Embracing His Syn, page 8
Furi’s face, his hair, his taut, firm body all popped into Syn’s mind again. Fuck. Syn had been married to his career for so long. He dedicated every single day to being the best, so he could live up to, and eventually pass his father’s legacy. Now that he was satisfied with his job status, he sensed there was something missing. It felt like his job had stopped fulfilling his needs. The respect with which the uniforms, Detectives, and even other agencies treated him gave him a feeling of superiority. Maybe he shouldn’t feel that way, but come on. Who wouldn’t relish that feeling?
It was almost seven in the morning, most people where with their significant other, trading sections of the paper over coffee, bacon and eggs, before they were sent off with a kiss and a 'have a good day'. Syn grunted and took a bite of his plain bagel. Hell, even his breakfast was boring.
Surely God and Day were ensuring right now that they both started off their day with a smile. It must be pretty cool working with your life partner. Watching their back while they watched yours. It was not the norm for couples to partner on the police force. They were usually assigned to separate precincts. Syn had heard of the situation God and Day were in when they’d headed up a raid that resulted with Day having a gun pointed at his head by a very angry cornered drug lord. The negotiations were not going well and in what were supposed to be the final seconds of Day’s life, God snapped. He’d threatened to kill the drug lord’s parents, children, grandchildren, neighbors and anyone else he was associated with. Syn heard from some of the officers that witnessed it that God was nothing short of demonic. He’d asked the drug lord if he'd ever met the devil, because that’s who’d he’d become if the criminal killed the man he loved. God had really put the fear of God into the man. He’d growled and threatened enough to back the man into the sight of sharpshooters. One shot to the side of the head, and it ended with another victory for God and Day.
That’s when Captain Myers learned of their involvement, but he’d refused to lose his best Narcotics Detectives to another precinct, so as long as their relationship didn’t interfere with their work, God and Day were the only couple that worked together; partners on and off the job. They were much more effective together than apart, and despite Syn’s irritation over their quirks, they were a kick-ass duo to work with.
Syn wanted that. Although he’d never really been in a full-on relationship, he knew what love was. He wanted someone to have his back. Someone that he could let his guard down with, so he didn’t have to maintain control all the time. A partner that would take the reins; just let Syn feel. Geez. Syn shook his head. That would never happen for him. The closest he’d ever come to that was with Rhodes, but he’d left him when Syn wouldn’t give up control. Syn never would take that final step and let the man have him. Did you have to be intimate in order to call it a relationship? Shit, he didn’t know. But at least Rhodes understood him. Rhodes was a cop, he knew the job and what it entailed. No one wanted a relationship with a cop who was on call twenty-four hours a day and could have bullets flying at him at any time.
Syn saw he had a few minutes before he had to leave for his meeting with Day and God. He opened up his laptop and went to Amazon. He was not the shopping type. If he was forced to shop, he was definitely the one-click type. He quickly scanned the photos of some home décor and purchased a couple pieces of Phoenix canvas art to hang on the living room wall, and a tan microfiber/leather sectional that even came with decorative pillows. It would all be delivered by Monday. Syn figured if he ever got around to having some company, they’d at least have somewhere to sit.
Syn made his way through the bullpen to the office that was home to the task force. It was an exceptionally large space, primarily floor to ceiling glass with blinds on the inside walls in case they needed privacy from the rest of the squad. The door read ‘Special Task Force – Narcotics’ and underneath were the names Lieutenant Cashel Godfrey, Lieutenant Leonidis Day, Sergeant Corbin Sydney. The carpeted office's interior was spacious and comfortable. The windows on the opposite side overlooked the east end of the block. Day was the one responsible for the plants and few decorative items that sat along the wall with their collected awards and commendations. Included was a large photo of God and Day shaking hands with the Police Commissioner and the Mayor, and various photos of their team.
