Total pages in book: 124
Estimated words: 116280 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 581(@200wpm)___ 465(@250wpm)___ 388(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 116280 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 581(@200wpm)___ 465(@250wpm)___ 388(@300wpm)
All three of them had large, executive style chairs in front of their oversized desks. The desks were necessary to accommodate their ever-overflowing inboxes and leave enough room to spread out files. The other members of the team had desks right outside their office in the main bullpen. On the far side of the office was a conference table and a large dry erase board. The wall behind the conference table had been turned into a bulletin board, where numerous papers and mug shots were scattered across its length. In a couple of hours, the room would be filled with their team. They’d be seated at the table, or on couches and chairs scattered around the room.
It was almost eight o'clock. Syn looked up from the file he was reading and saw God and Day entering the precinct. Was it Syn's imagination, or did all heads turn when they entered a room? Syn watched them walk side by side and he found himself wondering about the more intimate aspects of their relationship. It was probably inappropriate, but he couldn’t help it. Syn thought God looked like he was a beast in bed. A man that pulled your hair, threw you up against the wall and fucked you unconscious. Or, was the big guy a cuddler? Pfft. Yeah right. Was Day as funny at home as he was when he was around others? Did they lie in each other's arms and watch cable? Hell, who cooked dinner and who took out the trash? Syn shook his head. He was thinking about shit that didn’t have a damn thing to do with him.
“What’s going on Syn?” Day asked and plopped down in his chair, setting his very large thermos of coffee on his desk.
“I have the reports from Gemson and Boyd,” Syn replied. His boots were up on the corner of his desk as he reclined back in his chair, skimming the contents of the file.
“How are they?” God asked. He removed his leather coat and draped it over the back of his chair.
“Detailed. Good,” Syn answered. He brought his feet down and gave God a pointed look.
The big man shook his head, already knowing what Syn wanted. He wanted everything they knew about this case. Now.
“Alright Syn. Chill out. We’re not used to you yet. But we know what it means to have a Sergeant on our team. You’re the team's go to, and have just as much command and input regarding decision making as we do,” Day responded as God stared. Day chuckled. “Tito was just as important as the other Jacksons.”
Syn threw a pen at Day, which he dodged easily. Syn couldn’t help but laugh at Day’s fucked up comparison. “I’m no fucking Tito, shithead.”
“We’re gonna discuss the case before the guys come in but first I’m going to the kitchen to refill my coffee. Babe, I’ll grab your muffin,” Day told God and headed to the door.
“I’m at least Jermaine,” Syn grumbled.
God gave Syn half a grin and Day threw over his shoulder, “Dream on.”
They were all studying the white board dissecting their drug/homicide case. Syn felt up to speed. His Lieutenants finally recognized Syn’s role on this team, and that was all he’d wanted, he knew it wasn’t easy turning a long-standing duo into a trio. But they weren’t even a trio. There were twenty outstanding Detectives that made up the task force and it was understood that they all had critical roles to play to make their squad successful and effective.
To say this case was fucked up was putting it mildly. There had actually been three dead bodies. All three of the bodies fit the same MO, which was why God and Day had him responding to the fourth homicide call last night. All good looking males found in secluded areas, beaten before being shot once in the head or chest. They’d just received the medical examiner’s report that confirmed adult entertainer, Jake Starman, just like the last three victims, had a form of ecstasy laced with Rohypnol in his system that rendered him almost helpless, easy to be taken down by someone far smaller, perhaps a woman. They finally had a suspect.
Syn watched a tall dark-haired man stride into the office, with a labeled evidence bag in his hand. His suit was crisp and tailored. To say he was handsome was an understatement. He was almost as tall as God and built like a brick house. Syn mentally beat himself up for noticing so many men lately. The man spoke to Ronowski before he acknowledged anyone else in the room.
“Hi babe. What do you have?” Ronowski answered.
Babe?
Syn turned and looked at Day who was grinning at Syn’s confused look.
Day walked the big man over to Syn and he got an up close and personal view of the fine specimen. Goddamn, he smelled good too. Day pointed at him. “Detective Johnson. This is Sergeant Corbin Sydney. He just came on last week. Damn good Detective. Syn. This is Detective Johnson, our ballistics expert. You and he should get acquainted, you’ll be working with him whenever we need weapons forensics. He’s not officially on our team. Instead he chooses to spread his wisdom around to multiple precincts,” Day informed him.