and what was surely to come. Dex headed toward the rental in the parking garage. He wasn’t stupid enough to drive his precious baby to the courthouse. It was hard to lose the media in an Orange Pearl Dodge Challenger. If they weren’t in the city, he’d leave them eating his dust, but since he was in the city, it would make him a sitting duck.
As soon as he walked around to the rental’s driver’s side, he was doubly grateful he hadn’t brought his car, though he was no less pissed. Someone had slashed his back tire.
“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”
He kicked the tire, as if doing so might magically repair it. Goddamn it, he should have let Littman drive him home. All he wanted was to get indoors, get something to eat, and vegetate on the couch. Thank God for auto clubs. He reached into his pocket for his phone when someone across the lot called out.
Instinctively, he looked up. A split second later the air rushed out of his lungs when something solid struck him between his shoulder blades. He stumbled forward, a blow to his thigh forcing him onto his hands and knees with a painful growl. Around him, three large Humans in black ski masks and black gloves crowded him. Damn it, where had they come from? Dex moved, intent on pushing himself to his feet when someone kicked him in the stomach, leaving him once again winded. He landed roughly on his side, holding onto his bruised ribs and stomach, his teeth gritted as he breathed heavily through his nose.
“You fucked up, Daley. You shouldn’t have testified against your partner.”
“Fuck you,” Dex spat out. Another kick confirmed mouthing off wasn’t appreciated. They obviously didn’t know him. With a groan, he leaned slightly to take in the sight of their neat attire. Maybe they did know him. “Who sent you?” He didn’t need to know. What’s more, he didn’t care. All he needed was enough time to figure out who he was up against.
“The Human race,” one of them snarled.
Dex let out a laugh. What an ass. It hadn’t taken him long to piece things together after noticing the gang’s black dress slacks and shiny black shoes. With a curse, he rolled forward to press his forehead against the asphalt. The only surprising part of this whole encounter was the fact it hadn’t come sooner. At least they weren’t going to kill him, just make him bleed a little. “Well, I got the message, so you can all go home now. You did your duty.” He received a blow to the arm with the shiny steel baton; most likely the same object they’d used to hit him in the back. Man, he was going to be sore tomorrow.
They dragged him to his feet, one holding on to each of his arms as the third came to stand before him. Dex closed his eyes and braced himself, his mind chastising him for being such a coward. The punch landed square across his jaw, snapping his head to one side and splitting his lip. Fuuuck, that hurt. He ran a tongue over his teeth to make sure nothing was loose. Nope, nothing there but the tangy taste of his own blood.
“Hey! HPF! Hands where I can see them!”
The Humans bolted and Dex’s knees buckled beneath him. Strong hands caught him, helping him stay on his feet. His back stung, his arm, thigh, and face throbbed from the blows, and his stomach reeled at the knowledge he’d done nothing.
“Daley, you okay?”
Dex recognized that voice. He looked up, puzzled to find fellow Homicide Detective Isaac Pearce holding him up, concern etched on his face.
Pearce helped him to the rental and propped him up against it, performing a quick assessment. Seeming confident Dex could stand, he surveyed the parking garage, but the perpetrators were long gone. His attention landed back on Dex. “You all right?”
“Yeah. Wish I could say the same about my suit.” Dex straightened, wincing at the sharp pain that shot through his body. “What are you doing here?”
“The usual summons, but my guy never showed. It was a nice day, so I figured I’d walk it. Glad I left when I did.”
“Yeah, me too.” Dex let out a small laugh then winced at the sharp sting it brought his lip. Tony was going to lose his shit over this.
“Any idea who they were?” Pearce asked worriedly.
Yep. “Nope.” Dex shook his head, wiping his hands on his slacks. “Just some pissed off Humans.” He had enough on his hands without bringing a whole new level of crap down on himself. “To be honest, right now, I just want to get home.”
“Don’t blame you.” Pearce motioned toward the slashed tire. “Need a lift?”
If he called the auto club now, Dex would have to wait for someone to come out—because he sure as hell didn’t have the strength or will to change the tire himself, wait for them to swap it out then drive the rental back to the lot. Or, he could accept Pearce’s offer and worry about the rental later.
“A lift would be greatly appreciated.”
“Great.” Pearce beamed at him. “I’m around the corner.”
