pistol-whipped, and the brain injury he’d suffered had necessitated surgery, so his head had been shaved. Kyler had seen Jer at his older brother’s wedding a few weeks before, but his dark brown hair had still been pretty short. The guy had been through a lot. “Hair is good.”
“Hair is damn good. I think half my personality was in my hair,” he said, voice full of humor. “But I’m sure you didn’t call to talk about my stunning good looks.”
“Well, if there’s any chance you have an opening tonight, I’ll talk about your good looks as much as you like,” Kyler said, forcing nonchalance into his tone when he really wanted this to happen.
“Oh, yeah? Uh, I should be done with my last client around 8:30. If that’s not too late, I could work on you then,” Jeremy said.
“Don’t you close at nine?”
“Yeah, but after everything, you’re family. You in?”
Kyler nodded, really appreciating the sentiment. The Rixeys were good people. “I’ll be there.”
“Great. I’ll let everyone know you’re coming,” Jer said. Everyone meaning his brother, Nick, and the whole group of people Kyler had teamed up with to take down some of the worst scum operating in Baltimore—hell, in the world, given the worldwide scope of their criminal operations.
“Sounds good,” Kyler said. He’d no more than hung up, for the first time all day feeling a little bit of contentment, when potentially bad news arrived at his desk.
“Vance,” Captain Burkett said, dropping into the chair beside him. “Commissioner Breslin would like to see you at five.”
“What for?” Kyler asked. “And why do you look like you’ve just been to war and back?” The guy was looking rough—tired eyes, haggard expression, sloped shoulders. This investigation wasn’t just tough on Kyler, was it.
His captain gulped at a Styrofoam cup of coffee. “Because that’s what this place is sometimes. And you know exactly what the commissioner wants to talk about.” The man arched a brow.
“Fine,” Kyler said, giving a tight nod. It would be his first time meeting Breslin one-on-one. The guy might be a hardass, but Kyler respected that the man was trying to bring some order back to a department that had been spinning out of control, so he had to be a good guy on some level. “You should take some time off, Cap. You kinda look like hell. And this is coming from a guy who knows what hell looks like, so…”
Burkett shook his head. “I’ll take time off when I retire.”
Kyler chuffed out a doubtful breath. “And when will that be?”
“When I die.” Burkett winked and left.
Time crawled until a little before five, and then Kyler found himself in a posh waiting room outside the commissioner’s office. Kyler had even put on a jacket and tie over his dress shirt. Good first impressions and all that.
“Detective Vance? Commissioner Breslin will see you now,” Natasha, his receptionist, said. She gestured toward the carved wooden door.
Heaving a deep breath, Kyler got up and went inside.
“Have a seat, Detective,” Breslin said from behind his own desk. Standing at the window, the older man was looking out at the grit and gleam of Baltimore.
“Yes, sir.” Kyler took a seat, and then the commissioner turned and took his own place at his desk.
The man had graying brown hair, a distinguished face, and dark eyes. His voice was gruff and his bearing was authoritative without being arrogant. “I’ve asked you here today because I’m trying to meet everyone in the department individually. Best way to get to know the place and, more importantly, the people. How long have you been with BPD, Detective?”
Kyler definitely respected the leadership style this represented. An organization— any organization—was only as strong as its people. “Little over ten years, sir.”
Breslin flipped open a folder in front of him. “That’s a long commitment.”
“I love what I do. Worked my way up from rookie cop.” Kyler
“Hair is damn good. I think half my personality was in my hair,” he said, voice full of humor. “But I’m sure you didn’t call to talk about my stunning good looks.”
“Well, if there’s any chance you have an opening tonight, I’ll talk about your good looks as much as you like,” Kyler said, forcing nonchalance into his tone when he really wanted this to happen.
“Oh, yeah? Uh, I should be done with my last client around 8:30. If that’s not too late, I could work on you then,” Jeremy said.
“Don’t you close at nine?”
“Yeah, but after everything, you’re family. You in?”
Kyler nodded, really appreciating the sentiment. The Rixeys were good people. “I’ll be there.”
“Great. I’ll let everyone know you’re coming,” Jer said. Everyone meaning his brother, Nick, and the whole group of people Kyler had teamed up with to take down some of the worst scum operating in Baltimore—hell, in the world, given the worldwide scope of their criminal operations.
“Sounds good,” Kyler said. He’d no more than hung up, for the first time all day feeling a little bit of contentment, when potentially bad news arrived at his desk.
“Vance,” Captain Burkett said, dropping into the chair beside him. “Commissioner Breslin would like to see you at five.”
“What for?” Kyler asked. “And why do you look like you’ve just been to war and back?” The guy was looking rough—tired eyes, haggard expression, sloped shoulders. This investigation wasn’t just tough on Kyler, was it.
His captain gulped at a Styrofoam cup of coffee. “Because that’s what this place is sometimes. And you know exactly what the commissioner wants to talk about.” The man arched a brow.
“Fine,” Kyler said, giving a tight nod. It would be his first time meeting Breslin one-on-one. The guy might be a hardass, but Kyler respected that the man was trying to bring some order back to a department that had been spinning out of control, so he had to be a good guy on some level. “You should take some time off, Cap. You kinda look like hell. And this is coming from a guy who knows what hell looks like, so…”
Burkett shook his head. “I’ll take time off when I retire.”
Kyler chuffed out a doubtful breath. “And when will that be?”
“When I die.” Burkett winked and left.
Time crawled until a little before five, and then Kyler found himself in a posh waiting room outside the commissioner’s office. Kyler had even put on a jacket and tie over his dress shirt. Good first impressions and all that.
“Detective Vance? Commissioner Breslin will see you now,” Natasha, his receptionist, said. She gestured toward the carved wooden door.
Heaving a deep breath, Kyler got up and went inside.
“Have a seat, Detective,” Breslin said from behind his own desk. Standing at the window, the older man was looking out at the grit and gleam of Baltimore.
“Yes, sir.” Kyler took a seat, and then the commissioner turned and took his own place at his desk.
The man had graying brown hair, a distinguished face, and dark eyes. His voice was gruff and his bearing was authoritative without being arrogant. “I’ve asked you here today because I’m trying to meet everyone in the department individually. Best way to get to know the place and, more importantly, the people. How long have you been with BPD, Detective?”
Kyler definitely respected the leadership style this represented. An organization— any organization—was only as strong as its people. “Little over ten years, sir.”
Breslin flipped open a folder in front of him. “That’s a long commitment.”
“I love what I do. Worked my way up from rookie cop.” Kyler
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