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I used my height to my advantage, leaning in and hovering over him, pinning him to his chair as I spoke quietly. “Or maybe, one of these days, you’ll end up just like your daddy’s buddy, Grant Wilfred.”

Grant Wilfred was the disgrace to the badge who kidnapped Courtland Pope’s niece and ended up dead for his trouble. Out of all of them, he was one of the worst, and a prick I’d been forced to call partner until he caught a bullet. It went without saying he wasn’t missed. I knew I hit my mark when all the color bled from his face.

“Now, Hastings!”

I shoved off Simmons’s chair and finished my trek to the boss’s office at a leisurely pace.

His office was everything you’d expect of an egomaniac. Rich, mahogany wood, tacky gold décor, and gaudy filigree frames for the medals and accolades he’d been handed, but sure as fuck didn’t earn. The money in this room didn’t fit with the rest of the building. The water stains on the ceiling looked like they had been around since the building went up God knew how long ago. The furniture and carpeting were at least three decades old, if not more. The plumbing was shot, the A/C felt like someone was blowing their breath in your face, and the computers might as well have been giant paperweights for how good they worked. Of course, for the bossman, everything in his office was brand new and top-of-the-line.

Keeping my mask of utter relaxation pinned in place, I took a seat in one of the cush chairs in front of his desk. A chair that matched the massive, maroon buttoned leather executive chair he was standing in front of. “You bellowed?”

The redness in his face had grown more vivid in the two minutes it took for me to make it from my desk to his office. “You want to tell me why I got a call this morning that you’ve requested the archived files on a case that was closed nearly two fuckin’ decades ago?”

I rested an ankle on the opposite knee and folded my hands over my stomach, making myself comfortable. Half the fight with fuckers like this guy was psychological, and at least on that front, I was winning.

“My guess, it’s because your mole in records is falling down on the job. You may want to find someone better. I requested those files last week.”

Any redder, and Brady was going to glow like a neon goddamn sign. “You think you’re slick as fuck, don’t you?”

“Not particularly.” I placed both boots on the floor and leaned forward, bracing my forearms on my knees. “What I think I am is a fucking good cop.”

His nostrils flared like an angry bull. “You’re insinuating the rest of us aren’t, Hastings?”

I allowed one corner of my mouth to curve upward in the smallest smirk. “Not insinuating anything, Chief.” I was saying it straight out, how he decided to take it was up to him.

Brady sat in his ridiculous chair, doing his best to stare me down. “Why the fuck are you digging into the Denning case, anyway? It was long before your time and has fuck-all to do with you.”

“From what I hear, she was your girl. Well, at least until she dumped you. She was the one to do the dumping, wasn’t she? I mean, that’s the word on the street anyway. But I’d think you’d want to know what really happened to her. That is, if you cared about her.”

“Of course, I fucking cared about her,” he barked. But I knew the truth. A man like him, a narcissist to his core, didn’t care about anyone but himself. “But everyone knows it was one of those Wraith fuckers who did it.”

I let out a considering hum. “Maybe. But it’s our job to investigate these things, right? And technically the case went cold. But it hasn’t been closed yet.”

“You know, shit might be easier for you if you’d be a team player. But do what you gotta do. Not like you’ll find anything.”

“Great, then it’s settled. I’ll keep looking into it for the both of us. I’ve got the time to dedicate to it. I know how busy you are, you know, running things around here, Chief.”

“That’s right. Fucking chief. You’d do well to remember that.”

I rose to my feet, officially done with this conversation. I stared the man down, dropping my mask long enough for him to see the determination etched into every inch of my face. “Maybe. For now, anyway.”

Brady shot to his feet and slapped his palms onto his desk. “For good,” he barked, his face now resembling a beefsteak tomato. “You think you’re Superman or some shit like that? You got a fucking hero complex, Hastings? Well, I got news for you. My family has been running this goddamn town since it was put on the map, and we’ll still be running things when you finally do us all a favor and move the fuck out.”

I let loose a full-fledged grin at his meltdown and knocked my knuckles against his desk. “We’ll just have to see, won’t we. Election’s only a few weeks away, and I think I feel a shift in the air. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got a traffic stop to man.” Flicking two of my fingers his way in a salute, I turned on my boot heel and started out of the office. “See you, Chief,” I added as I pulled the door closed behind me.

It took everything in me not to smile at the crash that carried from his office a second later.

TEN

IRIS

“Maxwell!” My boss shouted the instant I stepped into the office, like he’d been stalking the building’s entrance, waiting for me to arrive. “My office. Now!”

I knew exactly what he was yelling about, and I hadn’t had nearly enough coffee to deal with his shit.

My co-worker, Angela, sat at her desk, a smug smirk pinching up what would be a pretty face if it’s default setting wasn’t resting bitch. I didn’t know what her issue with me was, but since the moment she started, she’d turned everything into a competition between the two of us. Who dressed better. Who made the most in commissions, who was the boss’s favorite. It might have been a one-sided feud, but it sure wasn’t from lack of trying on her part.

I walked farther into the office, dropping my purse and sunglasses on my desk as I passed it. Sure enough, I heard the squeak of Angela’s rolling chair as she shot to her high-heeled feet to follow after me.