The Rogue Alpha's Detective Mate

New Partners, New tensions.

Cassandra Kane

The drive to work was oddly peaceful—an unexpected calm amidst the usual chaos of New York City. Cassandra loved the stillness of the early mornings, with the streets bathed in soft golden light as the city slowly came to life. What she hated most, though, was the traffic. It was a maddening blur of honking horns, screeching tires, and frustrated drivers. The thought of being stuck in gridlock made her itch for something more liberating. So, when she had the money, she finally splurged on the Yamaha R6. It was a dream she’d nurtured since she was sixteen, and the bike made weaving through the tangled mess of traffic feel effortless. Of course, she always exercised caution—being a detective, she knew the gruesome toll motorcycle accidents took. She had seen the aftermath during her patrol days, and that kind of horror stayed with you.

As she pulled into the precinct’s lot, she took a deep breath. Parking spaces were at a premium, but today luck was on her side. Slowing down, she gently eased her bike into her usual spot, taking care to back it in so she wouldn’t have to maneuver out later. She kicked out the stand with practiced precision, ensuring the bike was perfectly balanced before cutting the engine. The quiet hum of the bike’s motor faded as she slipped off the seat, feeling the cool morning air hit her skin.

The only downside she had found since buying the bike was that she couldn’t stop for her morning latte. There was no place to hold the drink, and while she hated missing that daily ritual, it was a small price to pay for the freedom she felt riding her bike. Thankfully, Officer Damingo was more than happy to help with her caffeine cravings. He often bribed her with lattes from his usual coffee run.

Cassandra removed her helmet and tucked it under her arm as she strode toward the entrance of the building. Inside, the precinct was alive with the usual bustle, the hum of radios and clicking keyboards filling the air. She greeted the officers with a nod and a smile, making sure to take a moment for each of them. It was something she had learned during her early days as an officer—the importance of building rapport with everyone, from the officers on the beat to the detectives. She had never understood why some detectives treated patrol officers like they were beneath them, especially since patrol officers were often the ones gathering the evidence or chasing down the suspects.

Even though Cassandra no longer wore the standard officer uniform, she never saw herself as above anyone else. Respect was key. It was a lesson she had taken to heart, especially after all the time spent trying to prove herself. As a detective, she had made a promise to herself that she would always treat everyone with the same respect she hoped to receive.

She entered the bullpen—affectionately called the "zoo" by her colleagues—and made her way to her desk, where she found none other than Detective Bingham. As usual, he was perched on the edge of her desk, flashing that signature grin that made every woman in the precinct weak in the knees. He had been making a point of flirting with her since she had joined the 34th Precinct, and so far, Cassandra had made it clear—no interest.

Bingham was, objectively, an attractive man. Tall, with broad shoulders that gave him the look of someone who spent more time in the gym than at work. His form-fitting shirts emphasized the well-defined muscles in his arms and chest. His chocolate brown hair was always styled just so, short on the sides with a little more length on top. His baby blue eyes, sharp jawline, and dazzling smile made him the type of guy who easily charmed women. But Cassandra could see beyond the good looks. His personality was as flat as a wet towel. He was a competent detective, but there was no depth. Besides, who knew what kind of trouble she might invite into her life if she gave in to his advances? No thanks.

“Cassie, looking gorgeous as always,” Bingham purred, flashing her his trademark panty-melting grin.

“Detective Bingham,” Cassandra nodded, unfazed by the charm he threw her way. Most women might have fallen for it, but not her. She wasn’t about to be another name on his long list of conquests.

“Oh, come on, Cassie. I thought we were on a first-name basis by now,” he teased, leaning in a little too close for comfort.

“William,” she said sweetly, her voice taking on an edge. “If you don’t get your ass off my desk in five seconds, I’m going to make you.”

He pouted but stood up, clearly not impressed with her lack of interest. “Have you not had your caffeine yet?” he asked, knowing well that Cassandra wasn’t the most pleasant person before her morning coffee. Though she technically considered herself a "morning person," that didn’t mean she didn’t turn into a bear without her caffeine.

As if on cue, Officer Damingo appeared beside her with a tray of coffees. “Here’s your venti salted caramel cold brew with extra foam,” he said, handing it to her with a smile.

