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I suppress a gag as something slimy slides down my neck. “Noted.”

Through our comms, I hear Talon's controlled breathing.

“They're getting out. Two officers, flashlights out.”

Footsteps approach, crunching on broken glass and gravel. A beam of light sweeps over the dumpster, lingering just long enough to make my heart stutter. I feel Alex tense beside me, his hand moving slowly toward his weapon.

“Dispatch, this is Unit 47,” a gruff voice calls from just outside our hiding place. “Nothing in the alley except garbage. It was probably just a stray cat.”

The radio crackles with an unintelligible response.

“Roger that. Heading back to patrol.”

The footsteps retreat. Car doors slam. The engine grows louder, then gradually fades as the cruiser pulls away from the alley.

“They're gone,” Talon confirms through the comms. “Clear to move.”

I exhale a breath, the stench of our hiding place hitting me full force again. Alex and I exchange a glance, his expression murderous.

We climb out, both of us reeking. A piece of something I don't want to identify clings to my sleeve. I flick it away with barely concealed disgust.

“We'll never live this down,” I mutter, wiping futilely at the slime coating my arm.

“Next time, I'm choosing the hiding spot,” Alex remarks. “Just let me shoot them.”

“And then we'd have the entire Boston PD on our asses,” I remind him as we move swiftly through the darkness towards my car at the front of the building.

“And?”

We return to the car without being noticed, though the stench lingers strongly around us. I get into the driver's seat, and Alex settles into the passenger seat. The odor is intense between us. I start the engine while we both crack the windows to let in some fresh air.

“You know this will never come out of the leather, right?”

“No shit,” I snap back before peeling out of the parking spot and heading toward the apartment—where the longest, hottest shower of my life awaits...along with the mental list of cars I’ll never let him touch again.

VESPER

“What the actual hell?”I gasp, covering my nose with my sleeve as Z slams the apartment door behind us. “I thought you said they had to hide in a dumpster, Talon. It reeks like they dragged it home with them.”

The apartment smells like something crawled into a dumpster, died, fermented for a week in the summer heat, and then was placed in the hallway. Talon's reaction is immediate and theatrical—he darts to the kitchen, grabs the tropical breezeair freshener from under the sink, and begins prancing around the living room, spraying in wide, graceful arcs.

“This isn't helping!” I choke out.

“I think I can taste it,” Z chokes out next to me. “What the fuck kind of dumpster was it? Hazardous waste? Dead bodies?”

“All of the fucking above,” Alex’s voice carries as he emerges from the hallway. My brain short-circuits momentarily when he comes into view. He's wearing nothing but black boxer briefs, his lean, muscular body on full display. Water rivulets drip from his still wet hair down his stomach, accentuating his defined abs. A tribal tattoo I've never noticed before snakes around his left bicep, disappearing over his shoulder.

If it weren’t for the stench and the tied-up trash bag that he’s keeping at arm's length, I’d happily keep staring.

“Don't just stand there,” he grunts at us. “There's another bag outside Oz's room that needs to go down to the incinerator in the basement. Now.”

“I am not touching that,” Z protests.

“Don’t look at me,” I chime in.

Talon ceases his air freshener ballet, snatches the bag from Alex, and moves to collect the bag outside of Oz’s door, gagging as he heads towards the basement door.

Alex gives us a withering look before stalking back towards his room. His door slams as he retreats back inside. I wander over to open a window, desperate for fresh air, when Talon emerges from the basement. His face is a horrible shade of green.