Page 3 of Cross the Line
"This is..."
"Non-negotiable." Murphy leaned back, studying me with an attention that had seen too much to be impressed by a nice suit and practiced charm. "One more mistake and you're out of the Service entirely. No press contacts. No special treatment. Just police work, the kind without cameras."
I swallowed hard. "And my partner in this program?"
The Inspector's mouth twitched. Not quite amusement. Something next to it. "Detective Hawley."
The tall, stone-faced figure from the hallway. The one they called The Bear. The one whose presence had made my pulse race for reasons I didn't want to examine.
"He's one of your best detectives."
"He is. Also one warning away from termination." Murphy's focus narrowed. "You two are the Division's problem cases now. Fix each other, or find new careers."
I glanced down at the contract again. "And the shared housing?"
"Apartment 402. Carlton Street, three blocks from here. The Service maintains it for administrative assignments." A key slid across the desk. "Your belongings are being delivered this afternoon."
The reality of it hit. My condo in Yorkville. Cumberland Street, where the designer boutiques and the older luxury buildings shared the same quiet money. Floor-to-ceiling windows looking south toward the Financial District. A walk-in closet sorted by color and brand. My one place I could stop performing and just breathe.
Gone. Replaced by a Service-issued box where I'd have to perform even in my sleep.
"This program has never been implemented before. How do you know it will work?"
Murphy's weathered face stayed level. "I don't. But I know what doesn't work. Letting officers like you and Hawley continue as you have been." He tapped the contract. "Sign it, or clean out your desk now."
I picked up the pen. Its weight was suddenly absurd. My grip hovered over the signature line.
"One question. Does Hawley know about this yet?"
The Inspector's expression didn't change. Something flickered in those gray depths anyway. "He's signing his copy now."
I imagined The Bear's reaction. The hard jaw clenching. The dark eyes going colder. The thought of sharing close quarters with all that barely contained hostility sent a shiver down my spine.
This was going to be hell.
I signed my name.
The office door opened without a knock. I turned. Hawley filled the doorway, broad frame nearly touching both sides. Up close he was even more imposing. Six-two at least, built like someone who'd learned to fight with fists before words.
"Detective Hawley." Murphy made the introduction. "Your new partner."
The words sat in the air.
Hawley didn't move. Posture slightly hunched. Expression unreadable. A quick assessment flicked toward me, making me hyperaware of my bleached hair, my designer suit, everything that marked me as soft. Fake. Weak.
I stood. Extended my hand. Aimed for my most disarming smile. "Detective Ryan Carlson. Pleasure to meet..."
Hawley looked at the gesture like I'd offered him something he didn't want to touch. No contact.
Up close, details I'd missed before came into focus. The taut set of his jaw. Slight shadows beneath his lashes. The way his fingers, large and scarred across the knuckles, stayed loose at his sides. Ready. Even here.
"Sit down. Both of you."
Hawley took the seat beside mine. The furniture seemed too small for him. He sat too close. When he crossed his arms, the fabric of his plain black shirt pulled taut across his torso, showing the kind of strength that came from work, not a gym.
Murphy leaned forward. "Hawley, I've already briefed you on Carlson's infractions. Carlson, let me tell you about your new partner."
I nodded. Felt Hawley's tension beside me with my whole skin. Hostility came off him the way charm came off me. Easily. Without effort.
