Authors: R.L. Mathewson
walked through the second security door that led to the back offices where his office was
located as well as those belonging to the detectives and supervisors. It’s also where the
evidence locker, files and the backup artillery were located.
Hank ran a hand over short hair that was more gray than brown these days. It was a
nervous sign that Marty was well acquainted with. He always did it when he had to tell her
something that he wasn’t entirely comfortable with. Like the time when he had to explain
why she had boobs at eleven when none of the other girls did, what a period was, and her
absolute favorite, the "sex talk" that left him hyperventilating.
Even in his late forties, her father was a well-respected and feared man. He was probably
in the best shape of his life and he didn’t take shit from anyone. Tristan actually reminded
her of him except that Tristan was a lot colder and seemed like he didn’t care about
anything or anyone outside of his family.
He opened the door leading to the “pit”, the area where the offices were located. In the
corner was a desk for her father’s secretary and in the middle of the large room were
several desks for the uniformed officers to share and a coffee area in front of the break
room. Along the far back wall were several more desks for the secretaries that served the
entire station.
Hank waited for her to enter while he held the door open for her as he shifted the box he
was carrying to his other arm. Marty had to shift the large box in her arms and the two bags
hanging off her arms so that she could get through the door.
“Hey, Hank,” one of the uniformed officers said as he walked past them.
Marty looked around the pit and sighed with relief. Sunday was probably the best day for
her to start her new job since most of the officers were on the road and there were no
secretaries working today. Since it was her father’s day off, it would give her a chance to
find out what was expected of her without constant interruption.
Hank stopped in front of an office and gave her what could only be described as a
strained smile. “This is it,” he said with false cheerfulness.
Marty’s eyes narrowed first on his face, yeah, he was up to something, and then moved
to the plaque on the door. She swore under her breath as she read the name, Detective
Black.
“Ah, Dad?”
He unlocked the door and walked in. “Come in and get acquainted with your new
office.” He moved to the side so that she could enter.
She walked into the office, which was surprisingly larger than her father's and a lot
neater. To her right was a small sitting area with several comfortable looking chairs and a
small coffee table, several filing cabinets lined the wall, a large plush couch lined the back
wall and two large desks faced each other in the middle of the room. One of the desks held
a few folders, obviously just tossed there while the other desk was clearly Tristan’s since it
had a computer, pens and folders. “Wow…”
“This office was meant for two detectives, but since our budget only affords us three
detectives on payroll, Tristan got his own office,” Hank said as he shifted his eyes nervously
away from Marty.
“So,” she placed her box on the empty desk, “was this the office the person you hired for
my position last year used?”
Hank shifted guiltily. “Maybe, I don’t remember,” he lied.
“Uh huh.” She walked past her father and closed the door halfway. “Dad, you told me
that the guy you hired last year left screaming and crying after a week of being here. Did
Tristan have anything to do with that?”
He visibly winced as he ran a hand over his hair, again. “Who’s to say what happened? I
personally thought the guy was a bit skittish. He wasn’t my first choice, but then again with
our small budget we can’t be too picky,” he explained, giving her a sheepish smile.
She folded her arms over her chest. “Dad, did you tell Tristan that he was going to have
to share this office?”
Once again, he smoothed down his hair. “Well, I told him that as soon as we could find
someone to fill the position that he would have to share the office. You know how tough it
is to compete with the FBI and CIA when it comes to money and benefits.” He gave her a
sheepish grin. “We’re lucky we were able to steal you away.”
She sighed heavily, “Dad, you know that I’ve always wanted to work here.”
“I’m very proud of you, sweetie. I can’t wait until you’re done with your thesis and it’s
official.”
“Until then….,” she prompted.
He shifted uncomfortably. “Until then, I’m going to need you to help with paperwork,
phone calls, and research. It’s not quite a secretary job and not quite what you’re going to
be doing when you start your regular job here, but we need the help and you need the
money.”
She rolled her bottom lip between her teeth as she looked around the spacious office.
“But this will be my office permanently?”
“Yes.”
“What if Tristan doesn’t want to share the office when he comes back from medical
leave?” She was relieved that she would at least have the office for a while before she was
forced to work with him.
He shrugged. “There’s no choice. Neither of you can work in the pit. There aren’t
enough desks and there’s no privacy. The files you both work on are confidential. He’ll
have to suck it up.”
“Who will have to suck what up?” a familiar deep voice asked from behind her, sending
a tingling awareness down her spine and making her breath catch.
It was just so wrong that she reacted this way to him, so damn wrong.
-
-
-
It felt good to be back, he reflected as he made his way through the station. After almost
a month of being away he was more than ready to be back. He had to admit that he’d been
more than a little surprised when Hank called him last night.
All week he’d expected Hank to come over and rip him a new one for allowing his
precious daughter to be caught in the rain. When the call came last night, he was prepared
to have his ass chewed out. What he hadn’t been prepared for was Hank telling him that he
could come back to work on light duty early.
Being stuck in his office most of the time normally wouldn’t have been fine with him,
but after a month of cleaning, reorganizing, and Shayne’s porn marathons, he was
desperate to get the hell out of the house even if that meant pushing papers for a while. Not
that he was really going to listen to Hank. He never had and probably never would. His
personnel file wasn’t three inches thick for nothing after all.
