Family Bashings

Chapter 1 Detective-Sergeant Doyle McCann strode through the squad room under the hostile stares of his fellow officers. Cops and detectives—most of them anyway—held him in contempt. The only reason he could still hold his head up and keep working was that he knew they were wrong about him. That and the fact that this job was all he ever wanted. It was the only kind of work that made him feel whole. He knew the truth about himself and what’d happened and he wasn’t about to let the others cheat him out of the career he’d worked so hard to have. Mostly, he just wanted to do his job—put the bad guys away, keep the world in order, make a difference. That’d been enough so far. Other things like love and happiness had taken a back seat. More and more, though, he wanted to find someone to make his life better than the living hell it’d become. But, for now, that was on hold. The early morning call to meet with the captain had surprised Doyle, but he’d gotten himself out of bed and made it into the station as the sun was rising. Running a hand through his thick dark hair, he made his way to the captain’s office, trying not to think about the Incident, as he’d come to call the thing that’d changed his life on the force. “You smell something?” Carmine Talorico asked no one in particular as Doyle passed his desk. “Yeah,” answered Alexa Pulaski. “I smell something rotten. Like, you know, when you don’t throw out the garbage and it starts stinkin’ up the whole house. My husband’s on me all the time about that.” “If I was your husband I’d be on you all the time about a lotta things,” Jerry O’Brien said and smirked. “Go f**k yourself, O’Brien. You’re probably the only human who can stand bein’ that close to your creepy self anyway,” Pulaski said. Doyle was glad O’Brien had deflected the banter onto himself. Jerry was not as hostile as the rest of them. In fact, sometimes he could even be friendly. Doyle suspected Jerry’s reasons had nothing to do with his opinions about the Incident. O’Brien was a closet case and he knew—or thought he knew—all about Doyle’s life. Doyle was open on the force but that was more common now and no big deal, which made him wonder why Jerry had never come out. But Doyle always felt other people’s lives were none of his business as long as they didn’t hurt anyone else. He lifted his hand to the captain’s door and knocked lightly. Turning the knob, he entered. “It’s about time, McCann,” said the captain, a beady-eyed, stout, black man who stood behind his desk gazing out the window. Doyle’s breath caught in his throat when he saw the man sitting in a chair opposite the captain’s desk. He stumbled slightly as he stared and hoped the others didn’t notice. The man sitting in the chair was like a piece of art—he couldn’t be real. Built but not overly muscled, he appeared to be a little taller than Doyle. A lock of the man’s blond hair had fallen over one eye and his three-day growth of beard was as thick as Doyle’s. The guy turned toward Doyle when he entered, and raked him up and down with his emerald eyes. There was an expression of distaste on his face but his eyes glimmered with something unreadable—Doyle figured he was just another hostile bozo waiting to get his own shots in at him. Still, Doyle felt that certain something—a wave of arousal, a flutter in his stomach—at the sight of the stranger. It was impossible not to feel it. “Captain Herd,” Doyle said curtly. He knew the captain had disdain for him like everyone else but he was usually professional on the job. “Got a new partner for you, McCann.” The captain nodded in the direction of the blond. “This is Kord Verlangen.” The blond seemed reluctant to stand, so Doyle moved with his hand outstretched and they shook. The man’s handshake was unenthusiastic. “You didn’t tell me it was this McCann. You’re stickin’ me with him? The McCann that—” “Nice to meet you, too,” Doyle interrupted before the invectives cascaded over him. “Whatever. You got the better end of this deal.” His voice was deeper than Doyle expected and it sent another thrill up his spine. How could he be attracted to this guy, Doyle asked himself. They’d have to work closely together on cases. How was that supposed happen? Between his attraction for him and the guy’s hostility, this seemed like a really bad idea. Doyle wanted to turn around and leave but he didn’t want to lose this job. This work was too important to him. He refused to toss it away on a whim. It wouldn’t be easy. At best, this joker would give Doyle the silent treatment unless it was absolutely necessary to talk. At worst, it’d be round after round of abuse as they worked side by side every day. “Kord has a history. Just like you, McCann. Well, maybe not just like you. Kord is kind of like a pimple. You…you’re like an open wound.” The captain smirked. “You’ll find out just how sorry each of you is, as you work together.” “You’re kiddin’ me, right?” Kord’s deep voice was filled with barely restrained anger. “I don’t make jokes,” Captain Herd snapped. “I just put bugs like you together in a jar and watch what happens.” Things grew quiet. Doyle looked at Kord who stared at the floor as if his eyes could burn a hole in the carpet. “We’ll handle things, Captain,” Doyle said, needing to fill the silence. He had no idea how they’d handle things but he wasn’t going to let this stop him from keeping his job. “You’ll have to. And you will. Kord, here, knows all about getting close to people he can’t stand and knows how to make things work out. He’s been working undercover, that’s how they operate. How long’s it been?” “Three years. Three years down the toilet. Just because—” “We won’t get into it now,” Herd cut him off and reached for a folder on his desk. Picking it up, he flipped it open. “This case is yours now. Let’s see how you do.” “This a test?” Kord asked. Another flare of anger. The guy was a hothead. Just what Doyle needed in his life. Like he needed his teeth pulled with pliers. The captain was silent a moment, considering the idea. “Yeah, you could say that. And there’s a lot ridin’ on it, too.” “Oh, yeah? What do we get if we pass?” Kord again barely concealing the hostility in his voice. “It’s not about what you get if you pass.” The captain smiled, an evil grin that perked up his scraggly mustache. “What happens if we fail?” Doyle figured he already knew but he had to ask. Just to confirm. “That’s the sweet part. This case is your last chance. Both of you. You don’t come back with a good, clean collar, you’re gone. Both of you blisters will be popped and drained. No pensions, no gold watches, no good-byes. You’ll be drummed out.” The captain smiled in the silence that followed his words. Doyle could tell the smile was genuine, mostly because he’d never seen Captain Herd look so happy or satisfied. “So that’s it then?” Doyle felt something like relief. Maybe this was the chance he was looking for. A chance to prove himself again and maybe…but, no, he knew that no one would ever accept him again the way it’d been before the Incident. But if this went well, they’d know they’d have to live with him on the force and there was nothing they could do about it. He wanted to keep being a cop more than anything. Now, though, the decision was almost out of his hands. Unless he could solve the case. And he intended to do just that. No matter who they paired him with. This was the kind of challenge Doyle liked. If they failed, it wouldn’t be because he gave up. He didn’t know if Kord felt the same way and he didn’t care. He would work enough for the both of them. He’d have to if Kord proved to be as much of a jerk as he seemed. “Naw, that’s not all,” the captain said. He tapped a brown finger on his scarred wooden desk. “You’ve got three weeks. Which, in my book, is generous.”