Page 39 of Shadows of Justice

I peer around the space, the converted warehouse providing a copious amount of room for the open concept. An impressive kitchen that appears fully-stocked wafts delicious smells into the air, and I spot a pot of something on the stove simmering. Separated from the kitchen by a dark wood and glass dining table, the artfully decorated living room is the main attraction. A modern, hand-blown glass chandelier hangs down into the belly of the room. Leather couches frame the fireplace and are staged towards a massive flat screen television perched on the wall. On either side of the TV are three-story high windows, showing a pleasing view of the LA skyline and the city stretching for miles in every direction. The sun has started to set, and an orange glow is cast over the beautiful space, warming my cold insides.

It’s masculine, but warm. Modern, but still somehow homey.

I go to a window and peer out, the darkened glass allowing enough light in to be enjoyable but are, no doubt, not see-through from the outside. I look out at the city—my city—the one I’ve sworn to protect. I’ve always felt a sense of pride being an LA cop. Always taken it seriously to wear my uniform. Have I changed too much? Or only the parts of me that were most important to make this job work?

I wish I could talk to Collette. I feel like she would be able to tell me the right thing to do.

I startle as a glass mug of translucent liquid is brought over my shoulder and held in front of my face.

“Perdón,” Leo says when he notices me jump, his chocolate gaze lit ablaze by the setting sun. He looks almost regal cast in this light. His caramel skin is liquid shimmering gold, dark hair in wet ringlets, fresh from a shower. He chuckles, throaty and deep. “I am always scaring you without trying to.”

“It’s all right. It’s not you. It’s been . . . a day.”

“Sí. I called to you twice from the kitchen. You were lost in thought. Maybe tea will help.”

I nod and take the steaming mug gratefully. Despite the temperatures outside brushing the triple digits, I’m chilled. Leo holds his own mug and leans an arm against the window, peering out towards the city. He’s so calm, so coolheaded. I wish I could have even a semblance of that.

“Aren’t you going to ask me what my captain said?”

He turns his head to look at me. “You will tell me when you’re ready.”

“Well, there’s nothing to be ready for. It’s over. They don’t believe me. Respect me. I’d be surprised if I even still have a job after today.” I turn from him and go sit on the couch, hanging my throbbing head in my hands. Tears burn behind my eyes but I’m so exhausted, so I breathe deeply to not cry again.

“This is my fault,” Leo says. I look up quickly.

“No, it isn’t,” I say, a bite in my tone. “Believe me, I would love to blame you. But it’s no one’s fault but my own. That and being born to the biggest asshole in the history of Pasadena PD.”

Leo’s expression grows dark as he comes away from the window to stand in front of me. “You mean your father—the chief?”

I nod. Kind of handy, being researched beforehand. Gets all the pesky small talk out of the way.

“He has to be behind this—probably muscling Jennings into submission about me. My dad would die before he’d ever be supportive about anything in my life. He never has been.” I can feel the slight snarl of my lip just at the thought of my father. “Why can’t he just tell me I’m doing good, pat me on the back, buy me a fucking succulent and call it a day?”

Leo’s dark brows draw together in confusion, looking purely adorable.

“A succulent?” he asks, and I have to hold in my snicker at the way he pronounces the word—like it tastes gross.

“Yeah, you know, those low-maintenance plants that are super cheap that you give to someone to put at their desk or their office as a nice thing to do. A gesture.”

“You want your father to buy you plants? This would make you happy?”

My lips quirk. “No, I just meant the thought would be nice. If he could have just been like other dads, sometimes I wonder how I would have turned out.”

I sip the tea, an exotic, spicy flavor filling my mouth. It’s absolutely delicious.

If Leo were a tea . . .

“It gets better,” I say, and his gaze sharpens. “The FBI is watching you. Specifically, my ex. He’s a real prize, and a fucking bloodhound on the scent. They’re comprising a file of our growing activity together.”

Leo scoffs, waving nonchalantly. “I hope you blew him off. They don’t have shit. Just trying to scare you.”

“Oh?” I say, cocking my head. “So you’re not camping outside my apartment every night?”

He stills, and for the first time, I see Leo appear scared shitless. He’s seems to be speechless, starting to talk and then deciding against it.

“You have . . . interesting exes,” he finally bites out, the muscles in his jaw flexing.

“This is about Tim?”

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