Page 50 of Broken Boss

“It’s more of a personal problem I’m dealing with. You know I like to keep work and home life?—”

“Separate,” she says dryly. “I know. Well, whatever it is, try to maintain a balance for now. You can’t let it get the better of you with a case like this going on.”

I mumble in agreement, annoyed with myself. We hang up and I sit back, musing over Cheryl’s advice.

She’s right; it’s not as if I haven’t juggled a few disgusting, gut-wrenching cases over the years. But I’ve always done it well and handled it professionally.

What’s different this time?

Personal.

It’s getting personal. Makes sense, since my mind has been on Autumn all day—mostly on the way she’s been ignoring me around the office. Avoiding me, even.

As if I haven’t seen her dip down a different hallway when I’m coming.

Frustratingly, Marty is doing the exact opposite. Less than a year now to choose who I’ll have as my partner. My chest aches with the thought of the decision.

With a glance at the clock, I realize just how late it is and get down to business. An hour left before I head out and pick Autumn up in a far corner of the garage. Her idea, which I don’t like, because even with security, I’m not convinced that Kieran couldn’t get into the garage if he wanted to.

With a sigh, I dial the detective’s number and pull up my schedule for the rest of the week.

Five thirty comes quickly.

I pull the car around a corner and idle, the hum of the engine almost calming when I don’t see her right away.

But then she steps out of the shadows. Long, thick legs in a mid-length wine-colored dress. Gray cardigan over the top to make it more work appropriate, but as Autumn approaches the car, my eyes track the movement of her curves.

She gets in, shuts the door, and takes a deep breath.

Shit. Something big is coming.

“I need you to do me a favor,” she says, looking over at me. Her eyes are heavy lidded, her voice quiet and almost meek.

“Anything.”

It’s out of my mouth before I can stop it. My jaw flexes. I don’t need her knowing just how bad I have it. It might only push her further away.

Autumn blinks, her expression softening. But there’s still a tense atmosphere in the car as I let off the brake and roll toward the exit.

“I need a ride to Fishkill tomorrow morning.”

The garage gate goes up, but my car doesn’t move.

I stare across the center console at her.

She’s not looking at me now, but I see her swallow nervously. “Are we going?” she asks, eyes darting in my direction.

A horn sounds behind us. The gate starts to rumble and I hit the gas, jerking us out into the street.

“Fishkill. You mean the prison.”

It’s an old prison, built back in the ’70s. A lot of original buildings. Multi-level security.

“For a case?”

We both know that I know what caseload Autumn and the rest of my senior associates are working with. There’s no one on her roster that would bring her to Fishkill Correctional Facility.

She shakes her head and lets out a short exhausted sigh. “Chris, you can take me or not, but I need you…I need you to not ask questions about this.” Her expression looks pained. Like she’s agonizing over something. “I’m sorry. I can’t tell you more than that.”

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