Department Rivals (Valor and Doyle), page 1
Department Rivals
A Valor and Doyle Prequel
Nicky James
Department Rivals
Copyright © 2022 by Nicky James
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
Cover Artist:
Nicky James
Editing:
Susie Selva
LesCourt Author Services
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means without the written permission of the author.
Contents
1. Quaid
2. Aslan
3. Quaid
4. Aslan
5. Quaid
6. Aslan
7. Quaid
8. Aslan
9. Quaid
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Chapter one
Quaid
“This is a terrible idea. I don’t know what they think this will solve,” I said, squinting against the morning sun as I scanned the park and the gathered crowd.
“Believe me, you aren’t the first person to complain. Sarge doesn’t want to hear any bitching. Keep your head down, your mouth shut, and pray it ends without bloodshed.” My partner, Eden Gelekar, checked her phone and frowned. “Or at least pray it ends before my babysitter decides she has better things to do with her Saturday.” She sighed. “I need to stop hiring high school kids.”
“Everything okay?”
“Gonna have to be.” She stuffed her phone into her pocket and crossed her arms, affecting the same stance as the rest of us—one rich in irritation and impatience.
There was a distinct divide in the gathered crowd like someone had drawn an invisible line in the grass, both groups casting evil glares back and forth. Tension simmered in the air between us like heat waves off a desert.
Inspector Lassaline, officer in charge for the Toronto Police Service, had decided she’d had enough of the constant rivalry between the homicide division and missing persons and wanted both departments to learn to work more amicably together. Hence, she’d encouraged my boss, Staff Sergeant Hank Edwards, head of missing persons, and Staff Sergeant Lindsay Summerfield, head of homicide, to come up with a solution to bring down the hostility a notch.
In essence, we were acting like a bunch of grade school kids who couldn’t stop bullying each other on the playground, and this was our grown-up version of detention. We shared the same floor back at headquarters—homicide on the west side of the building and MPU on the east. It wasn’t enough of a divide. Not a single day went by without threats of a nuclear strike.
It was why the majority of the detectives from both departments had ended up at Marie Curtis Park for a promised fun-filled afternoon of team-building. Sarcasm intended.
No one was happy.
Nothing about the day sounded fun.
The skeleton crew who’d stayed behind to work had laughed us out of the building on Friday afternoon, gleeful they’d been selected to work instead of participating. Lucky bastards.
Staff Sergeant Summerfield and Staff Sergeant Edwards were huddled together under a nearby willow, its branches scraping the ground and providing a decent splash of shade for the department heads. The rest of us stood under the bright mid-May morning sun. Every so often, one of them surreptitiously scanned the two distinct groups of detectives, whether ensuring no fights broke out or making plans, I couldn’t be sure.
No one had been told what today’s activities entailed.
We’d been permitted to dress casually, so I’d tugged on a pair of cargo shorts that morning and paired them with a charcoal Under Armor hoodie. Since it wasn’t technically a workday, I’d forgone shaving, a rare treat since I usually ensured my face was as smooth as a baby’s bottom. It felt rebellious, which only punctuated how sad and uneventful my life was.
Eden had immediately remarked on the scruff, scratching her fingers along my jaw with a wide grin. “I love this. So sexy.”
A cool spring breeze blew, ruffling my wheat blond hair as I noted which staff from homicide had been dragged out for the day’s affairs. Just because we didn’t like each other didn’t mean we didn’t know each other. We just didn’t play in each other’s backyards. Or share toys. Or invite one another out for drinks or food.
Ever.
There was an unwritten rule that our two departments did not associate outside work. Hell, we rarely extended the courtesy of a please or thank you when dealing with one another.
My phone buzzed. As I removed it from my pocket, I half wished I was getting called out to a case so I could abandon this bullshit team-building day and do something productive.
Then again, a call meant someone, likely a child, had gone missing, and nobody wanted that.
It wasn’t the office. When I read Jack’s name on the screen, my stomach soured. A wash of dread filled my veins, and a bitter taste flooded my mouth. Fragments of our fight from two weeks ago still echoed inside my head. It had been a doozy. One of our more explosive conflicts. Technically, we’d broken up.
The phone continued to vibrate with the incoming call as I stared at it, debating what to do. I’d told him it was over, but Jack wasn’t one to take no for an answer. Our silent standoff was doomed to end eventually. It had been exactly fifteen days. Long enough that Jack assumed I’d gotten over my anger.
I hadn’t.
Eden noticed my inattention, and when she saw why, she tore the phone from my hand before I could secure my grip. “Oh no. No you don’t. You are not answering that.” She declined the call and pierced me with a no-nonsense glare. “Tell me you aren’t talking to him again. Oh god, Quaid, you are not that stupid, are you?”
“I’m not. I haven’t talked to him in two weeks. I swear. Not since the blowout.” I held up three fingers. “Scout’s honor.” Then I waved for her to give back my phone.
