The office was eerily quiet. Syn appeared weary as he reclined in his desk chair with his hands resting on top of his head. Ruxs, Green and Tech were working as fast as they could to have their reports together before their bosses returned. It was clear by the long faces that none of them were looking forward to what was coming.
“You guys are off the hook. It was my fault. I’m the one that took the photograph and exposed us.”
Tech glanced up from his scribbling. “No. It’s not your fault at all. We should’ve got you out—”
“Ah shit,” Fox murmured, his eyes on the two figures storming toward them. “Your lieutenants are here.”
“Thanks captain obvious,” Green muttered.
God burst through the door, his scowl aimed at Syn. “I wanna know why the fuck my words are constantly misunderstood.”
“God,” Syn started but God cut him off. His voice louder and scarier.
“No!” God barked, spinning to look at his enforcers. “I specifically said to stop all Cornelia surveillance for a few days while Hart gets his department situated after their shooting yesterday. Did I not fucking say that?! DAMNIT!”
Day sighed and slumped in his chair, rubbing his hand over his scruffy jaw. “What happened, guys? You were supposed to be at lunch. You had Free with you. Do you have any idea how bad this could’ve gone if he’d been hurt?”
“Then you made Hart’s team have to mobilize without him! If Fox and Dinah weren’t already in a training exercise they may not have gotten there in…” God growled. His long hair was wild and tangled as if he’d run the five blocks to the precinct. “I don’t even want to imagine if they hadn’t gotten there in time.”
“Where’s Hart?” God asked. His voice had gone down a few octaves and he actually sounded nervous.
“Dinah sent him a message, so I’m sure he’s on his way.” Fox said. He was still in his tactical gear, except for his helmet and the bulletproof vest.
“Does he know Free was with them?” Day hesitated.
“Looks that way,” Green answered, staring through the glass walls of their department at the angry grizzly bear charging in their direction, with Dinah double-timing it behind him, her shorter legs desperately trying to keep up with Hart’s long strides. She was tugging on his rumpled shirt sleeve, her mouth moving a mile a minute, her eyes pleading.
“Oh no,” Free whispered. He was starting to recognize Hart’s pissed-as-fuck glare. And right now it was directed at God.
“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” God snarled. He waved frantically at the doctor who was trying to make a hasty getaway, “Doc, lock the door! Lock the door!”
“You’re on your own.” The doc scrambled past them and out of the door right as Hart reached for the handle.
“Coward,” Ruxs snarled.
God barked, “Fox, do something.”
Hart barged inside, his chest heaving. He was no longer wearing his suit jacket, his clothing askew and disorganized as if he’d fought and clawed his way there. The room went deathly still as Hart’s gaze rotated around the room, making contact with each of the detectives.
God took a half step forward, his lips parted to speak.
“Don’t say a mother. Fucking. Word, Cash.”
Free trembled at the bass in Hart’s tone. He was even more shocked when God clamped his mouth shut. No one else dared speak. Syn sat at his desk with his hands steepled together in front of him, staring at the wall. Day massaged his temples while he dejectedly shook his head. Fox stood beside his partner, Dinah, both of them watching their captain with worried looks on their faces.
Hart walked toward Free, looking at him with a different expression—relief. The minute he was close enough, Hart reached out and pulled Free gently to his chest, cupping the back of his head. In front of his entire department—including about twenty officers in the bullpen who were riveted to the show—Hart touched him like a lover. He pressed his lips to the shell of Free’s ear, his voice a pained whisper, “Len. Are you okay?”
Free didn’t worry about who was watching as Hart’s warm body trembled against his. Free squeezed him back. Hart really had been afraid. “I’m okay, Ivan. I am. Nothing happened to me.”
“Anything could’ve happened. Are you sure you’re not hurt? I can take you to the hospital.” Hart leaned back and studied his face.
“No. I’m sure. And your doctor checked me over three times. I was lucky. Because it was all my fault. It was. I shouldn’t—”
“Shhhh,” Hart murmured. “Don’t. None of this was your fault.”
Free let his arms fall when Hart pulled away. All he could do was stand there like everyone else and wait for the discipline. Hart stalked over to God, his fists clenched at his sides.
God started, “They were at lunch, I told—”