The lobby was bustling with busy police officers, and Morgan sat quietly for as long as possible. It killed him that secrets were being unraveled upstairs, and he wasn’t there to listen in, but given the circumstances he understood. That didn’t mean he had to like it.
The wait was torture. Every time the door swung open and a cold blast of air swept over his legs, Morgan jolted his head to one side. He hoped to see Erika Givens in handcuffs, being dragged through the precinct, screaming like a banshee. It came from the other side too; every swing of the gate that led to the back offices pricked his ears. He’d never felt so unlike himself, and although he longed to find the answers to some of his questions, he knew Rachel and their baby were waiting at home for him.
He had to give in.
An hour had turned into two, and two had become sundown. There was only so long he could sit and wait for something that might not even happen, so Morgan headed outside into the cool air, which he found shockingly refreshing for a change. It was like being struck with a blast of caffeine, his eyes opening wide immediately.
But the wait didn’t end there: he needed a cab.
Morgan pulled out his phone to make the call. He swiped his thumb up the screen as he scrolled through the competing cab companies, trying to decide which one was more likely to be trustworthy. Unfortunately, every one of them only had two-star ratings.
“Damnit,” he muttered.
“Something wrong?”
Morgan turned to the voice, having to do a double take when he saw Mason Black beside him. It occurred to him this was the first time he’d seen him standing up, and although Mason had a wider chest and muscles that breached the hem of his borrowed clothes, they were of equal height. It went to show how easily one could be fooled by illusions.
“Uh… just needed a cab.”
“Maybe we can share one.”
“Where are you going?”
Mason shrugged, grinding his jaw from side to side and looking up the street. “No idea. They won’t let me have my car back. Not yet anyway.”
“Why not?”
“Psycho Bitch drove it, so they’re taking it into evidence.”
Morgan nodded understanding. In truth, he was surprised it took him this long to realize that it wouldn’t be as simple as grabbing his keys and heading home. “Right. Makes sense. There’s bound to be a hotel or something nearby.”
“Bound to be.”
They stood in silence, waiting for a car that hadn’t even been summoned yet. Morgan kept his eyes down, staring at the phone in his hand but not really using it. All he could think of was how awkward it was to be at this man’s side. It wasn’t until now that he put it down to a sense of inferiority—Mason Black had survived the most exciting and illustrious of careers, whereas Morgan felt like he’d barely skimmed through a couple of tough cases. If there was ever a way to feel like less of a man, this was it.
“Planning on calling that cab anytime soon?” Mason said. “It’s freezing.”
“Yeah, sorry. I…”
Then it struck him. He wasn’t less of a man at all. Hell, he wasn’t anything but competent, and with competency there had to come confidence. “You know what? I don’t want to share anything with you. I stuck my neck out to get you home safe, and the least you could do is show me a little appreciation. You can make out you’re the tough, gruff detective all the livelong day, but next time you’re in an interview room brooding, remember me as the reason you’re still alive.”
Mason reeled back, apparently as shocked as Morgan was. “Whoa, easy now.”
“Sorry. It just pisses me off that you can be so cold about it.”
“And you want gratitude.”
“Yes, I do.”
Mason watched him with assessing eyes that were too glazed over to offer empathy. Finally, when he spoke, he at least offered something. “Okay, I get that. I might not seem it, but I really am grateful. Tell you what—let me buy you a beer.”
“I don’t drink,” Morgan lied, desperately craving a bottle of red.
“Well, now you do.”
The next thing Morgan felt was a hard, viselike grip on his shoulder. It dug in deep, but he kept himself from yelping and allowed himself to be escorted across the street by Mason, the man who—in spite of their equal height—seemed five feet taller all of a sudden. All the while, Morgan kept his mouth shut, regretting having ever opened his mouth.
An old saying sprung to mind.
Be careful what you wish for.