“Why’s he calling?”
“I don’t know. He’s Jack. He started calling last night. I swear I haven’t answered.” Yet.
My willpower left much to be desired.
“Did he leave a message?”
Yeah, three, but I didn’t want to get into it. Jack’s heartfelt pleas and excuses had kept me up all night as I waffled between loneliness and undiluted anger. Loneliness was my pitfall, and he knew it.
I shrugged.
“Quaid, listen to me.” Eden took a stance that meant I was about to get lectured.
“Save your breath and give me back my phone. He’s my problem, not yours. I can handle it.”
“Like you handled it last time.”
“Eden. Phone.”
She begrudgingly placed the device in my hand. “I’m just going to say it one more time.”
“Don’t.”
“Then I’ll never say it again. I swear. Once a cheater, always a cheater. He will make every excuse in the book to convince you to take him back. Again. Don’t listen. It’s lies. You did the right thing leaving him the first time. We are all weak. You went back. He didn’t change. You sent him packing. Now let him go. Do not let him back into your life. You deserve better.”
Luckily, Staff Sergeant Edwards called the two groups to attention, saving me from having to answer or defend myself. It was stupid, but I couldn’t help thinking I deserved all the crap Jack dished out. How many times had I worked late or not been available? How many times had I canceled plans or forgotten about them? Sure, Jack knew the deal when we’d started dating, but his accusatory words still lingered in the back of my mind. You’re always working. It never would have happened if you’d been more available. I love you, baby. You know I do. He means nothing to me.
“All right, everybody, listen up.” Staff Sergeant Edwards gleefully rubbed his hands together as he scanned both our groups. “We are going to have some fun today.”
I tucked my phone away, shaking off the unsettling memory of our fight, ready to play along with whatever pointless game they had planned for us. Fun was subjective, and I highly doubted there was any to be had.
Chapter two
Aslan
“We’re going to mix things up today, so if you thought you’d be tackling this little adventure with your regular partner, you’re wrong.” Staff Sergeant Edwards’s slippery grin took over his leathery face.
Torin Fox, my partner for the last eight years, nudged my arm and shook his head. “Told you. This is fucking bullshit. They’re splitting us up.”
I should have figured. It was unlikely they would call our departments together for a team-building day then pit us against one another. That would defeat the purpose. They wanted us to learn how to play nice and get along.
Staff Sergeant Summerfield took over. “At ten o’clock on the hour, an email will land in your inboxes. In the email, you will find the instructions for the day’s events, along with your assigned partner. Read through the email carefully. The instructions are clearly described. The first team to solve their ‘crime’ will be declared the winner, and your dinner and drinks for the evening will be paid for.”
“Oh, hoorah.” My tone was rich with sarcasm. “Dinner and drinks. Did you hear that? Such incentive. God forbid they tap into that budget and reward us properly.”
Torin snorted.
I checked the time on my phone. “Four minutes until our fate is determined. Who’s it gonna be? The suspense is killing me.”
We scanned the gathered group of missing persons detectives who were spread out a generous distance away from the homicide crew like we had cooties or bad breath. They were looking at us in much the same manner as we were looking at them. I had to admit, the relationship between our departments was toxic, but I wasn’t convinced one team day would solve anything.
“This is worse than when my high school chem teacher paired us up for a project, and I got stuck with Melba Toast Macy,” Torin said.
I made a face. “Melba Toast Macy?”
“That shit is gross. You ever had it? She ate it every day at lunch with sardines.” Torin shivered at the thought. “Fucking sardines, dude. It was disgusting.”
“So you called her Melba Toast Macy?”
“I don’t know, man. I didn’t give her the nickname. You know how high school kids are. All I’m saying is, she was the biggest loser in school. Like, pimply and fat and smelled like fish, and I got stuck with her. That damages a person’s reputation. But right now, I’d take her back in a heartbeat over any one of those motherfuckers over there. This day is gonna blow and not in a good way. What kind of crime do you think we’ve gotta solve anyhow?”
“Who knows. Won’t matter. We’ll be doing all the work. MPU couldn’t find their asses with both hands.”
Torin chuckled and offered a fist to bump, which I obliged. “Damn straight. You got plans for tonight?”
“You mean after my winning dinner and drinks?”
Another laugh. “Yeah, after that.”
“Depending on when we get out of here, I’ll probably hit a meeting.”
Torin bobbed his head. “How long have you got now?”
“Four months, three weeks, and two days.” And I didn’t know if the cravings would ever go away, so I tried to attend AA meetings at least three times a week or more. Dangling free drinks over my head for an incentive to win today was not helping matters. I was already coming up with excuses to cut out early. I didn’t do well around alcohol, but I wasn’t in a place yet where I could admit that out loud.
“Good for you, man. What about after your meeting? What are you doing then?”
“I’m supposed to stop by Amelia’s. She has her hands full. I told her I’d come by and hang out tonight.”
“How’s Graham?”
