“This guy was committing an armed robbery of a gas station I just happened to be at filling up my car. When I walked into the store, I saw him waving his gun around in the back. I took out my gun and shot him because he was threatening to kill everyone in the place because they didn’t have a lot of money. He wouldn’t follow commands, and—” he stops midsentence and begins breathing deeply.
“Did the perp survive the shot?” I almost hated to ask.
“Yes, but someone videoed the shooting, and now it’s all on social media. The higher-ups had me at headquarters all day working on the paperwork so it could be an open and closed situation when it comes to my reasoning for doing what I did.” He sounds nervous as if he’s not sure of himself.
“Sorry, you have to go through that. None of us want to be involved in a shooting, but it comes with the territory,” I reassure him.
“You know me better than anyone else, Yan. With us both being fresh out of college and around the same age when we came into the agency years ago, we have grown together. Through our talks, I have an appreciation for the plight of blacks, Latinos and other races when it comes to police shootings. You know how I feel about that. What they are saying about me is wrong. I don’t deserve to be talked about as if I’m an animal, just because I was trying to save lives,” he says, his voice weakening.
“Well, Sloane, I haven’t even checked social media, but I do know you will guard any man, black or white, with your last breath. At the same time, you will put a bullet hole in any man involved in criminal activity and threatening the lives of others. So, if I were you, I wouldn’t worry about it. Your name will be cleared in the end,” I say to console him. Yet, we both know in the current polarizing state of media, and especially social media, people have already made up their minds, and there is nothing he can do to convince most of them of his true intentions. This whole situation is messed up, so I don’t know what else to say to brighten his mood.
“It’s easy to say not to worry about it, but man, oh, man, seeing my name go through the mud is hard. What I don’t understand is how thousands of people who know nothing about me can call me a murderous pig when they don’t have but a few-seconds clip of what happened.”
“Well, it’s the nature of the beast these days. Bad cops have made it harder for the good ones to do their jobs, that’s for sure. But, don’t worry about it, I’ll speak up for you, Sloane. I know your heart.”
“Will you do that for me, Yan?”
“Of course, I will,” I tell him. “And, you’re not missing much on the trafficking case either. I think they’re hiding out because they’ve been tipped off. I haven’t seen any of those girls I was suspicious of since I asked them questions about who they work for,” I update Sloan.
“I was worried about you last night when I couldn’t make it. That was the hardest part of the night, thinking something might happen to you while I was at the precinct filling out paperwork.”
Sloane is such a protector. With all he has going on with the shooting and social media slander, he’s still worried about me.
“It’s okay, partner. I didn’t get into much because it started raining and no one else came by. Just the guy from the other night, but it started raining before we could get to the next level.”
“Good, because I worry about you. I don’t know what I would do if something happens to you,” he says, his voice cracking once again. Sloane doesn’t have many friends in New York City. We are both implants in the city and have leaned on each other over the years.
“I know you worry, but I have been telling you since I started that just because I’m a woman doesn’t mean I can’t handle the men I deal with. I always think of a way to entrap them before I slap the cuffs on them. If I can’t do that, there’s a bullet for anyone who gets out of line,” I explain.
“You definitely know how to entrap a man, and you have ways of doing it without bullets,” Sloane says, his voice lowering an octave.
“Yeah, and they fall for it every time,” I brag, laughing.
He laughs along with me. His laughter is a beautiful sound after the misery he’s just shared with me.
“I’m at home and staying in tonight, big guy, so you don’t have to worry about me. I’m going to watch Netflix until I fall asleep. Tomorrow, I’ll see if I can locate those girls by talking to some of the new ones out there. They were tight-lipped at first, but after being out there a month, I think I’m gaining some of their trust.”
“You’re good at what you do, Ari.”
“Thanks, Sloane.”
“Well, enjoy your evening,” he says. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Okay. You try to enjoy your evening, too. Don’t worry about what people are saying on social media. We both know you did your job, and probably saved the lives of the clerk and people in the store, too. It’s what we do,” I remind him.
“You’re right. I feel better after talking to you.”
“Good, now let me go. My movie is coming on.”
“Please, let me know if you get an itch to roll out tonight. Don’t go out alone. Stop trying to be a solo agent,” he fusses.
“Yeah, yeah, and yeah…” I say, hanging up. He knows me too well.
I’m already dressed and ready to meet Blaze. I wait for him in the lobby of the motel to save him from an uncomfortable conversation with the check-in clerk at the front desk. The woman is extra chatty, and she likes to give people she thinks are my Johns a hard time.
When Blaze walks up, he’s wearing comfortable looking gray sweatpants, a gray zip-up jacket, only half-zipped, with nothing on underneath, and a pair of gray LeBron tennis shoes.
Why Lord? Why must this man be so sexy with so much swag?