He never thought he’d be so happy to ditch his tee shirt and jeans in favor of a shirt and
tie, but here he was feeling like he was whole again in his tie, shirt and gun. It felt so good
to be back.
As he walked through the station, he half listened to good wishes and welcome backs as
he avoided slaps to the shoulder. All he wanted to do was retreat to his office and sit at his
desk for a moment. He needed to feel useful again. Too much time on the hands of a man
like him was not a good idea after all. With that in mind, he quickened his pace.
He entered the pit and immediately frowned when he saw that his office door was open.
Everyone knew that he hated anyone in his office. It had taken a while, but he had everyone
here trained not to enter unless they knocked and even then it better be important.
“There’s no choice. Neither of you can work in the pit. There aren’t enough desks and
there’s no privacy. The files you both work on are confidential. He’ll have to suck it up.”
Tristan heard as he neared his office.
“Who will have to suck what up?” he asked, already having a good idea what they were
talking about. He leaned against the doorframe and took in Hank’s guilty expression. He
watched as the man ran a hand over his hair. Great, Hank was up to something. There was
no mistaking that sign.
His eyes shifted to Marty. She looked defiant. Interesting. He watched her for a moment
as she hauled two oversized bags onto the empty desk and placed them next to a box. Then
she grabbed the box and bags out of Hank’s hands as the man looked nervously between
the two of them.
“Morning, Hank. What’s going on?” Tristan asked casually.
He watched as Hank noticeably swallowed and then forced a smile.
“It’s good to have you back, Tristan.”
“Uh huh, what’s going on?” Tristan looked pointedly at the boxes, forcing himself not to
look at the woman that every fiber of him craved.
Hank gestured for Tristan to follow him. “Let’s go and talk in my office about what
duties you’re allowed to perform while on light duty.”
Tristan threw one last look at the shit covering the extra desk before he nodded. “Sure.”
This should be interesting.
-
-
-
Marty kept her back to the men until they left the room. Then her shoulders sagged. She
couldn’t remember ever being this nervous before. It was still odd feeling this way around
Tristan. He used to be the one person in her life that she felt comfortable around. She could
be herself around him and never have to worry about him judging her or expecting anything
from her other than for her to be herself.
Now her nerves were rattled just by the mere mention of his name. This was not good. If
they were going to work in the same office, she needed to get over this and soon. She
frowned in the direction of the door. Her father was so going to pay for not telling her that
Tristan was coming back today. He’d led her to believe she’d have several weeks before
she’d have to deal with Tristan.
“No fucking way!” Tristan yelled, startling her and making her drop the book she’d been
holding. As she knelt down to pick it up, Tristan stormed back into the office.
Without a word, he picked up one of her boxes and hurried out of the room. After a
short surprised pause, she followed after him. He dropped the box off in the secretary’s
area and stormed back past her to their office.
“Oh no, you don’t,” she muttered as she grabbed the box and returned to the office to
find his arms loaded with the rest of her bags.
“Get out,” he snapped.
“No, this is my office, too,” she said, placing her box back on the desk. She reached for
the bags in his arms only to have him jerk them away from her.
“Listen, I don’t have time to babysit you. I’m sure the secretaries will play nicely with
you and make you feel like a big girl with an important job,” he said mockingly, “but I don’t
have time for this.” He headed for the door only to find Hank shutting it behind him.
Hank pinched the bridge of his nose as he gestured towards the small sitting area. “Sit,
both of you,” he said in a tone that left no room for argument.
With one last glare at each other, they put down their loads and sat down in opposite
chairs with Hank sitting in the middle. The older man sat back, regarding them both for a
long moment. Tristan and Marty glared at each other over the small coffee table, neither
one backing down.
Finally Hank cut through the thick silence. “Here’s the scoop for both of you.” They
stopped glaring at each other to glare at Hank.
He looked at Tristan. “Marty has applied for and been hired as the Criminal Forensic
Specialist for our region. She will not be acting in her position until after she finishes her
thesis and receives her diploma.” When Tristan opened his mouth to argue, Hank held up a
hand to stop him. “Which will be very soon. Until then she will be acting as your assistant.”
“I don’t need or want an assistant,” he said through clenched teeth.
Hank shrugged. “Too bad. You’ve got one. She’s also going to be helping with other
functions
and
she will be observing you when you conduct interviews. Also, you’ll let her
shadow you on cases. She has experience from an internship that she did with the FBI last
year, but she needs to learn how we do things around here. Since you’re my lead detective,
you’re going to take her under your wing.”
“No.”
“This isn’t up for discussion, Tristan. With your education and abilities you are the most
qualified person in this department to show her the ropes.”
Tristan laughed without humor. “No offense, Hank, but I’m not much of a babysitter and
I don’t want the job.”
“Then get the hell out of here. You’ll go back on full medical.” He gestured to Marty.
“She’s the only reason that I’ve decided to bring you back before you passed medical.”
He left Tristan to think it over, turning his attention to Marty. “You will work Tristan’s
shifts. His doctors and physical therapist tell me that his arm and shoulder are not at full use