Page 1 of Stolen

SynTanner’schest burned as he tossed back his shot of gin. He gulped it down despite the tang on his taste buds. He tapped his fingertips furiously on the bar.

“Another,” he grunted. His eyes were glazed over, the sign that his mind had ventured away from his body, leaving the two of them disconnected. He hated this feeling. It was an ache that drove anger throughout his body. An ache that made his head pound with desperation. Another shot. He just needed another shot. It numbed the ache. He needed to numb the ache.

“You doing alright, Deputy?” The bartender pushed another shot glass towards SynTanner.

“I already told you not to call me that,” SynTanner all but growled.

“I know what you said. But I just don’t give a fuck.” SynTanner looked at the bartender. The man had just turned 30. The luxury bar had belonged to his father and he had readily stepped up to take over ownership.

“Because of a certain deputy, I’m alive now to continue my father’s legacy. I’ll always respect the title you worked hard to earn. To me, that’s who you’ll always be whether you quit the police force or not.”

“I didn’t quit. I got discharged,” SynTanner sneered. Discharged.

“Actually, not just discharged. What do they call it? Taking leave for psychological reasons. Medical leave? Bull—fucking—shit,” SynTanner drown himself in another shot. His chest burned even more. Still, the burn made his body pulse with joy. That kind of pain felt good.

“I don’t understand why you’re so fucked up about it. SynTanner you went through hell on your last assignment. So what? You’re struggling with PTSD and you gotta take off work. You’ve done your part as a detective. You don’t owe anyone shit. It’s time you start taking care of yourself.”

“What do you know about how I should feel about losing my job? This is my entire life. Now people are looking at me like some fucked up reject that has nightmares.” SynTanner gripped the small shot glass. He squeezed it so tight, the glass cracked under his grip.

“Whoa. Relax Deputy.” He reached forward and pried the glass from SynTanner’s grip.

“Deputy,” SynTanner looked up at him.

“What, Ryder?” SynTanner snarled.

“Stop throwing yourself a fucking pity party. You always talk to me like you’re my father and I get that. You’re wiser and definitely smarter than me. You’re the first officer to ever make detective at your age and then be promoted to deputy just as easy and now you’re the Deputy police chief. And you know what I always say, go beyond that and become the Sheriff of the whole damn county. You’re not 65. Your career is not over. You’re only 36. You’re getting kicked in the ass right now with all the decks stacked against you, but pick yourself the fuck up and do what you have to do. You’ve got many years of police work left. That’s if you don’t get in your own fucking way. A drink now and again ain’t never hurt nobody Deputy. But you’re tryna fix those problems with liquor. Trust me. I know that liquor don’t fucking work. Find a better way.” Ryder never broke eye contact with SynTanner. Everything he said, he’d meant with every fiber of his being. Yes, they were close in age. So why did SynTanner feel like his life was over the moment he was put on the shelf?

“You truly are the only person I ever let talk to me like that,” SynTanner finally spoke. His voice gravelly.

“Oh, I know. And I make sure to take full advantage.” Ryder tapped the bar.

“I gotta go do some paperwork. As always, everything you order is on the house. I already alerted the kitchen to get you some dinner. Samantha should be bringing it up soon. You’re gonna be alright?” Ryder asked.

“I’ll be good. And I told you, I can pay,” SynTanner said.

“With what? You’ve got no job,” Ryder teased. Sensing SynTanner wouldn’t take his joke well, Ryder jumped back as SynTanner tried to snatch him up over the bar. Ryder leapt out of the way, laughing as he disappeared behind the wall behind the bar to ascend the stars SynTanner knew led to a large upstairs office.

“Asshole,” SynTanner coughed. Even still, a faint smile brushed the corner of his lips. The gesture felt foreign and unnatural. Damn. When was the last time he smiled? The thumping in his head slowed, and the ache emanating from his heart seemed to smooth out. Was it the liquor? Was it the smile? Truthfully, for two years he’d had nothing to smile about.

“You’re one crazy muthafucker,” SynTanner scolded himself.

“You don’t look so crazy from where I’m standing.” SynTanner didn’t turn around nor did he allow his body to move an inch. Being a detective had forced him into certain habits. He hadn’t moved, but he was fully aware of the woman standing behind him. The crowd in the bar wasn’t thick. This place wasn’t the normal hole in the wall bar. This place was for the elite and everyone in this place was dressed to a tee.

“Looks can be deceiving,” SynTanner replied, still not looking at her. He felt the woman move closer to him. Even though he wasn’t on the force at the present moment, he did have license to carry and he did have a right to defend himself. He’d learned not to trust anyone. Female or not.

“Tell me about it.” She sighed softly. Her voice was so tender, SynTanner was fighting not to be distracted. A woman that spoke so softly was no doubt innocent. That’s what his mind was telling him. Still, he didn’t let that distract him.

She held onto the bar and slid onto a bar stool. The moment let a waft of her perfume fly at his nose. Sweet. Soft. Light. What was it? Lavender? Damn. She smells good.

“I’ve never seen you here before,” she whispered. SynTanner didn’t know how to respond. What was this woman doing? Flirting with him?

“Listen—lady, I’m not sure what you—” SynTanner finally turned to look at the woman and found himself frozen. Thick, kinky hair flowed down her shoulders and down her back in waves as if she’s just freshly curled her hair. A side part left half her face hidden by wavy curls, but SynTanner knew exactly what he was looking at. The coolness of her honeyed complexion made him want to reach out and touch her smooth face. Thick lips adorned with the perfect sheer of red lipstick made SynTanner gulp. Even with lipstick on, he would kiss those lips. He loved the way her lip stick matched the red strapless dress that molded to her body. She was a little more exposed than he liked his women, but he had to appreciate her body.

“What were you saying?” she asked softly. SynTanner shook his head.

“I was gonna ask you what you want,” SynTanner cleared his throat.

“I—do you think I want something?” she asked, raising a brow. She ran her hand through her long tresses and brought some of it forward to cascade down her breast.

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