Page 4 of He Sees You

I’m working right up to Christmas Eve. Surprisingly, I have that day off, all of Christmas, and a late shift on the twenty-sixth. As the rook, I expected to have all the shit shifts, but after Iworked a double on Thanksgiving to cover for some of the other guys, I guess I got lucky.

And then I realize that we’ve made it five minutes over the end of our shift with Burns still going on foot, nowhere in the direction of where we parked our cruiser before doing our beat around the hustling, bustling downtown area.

I tap my watch. “Ready to call it, Burns?”

He gives me a crooked grin. “Right. Almost forgot. Your plans.”

Exactly. “That and I lost the feeling in my toes two damn hours ago.”

“You get used to it.”

I doubt it. Then, waiting until Burns picks up his pace, turning back so that we are heading toward the police car now, I ask, “What about you? Christmas is in less than a week. Got big plans for you and the wife tonight?”

“I wish. It’s just me and my hand for the next couple of days.”

I raise my eyebrows. After everything I’ve learned about my mentor, even spending a single night away from his bride is a no-go for Burns. “Really? Everything okay with you two?”

“Fucking perfect,” is his response. “It’s just Angela is visiting her folks for a couple of days. She’ll be home on Christmas, but since I’ll be around, I signed up to take the Christmas Eve shift in your place.” He bumps my shoulder. “Maybe Christmas will come early for you, rook. If I can’t get laid, maybe you can.”

Echoing Burns, I think:I wish. It’s nice that he’s covering for me—and since Burns doesn’t do nice, I’m sure I’ll pay for it later somehow—but that doesn’t explain why he seems surprisingly okay with working for part of the holiday instead of joining his wife and in-laws for Christmas Eve.

“Won’t you be going with her?” I ask.

“I wasn’t invited.” He shrugs. “I make her parents uncomfortable.”

Yeah… before I knew that Burns was as twisted as I am when it comes to fixating on the one woman we want, he mademeuncomfortable, too. Probably because I recognized something in him that reminded me of myself, and I was still trying to convince myself I was a decent guy and could be a good cop.

Now I’m a guy with a healthier bank account, a solid position as a member of the SPD who moonlights as one of the Sinners Syndicate’s hired badges, and the dedication to take a complicated photographer andkeepher…

“Besides,” he adds, “it’s nice to see how much my angel misses me while I’m gone.” Amusement flickers in his dark blue eyes. “Not that I’m ever far away.”

I give him a questioning look. I think I get it, but… with Burns, it’s better to clarify. He’s taking my shift. If he drives all night to stand outside his wife’s parents’ house and misses it, that might getmyass in the sling with Sarge.

Burns grins. “Last time she brought me home with her, I installed a couple of cameras in her childhood bedroom for situations just like this,” he explains, and I get it. “The same model I told you about. Angela knows they’re in there somewhere, but even she can’t find them. And since she can’t, that means she doesn’t know just what I can see—or when. It’s the only way I can stay sane while she’s in Connecticut and I’m stuck in fucking Springfield. By the time she’s back, having her under me will be all the present I need this Christmas.”

I get that, too. As for the cameras… hearing that even his practiced wife can’t spot them is a relief. Unlike Angela, Dove doesn’t know that I put them up in her apartment, and as far as I can figure, she hasn’t figured it out yet, either.

If she did, I highly doubt she’d walk around naked as much as she does, but thank you Jesus that she does.

Then again, after this past week, she’s probably a bit more suspicious that someone might be watching her…

I couldn’t help myself. It’s Christmas. I bought a couple of nice bottles of wine for my superior officers for the holidays—and as a thank you to Burns for all of his lessons—when my latest deposit from the Devil of Springfield hit my account. Other than that, I didn’t need to buy any other gifts—but for Dove, I did.

As if he knows exactly what I’m thinking about, Burns asks, “What about you? You get a nice gift for your girl?”

I smile to myself. “Got a couple.”

It started with one of those stuffed cats with the Santa hats. I found one that I didn’t think she had and sent it to her apartment. When she opened it up, then brought it to snuggle in bed with her that night, I didn’t know if I was a genius—or jealous of a stuffed kitty cat.

I went through Burns’s wife’s flower shop to send Dove a poinsettia last week, and a Christmas wreath after that. A box of candy canes left on her car the other night after I brushed off the snow from the top and the windshield before drawing a heart with my finger in the fluffy stuff on the hood.

I’ve signed everything I’ve gotten for her from her secret Santa. All sweet and innocent early holiday gifts at first, but today’s present was designed to shift the mood.

After going through her underwear drawer and stealing a pair or two for my own personal use, I matched the size and bought her a lacy red thong that’s probably too uncomfortable for such a glorious ass to wear for too long, but if I have it my way? My Dove won’t have a cause to keep her panties on long enough for it to chafe.

They’re not daily panties. They’re a way for me to stake my claim, and for her to realize that her secret Santa has more in mind for her than just seeing her have a merry Christmas.

It’s a naughty gift for a naughty girl, and I can’t wait to see her reaction through the camera when he unwraps the gift Isecretly dropped off inside of her apartment building before I headed down to the station to meet Burns earlier today.

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