+18 - eps 6-11 - A unique city. A unique police team led by a unique woman. And an uptight fed set on a collision course.
On the second installment of the Blackbird Series, new cases push Brock and Gillian to work closer together, even in order t...
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The place was a smoking ruin, every bit of furniture and decoration shredded to pieces and splinters, as if a hurricane had just blasted through it. Two SWAT agents moved around, masks still on, searching for something.
Gillian and Brock came from the restroom, covering their mouths and noses with their sleeves. One of the agents hurried to them.
"Lieutenant! We were looking for you! Your father...!"
Brock's hand flat against his chest cut his words and his way off. Nobody even remotely related to King Gillian was coming anywhere near her until further notice. Brock would personally see to it. He faced the puzzled man and said in his driest tone, "We'll be right out."
Both men left while Gillian looked around, forcing herself to register every inch of that violent mess, to never forget the tiniest detail of it. She found Phil's body half-covered by the pieces of a table, and kneeled down by him. Brock stood by her side without a word, his scowl fixed down on her, oblivious to what surrounded them.
Gillian felt her head grow numb and heavy, and she was grateful for that. Really grateful. She didn't want to think. She didn't want to feel, either, but one out of two wasn't that bad after all. So she let herself fall abruptly from overdrive to autopilot.
Brock was there with her. He'd know what to do.
She lingered by Phil. She ignored the many unnecessary wounds in his body, and she didn't care about the thickening blood pooling beneath him. Finally, her hand realized she'd like to close his eyes and it did so gently.
Brock saw King Gillian striding to what was left of the coffee shop. He didn't step in, though, but stayed on the sidewalk.
"There you are! I knew you'd be fine!"
Brock saw her stiffen at his mere voice.
Gillian refused Brock's help to stand up. She didn't even glance at him, because she knew he was there. He had her back. Her blue eyes were clear and dry, her glare fixed on the dark silhouette cut in black against the daylight coming in from the street.
King Gillian saw her coming and flashed his hero-of-the-day smile. She registered his smile and felt the urgent need to smash it. But instead of clenching in a fist, her hand removed the police badge from her belt.
She let her hand do. It was way better than a punch: it would hit the man where it hurt the most. And deep inside, she acknowledged she'd been wanting to do it for some time. But only then, with her mind in some sort of standby, it had surfaced.
She didn't even pause when she threw the badge at his feet. She just went on out to the street, and only past the curb did she stop and turn around.
She saw the old man lean to pick up her badge, not believing his eyes.
And all of a sudden it was terrifying—the absence of that stupid little weight gone from her belt, where it'd been for half her life. She felt naked, and lost, and helpless in so many disturbing ways. There was no coming back. And she knew nothing else.
But then Brock walked past the man who used to be her father, the same who had just ordered to shoot her and half a dozen civilians to protect his precious reputation, and she heard him snarl at Brock—the stupid bitter man who didn't like her at all, yet bold and caring enough to keep saving her life over and over again.
And that man she wished she'd never known said, "Congratulations on your new recruit, Agent."
She felt the fire burning her belly and blazing up her chest. Until she met Brock's eyes. He didn't even glance at the old man, and as he walked out to meet her in the middle of the street, she clung to his eyes—they were so clear and bright, beautiful in the sunlight...
He was looking straight at her.
He wasn't smiling, what a surprise. He wore his trademark scowl, the tips of his thin lips pointing down as usual. Beneath the Kevlar, his shirt was still buttoned all the way up, his tie fastened in the Knot of the Year.
He didn't need to say anything. She knew he wanted her to breathe deep and wait for him.
So she did.
She waited. She held his piercing stare until he came to stop only a step away from her. They looked at each other for a long moment. They didn't trade a single word. They just turned around together, left behind the man with the discarded badge in his hand and headed side by side to the tent, where Russell and her team waited for them.
.
BLACKBIRD Series - BOSTON BLUES
THE END
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Keep reading on the next book: The Reckoning - BLACKBIRD book 3
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