With a murmured “Thanks,” Dex accompanied Pearce to his car, a silver Lexus that was more befitting a homicide detective. At least that’s what his old partner Walsh would have thought. The guy never did approve of Dex’s tastes. Come to think of it, Walsh was always making snide comments about what a “special snowflake” Dex was. He’d never paid much attention to the remarks, but in light of recent events, it was possible Walsh had always been a judgmental prick. Had Dex simply turned a blind eye to all of it? What if Dex had called him out on it sooner? Could they both have been spared all this?
“You okay?” Pearce asked again as soon as Dex was settled into the passenger seat beside him.
“Yeah, sorry. I’m still trying to wrap my head around all of this.”
“Why don’t you put on some music? Relax a bit. I’ll even let you choose the station.”
Dex gave a low whistle as he slipped on his seatbelt. “You’re going to regret giving me that kind of power.” He turned on the radio and navigated through the touchscreen to Retro Radio. Dex grinned broadly at Pearce, wiggling his eyebrows when Billy Ocean’s “Get Outta My Dreams, Get Into My Car” came blaring through the speakers. Pearce stared at him as if he’d lost his mind and Dex laughed. “I told you, you’d regret it.”
With a chuckle, Pearce drove out of the parking garage. “Where to?”
“West Village, Barrow Street.”
Despite Bobby McFerrin advising Dex a few minutes later not to worry and be happy, Dex was finding it difficult. If it were only that easy, Bobby. If only.
The ride down Sixth Avenue was quiet, filled mostly with power ballads and electro pop from the era of neon spandex, mullets, and shoulder pads with a wingspan to rival that of a Boeing 747. Dex appreciated Pearce letting him zone out instead of trying to make idle conversation. It was odd, being in Pearce’s car with him. They’d never offered more than the usual office greetings despite both working homicide from the HPF’s Sixth Precinct. Then again, Pearce had retreated into himself after losing his brother over a year ago, and no one at the Sixth could blame him. Having a younger brother of his own, Dex could imagine how hard it must have been on the poor guy.
Traffic wasn’t too bad this time of day, slowing down mainly near Tribeca Park and a few pockets down Sixth Avenue. Less than ten minutes later, they were driving onto busy Bleecker Street. Maybe he could convince Lou to pick him up a burger and fries from Five Guys on the corner. It was dangerous, having that place so close to his house. They pulled up in front of Dex’s brownstone, and Pearce turned to him with a smile. “Well, here we are.”
“Thanks for not kicking me out of your car,” Dex said, shutting off the radio.
“I’ll admit I came close when Jefferson Starship came on, but then I saw you tapping your hand in time to the music, and you had this sappy smile on your face… I didn’t have the heart.” Dex gave a snort and leaned back in his seat, smiling when Pearce started laughing. “You are one weird guy.” Pearce’s smile faded, and he suddenly looked a little embarrassed. “Want to get a coffee sometime?”
“Sure.” Dex tried not to let the surprise show in his voice.
“I know we’ve never said more than a few words to each other, but you’re a cool guy, Daley.” His brows drew together in worry, making him appear older than he was. Dex wasn’t more than a couple years younger than Pearce, but their job didn’t exactly allow for aging gracefully. “Be careful. I’d hate—” Pearce’s voice broke and he cleared his throat. “I’d hate for you to get hurt over all this. My brother, Gabe, believed in what he was doing and look where it got him.”
Dex frowned, trying to drum up what he remembered from the incident. He remembered it had been especially hard on Pearce, not having access to the case. But since Gabe had been a THIRDS agent, the HPF had no jurisdiction. “I thought the guy involved had been a Human informant?”
Pearce shook his head. “He was an HPF informant, but he wasn’t Human. He was Therian. A kid.”
Shit. Pearce’s brother had been killed by a Therian informant and here he was, coming to rescue a guy who’d testified against his Human partner in favor of a young Therian punk. “So, why aren’t you kicking the shit out of me too?”
A deep frown came onto Pearce’s face. “If your partner was stupid enough to let his personal prejudice affect his judgment, he deserves what he got. The truth is I admire you. Not everyone would’ve had the balls to do what you did. What happened to Gabe… was different.” He sighed, his expression troubled. “I’m just saying to watch your back. There are a lot of zealots out there looking for any excuse to carry out their own justice and things have been getting worse since that second HumaniTherian was found dead a few months ago. Some of these Humans are out for blood.”
