Page 1 of He Sees You

ONE

SNOW

DEREK

Goddamn it. It’s snowing again.

Anywhere other than Springfield, the light snowfall might be pretty, but the white flakes are a dingy grey almost as soon as they hit the asphalt in a city like this one. It tries its best to be festive, though, especially in the downtown area where I’ve been patrolling lately.

There are lights up all over the place. Red ribbons are tied around the lampposts on Main except for where some punk kids have yanked them down, with the shops all showing off the last of their holiday sales. The countdown to Christmas is on, and despite the slush, the streets are filled with last minute shoppers trying to get the best bargains with only a handful of days left ‘til the actual holiday.

And cops. The streets are absolutely teeming with cops this afternoon.

That’s why I’m standing on this particular corner where my boss put me, currently blowing on my raw hands as I curse under my breath for forgetting the winter gloves that go with my uniform. It’s cold as fuck out, but not so cold to chase away thesnow, I guess. The wind whips the tiny bits of ice into my face as I turn toward the coffee shop at my back, searching for my mentor.

As the rookie, with only six months as part of the Springfield Police Department under my belt so far, going on a coffee run is usually my job. But when my fellow officer can use the excuse to take ten inside the warmth of the shop instead of getting snowed on, he ‘insisted’ on grabbing some for us both while leaving me outside.

I’d offered to head in with him. He’s technically my trainer until Sarge releases him from that duty, so I should go in there, too, right? Fat chance. With Springfield on high alert these days after a recent slew of high-profile hits, it isn’t worth getting chewed out to leave my post without a superior officer’s say so.

Everyone knows this city has a problem with organized crime. The vice mayor getting whacked is only the latest in a bunch of murders that have gripped the city this past year, but since I was a kid at Springfield High, we’ve all known about the gangs, mafias, and syndicates that rule the city. Either you join up and fall in line, or you accept that they control every little detail about living in Springfield.

There was also a third option, one that I settled on after so many years of watching the Sinners and the Dragonflies make out like bandits while I jumped from one job—and one woman—to the next.

I was tired of that shit. I wanted to be the man on top. I wanted a woman for more than a night. Where’s Derek’s fucking happy-ever-after, right?

And that’s when it hit me. Altruistic fool that I was, I could help clean up the city, find a girl I could be worthy of, maybe even get one of those tiny little houses on the edge of Springfield where they have white picket fences and the local gangsters aren’t as powerful as they are in their individual strongholds.

I’d be a fucking cop and beuntouchable.

That was my plan around this time last Christmas. When I first enrolled at the academy in the new year, deciding that becoming a rookie police officer at the ripe old age of thirty was my latest calling after a lifetime in other protector gigs like bouncing and being mall security, I was honestly optimistic enough to think that I could make a difference. With Derek Coleman on the force, I could try to knock Devil Crewes and his Sinners Syndicate down a peg, maybe even target Damien Libellula and his Family once I was done cleaning up the streets on the West Side.

Yeah, right. That laughable naivety lasted until my first bribe within a week of buddying up with my mentor, when he showed me just how lucrative it could be to keep the mafias’ interests in mind as I patrolled the city.

Add that to all the other lessons I’d learned as he trained me and, yeah. Cops in Springfield are either on the take or they’re dead. No two ways about it. Protect the civilians as best you can, go after the crooks that aren’t paying you, and if you’re a little crooked, just remember that it could always be worse. You could be irredeemably corrupt, instead of just a little… questionable. You could use your power and privilege to hurt people instead of watching out for them while also watching out for yourself.

See, I’m not a bad man. At least, I don’tthinkI am. I line my pockets when I can, and I look the other way as Devil brings in his guns, Libellula runs his drugs, all while keeping the innocent civilians out of it.

All, that is, except one… who, despite not being involved with the local mafias as far as I can tell, is nowhere near as innocent as her pretty brown eyes and strawberry blonde hair would suggest.

Thinking of my Dove usually sends all my blood rushing south. The memory of her hesitant smile the first timewe met under pretty shitty circumstances, the look of utter concentration that twists her gorgeous features before she snaps another one of her pictures, how she snuffles and snores in a sleep so deep, she has no clue that I’m even there… just thinking of my pretty girl gets me so hard sometimes, I’d fuck through a wall to get to her if I could.

Does it matter that she doesn’t even know I exist? That, though we only spoke to each other once, I’ve spent the last six months waiting as patiently as I fucking could until I can finally claim her as mine?

Not if you ask my mentor.

Too bad that not even momentarily closing my eyes and remembering what Dove’s delectable curves look like without a stitch of clothing on isn’t enough to ward off this evening’s chill. I’ve only got another couple of hours to go on my shift, but considering I’ll be outside even after that, I’m not looking forward to the temperature dropping further.

Shit. My work shoes are designed for long hours on the beat, but not when the temperature is well below freezing. I’ve lost feeling in my toes. Stamping my feet, trying to get some warmth back, I’m counting down the moments until I can be warm inside of a nice, cozy bedroom.

Sure, it’s notmybedroom, but that’s what makes the idea of it so damn cozy—and the hours between now and then fuckingendless.

Just when I’m ready to say ‘fuck it’ and step inside the nearby deli for a second to thaw out, a bump against my shoulder has me whipping my head around.

I see the devilish smirk first, the cup of steaming coffee he’s holding out to me next.

“For you, rook.”

“Thanks, Burns. Appreciate it.”

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