All three of them had large, executive style chairs in front of their oversized desks. The desks were necessary to accommodate their ever-overflowing inboxes and leave enough room to spread out files. The other members of the team had desks right outside their office in the main bullpen. On the far side of the office was a conference table and a large dry erase board. The wall behind the conference table had been turned into a bulletin board, where numerous papers and mug shots were scattered across its length. In a couple of hours, the room would be filled with their team. They’d be seated at the table, or on couches and chairs scattered around the room.
It was almost eight o'clock. Syn looked up from the file he was reading and saw God and Day entering the precinct. Was it Syn's imagination, or did all heads turn when they entered a room? Syn watched them walk side by side and he found himself wondering about the more intimate aspects of their relationship. It was probably inappropriate, but he couldn’t help it. Syn thought God looked like he was a beast in bed. A man that pulled your hair, threw you up against the wall and fucked you unconscious. Or, was the big guy a cuddler? Pfft. Yeah right. Was Day as funny at home as he was when he was around others? Did they lie in each other's arms and watch cable? Hell, who cooked dinner and who took out the trash? Syn shook his head. He was thinking about shit that didn’t have a damn thing to do with him.
“What’s going on Syn?” Day asked and plopped down in his chair, setting his very large thermos of coffee on his desk.
“I have the reports from Gemson and Boyd,” Syn replied. His boots were up on the corner of his desk as he reclined back in his chair, skimming the contents of the file.
“How are they?” God asked. He removed his leather coat and draped it over the back of his chair.
“Detailed. Good,” Syn answered. He brought his feet down and gave God a pointed look.
The big man shook his head, already knowing what Syn wanted. He wanted everything they knew about this case. Now.
“Alright Syn. Chill out. We’re not used to you yet. But we know what it means to have a Sergeant on our team. You’re the team's go to, and have just as much command and input regarding decision making as we do,” Day responded as God stared. Day chuckled. “Tito was just as important as the other Jacksons.”
Syn threw a pen at Day, which he dodged easily. Syn couldn’t help but laugh at Day’s fucked up comparison. “I’m no fucking Tito, shithead.”
“We’re gonna discuss the case before the guys come in but first I’m going to the kitchen to refill my coffee. Babe, I’ll grab your muffin,” Day told God and headed to the door.
“I’m at least Jermaine,” Syn grumbled.
God gave Syn half a grin and Day threw over his shoulder, “Dream on.”
They were all studying the white board dissecting their drug/homicide case. Syn felt up to speed. His Lieutenants finally recognized Syn’s role on this team, and that was all he’d wanted, he knew it wasn’t easy turning a long-standing duo into a trio. But they weren’t even a trio. There were twenty outstanding Detectives that made up the task force and it was understood that they all had critical roles to play to make their squad successful and effective.
To say this case was fucked up was putting it mildly. There had actually been three dead bodies. All three of the bodies fit the same MO, which was why God and Day had him responding to the fourth homicide call last night. All good looking males found in secluded areas, beaten before being shot once in the head or chest. They’d just received the medical examiner’s report that confirmed adult entertainer, Jake Starman, just like the last three victims, had a form of ecstasy laced with Rohypnol in his system that rendered him almost helpless, easy to be taken down by someone far smaller, perhaps a woman. They finally had a suspect.
Syn watched a tall dark-haired man stride into the office, with a labeled evidence bag in his hand. His suit was crisp and tailored. To say he was handsome was an understatement. He was almost as tall as God and built like a brick house. Syn mentally beat himself up for noticing so many men lately. The man spoke to Ronowski before he acknowledged anyone else in the room.
“Hi babe. What do you have?” Ronowski answered.
Babe?
Syn turned and looked at Day who was grinning at Syn’s confused look.
Day walked the big man over to Syn and he got an up close and personal view of the fine specimen. Goddamn, he smelled good too. Day pointed at him. “Detective Johnson. This is Sergeant Corbin Sydney. He just came on last week. Damn good Detective. Syn. This is Detective Johnson, our ballistics expert. You and he should get acquainted, you’ll be working with him whenever we need weapons forensics. He’s not officially on our team. Instead he chooses to spread his wisdom around to multiple precincts,” Day informed him.
