Page 19 of Give Me Redemption

“Noted,” he says. He exhales, lifting his glass of liquid stress reliever. “This will be a good change for you, Dalton. Think of it as a day off. You’ve been too focused on—”

I hold up my hand. “I already know what you’re going to say. There’s no need to continue.”

He takes a sip from his drink. “You know what the odds of her being alive are.”

I clench my jaw.

He sets his drink down. “You’ve got to move on from this eventually, Dalton. You don’t have a social life. You never date. You’re in your thirties and never even had a serious relationship.”

“Why are you talking to me about this?” I ask.

“Because I care about you. Look at what you’re missing out on.” He points to his pictures.

He thinks I don’t know that. I realize how old I am, and I realize I’ve never had a serious relationship.

I like it that way.

I don’t need a man.

I have a sleepover with Malcom down the hall from my apartment when we both need it. There are no strings, no feelings, just a good fuck, and he’s out and I’m in pj’s watching TV with some pasta and wine.

Alone.

My life is fine.

“What about my other cases?” I ask, changing the subject.

He narrows his eyes but lets me. “You can work on those on the side, but let this be your main focus. We need to shut this shit down.”

“Yes, sir,” I reply, standing with the folder in my hand and head for the door.

“Dalton,” he says. I twist back.

“I didn’t mean to pry. I just…”

“I get it. You care.” I shrug. He gives me a small smile and I head back to my desk.

I plop down in my seat as I toss the folder down onto the desk.

“What was that about?” Monroe asks.

“New case,” I reply, unmotivated.

He nods and looks back at his computer. I glance down at the folder, wishing it would light up in flames. I have no desire to do this case.

An illegal gambling operation?

So what?

There are more important things going on in the world. I sigh, sit up, and turn my computer on as I slide my glasses over my eyes.

Chapter Nine

Harlow

The office is half-empty now. An empty coffee cup sits on my desk with dried-up honey caked on the bottom. I scrub down my face, lean back in my chair, and twist toward the windows. The city skyline twinkles in the night. I could use a glass of wine and a neck massage. I rub my nape and roll my head.

“I could get that for ya,” I hear.

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