Pearce wasn’t wrong on that. Two HumaniTherian activists had been murdered in the last six months and the evidence was pointing toward a Therian perpetrator, which meant jurisdiction fell to the THIRDS. Although the organization was doing its best to reassure the public, a storm was brewing between Humans and Therians, especially if they didn’t catch whoever was behind it soon. Dex’s testimony against his partner couldn’t have come at a worse time.
“Thanks for the warning, Pearce.” Dex stepped out of the car and closed the door behind him, taking a step to the side to wave at Pearce as he drove off. As soon as the guy was gone, Dex let out a sigh of relief. He loved his quiet little treelined street. With a smile, he painfully climbed up the steps to his front door. Finally, he was home. He stuck the key into the lock, turned it, and pushed the door open, baffled when it went thump halfway. Christ, now what? Something heavy was wedged up against it. With a frustrated grunt, he forced it open and carefully stuck his head in, frowning when he saw the large open cardboard box filled with DVDs, CDs, and a host of other things that should have been in his living room. His initial thought went to burglary, except he’d never run into thieves who stopped to bubble wrap their stolen merchandise.
Dex locked the door behind him and wandered into the living room, his jaw all but hitting the floor at the near-empty state of it, along with the many cardboard boxes littered about in various stages of completeness. Something banged against the floor upstairs and Dex took the stairs two at a time.
“Babe?” Dex found his boyfriend of four years upstairs in their bedroom throwing shoes into empty boxes. “What’s going on?”
“I’m moving out.”
The words hit Dex like a punch to the gut, a feeling he was growing all too familiar with these days. “What?” He quickly maneuvered through the obstacle course of boxes and scattered manbags to take hold of his boyfriend’s arms, turning him to face him. “Sweetheart, stop for a second. Please, talk to me.” He went to cup Lou’s cheek, only to have Lou move his face away. Ouch. Double sucker punch. Tucking the rejection away for later, he focused on getting to the bottom of this. “Lou, please.”
“The nonstop phone calls, the reporters knocking on the door, the news reports on TV calling you a disgrace to your species. I can’t take it anymore, Dex.”
Guilt washed over him, and he released Lou. How many more casualties would there be as a result of his doing “the right thing”? “Give it some time. This will all blow over. What if we go somewhere far away from this, the two of us, huh?”
Lou shook his head and went back to packing. “I have a life to think about. I’ve already lost half a dozen clients. I can’t afford to lose any more.”
“This is New York, Lou. One thing you won’t run out of is parties to cater. It’s almost September, next thing you know it’ll be Halloween and you’ll be knee-deep in white chocolate ghosts and tombstone ice sculptures, telling your clients how throwing a party in a real graveyard is a bad idea.” When his lighthearted approach failed, Dex knew this was serious. Of course, to most people, the packed boxes would have been a dead giveaway, but Dex wasn’t most people. He refused to believe Lou would walk out on him when he needed him the most. “What about me? Aren’t I a part of your life?” Dex was taken aback when Lou rounded on him, anger flashing in his hazel eyes.
“You sent your partner to prison, Dex!”
Unbelievable. It wasn’t bad enough he was getting it from everyone else, now he was getting it at home too? Dex was growing mighty tired of being treated like a criminal. “I didn’t send him to prison. The evidence against him did. He shot an unarmed kid in the back and killed him for fuck’s sake! How am I the asshole in this?” He searched Lou’s eyes for any signs of the man who’d wake him up in the middle of the night simply to tell him how glad he was to be there with him.
“It wasn’t like you’d be able to bring the kid back. Not to mention he was a delinquent and a Therian!”
Dex’s anger turned into shock. “Whoa, what the hell, Lou? So that makes it okay? What about Cael? He’s a Therian. You’ve never had a problem with him.” At least Lou had the decency to look ashamed.
“He’s your family. I had no choice.”
This was all news to him. Dex loved Cael. He would never push his brother out for anyone. He’d been upfront about his Therian brother when he and Lou had first started dating. If his date couldn’t accept Cael, he couldn’t accept Dex. “Where is all this coming from? Since when do you have a problem with Therians?”
“Since one ruined my fucking life!” Lou chucked a pair of sneakers at one of the boxes with such force the box toppled over.
“Your life?” This conversation grew more astounding by the minute. Dex thrust a finger at himself. “Have you seen my face? I got the shit kicked out of me in the parking garage, thanks for noticing. If a fellow detective hadn’t come along, I’d probably be in the hospital right now. And you know what the most fucked up part of that is? They weren’t even street thugs. They were fucking cops!” Dex had known the moment he’d seen their attire and the telltale signs of an ankle holster on one of them. The bastards had probably been at the trial.