Syn stood up to shake the man’s hand. Johnson gave Day a playful shove before he turned a warm, genuine smile on Syn and shook his hand. “Nice to meet you Sydney. Ro has told me some interesting things about you already. Anyone that will head-butt the fuck out of Godfrey, I like.”
God looked up from his file just long enough to flip Johnson off, then went back to reading.
Syn liked this Johnson already. He didn’t know Ronowski was going around singing his praises though. “Nice to meet you too,” Syn answered.
After pleasantries, Johnson got right down to business. “Ballistics matched the slug that was pulled out of your vic's body with the 9mm we recovered from your suspect last night. It has a fifteen round chamber and three rounds were still in the clip. Bad news is the slugs pulled from the previous three bodies didn’t come from this weapon.”
“Damn. Of course it wouldn’t be that easy,” God grumbled.
“She may have more than one weapon, we'll see what turns up during the search of her residence. Have you questioned her yet?” Johnson asked.
“No. We’re letting her stew,” Day said.
Johnson went over a few more details before gathering up his evidence and heading to the door. Ronowski met him there. Syn watched but didn’t watch.
“You coming home late?” Johnson asked Ronowski.
“I hope not, we’ll see.”
He’d be damn if Johnson didn't bend down right there in front of twenty men and kiss Ronowski’s lips. “I’ll see you when you get there.” Johnson’s deep voice even made Syn tingle as he saw a loving look flash across Ro's face before he turned back to them.
I’ll be damned. That big, motherfucker is gay too ... and fucking Ronowski to boot.
The interesting part about that whole scene; no one batted an eye. This team really was a team. There was no judgment or bigotry between them. Syn believed that it was no accident of fate. No one had time for that petty bullshit anyway. These men kept things in perspective. There were innocent people in their city being killed by tainted drugs; no one had time or energy to waste being judgmental about who made love to whom.
The meeting concluded three hours later with Syn giving the men their assignments for the day. Some were going back to the crime scene. A couple Detectives were researching the fucked up drug. Others were going over evidence secured from the search warrant of their suspect’s home, and some were going out to pick up the first round of adult entertainers from Illustra to be questioned. After answering the men’s questions, Syn headed downstairs.
‘See, I Told You That Bitch Crazy’
Syn met Day and God at the interrogation rooms. Their suspect was sitting ramrod straight in the small metal chair. Syn knew her posture was meant to be a statement that even though fatigued; she refused to give them the satisfaction of showing it. Her hands were cuffed, her fingers laced together and resting on top of the table.
They watched her through the one-way window. She raised her head and glared at the mirrored glass, smirking as if she knew they were there.
“Cocky little thing, ain’t she?” Syn mumbled.
“I like her.” Day grinned.
“You would,” God huffed. “Let’s not forget she likes to kill pretty men.”
“Ahh. Touché.” Day took the file from God’s hands and handed it over to Syn. Syn nodded to the officer to unlock the door.
The three of them walked in, faces impassive. God took up his post in the corner at the suspect’s back. It was a tactic to make her aware of her vulnerability to God’s hulking form. Day propped his hip on the corner of the table and Syn sat across from her. Without a word, Syn removed the crime scene photos from the file and lined them up in front of her. Four graphic photos of a man with multiple bruises and a gaping hole in his chest.
Syn watched for a reaction. Getting none, he began to speak in a level tone. “I’m Sergeant Sydney, this is Lieutenant Day, and behind you is Lieutenant Godfrey. You are Janet Lindstrom; A.K.A. Lady Jay. A.K.A. Black Widow. Leader of a right wing, lesbian extremist group. Organizer of the–”
“Feminist group, dickhead,” she snapped, interrupting him.
