Luke:
The precinct smells like burnt coffee and cheap off brand cologne when I opened the glass door. I’ve barely stepped through the hallway in to the office before the day clamps down on me like a pair of cuffs. Two days with Alex, one spent barricaded with her crew, one on a so-called day off, feel like a fever dream I’m still sweating out.
Rodriguez lifts a brow from behind the duty desk. “Look who finally decided to show. Thought you’d joined a biker gang.”
“Don’t start, Rodriguez,” I mutter, dropping my jacket over the back of my chair.
He grins, wolfish. “I’d say you smell like exhaust and bad decisions.”
I ignore him and boot the computer. The screen’s sterile glow is almost comforting. Routine. Neutral. Not her. But the comfort dies when the captain’s door swings open.
“Luke
