Duty and Devotion Read Free Page A

wanted to get this over with before the food got there.
    “So…”
    “What?” Danny looked up at Matt, all scowl and averted eyes. Matt didn't take it personally. Apparently nine was the new thirteen.
    “Listen, I know you're pissed about your dad working,” Matt began, drumming his fingers on the obnoxious rose pattern of the upholstery.
    Danny snorted, his fingers never stopping work on the buttons of his handheld game.
    “Well, am I wrong?”
    “Whatever.”
    “His job is important.”
    “Right.”
    “He'd rather be home.”
    “Uh-huh.”
    Matt sighed. “I know you know all of this, and it doesn't matter anyway because it sucks. Period. You don't care about his job—you want him home. I get that. You want me to give you twenty dollars, and we'll call this little talk over?”
    That made Danny look up. “Twenty bucks? What do I have to do?”
    “Not be all upset and scarred for life because your dad is working late?”
    A ghost of a smile made a guest appearance on the corner of Danny's face. “Do I have to sign a paper or something?”
    “No, just don't set fires or end up in juvie.”
    “Deal.”
    Matt dug into his pocket for his wallet as Danny shook his head. “I'll remind you later.”
    “Thanks; I gotta go to the ATM.” Matt rolled off the couch. “Hey, good talk.”
    Danny snickered, still shaking his head.
    All in all, Matt thought that went well.
    Chapter Two
    New York City
    Detective Evan Cerelli checked his watch for the tenth time in a span of about five minutes. He knew this was important, he knew he shouldn't be so irritated, but shit—he was.
    The stakeout of a suspected underground gambling club was rookie work, and he was irritated that a high-profile mayoral election was pushing it to be the problem of senior detectives. He looked through the binoculars, saw nothing—yet again—and sighed noisily.
    “You're like a restless five-year-old tonight. I should have brought coloring books,” yawned Helena Abbott, Evan's friend and partner, who sat in the driver's seat, occupying herself with a bridal magazine. “Anything?”
    “No. Nothing. Why are we doing this again?”
    “Because our boss told us to. Because his boss told him to. Because the mayor wants a big bust for the headlines during the elections and cracking down on illegal gambling is PR safe. These headlines need to imply that we're doing our job, but not scare people. Illegal gambling bad—but not scary.” She clucked her tongue as she glanced over at him. “Are you new?”
    Evan grumbled as he slouched in the uncomfortable passenger seat.
    “Everything okay at home?”
    “It's fine. The kids just didn't sound too happy when I talked to them.” Evan resisted the urge to stomp his feet.
    “And Matt?”
    “Matt understands. He was a cop.”
    “Now he's a househusband. I'm betting it's different.” Helena held up an opened page under the dim dome light. “What do you think about these shoes?”
    “Huh?” Evan squinted. “They're shoes.”
    “You're a lousy gay person, can I just tell you that?” Helena gave him a glaring look of affection. “Listen, why don't you call Matt, and I'll pretend I can't hear you talking dirty to him.”
    Evan's face heated up, even as he tried to form the words protesting the “gay” label but came up with nothing. Labels made him nervous, even as he struggled with his own vocabulary on the matter. “Helena, remember that line we talked about?”
    “No.” She flipped through a few more pages. “My mother is threatening to pick out my dress, Evan. We need to stop her! She's gone hog wild with these wedding plans.”
    “It's an exciting event for her. You should be understanding.” Evan was glad to get the subject off Matt in general. He was mired deep in too many thoughts right now, and he didn't want Helena accidentally (or on purpose) poking him with a stick.
    “Well what about me? I am a part of this, remember.” She muttered to herself, then tossed the magazine in