Syn looked up slowly, “Excuse me?”
“You said ‘lesbian extremist.’ Our organization is not defined by our sexuality."
“Do you like cock or not?” Syn asked nonchalantly.
“What does that have to do with why I’m here?” she asked.
“I’ll take that has a no. Is that why you killed Jake Statham, known as Jake Starman … because he had a dick?”
Syn waited but she didn’t answer. “Tell us what happened last night Janet. You were seen fleeing the crime scene. When stopped, you opened fire on us and ran.” Syn stressed his strongest evidence. “You shot at police officers before you were caught. Bullets fired from your weapon match the bullet we removed from Statham’s chest. Tell us what's going on, and we'll see what we can do for you. Tell us where you got the laced ecstasy and maybe you’ll be back to leading your crazy broads before you're old and dried up.”
If looks could kill, Syn would be on the floor in cardiac arrest. His tactic was working. Lady Jay was getting very angry.
This was his role; to get her so pissed off that she’d eventually let some valuable information slip. Syn had been sure the ‘dried up’ comment would get that fire started. Except her only response was, “I want my lawyer. Her name is Jean Goldsfer. So we’re finished with the Q&A, fellas.”
“I got a Q for your A; why are you such a B?” Syn couldn't hide his irritation as he stared at her.
She scowled at him, “Just get me my fucking attorney.”
"Honey, it doesn’t matter if your lawyer has twenty fucking law degrees. There’s no way you're getting out of here, not without cooperating with us. We’re not Homicide. We’re Narcotics; all we want are the drugs. If you help us, we’ll put in a good word for you once Homicide takes over the case,” Syn added.
“Ha!” she barked. “You smug, macho bastards aren’t gonna give me a fair shake, so leave. I’m not answering your questions without my attorney.”
Syn picked up the pictures and placed them back in the file. His expression said he didn’t care one way or the other as he shrugged and flipped through a couple more pages of the file. “Oh yeah. Lieutenant Godfrey, wasn’t that Statham’s father and his legal team we saw in the Captain’s office with the Police Commissioner this morning? I think they were throwing around terms like death penalty and pre-meditated murder.” Syn pulled a paper out and turned it around to show the suspect. “Hmm. It looks like you run a website listing men’s names. The DA could probably get a jury to believe it’s a hit list. It appears that you and your extreme lesbo followers have listed a bunch of male adult entertainers as ‘Porn Stars that Rape.’ Interesting that Statham’s name was on that list. Sounds like pre-meditated murder to me. Count your blessings though, Lady J, if this were Afghanistan you would be pulled backwards through the streets by mountain goats with your hands cut off … but here in the great U.S. of A. all you get is death by lethal injection.”
Syn watched a terrified expression cross Lady Jay’s gorgeous face.
“Oh ... did you think because you used an alias we wouldn’t find your fucked up, hateful propaganda? I wonder what my men will find after they finish the search of your home. What they’ll find on your computer.” Syn lowered his voice to a mere whisper, “And in the laptop you had stored under a floor board in your bedroom."
That did the trick. Lady Jay looked like she was about to be sick or bolt.
Day came in right on cue. His voice sympathetic and comforting. Good cop. “Janet, we know you were raped by three male adult entertainers nine years ago. All three of them walked because their lawyer convinced a jury that as a porn actor yourself, you’d asked for it. Instead of focusing on the facts of crime, your character was attacked. We know all three of those men are now dead, their bodies mutilated beyond recognition. Their killer was never found.” Day’s hazel eyes looked full of concern. “You’ve already taken your revenge on your attackers. Why are you still targeting men?”
“I’m protecting my girls. You fuckers sure don’t care to.”
“Well bless your nurturing little dick-hating heart,” Syn said condescendingly.
Lady Jay gasped.
“Sergeant Sydney, show some control,” Day admonished him. “What girls are you protecting, Janet?”
“The girls that helped you kill Statham last night,” Syn butted in again.
