Jacked (Trent Brothers #1)(52)

“I made sergeant,” he said, surprising me that he spoke.

He glanced at me quickly and then resumed his vigilant attention on the road. “Before I was with the ATTF, back in my old unit. Castoll was up for a promotion, too, but I got it instead.”

And with that detail, the grinding twitch in his jaw returned. I surmised that opening up to anyone wasn’t something that Detective Adam Trent was comfortable with. Still, I was relieved that he was making an effort.

“Needless to say, he didn’t take it very well. He had more years of service in than me and he made a point of reminding everyone of that every chance he got.”

Being in emergency medicine, where some of my colleagues had huge egos, I could completely relate. “Well, apparently he didn’t earn it or deserve it.”

Adam let out a partial laugh. “Yeah, well he didn’t see it that way. Having to report to me as his shift supervisor made it even worse. His friends didn’t take it well, either. Shit got uncomfortable.”

“Uncomfortable?”

Adam nodded.

“Like how?”

He stretched his neck. “It’s not something I really care to rehash, Erin.”

I could relate to that, too. There were some stories I’d rather never have to rehash, myself. “Okay. I understand. It’s fine.” I watched the buildings and storefronts pass by my window, streaking into a blur of glass and signs and messages.

“He tried to pin some shit on me.” Adam ground his jaw again. “Even…” His head swayed and he let out a muffled curse. “It cost me my partner.”

“What an *.”

He blew out a long breath. “Yeah. Understatement. Castoll’s held a grudge ever since, so when word went out that they were creating a new task force, I put in for the transfer. That was another strike against me, I suppose.”

“Why? I would think that you leaving his unit would make him happy.”

“Yeah, you’d think.”

“And the skinny one? Stiles?”

Adam shrugged. “One of Castoll’s supporters. Been his partner for years.”

It was starting to make sense. “Did you get even?”

He turned to me, confusion painting his features. “For what?”

“Him trying to pin something on you.”

Adam shook his head. “There was nothing to even up. He failed in his attempts to drum up trouble and I got the hell out of there before he had a chance to succeed.”

I nodded to myself. “So how did it cost you a partner?”

With that, Adam’s body tensed as he stared straight out the windshield. Tension wafted off him in waves. I was almost sorry I’d asked.

“I don’t like talking about it.”

“I can tell.”

His eyes shot over to mine.

I held up a hand. “Listen, you don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.” I hoped he could hear my understanding and repentance. “I get it. It’s apparent that it’s a very uncomfortable subject for you. We can talk about something else. Really. It’s okay.”

We drove a few blocks while I tried to think of something, anything that would be more upbeat.

“It was during a traffic stop,” he finally said, breaking the unnerving silence.

I turned in my seat to face him.

“Three guys in the car, driving way too fast. As soon as I got up on the driver door I smelled it; the car reeked of marijuana. I called for backup before removing any of them from the vehicle. Castoll and Stiles were the closest unit.”

Whatever he was recalling was painful. I could see it in his eyes, his sullen expression, the way his chest rose and fell with each word.

Adam wiped his hand down his face. “Castoll and I exchanged a few heated words as I was removing the driver. I’d just cuffed the dude and was going through his pockets when I heard Tom yell and then them bam, a flash went off. Guy in the back seat had a loaded .45. Caught my partner…” Adam swallowed, his voice eerily monotone, “Caught Tom right in the neck and up into his skull. He was dead before he hit the ground.”

I couldn’t suppress my gasp. “Oh, Adam…”

His head rocked. “It happened so f*cking fast.”

I let him gather his composure while imagining the bullet’s trajectory and the estimated damage it caused.

“Castoll told I.A. that he’d thought he’d seen me pocket the baggie I’d found in the driver’s pocket and that’s why his attention wasn’t on the backseat passenger.”

My heart immediately sank and twisted, aching for him—for his pain and his injustice. What he’d just laid on me was so much more than I had ever expected. It was beyond heavy, but I took it. I held it. I’d bear it for him. He needed that much.

I reached for his arm, for any part of him that I could touch. He’d made himself vulnerable at my petulant urging and whether or not he wanted comforting, he was going to get it from me because that’s what you do when someone you care about is hurting. You listen, you empathize, you offer healing words whenever possible.

In one conversation, it was more than Randy had ever given me in the eight months we were together.

Adam’s body was rigid. How long had he been dealing with the survivor’s guilt?

He quickly glanced at me again. “So now you know. And that waitress, Kara? I went out with her once, months ago. Just once.”