Page 79 of Drilled

Nancy hummed, raising her eyebrows. “That sounds almost sadistic. I love it.”

“That’s why I love making plans with you,” I said, picking up my cream cheese-slathered bagel. “You appreciate the creativity.”

We indulged in half an hour of scheming before we made our way back to the Daley. It was early afternoon when a thick, Courier-stamped manila envelope made its way across my desk with “CONFIDENTIAL: ISP LABS” slapped across the front.

It was the result for Dax’s labs.

I reached inside, taking a deep breath. Inside was the crisp, multi-page forensic print analysis I’d been thinking about for the last few days. I combed through it thoroughly, ending at the bolded data table summary which read Latent prints recovered: 0match suspect.

I cheered like an idiot in my empty office, and once I realized what I was doing I stopped instantly and ran to the door to check for eavesdroppers. I was spending way too much time with Sy.

But this was fantastic news, made only better when I received a secure, encrypted email ping from Nance containing a scanned, notarized affidavit. She’d squeezed a local street-level lookout who owed her a favor because of course he did. He sang like a canary after she threatened to hand his name to vice cops for an outstanding warrant unless he signed the true statement; he saw a rival dealer slip the baggie into Dax’s pocket during the raid.

There were truly some moments in life when everything just seemed to go right. The weather had even started to clear up a little, I was set to finish earlier today, and now all the moving pieces of Dax’s case had been locked down. This would be a sweep and I couldn’t wait to hit the prosecutor with it later during the meeting.

And I couldn’t wait to go home and celebrate.

*

“No prints on the baggie and an eyewitness who puts the drugs in someone else’s hands. Drop it, Carl,” I said, tapping the print report and witness statement affectionately.

Carl sighed, rubbing his eyes. “You’re bleeding me dry, Lane. Give me twenty-four hours to verify the witness.”

The cramped, windowless office that served as our meeting venue was stacked high with messy case files and the smell of stale coffee. There was no way in hell he’d get around to this in a day. I pressed down on the bruise.

“You have five minutes before I file a motion to dismiss with prejudice and embarrass your office in front of the judge,” I said calmly.

He glowered at me and tugged at his tie to loosen it. Then he pulled a file and signed the form like a good boy. “Done, charges dropped. Get out of my office.”

“It’s always great to see you,” I said sweetly, taking my things off the desk.

*

I was riding the train home and enjoying the feeling of getting to go home early when a thought popped into my head. I couldn’t wait any longer to tell Dax the news, so I fished out my phone and made the call.

He answered on the first ring.

“Whittaker. Please tell me you’re not still at the courthouse.” His voice was low and gravelly, contrasting against the heavy roar and metallic screen of the L. It was oddly comforting, more so than the regular commute lullaby I’d grown accustomed to.

I smiled against the train window. “I’m on my way home, actually. And you're a free man, Miller. All the charges have been completely dropped.”

There was a long silence and I wondered briefly if he was still on the line. Then I heard his shaky exhale, the sound of a man letting a heavy burden fall from his shoulders. “Jesus, Red. You actually did it.”

The vulnerability in those words caused a protective surge in my heart.

“Of course I did. I always protect my own,” I said.

“Is that so?” Dax asked. Now his voice had dropped to a rough, intimate murmur that already tied my stomach up in knots. “Get your ass home then. I owe you a thank you and I’m not doing it over the phone.”

“Make it worth my time,” I shot back, then hung up.

The train ride suddenly felt exponentially longer than it usually did. And to my shock or horror or maybe a combination of both, I realized that the ride home was no longer the highlight of my day because of the peace. It was now my favorite part of the day because it brought me home to these men who had each claimed a stake in my heart. All three of them, in three unique ways. I’d never felt richer.

I was still buzzing with excitement when I nearly bumped into Sandy on the main landing. He smelled of cheap cologne and wool, and even though I wanted nothing more than to go straight to my guys, I knew I had to do this first.

I straightened my blazer and cleared my throat. “Sandy. If you have a moment…”

“I have absolutely nothing to say to you,” he said with contempt, his sneering face drawn up. My presence must’ve been so repulsive that it changed his course because instead of moving past me like he initially intended, he stormed back up the stairs to his unit.