“Busy. He starts school in September, but it’s been a process getting it all set up between doctor’s appointments and meetings with educational assistances.”
“And the baby?”
“She’s colicky. Between the two of them, Amelia barely sleeps.”
“When’s Chris back.”
“He just left. Not for at least nine or ten months. He’ll miss Kylee’s first year.”
“Sad, man. That’s shit.”
I nodded, the bitter taste of resentment filling my mouth, urging me to say more, but I bit my tongue. Amelia had told me to butt out more times than I could count. It wasn’t my business. For as stubborn and bullheaded as I could be, my sister was a thousand times worse.
Chris, her husband, was military. Career. And he spent a good deal of his time overseas, which meant Amelia spent a good deal of time raising two kids alone. A three-month-old infant and a four-year-old with autism. It didn’t sit right with me, so I helped her out when I could. It was the least I could do.
Torin’s phone, and about a dozen more within hearing range, dinged simultaneously. Mine was in my pocket, but I felt it vibrate against my leg.
It was ten o’clock. The eagle had landed.
“Oh joy. Let the games begin,” Torin said, opening the email.
“Good luck.”
“You too, my man.”
A hush settled over both groups as everyone pulled out their phones and opened their emails. I tugged mine from a pocket and pulled up the message labeled Team-Building Instructions.
The first thing I looked for was who they’d assigned me as a partner. After a quick scan, my gaze landed on a name.
Quaid Valor.
“Fuck my life,” I muttered.
“Uh-oh. That sounds bad. Who’d you get?” Torin leaned against my side, reading over my shoulder.
“Mr. Anal Retentive himself. This is bullshit.”
“Valor?”
“Do you know of another anal-retentive asshole who works in MPU?”
“Nope.” A smirk filled Torin’s face. “Sucker.”
“Shut up. Who’d you get?”
“Allison Bright. Who is she? I’ve never heard of her.” Torin squinted, scanning the gathered group of MPU detectives across from us.
Most of them had their heads down, still reading their emails. Quaid Valor eyed me suspiciously, a hook in his upper lip suggesting a sneer. I’d never seen the guy without some kind of look of disgust on his face. He seemed perpetually irritable.
When our gazes clashed, he looked back at his phone, saying something to the woman beside him, which I could only surmise wasn’t pleasant.
I resumed scanning for Allison Bright. When I spotted her, I pointed her out to Torin. Allison was a new hire. She was tall and slender, midtwenties, with flawless ebony skin, huge dark eyes, and full, pouty lips. She usually wore her silky black hair in a professional ponytail, but it was down today, brushing her shoulders, highlighting her oval face. She was a knock-out.
“There.” I pointed.
“Holy hot mama. Are you serious right now? How do I not know her?”
“Calm your dick. She’s the enemy, that’s why.”
“I’m not hating this day so much anymore.”
“What happened to the whole, I’d take Melba Toast Macy back in a heartbeat?”
“That was before I knew Allison Bright existed.”
“Traitor. Remember who you work for. Don’t get drawn to the dark side.”
“Okay.” Staff Sergeant Edwards clapped his hands, drawing our attention. “Now that you’ve had a moment to see who your partner is for the day, it’s time to break off into groups and get things underway. Remember, we are here to have fun. Leave your hostility toward one another at the door, and let’s learn to work together for a change.”
“Let the games begin,” Staff Sergeant Summerfield shouted.
With an internal groan, I slapped Torin’s shoulder. “Good luck.”
“I don’t need luck. I have good looks and a suave personality on my side. She will be putty in my hands.”
“Then remember we have these fancy little things called sexual harassment lawsuits.”
“You’d know all about them, you whore.”
I gave him the finger, which only made him laugh.
“You’re just jealous. Try not to flirt with the corpse. Necrophilia is a crime too.”
“You’re disgusting. Get lost.”
I glanced at Quaid again and huffed a laugh. It was an apt description. Quaid Valor was known around the office as a stringent conformist. The man who followed the rules to the very letter of the law. He didn’t smile, and he always walked around like he had a stick up his ass. He could have been overcompensating. He was openly gay, so adorning a douchebag attitude might have been intentional. Armor against the ever-present department bullies who went under the radar. His means of ensuring he didn’t get slapped with cliché labels that followed any openly gay officer around, despite the heavily enforced rules surrounding discrimination.
Being openly bi, I’d heard the whispers and taunts. I’d felt the heat of a few silent glares coming from the veteran officers who refused to move with the times. But that shit rolled off my shoulders.
And it didn’t make me any happier about being paired with a walking stiff.
Begrudgingly, our two groups melted together into one as people paired off. I wandered up beside Quaid, who was scowling at his phone like it had insulted him.
“Valor.”
He spared me a chilly glare—“Doyle”—before returning his attention to his phone.
“So, what’s the gist of the assignment?” I asked when he continued to ignore me.
“Read it for yourself. I’m not doing the work for you.”
