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“Tell me, Detective, how long have you been in love with my daughter?”
His fist slamming into the older man’s jaw was answer enough, but to be fair, he’d never been a good liar.
Correction. He’d never been a good liar to others, but to himself? Every damn day he lied and believed it.
No, he didn’t notice that she paid a little extra to add an apple fritter to her usual “Sorry, I’m late again!” donut order. No, he didn’t consistently ask her if she was okay when he noticed her silences. No, he paid zero attention to how when she used his first name, be it sincere or mocking, it made his stomach flutter. And no, he wasn’t absolutely, irrevocably in love with her.
So, he lied to himself again, and took satisfaction in wiping the smug look off her so-called father’s face for the sheer to thrill of putting such a patronizing prick in his place. That he’d done it just after Mr. Gillory had loudly dressed-down his own daughter in front of the entire bullpen was a bonus perk, particularly since he’d stalked the pretentious shit into the men’s empty restroom and locked the door. He was half tempted to waterboard the man in a toilet, but pinning him against a urinal was satisfactory as he saw genuine shock stick to the guy’s face.
“Morgan is my partner, sir,” the honorific dripped with disdain from his lips, “and I’m happy ensure you spend the rest of your life eating through a straw after what you just said to her. Imagine what I’d do if I was in love with her?”
He tightened his hold, pressed his arm into the man’s neck for good measure, and watched as the shock switched to fear with a smirk.
A man like Sergei Gillory spent the majority of his life thinking himself above such base feelings, thought his brains made him better in every way and inflicted that thinking upon others. But a bully was a bully no matter their IQ, and he’d always hated bullies.
Then he smelled it, glanced down, and laughed, releasing the man with a shove. It’d been a long time since he’d made a criminal piss themselves, but this one was definitely worth remembering.
“Now, I suggest you leave so Morgan can solve your petty little corporate theft case, and I suggest you never return. Am I clear?”
“Crystal,” the man managed to nod.
“Wonderful. Get the hell out of my precinct.”
He exited without waiting for a response, and gave Oz a nod as the younger detective had been guarding the entrance.
“Morgan?” he asked.
“In Soto’s office.”
In a blink he was knocking on the closed door, noting the shuttered blinds with a heavy feeling in his gut. Worry quickly consumed his remaining anger as the door opened only enough for him to spot Daphne’s discerning eye.
“You handle it?”
He nodded, and the door opened wide enough for him to enter. Immediately, he spotted Selena tucked in close with Morgan on the couch, his partner concerningly quiet as their boss tried to reassure her.
“Daphne, please make sure that asshole never gets access to this floor again,” he directed, never taking his eyes off Morgan.
“You got it,” the detective nodded, seeing herself out.
“He’d be getting pulled over for every little traffic infraction possible if I could manage it after that stunt,” Selena shook her head, standing up to meet him.
“I think we’ve reached an understanding on that front. How is she?” He asked.
“She can hear you and is just fine, thank you very much!”
He winced along with the Lieutenant at their consultant’s voice. But he noted the wobble in her tone, despite its strong displeasure.
“I’ll give you two a minute,” Selena smirked, leaving him to face the music a little too readily.
He sighed, hesitated, unsure what she’d allow after such an ego blow.
“So, do I get to field phone calls from my mother about why the old man ended up in the ER?”
His gaze snapped up to meet hers, questioning until he saw the small sparkle there. Not as radiant as he was used to, but it gave him the strength to chuckle as he walked and sat down beside her.
“No need for that. I just made it very clear that Major Crimes runs on decorum, and the behavior he demonstrated will not be tolerated.”
It was her turn to laugh, and the sound washed over him like a hot shower.
“So, you threatened him and he caved like the coward he is.”
“Something like that,” he shrugged, bumping his shoulder with hers but keeping his hands in front of him and clasped tight. Anything to ignore how his fingers itched to touch her…
He’d not soon forget the look on her face as the senior Gillory lashed out, a haunting mix of pain and anger that he’d observed too often in children’s faces as they recalled what the adults in their lives had done. The adults who should have protected them, loved them…
But then he felt a weight on his shoulder, and his head swiveled in surprise to find Morgan’s resting there, her eyes closed as she breathed deep. The sight made him reach on autopilot, finding her hand and threading their fingers together on his thigh between them. His hand dwarfed hers, but they fit, like all the other oddities that made them up but somehow still worked.
“Thanks, Adam.”
His heartbeat hammered in his ears, desperate to offer more but terrified of scaring her away. Ever so softly he rested his head against hers, and closed his eyes as she relaxed into him further with a sigh. He knew she’d been burned more than once, and was ten times as shy, readily placing all the blame on herself, on her intellect. But as smart as she was, it’d never occurred to her that the other person had to match her effort, meet her halfway, a partnership…
“Any time, partner.”
Her fingers squeezed his as she chuckled, and he squeezed back.
“And if there is a next time, go ahead and give him that swirly.”
He laughed, daring to press a fast kiss to her hair before returning his head to hers.
Tell me, Detective, how long have you been in love with my daughter?
“As long as you allow me the privilege.”