Lou threw his arms up in frustration. “Your own cop friends don’t want to have anything to do with you, and you expect me to pretend like nothing’s happened? To ignore everyone staring at me, saying, ‘Oh, there goes that prick’s boyfriend. He’s probably a LiberTherian sympathizer too.’ I don’t want to get the shit kicked out me, Dex.”
“Oh my God, seriously?” Humans loved throwing words like HumaniTherian and LiberTherian around as if they were insults. His strong belief that Therians and Humans deserved to be treated equally made him a HumaniTherian, even if he wasn’t out picketing on the White House lawn, and he was fine with that. But that didn’t make him a LiberTherian. He was hardly an anarchist, and considering he was in law enforcement, he’d never had a problem with authority, though he didn’t follow it blindly either. He hated when someone tried to stick him in a little box with a label slapped on his ass. Like everything was black and white. Doing his best to summon patience despite his reservoir being nearly depleted, he took hold of Lou’s hand and pulled him to their king-sized bed. Lou allowed himself to be led but refused to sit or even look him in the eye. “Do you care that much about what people think?”
No reply. Dex supposed he couldn’t blame him. Things were so screwed up, he didn’t know which way was up anymore.
“It’s not just the trial.”
Dex swallowed hard, wondering what new surprises Lou had for him. Sure, they argued sometimes, but no more than any other couple. They had fun together when their jobs allowed it, though now that he thought about it, it had been a while since they’d had a day off together. Lou had been as busy these days with his career as Dex had been with his own, but neither of them ever complained about not spending enough time together. Maybe that was the problem. He could fix that, though. He could take some time off work, and take Lou somewhere nice, with sandy white beaches and cocktails. At least that’s what he thought until he saw Lou’s face.
It was over.
“I’m sorry. I can’t do this anymore. I can’t keep getting left behind; sitting here on my own until sunup while you throw yourself into the line of fire every chance you get.” The hurt in Lou’s eyes only added to Dex’s guilt.
“It’s my job,” Dex replied quietly, exhausted from the day’s events, and quite frankly, the whole of his life at the moment.
“Saving the world is not your job. It’s your obsession. An unhealthy one that will get you killed. You told me you became an HPF officer so you could make a difference there, like your dad, but if you keep this up, you’re going to end up like him.”
Dex’s chest tightened. “Don’t.”
“That’s why they’re the Human Police Force. They don’t want to see things your way. Okay, so some of them might change their minds, some probably already feel the way you do, but not enough of them to change the way things are. Why do you think the government opened the THIRDS?”
“What do you want from me, Lou? Do you want me to change? Is that it?” Dex leaned toward him, pleading. “I can do that.”
Lou shook his head. “You are the job, Dex. I couldn’t ask you to change who you are. What I want is for you to take care of yourself, and please, don’t call me or come to my job.” Lou tugged at his hand, and Dex reluctantly let go. “I’ll send the movers for the rest of my stuff tomorrow while you’re at work.”
“That’s pretty much the entire house,” Dex murmured, taking stock of the near-empty room. He was also pretty sure Lou was leaving some stuff behind for him, like the bedding.
“Why do you think that is, Dex? You were never here. I was the one who made this a home.”
The words made Dex’s heart ache and when he spoke, his voice was quiet. “Was I that bad?”
Lou stepped up to him and placed a gentle kiss on his cheek. “You’re a great guy, Dex. We had fun, and you were good to me, but we weren’t right for each other. If it hadn’t happened now, it would have happened eventually.” He ran his fingers through Dex’s hair, the tender gesture bringing a lump to his throat. Shifting forward, Dex wrapped his arms around Lou’s waist and squeezed, his cheek pressed against Lou’s chest.
“Please don’t go.”
“I’m sorry,” Lou replied hoarsely, pulling away. “I’ll leave the key in the mailbox.”
Dex nodded and fell back onto the bed, his body feeling heavy and in pain, inside and out. He was so exhausted he couldn’t find the will to do anything but lie there and wish his bed would swallow him up.
“I’m sorry, Dex. I really am.”
