Page 92 of Love at First Rep

“Maybe we can take some time off after this, travel somewhere we’ve never been, or cozy up in your house so we can relearn everything about each other. We can relax and be together.”

The corner of Garrett’s lip lifted in a tired smile.

“That sounds good to me.”

Rafe leaned forward and planted a hard kiss on Garrett’s mouth, ignoring the gagging sounds from Miguel, who still stood nearby for some reason.

Felicity’s voice broke them apart as he shouted, his voice echoing in the abandoned slaughterhouse. “Yahtzee, motherfuckers!

Garrett’s face scrunched in adorable confusion. The Carson he knew was nothing like this version. For everyone else, the code names were an alias to keep them safe in the field. For Carson? It was like he had two different personalities.

Everyone made their way into the command center to see Carson bouncing on a chair not made for bouncing, energy surging through him.

“I got her,” he crowed. “She made it too easy, like she wants us to find her.”

“What do you mean?” McHugh asked, his voice calm and always in control.

“She connects to public wi-fi everywhere she goes. The payments to Mick are easily traced back to her, although she did try to hide that with a mobile payment app listed under Aunt Tabitha. I printed out copies of the text history between them so you guys can peruse them for more intel, but it’s definitely her.”

A photo popped open on one of the screens showing a familiar woman with red-rimmed glasses and dark brown hair. An audible gasp came from Garrett, and McHugh swore under his breath. The woman’s identity came to the forefront of Rafe’s mind. He tried to wrack his brain for her name, but didn’t have to think long.

“It’s Cheryl. Why…” Garrett trailed off.

Rafe never would have guessed that the receptionist at Cherrywood PD, with her librarian chic outfits and bouquets of flowers, could be behind this. Then again, the world was full of surprises.

“Chances are she’s being leveraged too,” McHugh said. “The good news is, I can call her into my office for a meeting rather than dealing with another kidnapping and interrogation.”

A whimper came from the corner of the room, and Rafe wasn’t sure if it was Brookie or Cru who made the noise. Cru was likely disappointed this mission wouldn’t lead to bloodshed. Freaking psycho.

McHugh turned to Garrett, resignation in his gaze. “I guess it’s time to go back to work.”

29

CHERYL THOMPSON WALKED INTO Captain McHugh’s office with only a bit of wariness on her face.

Garrett needed to stay on site to back up McHugh, so he commandeered the video review room to watch the feed from McHugh’s office on a tablet while Campisi kept anyone from joining him. He owed his detective buddy so many favors at this point. Some of the team watched from a surveillance van parked on a nearby street while the others were in position, ready to do whatever was necessary. He wished Rafe was by his side while all this went down, but that wasn’t his call.

This conversation likely would not end in some dramatic car chase, but weirder things had happened, so they prepared for every possible outcome. Garrett considered it overkill. Cheryl was a sweetheart receptionist with an affinity for flowers and Taylor Swift music, not a criminal mastermind.

Unless this is about overtaking the patriarchy and somehow Taylor Swift’s music inspired Cheryl’s villain origin story?

Garrett laughed to himself at the thought. A small part of him would actually love to see that.

Watching the feed, he still had trouble combining Captain McUseless with team leader Graham McHugh. Garrett had to admit he was curious to see how McHugh used his persona in a conversation like this.

“Cheryl, we’ve noticed a few weird things going on, and I’m not talking about everyone’s staplers ending up in Jell-O,” McHugh said. He leaned forward across the desk and lowered his voice. “Have you heard about what happened at Timber Creek Detention Center?”

Thanks to the multiple camera angles Carson set up in McHugh’s office, Garrett clocked the pulse in Cheryl’s jaw.

“I don’t think I have,” she answered, a tremble in her voice. “What happened?”

“Get this, you’ll never believe it,” McHugh said before rolling back in his chair and throwing his legs atop his desk. He ignored the stack of papers he knocked over in the process. “We totally found out this dude has been dosing the teenagers to keep them dock-ile.”

Cheryl’s eyes widened. She paled when he mentioned dosing, but then her eyes narrowed in confusion. “Dock-ile, sir?”

“Yeah, ya know, when they’re all quiet and slow and following orders. Dock-ile.”

“Do you mean docile, sir?” Cheryl asked, a quirk to her lip.