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instincts, kept me still. “You don’t know him at all.” I bit off each word.
    “Like I said, I know of him. I know his partner was dirty and he—”
    “Well, I know him,” I spat out, my voice hoarse. “And he would never, ever, tamper with evidence, any evidence! If anyone is screwing with you, it’s your boss. Who the fuck transfers the wrong guns to the Justice Department?”
    “Cortez signed a piece of paper to transfer a crapton of evidence, not just one gun! Do you have any idea how many cases and reports and everything else Justice is going through? It’ll take years for them to get through it all.”
    “And then they can start looking into Homan Square,” I blasted.
    “Fuck you, Miro!” he yelled, shoving at me hard but barely moving me, as I was prepared for his reaction. I knew Norris Cochran; his fuse was far shorter than mine. “You know I never—”
    “I don’t give a shit that you never,” I roared, knocking him back several feet. “But don’t you dare come at me with some bullshit accusation about my boss covering up a crime by tampering with evidence. For all we know, the goddamn gun was never even there in the first place!”
    He threw a wild roundhouse punch that I ducked easily, and I would have tagged him right in the jaw, but someone grabbed me from behind and got my arms pinned behind me.
    As I struggled to free myself, Cochran caught me in the right eye, but I managed to twist hard enough to take the next one in the right shoulder instead of the side of the face, and the last one in the gut. He was ready to hit me again; I saw the fury all over him, knew he’d been waiting years, ever since we arrested Hartley the first time, to kick the shit out of me.
    Then we both heard a bellow of outrage. I was released instantly, and before I hit the gravel, I was in Kowalski’s arms.
    “You better fuckin’ run!” he thundered after them. “I’ll have both of your motherfucking badges for this!”
    “For crissakes, Jones,” Kohn grumbled as he reached us. “We can’t leave you alone for a second? Why didn’t you yell for us?”
    “I didn’t know he had backup. How is this my fault?” I railed.
    “Jesus,” he moaned, “lookit your face, man. I think we’re gonna have to get you to the hospital.”
    “Fuck that,” I groused, spitting out a mouthful of blood. “Nothing’s broken. Just take me home.”
    “We’ll call Kage on the way.”
    I couldn’t argue with that.

Chapter 3
     
     
    KOHN EXPLAINED to our boss what had happened as I lay on my couch at home with an ice pack on my face. I got to hear it all and add in a few details of my own since he had Kage on speaker. The part about Cochran accusing him of being dirty he didn’t react to at all, but me getting hit while his partner held me—that he took issue with.
    “I’ll have them both brought up on charges.”
    I was not innocent in the whole exchange. “I shoved him.”
    “You defended yourself,” Kohn argued. “I saw the whole thing, so did Jer. We just missed his fuckin’ partner going out the back.”
    “Yeah, it would’ve been a fair fight,” I explained, trying to sit up, but Kowalski snapped his fingers, shook his head, and went back to flipping channels on my TV. He had the volume down for the time being, but once the call was done, ESPN would be loud in my Greystone. Not that either of them would stay once my friend Aruna got there with her one-year-old and Ian’s dog—technically my dog now too—Chickie Baby.
    “Jones?”
    “Yessir,” I answered.
    “You realize,” he growled in that way he had where there was no confusion—even on the phone—that he was a great big scary man, “that you don’t have to defend my honor, right?”
    “Begging your pardon, sir,” I said, taking a breath and thinking of all the things my boss had personally done for me that no one else ever had. “No one is allowed to say anything derogatory about you in my presence.”
    It was quiet in my living