“Me too,” Dex murmured softly. A few minutes later, he heard the front door close, making him cringe. He rubbed his stinging eyes for a moment before his hand flopped back down to the bed. He should get up and shower. Instead, he lay there staring up at the white ceiling. In his pocket, his cell phone went off. He ignored it and closed his eyes. The landline started shrilling and he let out a low groan. It was probably his dad. The answering machine beeped and a saccharine voice that was definitely not his dad’s chirped,
“Mr. Daley, this is a friendly reminder that your rental is due back at the lot before six p.m. Failure to do so will result in an additional day’s charge being added to your credit card. We appreciate you using Aisa Rentals and hope you have a pleasant evening.”
Dex checked his watch.
Fuck. My. Life.
DEX WAS well on his way to having yet another spectacular clusterfuck of a week, despite feeling pretty confident things couldn’t possibly get any worse than they’d been recently. After all, the last month had been pretty epic in the “screw you” department. It had been so bad, he’d actually been looking forward to the end of his two weeks’ paid leave in order to get back to work. Oh, Dex, you silly boy.
Things can only get better.
Isn’t that what Dex had been told this morning? Well, more like that’s what the song on the radio had been harping about on his way to work. That’s the last time he allowed himself to be reassured by an eighties song. Retro Radio was going to be deleted from his playlist first chance he got. That’s if his head cleared up enough by the end of his shift to let him make sense of all the shiny glowing buttons on the dash of his car. Nothing like a good old fashioned shit-kicking to start your morning on your first day back at work.
It was true he’d been expecting some anger and hostility to come his way after what he’d done. The dirty looks and shoves into lockers or various similarly occupied spaces, his paperwork doubling up as toilet paper in the restroom, his desk drawers filled with everything from doggie chew toys to rubber mice. All of it had been expected. Unpleasant, but expected. The friendly beatings? Not so much.
With a nod of thanks, Dex took the little paper hankie offered by Captain McGrier and dabbed his split lip. He resumed his slouching, tonguing the sore spot inside his mouth where he’d bitten himself after the first punch hit. His body was aching and his head was killing him, but at least he was pretty sure he wasn’t concussed.
“Where’d they get you this time?” McGrier’s bushy white brows drew together in an expression that could have meant anything from “I hope Anne’s not making meatloaf again,” to “I’m seriously considering punching you myself.” For a man who only had one facial expression, he was sure tough to get a read on.
“Evidence,” Dex replied. Knowing what McGrier was going to ask next, Dex didn’t bother waiting. “And no, I didn’t see who it was.”
Peterson, Johnson, Malone, Rodriguez, and the IT guy with the Mohawk and face full of shrapnel. What the hell was his name? Nick? Ned? Ned. Dick Ned.
Of course Dex had seen who it was. They both knew he’d seen who it was. Or more specifically, who they had been, but Dex wasn’t about to rat out his own brethren, even if his brethren had happily worked him over moments ago in the isolated evidence locker. Damn. How had he become the most hated guy in the precinct? Even Bill—the guy who ate other people’s lunches from the fridge, was less hated than him.
McGrier sighed heavily, his chair letting out a screeching protest as he leaned his heavy mass back. “You’re one hell of a detective, Daley, but the fact remains, this can’t go on.”
“No kidding,” Dex grumbled. “My dry cleaning bill’s tripled in the last month.”
“You’re the only detective I know who comes to work looking like he stepped out of a goddamn men’s fashion magazine. What the fuck is that in your hair?”
Dex instinctively touched his tousled locks. “Forming cream.”
McGrier leaned forward and sniffed. “And what’s that smell?”
“Citrus mint,” Dex muttered, leaning away from him. “FYI, that was kind of creepy.”
“FYI, you realize you’re a homicide detective, right?”
“What are you trying to say?” Just because he felt like crap didn’t mean he had to look it. Judging by the state of his captain’s office, it was a pretty safe bet McGrier didn’t agree. It was as if the man had an aversion to tidiness. Whenever McGrier called him in, Dex always managed to hover by the door and not step foot inside the Den of Disorder. It was a clean freak’s worst nightmare. Dex’s worst nightmare.
The leaves of the fake potted fern on top of the beat-up filing cabinet were drooping from the thick layers of dust. There were stacks of files—crookedly stacked files—with sheets sticking out every which way on every available surface. On file boxes along the side of the room. On McGrier’s desk underneath three coffee mugs—one of which deserved nothing short of incineration, though the tar-like remnants of what had once been a thin layer of coffee might cause it to explode. How did the man work in this? The whole place was in need of a hazmat team.
