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I throw my towel over my shoulder and walk into the gym, water bottle in hand. The only thing in my world that helps me out when I’m thinking too much is a good gym session. I’m one of those gym junkies that could just spend hours here, purely for the atmosphere. The gym I attend is only three blocks from my apartment, so I can get up in the morning and walk down here, do a workout, and walk home. The days I have Jayden, I go just before I pick him up from daycare.
It’s a win-win, really.
I step inside “Bodeez” and immediately the music and lights wake me all the way up. It’s only six am, so there aren’t a great deal of people here, which makes it even better. The music is always playing, the atmosphere is always great, and I can’t get enough of the place. They know me well now and, when I walk past the front counter, the owner, Tom, smiles at me and gives me a big wave.
He’s bigger than the building itself—okay, slight overreaction—but the man is a body builder and holy shit he is intimidating when you’re up close to him. Still, he’s dedicated and seriously the nicest guy ever. He’s always friendly and always up to give someone a helping hand when they’re not sure what they’re doing. I like that about him; he isn’t walking around flaunting himself, he’s walking around bettering everyone else.
“Morning, Tom!” I say, “You can tell winter is starting to roll in, huh?”
He laughs. “You’re telling me. I can’t wait for the heating bill when I have to warm this place up.”
I grin at him and keep walking to the locker room where I find my locker and put my phone and keys inside, then I take my water bottle and my towel and go to the large room that holds all the treadmills, cycling, rowing, step machines, and a range of a few other great things to get your workout on. They have two other rooms, also. One heavy lifting room, and one with a general range of weight benches for a full body work out.
I find a treadmill, plug my earphones in, and get cracking on a true crime podcast as I start my work for the day. True crime continually reminds me why I do the job I do, why I choose to work so tirelessly without appreciation. I want to be there one day, to investigate, to bring the horrible people of the world down and do my best to make everything right again. That’s my goal, my dream, and the reason I keep fighting.
I’m midway through my run when I catch a side glance of a man coming into the room. The moment I recognize him, I jerk my earphones out, and in a panting voice, say, “You come to this gym?”
Kendric, who looks incredibly gorgeous in a black tank, a pair of light shorts and running shoes, gives me a look that tells me he’s not at all impressed with the fact that he’s seeing me in here. Being that I’ve never seen him around before, I’m guessing he’s new.
“I live two blocks down, closest gym I could find.”
He lives nearby? I didn’t know that.
“It’s a good gym,” I try to say, my voice a little puffed out. “You’ll like it here. I didn’t know you were the gym type.”
“Did you think I got muscles like this from layin’ around fuckin’ all day?” he mutters, stepping onto a treadmill and pressing the buttons.
I notice he picked a treadmill three away from mine.
He really doesn’t like me.
I choose not to answer his sarcastic little remark and decide to go for a different tactic. “Thank you for the other night. I really appreciate it.”
“Yeah.”
Wow.
“Has Alarick heard anything more about the case?”
“Why don’t you fuckin’ ask him, Zariah? I’m not here to chat with you, I’m here to switch my god damned fuckin’ mind off so I don’t drown in my thoughts. Wanna let me do that?”
He gives me a look so harsh I stop running and just stare at him, anger bubbling in my chest. “You know, you don’t need to be such a fucking dick to me, Kendric. I know you hate me, I know what I did was wrong, but I’m trying to help you.”
“Are you? Or are you just trying to clear your conscience so you don’t have to live with the guilt if I go down?”
Jesus, he really isn’t happy today.
I turn back to the front of the treadmill and start jogging again, shoving my earphones angrily into my ears before I say something I’ll regret.
I finish my workout, avoiding any room Kendric is in, and then go to the locker room to shower and get changed for my long ass day at work. I’ve just finished showering and have put my pants and bra on when the door opens and Kendric walks in, sweaty and panting, looking so damned good I find it very hard not to stare at him. I don’t, though, I just keep dressing myself.
“You fall when you were drunk?”
I look to him, confused. “What?”
“Did you fall when you were drunk?”
“I don’t ...”
He points, and I look down to see a green bruise by my ribs. I didn’t realize it was there, but I know right away what it’s from. Reece. I quickly pull my shirt over my head and shrug. “Probably.”
“I didn’t see you fall,” he murmurs, wiping the towel over his face in a way that makes him look so god damned sexy. I wish he’d stop doing that, like right now.
“Well, I probably did.”
“Looks like finger marks. Someone hurt you? Was it that fuckin’ douchebag who came past when I was there? You got a problem, you call the club and we’ll sort it out.”
“Oh, really?” I mutter, jerking my shirt down as if tugging it will stretch it ever further over my body to cover the scars I hold there. “Seems to me the club doesn’t trust me; they don’t want me involved and yet you’re telling me I could just turn to them? I doubt that.”
He tips his head to the side, pinning me with a gaze that has my skin prickling—in a really, really good way. “You might not like how Alarick does things, hell, you might not like how it fuckin’ goes down sometimes, but the fact of the matter is they’d have your back, cop or not, and you know it.”
Do I know it?
I don’t know.
What I do know is that this conversation is getting a little too deep and a little too sore for my liking.
“I have to go to work.”
I turn and grab my things, my heart a little heavier in my chest than it was a moment ago.
Then I get the hell out of there.
There are enough questions going on in my life right now.
I simply don’t need anymore.
~*~*~*~
“ZARIAH, IS IT?”
I look up from the mountains of paperwork I’m slowly sifting through on my desk to see none other than Steven Blanche standing in the doorway. For a moment, I’m completely stunned. He works around here, but an average cop like me doesn’t get to interact with him. Occasionally we’re sent to do jobs for him, but he’s the highest officer here and an investigator. He doesn’t talk to people, especially people like me.
