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“This is the only video footage taken around the area and time the body was presumably dumped.” Bruce, the police chief of Emergence Emerald Precinct, hit play on the fuzzy black and white video footage they’d all already seen a dozen times over.

The one that gave them nothing.

“What the fuck happened to you last night?” Troya hissed between pressed lips, trying not to be noticed. He sat at Calix’s left side at the long table in the meeting room, pretending to flip through the information being presented on the screen at the front and on each of their holopads. “Word is some fuckers got the jump on you on the third floor. Seriously?”

“You know how it goes. Always trust what you hear on the streets.” Calix knew Troya didn’t like him, but the feeling had long since been mutual.

All he had to do was make it through this one last case and he could quit. Leave the International Police Force—better known as the I.P.F—and start his real life.

Whatever the hell that meant.

Honestly, he didn’t know. All he knew was he was tired of constantly carrying his past around. He felt bad for what had happened, but he’d paid his dues.

Flashbacks from last night came to him in snippets. Harsh breaths against the curve of his ear. The smell of something woodsy and fresh. Hands groping all over…

It’d been impossible to sleep until he’d caved and taken two of the sleeping pills the doctor had prescribed, but by then it’d already been three AM, and the clock across the room read eight forty-seven.

Troya gave him a frustrated look. “Did you at least get some licks in yourself, or did you roll over and let those assholes beat you up for free?”

So he assumed it’d been multiple people. Calix thought maybe he should feel grateful that his partner at least didn’t think of him as entirely pathetic and useless. Not that the younger Inspector had ever said anything along those lines before. If anything, Cal’s fast rise through the ranks probably kept Troya from stooping that low.

That’s how people were. The second they had cold, hard facts, they tended to leave the truth alone. But when they didn’t, when they were able to sniff even the slight hint of a potential lie…

Ostracization.

Calix and Nero had been spotted by multiple witnesses having a massive fight less than an hour prior to the accident.

Fact.

Nero had a tendency to take things too far.

Fact.

Calix was the saint of the school, the guy people turned to for help.

Fact.

Nero was a bully.

Fact.

Calix was a Straight A student.

Fact.

Nero would have flunked out a long time ago if not for his mommy’s money and his ability to throw a ball really, really far.

Fact.

Calix had only just gotten his license three days beforehand.

Fact.

Nero had jumped in front of the moving vehicle.

Fact.

Calix’s foot had slipped on the gas.

…Fact?

Fortunately for him, the courts had voted in his favor. But as far as public opinion went…Calix was a pariah. He’d gone from friendly boy next door to crawling through the mud faster than he could blink, and to this day, he still didn’t entirely understand why.

Well, that was a lie.

It was because Nero’s mother had been in the process of running for mayor of the city—again—and her squeaky-clean public image had outshone his. When she’d called for justice, cried on camera, and demanded he pay for what he’d done to her son, the world had wept for her.

Hell, even Cal had felt the power of her speeches. His guilt had tripled every time he accidentally heard one on the radio or TV.

Really, with the kind of power she’d wielded, he should have gone to prison, no matter what reasons he may or may not have had for slamming into her kid. No matter the fact he’d gotten testimony from a renowned doctor in his favor. He was gearing himself up for that end, in fact, when by some twist of fate, the report on his hovercar had come back indicating there was a problem with his pedals.

The courts and Nero’s mom turned their attention to the company that’d made the car, but the damage to Cal’s reputation was already done.

Case in point, the way Amory Paige had been staring at him from across the table ever since he’d entered the room. Despite his good guy persona, Cal hadn’t had any real friends—that was why it was so easy for them all to turn on him. He’d been friendly with everyone, but close with none, and that line in the sand had cost him everything. This was no different. He and Amory had maybe spoken a handful of times in the past; she’d been in the same graduating class.

She’d witnessed his whole fall from grace.

Had she been close with Nero back then?

Was she still?

Did she blame Calix?

Cal looked over and met her gaze before replying to Troya, “It wasn’t for free.”

He’d kept his voice down, but she’d caught what he was saying. Amory gave no reaction, however. Making it impossible to tell if she knew about last night’s plans, let alone guess if she’d been a part of them.

It didn’t matter.

Nero had to have been the one to send Heathe. After the incident, he’d been shipped off planet for intensive physical therapy in the hopes the diagnosis could be overturned. With how advanced technology was, everyone had been certain with the type of coin his family had, they’d find a way to get him mobile again in no time.

Last Calix had heard, they were still looking.