“You’re the best!” Cassandra grinned, taking the drink from him. It was a small gesture, but it meant the world to her.

“No, I’m just doing my part,” Damingo replied, a rosy blush creeping up his neck at her compliment.

“Where’s mine, Damingo?” Bingham drawled, glaring at the officer with a scowl that could melt steel.

“I have it right here,” Damingo said, unfazed by Bingham’s rude tone, and handed him a large coffee. “Large coffee, three sugars, and a splash of milk.”

Turning back to Cassandra, Damingo smiled sheepishly. “Detective Kane, I was wondering... Well, a few of us are going to the bar tonight to play pool. Would you... like to join us?”

Cassandra hesitated, surprised by the invite. It wasn’t that she didn’t like Damingo; she just had a strict policy about not mixing business with pleasure. Relationships were too much of a hassle, especially when you had to work alongside someone every day.

Before she could answer, Captain Harris’s booming voice echoed through the bullpen. “Quiet down!” he bellowed. “We have a new detective joining us here at the 34th precinct, and I expect you all to make him feel at home.”

Cassandra’s attention snapped to the captain as he made his announcement. “Please join me in welcoming Detective Desmond Loupé,” he continued, stepping aside to reveal a hulking figure entering the bullpen.

Desmond Loupé was the kind of man who commanded attention without saying a word. Towering at least 6'2" with broad, powerful shoulders, he was a physical presence that made even Bingham’s muscular frame seem small. His dark hair, tied back in a man bun, added to the rugged aura, while the stubble on his chiseled jawline gave him an effortlessly bad-boy charm. But it was his eyes—those honey-colored eyes—that drew Cassandra in. They were intense, unsettling, and somehow familiar, like she had seen them before in a dream or a memory she couldn’t quite grasp.

She couldn’t help but stare as he met her gaze, his piercing eyes locking onto hers. It was as if some invisible force was pulling her toward him. She quickly broke eye contact, shaking her head to clear the unsettling thought.

“Detective Kane,” Captain Harris’s voice snapped her out of her reverie.

“Yeah, Captain,” she muttered, looking away from Loupé to focus on her boss.

“Office. Now,” he ordered, and without another word, he turned on his heel and headed back to his office.

Cassandra set her coffee down with a resigned sigh and followed the captain. As she passed by Loupé, she felt an odd tension in the air, as if every fiber of her being was acutely aware of his presence. She forced herself to ignore the sensation and walked briskly into the captain’s office, shutting the door behind her.

“Since you’re still partnerless, Detective Kane, and now that we have Detective Loupé, he will be your new partner,” Captain Harris said, settling into his chair and slipping on his glasses as he turned his attention to the computer.

Partner? She wasn’t a fan of working with anyone. She liked to do things her way, alone. But the captain was insistent. “That’s an order, Detective Kane,” he said sharply, catching her skeptical look.

She bit her lip, frustrated but knowing there was no arguing with him. “Is this a punishment?” she asked, her voice tinged with irritation. “I close my cases and work my ass off. Why stick me with him?”

“You’re a good detective, Cassie,” Captain Harris said, his tone softening. “But you’d be a better one with a partner. Desmond was a marine before joining the force. He has experience you could learn from.”

He gave her a look that ended the conversation. “This isn’t a punishment, it’s an opportunity.”

With a frustrated sigh, Cassandra left the office, her mood sour. She walked past Loupé, not sparing him a glance as she headed back to her desk, slumping into her chair.

She wasn’t sure why it bothered her so much. She had grown up in foster homes, never really having anyone to rely on. You’d think that would make her great at teamwork, but it hadn’t. She preferred working alone—it was easier that way. She didn’t need distractions, especially not from someone like Loupé.

Sighing, she logged onto her computer, trying to focus on the task at hand. But her concentration was broken when she heard a throat clear.

Looking up, her eyes locked onto Loupe’s honey-colored gaze once more. He had been silent until now, but his presence was almost suffocating. He stood there, waiting for her to acknowledge him. She shook her head. This wasn’t how she envisioned her day going, and she couldn’t afford to let him get under her skin.

Her day of quiet resolve was about to be shattered—by none other than Detective Desmond Loupé.