Free Soul Rest: A Knights of the Board Room Novel by Joey W. Hill Page A

Leland was talking to Mike. “I didn’t tell her anything, Sarge. You know me better than that. And she does, too. She didn’t ask me anything about what’s going on. She was just saying good morning, bringing us some coffee.”
    Yeah, and even a mature cop confronted with a pretty, smiling woman didn’t always have his head on straight. A good reporter knew how to extract information without her source realizing he’d let things slip.
    As if reading the direction of his thoughts, Mike sobered. “I know the routine, Leland. But she’s different from the rest of them. Me and the other guys feel like when we get a reporter who treats us fair, it’s okay to give her a bone now and then.”
    He winced as Leland gave him a fish-eye. “No, Christ. Not like that. She’s not a badge bunny. Most the time she carries on as much shit with us as we do with each other. I think she was raised with brothers. Never has dated anyone on the force that we know about.”
    As Leland’s gut eased, he realized he’d reacted more personally than expected to the idea that he’d been played a fool. Hearing that he hadn’t, helped. But it also pissed him off with himself. Still, he reined back the irritation. “Why do you think she’s different from the rest of them? Other than her great legs?” And the gorgeous rack. Her ass was a little on the skinny side for him, but he still didn’t mind wrapping his hands around it.
    “When God gives a woman those kinds of gifts and arms her with coffee, you have to show some kind of appreciation.” Mike held up a hand when Leland seared him with a look. “Kidding. She doesn’t pick up a piece of a story and give it the slant she wants, like most of them do. She’s thorough, careful. Checks her sources. I won’t say she hasn’t ever managed to get some tidbit out of one of us on an off day, but it doesn’t come back to bite us. Not with her.”
    “A cop can be written up for that kind of shit. Or lose his job.” He jerked his head toward Johnson. “Maybe you know how to watch your tongue, because you have enough years and brain cells. You want to get his rookie ass fired because he sees his partner chatting up the press and thinks it’s okay to do the same?”
    A flare of resentment in Mike’s eyes said he’d hit target, but Leland let it stand. The resentment would pass. A sergeant might be considered one of the guys on most days, but when it mattered, he’d chew their asses. It was better than one of the lieutenants doing it, and it sure as hell was better than them taking risks that could get them killed. While talking to a reporter wasn’t a life-or-death situation, it was a slip in protocol that could open the door to other ones. Their lives were far more important to him than their friendship. And he valued their friendship as if they were family, because they were.
    “Yeah, Sarge. Won’t happen again.”
    “See to it. You’re a hell of a good cop, Carter. Johnson will benefit from your experience. You’ll help keep him on his toes.”
    He pivoted and strode toward Johnson. The blue-eyed rookie’s military haircut didn’t conceal that it was as fine as when his mother brushed it as a baby. He’d paled, telling Leland his expression was still forbidding, more in the mood to kick asses than pat them. He heard the young cop’s relieved sigh as he passed him without stopping, headed for the other end of the perimeter barrier.
    While he’d been grilling Mike, he’d seen Celeste leave her spot. She’d spent a few minutes talking to one of the onlookers in a store across the street. The two kids had watched her the whole time, and the store patron had noticed it as well, disappearing back inside in a matter of seconds. Shrugging, Celeste had come back to her chair. Now she was making notes and sipping the last cup of coffee in the tray. Despite that, Leland would bet his squad car she was aware of every move he’d made and the tone of the conversation he was having