I’ve got a month before I start my new life. One month to transition from patrol to Vice. One month to stop thinking like a cop in uniform and start thinking like someone else entirely. One month to say goodbye to the old me.
But first, I’ve got to deal with what’s right in front of me.
Greg Martins is back. My ex-partner. The bastard who burned me years ago, tanked my career, and left me picking up the pieces. He says it was for an undercover op. I don’t believe him. I don’t care.
What I care about is making him pay.
He’s offered himself up as my personal pleasure service, and I’m not above taking what he’s offering.
Then there’s Chuck. My partner. My best friend. The man who’s had my back through everything—he’s become the friend that Greg might have been if he hadn’t stabbed me in the back.
The thing is, working together brought us together, romantically, if you want to call it that. It’s kept us together. And now that’s ending, the job anyway. He says he’s happy for me, but I see it in his eyes. Sadness? Nah, he’s too tough for that. Resignation, maybe. He thinks we might be over.
Never.
The friendship? Solid as a rock. But it’s not the same as showing up every day, side by side, living that life together. It’s not going to be so convenient. It’s going to take work. I’m willing to work at if he is.
Either way, the higher-ups suggested I should take the time off so I could come back ready for a different kind of job. They’d know, so I’m just following orders.
I’m planning on taking this month to figure out what comes next. To practice being someone other than a cop. To learn how to move through the world without a badge and a gun.
The Bi Bi Motel’s first on my list—a place where anything goes, where the lines blur between who you are and who you pretend to be.
But the thing about transitions? They never go as planned.
After taking my pound of flesh from Greg, there’s a problem with my truck.
One detour leads to another. A quick stop at the auto wreckers turns into something else entirely. And suddenly I’m on the lot at dusk, surrounded by the husks of dead machines and men who move like they’re hunting.
I’m supposed to be shedding my skin. Evolving. Learning how to be someone new.
The more I try to leave the old me behind, the more I realize—I’m not sure I know who that is anymore.
But I’m looking forward to finding out.