“You eat Cheesy Doodles at your desk,” McGrier informed him.
How’d they go from hair gel to cheese snacks? “Hey, don’t knock the crunchy cheesy goodness. You’re always eating pistachios—which, by the way, are messier—and you don’t hear me bitching about it.” Dex nodded toward the war zone of tiny shells on the desk in front of McGrier.
“Kids eat Cheesy Doodles. Grown men eat nuts.”
Dex arched an eyebrow and opened his mouth only to have McGrier jab a finger at him. “Don’t you even think about it, wiseass.”
“I was only going to say that grown men eat Cheesy Doodles, too. That’s why they put extreme on the packaging. And explosions. What’s manlier than explosions?” McGrier’s lips pressed together in what Dex translated to be some form of disapproval, so Dex decided to be serious for a moment. “All right, sir, you didn’t call me into your office to talk about my wardrobe, Cheesy Doodles, or my love of nuts.” Well, he’d tried. Judging by McGrier’s scowl, he’d failed. “Fine, I’m sorry. Tell me what this is about.”
“I think you know what this is about.”
Dex couldn’t even come up with a smartass remark. “Yeah, I know. What was I supposed to have done?” No way McGrier would answer that, but Dex liked to play the “what if” game with himself every now and then.
“You did what you believed was right. You need to stop beating yourself up over it.”
He would have thought McGrier was trying to be funny if he suspected for even a moment the man had a sense of humor. “Why would I beat myself up when I’ve got plenty of other people to do that for me?” McGrier was unsurprisingly not impressed with his reply.
“I know you feel like shit right now, and I’m afraid what I have to say isn’t going to make things any better.”
That got Dex’s attention and he sat upright, getting a sick twisting feeling in his gut. In the back of his mind, he’d been waiting for it but now that it was happening, he wasn’t as prepared as he thought he’d be. “What?”
“The commissioner isn’t happy about finding the HPF in the middle of this shit-storm, especially with those unsolved HumaniTherian murders. I’ve been informed to advise you that it’s time for you to move on.”
“Move on? Move on to what?” The suits were pushing him out? Dex propelled out of his chair so fast it toppled backward. “That’s what this is about, isn’t it? Votes? Ten years I’ve been busting my ass here, giving you blood, sweat, and tears, and they’re going to push me out for doing my goddamn job?” He slammed his hands on the desk, turning the tiny pistachio shells into launched projectiles. “This is bullshit, Cap!”
“Daley,” McGrier said with quiet emphasis, his brows set in a straight line as if he couldn’t fathom the reason for Dex’s hissy fit. Dex didn’t give a damn what his captain thought this was. They were talking about his career, a career that was being dismissed without so much as batting an eyelash, all so a bunch of bureaucratic assholes could bullshit their way through another election.
“There’s no way I’m taking this lying down. You hear me? I’ve seen some pretty fucked up shit in my time but this—”
“You’re not being pushed out. You’re being promoted. Sort of.”
“I—What?” Dex blinked a few times as he tried to decipher the words that had come out of McGrier’s wobbly mouth. “What do you mean I’m being promoted? Sort of.” Now he was really confused.
“What I said. So, why don’t you sit back down and relax before you have a stroke or something.”
After setting his chair back on its legs, Dex resumed his seat. Not because he had been told to do so, but because he was afraid if he didn’t, he might just have that stroke. “I’m being promoted to….”
Fill in the blank.
“It’s more like you’ve been recruited.” McGrier studied him closely. What kind of response was his captain expecting from him other than Huh?
“As of this afternoon, you are a Defense Agent for the THIRDS.” The man grew quiet and Dex couldn’t help but wait for him to throw his arms out and shout “Ta-da!” with a show of jazz hands.
What was happening here? If he’d been told he was getting transferred, he would’ve understood. If he’d been told he was getting demoted, he would’ve understood. Hell, he would’ve understood being let go, but being recruited by the THIRDS? Nope. He couldn’t say he understood. Especially since he’d never applied for a position in the first place, as he’d recently found himself stating repeatedly.
“But… how? Why? Maybe you can, I don’t know, explain? I’m feeling a little slow today. One too many kicks to the head.”
