Page 3 of Devil's Hour
“Thank you, Evangeline,” Royce said. “It’s okay if I call you by your first name, isn’t it?”
“Absolutely. Goodnight, darlings.”
Royce was watching Sawyer’s face closely, so he didn’t miss the goofy grin and pink blush spreading up his neck as he watched his mother leave. Royce turned around to see what she was up to, but he was too late. Evangeline was already on the front porch, pulling the door closed behind her.
“What was that all about?” Royce asked.
“She gave me two thumbs up and mouthed ‘attaboy’ at me.”
“I like your mom,” Royce said.
During his recovery, Royce had learned a lot about Evangeline from Sawyer, which gave him a severe case of mom-envy Sawyer had teased him about until he learned Royce’s mom had died when he was ten.
“Ms. O’Neal, it’s good to see you again,” Royce said. She’d visited the precinct often since Sawyer joined the unit and was patently kind to everyone.
“I’ve told you all to call me Evangeline, but none of you listen,” she said, giving him a wry smile.
Before he could comment further, Sherry Rigby, the chief’s wife, entered the bullpen with a large bakery box. Royce’s heart filled with hope as she headed straight for him.Please let there be bear claws.Sherry made them from scratch a few times a week, and they were the best Royce had ever eaten. His obsession with earning one of the golden brown, buttery pastries from the chief had kept the precinct entertained for years. It took Royce getting shot before he got his first taste. When Sherry found out her wife had been tormenting him with the pastries, she threatened to stop baking them for the chief.
“Good morning,” Sherry said, stopping in front of him. She’d twisted her long red hair into a top knot, and her cheeks were flushed pink either from baking all morning or the oppressive August heat and humidity. Summertime brought out more freckles on her pale skin, giving her a youthful appearance. “I hear congratulations are in order, Sergeant.”
Royce smiled. “It’s good to see you again, Mrs. Rigby. It’s not official until Chief pins the new badge on my uniform, but thank you.”
“Bah,” Sherry said, waving her free hand. “The badge is just a ceremonial thing, honey.”
Detective Kyomo Chen joined the small group. “What’s in the box, Mrs. Rigby? Bear claws?” he asked hopefully, earning a glare from Royce. “I’ll be happy to take those off your hands.”
“Careful, Ky,” Royce warned. “I outrank you now.”
Chief Rigby exited her office and made a beeline for her wife, a delighted smile on her face. She’d also chosen to wear her dress uniform for the ceremony. “I should’ve known you were up to something,” the chief said to Sherry, then greeted Evangeline. “How nice to see you again, Evangeline. Have you come for the ceremony?”
Say yes,Royce thought, surprised by how much he wanted her to be there. He wanted to be worthy of Sawyer in her eyes.
Always cool, she said, “I’d stopped by to see Sawyer, but I’d love to stay if that’s okay with you.”
“Of course,” Rigby said. “Sherry, honey, do you remember meeting Evangeline O’Neal at the benefit a few months ago?”
“I remember. You cornered her son and convinced him to come work for you,” Sherry teased, adding a wink at Sawyer. “It’s lovely to see you again, Ms. O’Neal.”
“It’s lovely seeing you again too. Please call me Evangeline.”
“Are you staying for the ceremony too, love?” Chief asked Sherry.
“If you don’t mind.”
“Of course not. Let’s get started, shall we?”
They followed Chief Rigby to a small room used for occasional press briefings. There were rows of chairs lining the center of the room and a podium sandwiched between two long tables in the front. Royce did a double take when he noticed the tall, handsome man standing in the rear of the room wearing a camera around his neck. Felix “Fleabag” Franklin, the journalist from theSavannah Morning Newsresponsible for making Sawyer’s life miserable by writing stories detailing his battles with the homophobic Chatham County sheriff. Beside him, Sawyer made a low growl in his throat, but not the sexy kind Royce provoked from him. Fleabag gave them both a jaunty, two-finger salute, which they ignored.
The ceremony itself was brief with the chief detailing some of Royce’s notable career highlights while working for her. Royce’s gaze had connected with Sawyer’s a few times, and the pride he saw in Sawyer’s eyes made his heart swell. He expected some of his fellow detectives to jeer and make comments, turning it into more of a roast than a pinning ceremony, but everyone was on their best behavior. Royce suspected he had the reporter to thank for that small mercy but also knew it wouldn’t last. The ribbing would start as soon as Fleabag and the ladies left. After Chief pinned his new sergeant’s badge on his chest, they posed for a few pictures for Felix, and everyone except the reporter headed back to the bullpen to celebrate with coffee and bear claws.
“You each get one, and I’m taking the rest home since this ismycelebration,” Royce said, hovering near the box in case someone got greedy and took more than their share.
“Oh my goodness,” Evangeline said after biting into the flaky crust. “This pastry dough rivals some of the best I’ve had in France.” Sherry blushed and quietly thanked her.
Ky, thinking Royce was distracted, reached in the box for a second bear claw. “Drop the pastry and step away and no one gets hurt,” Royce said sternly. Instead of doing what he asked, Ky held the pastry to his face and licked it.
“I licked it, so now it’s mine,” Ky said, beaming with pride for outsmarting Royce. Royce fought the urge to look at Sawyer, who’d never heard of the phrase until meeting Royce. He wanted his expression to convey “see, I told you,” but it would probably tell everyone in the room Royce had licked every inch of Sawyer’s body to lay claim to him, and Sawyer had done the same to him.