He shouldn’t be thinking about this now. After last night, surely he was the talk of the town again, anyway. It didn’t matter why she was staring him down—whether it was for what had happened eight years ago or eighteen hours ago.

Calix needed to focus. The second this case was done, he could finally be free of it all.

“That’s what I told everyone at the reunion,” Troya surprised him by saying then. “That it had to have been a group of guys that got the jump on you.”

He sent him a questioning look, knowing better than to assume that was done out of the goodness of his partner’s heart.

“We may be trying to keep a low profile now,” Troya explained, “but it’ll be all over the news before long. Everyone and their grandmother will know why we’re really here, and the last thing I need is for them to doubt our capabilities because you got jumped your first night back on planet.” He sent him a sideways glance and then added, “And, actually, we both know you’re not that easy to take down.”

Calix had been drugged, but he didn’t bother pointing that out now. Instead, he chose to make them both even more uncomfortable by stating the obvious. “That almost sounded like you complimenting me just now.”

“I think you’re a dick with a not so secret death wish,” Troya stated. “But that also makes you hella good at your job.”

“Something to share with the class, boys?” Amory called them out, loud enough to cut off Bruce and catch the attention of the other three officers in the room with them.

“Show some respect,” Bruce snapped. “They’re I.P.F. agents.”

“They’re taking over our case after all of the hard work we’ve already put into it.” She glared between the two of them. “It’s funny, I don’t remember you as being the lazy type, Valimir. What? Can’t do your own legwork anymore? Have to come here and steal—”

“If you’d been capable of solving this,” Troya cut her off, settling back in his seat with a roll of his icy blue eyes, “you would have already. That’s why the case was handed over.”

Before she could say something biting back, Calix opted to attempt smoothing things over. They were going to have to work together on this whether they liked it or not, and he’d prefer if they at least pretended to get along in the interim.

“Similar murders have been logged on other planets in a neighboring galaxy,” Calix said, keeping his voice as friendly as possible with the woman openly glaring at him. “There’s a pattern, and that pattern led us here.” He tapped his finger to the linoleum table top. “We all want this killer brought to justice.”

She snorted. “Funny, coming from you.”

“Great,” Troya grumbled. “Looks like another one of your fans from back in your glory days.”

Calix pressed his lips together but didn’t ordain that with a response.

“That’s enough, Paige!” Bruce’s cheeks were bright red. “Outside, now!”

She got up without another word and followed the chief into the hall, slamming the door behind herself, leaving them alone with the other two officers.

“What’s her problem?” Reed leaned over and asked the other officer at his right, a man named Saz.

“Uh,” Saz glanced at Cal and then cleared his throat, “it’s—”

“She doesn’t like me,” Calix answered for him, holding their gazes without flinching.

Reed frowned. “What? Why? Isn’t this the first time the two of you are meeting?”

“He’s an alumni of Gradient,” Troya filled in, and they both watched as the officer seemed to put the pieces together.

Those pieces, anyway.

“Oh, so you two knew each other in high school.” Reed laughed. “What? Bad breakup or something?”

Cal’s mouth quirked. “Or something.”

At least it was nice knowing he wasn’t some fucked up urban legend. Between Aidan not knowing the story, and now Reed, it seemed like Cal had a better chance of getting through this so long as he avoided anyone from back in the day.

His partner must have realized it’d be easier for them both if that were the case as well, because he remained quiet at his side. When Troya didn’t out him, he changed the subject back to the matter at hand.

“Is the head still missing?” he asked, and both officers straightened on the other side of the table, back to business instantly.

“Yes,” Saz replied. “We still haven’t been able to locate it.” He flicked the screen on Bruce’s device so the slide projected onto the wall showed a headless corpse tucked in an alleyway. “The body belonged to Williams Gorty. It’s believed he was murdered elsewhere and dumped here.”

Williams Gorty, aged fifty-five. Father of one, and the son of the late Edmund Gorty, who’d passed recently after a major surgery. According to the reports, the surgery had been a success, but a blood clot had moved to Edmund’s brain and killed him in the middle of the night.

There was no suspected foul play; the only reason his death was important to this case was because of his son's presence at the hospital.

Hopeful Heart Hospital.

“Every victim found had a family member or close friend get treatment at Hopeful Heart,” Saz continued. “But aside from that, we’ve failed to find any sort of connection between the victims. None of the illnesses are the same, so they were treated in different branches by different medical teams. Even the way the victims were killed differs.”

“Except for the last two,” Reed reminded.

“Right, that.”