McGrier stood and started pacing. “Daley, whatever you may think, I like you. You’re an honest young man with a good head on your shoulders. You were a damned good cop and became an even better detective. Things may die down around here, they might not, but I think your skills would be better suited to an organization with a different way of doing things. We both know if they tried to push you out or demote you, they’d lose the Therian vote, but if they promoted you to an organization with a reputation for supporting both Humans and Therians, it’d be a win/win situation for everyone.”
“Yeah, if I’d been trying to get in, which I hadn’t been. Right now it’s a win/what the hell situation.”
McGrier continued as if Dex hadn’t spoken. “I had a meeting with Lieutenant Sparks while you were on leave, and she happens to have a position open on her team. The fact that you scored top of your class during the training and have Sergeant Maddock to put in a good word for you, has made you a key candidate. You know Maddock has always wanted you over there with him and your brother. The THIRDS is the only organization I know of that allows family members to work together, so why not take advantage?”
Dex’s mouth moved but nothing came out, so he decided it best to shut it. Maybe he was concussed. Maybe he was in a hospital somewhere hopped up on meds and dreaming about getting recruited by the Therian Human Intelligence Recon Defense Squadron. Jesus Christ, the government loved their acronyms. Somewhere some government suit had jizzed his pants coming up with that one.
The Sixth Precinct had been Dex’s home for the last ten years. They were like family. Then again, his “family” had pretty much disowned him in the last few months. Should he fight to stick around where he wasn’t wanted? He’d already been beat up twice. If that wasn’t their way of flipping him off, he didn’t know what was.
McGrier was right, things might die down, or they might get worse. As it was, his presence alone had everyone on edge, and those same dickbags who’d cast him out were forcing everyone else to pick sides. He could spare a lot of good people a whole lot of grief if he took this position, not that he was being given much of a choice.
It all came down to whether he left quietly. He should be grateful for the opportunity. There were officers out there who’d clean toilets if it meant getting their foot through the THIRDS’ door. Plus, Dex would get to work with his real family. That didn’t make leaving his job behind any easier. It was the only familiar thing he had left. He was—had been—one of the Sixth’s top homicide detectives, and he’d worked damn hard to get there. Of course, sitting in McGrier’s office with a tissue to his bleeding lip made it pretty obvious he didn’t have much of a career left to get back to. With a resigned sigh, he nodded.
“Okay. When do I start?
With a grim nod, his captain resumed his seat. “September twenty-third. They’re giving you a week to catch up on all the new policies and codes before your introduction.”
A knock sounded on the door and Dex tilted his head back to get a better look at the fair-haired detective hovering by the door. Ah, Pearce, his knight in tarnished armor. One of the selective few who didn’t feel the need to share his opinions about Dex’s so called “betrayal.” When Pearce noticed him sitting there, he smiled widely.
“Pearce.” Dex returned his smile. It’s a shame he was leaving. He could see himself hanging out with Pearce, shooting the breeze over a couple slices of pizza, sharing a few beers on a lazy Sunday afternoon.
“You wanted to see me, sir?”
“Yeah. Daley’s leaving us. He’s been recruited to the THIRDS.”
The air was vacuum-sucked out of the room, and Dex looked from Pearce to the captain and back, hoping someone could shed a little light on the unscheduled loss of atmosphere.
“What team?” Pearce asked quietly.
McGrier actually squirmed in his seat before clearing his throat. “Destructive Delta.”
Pearce went tense all over, his jaw clenched so tight, he looked as if he might crack something. Dex suddenly remembered Pearce’s brother and he prayed his luck wasn’t that bad. The THIRDS was huge. What were the chances he’d end up on the same team Agent Gabe Pearce had been on? Shit. He was Gabe’s replacement, wasn’t he?
Dex looked up at Pearce. “Same team?”
Pearce merely nodded, his lips pressed together in a thin line.
This wasn’t awkward at all. Just great. No one wanted to be the guy who came in after a dead partner. Dex hated baggage, and now he was about to walk into a partnership with enough to fill an airport terminal. His new partner probably had all sorts of expectations and they hadn’t even met yet. Howard Jones had lied to him. Things were not getting better. They were getting worse by the minute.
“Congratulations.” The word just about managed to squeeze past Pearce’s lips.
“Thanks,” Dex muttered.
“Do you know who your partner is?” Pearce sounded a lot more casual than he was probably feeling. Dex couldn’t knock the guy for trying.
“No, uh, it’s all kind of caught me by surprise.”
Pearce nodded and turned his attention back to the captain.