“Ah, yes,” I say, immediately straightening.
Steven Blanche, also known as Bull, is a hell of an investigator. He’s well known throughout the state and is often called into different cities for his expertise. He has taken down some of the most prolific killers, including infamous serial killers. He is well sought after and basically a hero to anyone in the field wanting to be what he is—which is me.
When Alarick told me they had suspicions that he’s involved with the selling of girls, Dax and Peter, I didn’t believe him. I just can’t see how someone who is so incredibly talented and smart, who brings bad people down for a living, would be interested in risking everything he’s likely spent half of his life working for, to help someone like Dax, Peter, and whoever else is involved in this horrible case.
“I’ve heard quite a bit about you. I’m working on a case right now, and I’m in need of an extra few pairs of hands. Are you interested?”
Wait, what?
He wants me to help him? He doesn’t even know me. There are at least twenty officers in this place that would literally fight each other to be put on one of his cases. He rarely gets the help of other officers; he’s usually a one man show and he’s bloody good at it. Why he’d come in here, and pick me, I don’t know.
“You want me to help you? May I ask why?”
It’s a stupid question, I should be jumping at the chance considering this is something I’ve wanted since I became a cop. Working with him will be a leg up and put me exactly where I need to be, so risking losing it by asking questions is plain old stupid but I can’t help but wonder why he’d be wanting my help.
“I’ve heard you’ve been looking into the investigation field and want to expand your horizons. I’m looking to take a couple of students, so to speak, under my wing.”
I’m going to hyperventilate.
“And you picked me?” I squeak, and then cover my mouth, horrified that I sound so god damned pathetic. I quickly try to cover it up. “I’m sorry, I’m a really big fan, and I’m in a little bit of shock right now.”
He grins and, when he does, it transforms his whole face. Steven “Bull” Blanche is a good looking man, which helps his cases in a big way. People want to talk to him, women especially. He’s got the kind of face that should be on a magazine cover—come to think of it, I’m fairly certain it has been once or twice.
He’s got this chiseled jaw line with large brown eyes framed by thick lashes. His skin is a soft olive and he’s always sporting a five o’clock shadow which gives him a slightly rugged edge. His hair is always cropped short and neat. He’s tall, yet well-built and lean. He actually reminds me of the actor that plays Lucifer on that new show that I may, or may not, have binged watched. You know, dreams of being a detective and what not.
He has a slight accent; I can’t pick where it’s from, though. A quick background search would tell me his origin.
“You should hold yourself in higher regard, Zariah. I’ve been told great things about you.”
By who? I want to sputter, but I don’t.
Nobody here likes me, most of the men treat me like crap because I’m a woman. The other female cops in the station are older and mostly retired. I’m the only young one who is looking to climb up the ladder. I don’t know who would have put my name forward.
“I hope you don’t mind me asking who put my name forward? Because as I’m sure you can probably imagine, being a young cop, a young woman cop, doesn’t always make things easy around here.”
Blanche leans down on my desk, getting in a little closer, so I can smell his very masculine aftershave. “I have my methods. Let’s just say I don’t ask the other police officers who they think should suit, they’ll always tell me themselves. I ask the other people, the ones who are always watching but nobody notices. The receptionists, the cleaners, the janitors ...”
Proving just how smart he is.
“Your receptionist said you’re the nicest person here and always bring her lunch, even when you’re so busy you don’t get to eat your own.”
My heart swells. I love Jacey at the front desk; she’s so nice and she works so many hours. On my way to work each day, I go past a deli and I always pick her up her favorite turkey sandwich. I did this because one day I saw her faint because of hunger, because our stupid boss wouldn’t let her go on a lunch break. I wasn’t going to let that happen again, so I make sure every day she has something to eat, even if she can’t leave her desk.
“The cleaners, two, in particular, said you always clean your office and empty your trash, like you’re trying to make their job a little easier. They also told me every Friday you leave them a bottle of wine each on your desk.”
I’m probably going to cry in a minute.
That’s true, the two cleaners, older ladies, named Betty and Muriel, are always so nice to me and, as with everyone else female around here, they don’t get treated the same. They’re working hard and they’re most certainly underpaid. I like to know that I can help them out by doing my bit, and everyone deserves to go home on a Friday night to a nice glass of wine.
“The janitor said that when he’s in here on a weekend, you always bring him a muffin from the local bakery and tell him that you won’t tell if he eats it in the supply closet.”
I laugh. Old Jake. He’s so nice and does all the repairs and harder work around the office. He’s only in on the weekends when the two cleaning ladies aren’t here, and he’s quiet and sweet. He’s such a nice man and reminds me of my grandfather, so I like to give him a treat.
I swallow the lump in my throat.
“Those are the kinds of people I want working for me, the people who selflessly help others over themselves. All the other officers might tell me they’ve got the most experience and the most knowledge, but they’re not who I want on my team.”
Sweet Jesus.
It’s a damned miracle.
“So, would you like to work this case with me?”
Would I?
Sweet lord, yes.
I know I’m taking on a lot, being that I’m secretly helping Alarick find Dax, but I can fit in this, too.
“I’d love to, I really would.”
He grins and stands up straight. “Wonderful, I’ll be getting permission from your boss to take you for the next month or two. We’ll be working here, but you’ll be relieved of all your other duties during that time. This will go very well for you stepping up into a higher role, Zariah. Congratulations.”
I’m going to cry.
No, no I’m not.
“Thank you so much, it’s an absolute honor.”
He smiles and then tells me he’ll be in touch.
With that, he leaves.
And my whole world is changed forever.