“It’s just strange that it’s not even the same department,” Troya said, going over his notes with a pinched brow. “Are we sure speaking with this doctor is even going to be useful?”

Aodhan Solace. He was talking about Aodhan Solace.

The guy who’d not only seen Calix at his lowest but had also saved him and patched him up afterward.

It was going to be so fucking uncomfortable having to see him again after all of that.

Especially after having the doctors fingers shoved up his torn hole, rubbing ointment on his stinging flesh…Had he noticed the way Cal had squirmed and flattened against the table to hide when his dick had twitched and threatened to harden?

Good Light, he prayed he hadn’t. But when had he ever been lucky enough for things to go his way? In the off chance Aodhan knew exactly what Calix had been feeling while he’d been treated by a medical professional simply doing his job, he was to be avoided at all costs.

Cal liked pain.

He did not like discomfort.

“Maybe we should go straight to the director instead,” he suggested. “Surely the hospital director will be more helpful.”

“Titus Mercer is busy,” Reed told them. “He’s the one who assigned Aodhan as the hospital’s representative. You’ll be able to speak with him, but he’s not as readily available as Doctor Solace.”

He’d almost forgotten. No, giving Titus Mercer a wider berth than even the doctor was for the best.

How long had it been since he’d seen the now director? Years, for sure, but he couldn’t pinpoint the exact moment they’d last been in the same room together. Maybe it’d been at the trial, when Titus had surprised him by testifying in his defense rather than against it. As Nero’s surgeon, everyone had anticipated otherwise.

“He spoke at your hearing, didn’t he?” Reed asked, not sounding like he was judging. “I think the chief mentioned it before.”

“Yeah.” He’d spoken in Calix’s defense, had been a big reason why the jury had voted him not guilty. The two hadn’t interacted much back then, but Cal could still recall the way Titus Mercer had made him feel when they were alone in a room together for the first and only time.

Like his soul was being sucked out of his chest and consumed by the damned.

He shivered.

Titus had come along, and Cal had forgotten all about pretty boy Heathe D’Leo. There’d been something almost intoxicating about the older man—who’d been a brain surgeon back then and not the director of an entire hospital. Even though he’d confirmed the point of impact coincided with Cal’s claim that he’d slammed on the breaks as soon as he’d realized what was happening, he’d never been able to tell if Titus actually believed him or not.

Which made being around him dangerous.

Probably still as gorgeous as ever, but dangerous nonetheless.

Troya snorted. “I find it hard to believe a guy who sits behind a desk all day is busier than a legitimate heart surgeon.”

Aodhan Solace was gorgeous in his own right too. And he wasn’t just any heart surgeon either, a renowned one. A quick internet search on the guy had sent Cal spiraling down a rabbit hole of articles about the man’s godlike skills with a scalpel.

Okay.

So maybe the flashbacks hadn’t been the only thing keeping him up last night.

But Calix was chalking it up to the adrenaline rush and the drugs. He’d been vulnerable and out of it, that was all. That was why he’d felt such an instant connection with the doctor, because Aodhan had saved him and helped him. Because he’d still been trapped in that fuzzy state of being after the ordeal, where his brain wasn’t capable of separating pain, pleasure, and a man just trying to do his job and not meaning to elicit either in him. Now that he was in his right state of mind, there was no way he’d have the same reactions.

Cal didn’t do crushes, not since the one he’d had on Heathe in high school—because the mix of strange sensations he’d felt toward Titus Mercer couldn’t be considered a crush.

At least this time, he could be certain his taste had improved. Going off everything he’d read about Aodhan well into the early morning hours, the guy was a relative saint. Nothing like the psychotic rapist Heathe turned out to be.

“We have four bodies and—” Sax stopped talking when the door opened and Bruce stepped back inside.

“One of the heads was just discovered,” he told them solemnly, directing his comments to Cal. “My men are securing the area, and I’ve sent Amory on ahead.”

“We’ll split the team,” Calix suggested and stood. “Troya, go with Officers Binks and Craig to the hospital and meet with Doctor Solace. I’ll head to the scene with the Chief.”

“Sure thing.” Troya never argued when it came to orders regarding the job. At least in that sense, the two of them didn’t make for terrible partners. He collected his things and motioned to the other cops in the room. “Let’s go, boys.”

On the way out of the station, Cal told himself he’d made the choice based on what was best for the case.

Not at all because he was avoiding the sexy doctor and the shame he felt whenever he thought of how he’d seen him naked, afraid, and at his absolute lowest.