“Pearce, you’re going to take Dex’s place until we get people shuffled around here. Why don’t you walk him to his car? Dex, we’ll send your stuff to THIRDS Headquarters, along with any paperwork.”
In other words, the cap didn’t want Dex getting roughed up now that he was part of a shiny new elite force, and if Pearce was with him, Dex would make it out of the building in one piece. Good times.
Dex got up, removed his Glock from his holster and placed it on McGrier’s desk, along with his badge. He exchanged the whole “it was a pleasure working with you” bull with the cap, knowing neither one of them had anything else to say. They didn’t bother with the whole “keep in touch thing” because they both knew it wasn’t going to happen unless it was in an official capacity.
Pearce walked silently beside him through the old precinct, shoulder to shoulder, lost in his own thoughts. Dex couldn’t tell if the look on his face was due to grief or antipathy, but he felt for the guy. He wanted to apologize to Pearce for his loss, for the promotion that reminded him of his loss, for the actions that led to his promotion that in turn reminded him of his loss. Dex would have apologized for his whole damn existence if he thought it would make a difference, but it wouldn’t, so he didn’t.
Dex had opted for parking his baby in the private parking garage across the street instead of the precinct lot, just in case. The amount of money paid for parking would be far less than what he’d have to shell out for a new windshield or paint job.
When they reached his car, Dex turned to Pearce, figuring this was probably the last he’d see of him. No chance Pearce was going to want to share that coffee with him now.
“Thanks.” Dex patted the hood of his baby with a dopey grin. Sometimes he liked to pretend he was John McClane in a Die Hard movie, except with more speed limits, fewer explosions, and generally a lot less action going on. He really needed to start daydreaming a little bigger. As he suspected, Pearce gave him a curt nod and turned to walk away, but to Dex’s surprise, stopped.
“Watch your back over there, Daley, and don’t expect a warm welcome.”
Well that didn’t bode well. “Why do you say that?”
Pearce seemed to mull it over before turning back, his hands shoved into his jacket pockets. “Destructive Delta is in Unit Alpha, and those positions are the highest, most dangerous, most sought after in the THIRDS, yet Gabe’s position is still open, has been on and off for over a year. What does that tell you?”
“I don’t know, but I can imagine losing Gabe was probably tough for the team.”
Pearce nodded, his lips pursed. “I’m sure it was, but the THIRDS don’t mourn, they keep moving. They’re not like the rest of us. Rumor is, the Team Leader, Agent Brodie, has run off over half a dozen agents. I’ve met him, and believe me when I say he’s the biggest asshole to walk this earth. As far as he’s concerned, no one is good enough to replace Gabe. I would have found his loyalty admirable if he hadn’t been the one to send Gabe to meet that Therian informant on his own the night he was killed.”
“You think it was Agent Brodie’s fault Gabe got killed?” Dex was concerned for Pearce. Maybe this team leader was an asshole, but if the THIRDS were as good as everyone claimed them to be, surely they wouldn’t have sent in their own teammate knowing he couldn’t handle himself. “You don’t want to go down that path.” Dex put a hand on Pearce’s shoulder. “It doesn’t lead anywhere good. I didn’t know Gabe, but I get the feeling he wouldn’t want you thinking like that either.” Dex understood what it felt like to lose family at the hands of criminals. He also understood firsthand how dangerous it could be to fall into despair. Lucky for him, he’d had his adoptive dad—Anthony Maddock—at the time to pull him out before he’d lost himself.
“You’re right.” Pearce’s scowl gave way to a sad smile. “Gabe wouldn’t have wanted that. At least he died defending what he loved. Take care of yourself, Daley. I’ll call you about that coffee.”
With that, Pearce walked away, his footsteps resonating through the empty, cavernous garage until he disappeared into the shadows, leaving Dex standing by his lonesome facing an undiscernible future.
Damn you, Howard Jones!
The urban fantasy was rich in detail that had me easily visualizing the world without bogging down the pace of the story, and was written in such a way that it had a real world “feel” to it.
Read the full review at
An excellent action-based paranormal police story with a side of romance.
I am a happy reader here. Very happy.
There is so much scope for the characters that we have been introduced to in this first book that I am very excited to see how the series progresses.
Hell & High Water was more romance and action than suspense and mystery but who the fuck cares when the heroes are so adorable and funny? :)
This is a must read for fans of alpha male romance...
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