Chapter 18

Gray went home, intending to veg for the rest of the day. Jack was working second shift that evening, but he and Huck would head to Toby's party once they were done with their shift. Mason was working until nine. So Gray had plenty of time for a Fast and Furious marathon and a few gallons of ice cream. He wondered if there was any bacon left from breakfast. Ice cream topped with bacon sounded good.

He might work up the energy to take a run later. He hadn't been keeping up with his usual exercise regimen for the last week. He fucking hated running, but he wasn't about to go to the gym. Too many people there who'd want to ask him all about his hostage experience. He wouldn't be able to avoid talking about it that night, but at least Bryce, Toby, and Matt understood not to ask too many questions. Some people, on the other hand, had no respect for privacy and thought they had a right to all the gory details.

He settled on the couch with a container of Rocky Road—to hell with getting a bowl. He intended to eat every bite anyway, then tackle the fudge brownie. He deserved it.

He'd just turned on the TV when Mason texted him. Check out the paper.

Gray sighed. What the fuck was up now? He pulled up the paper's website. Fucking fuck. Someone had leaked Andreas's true involvement. He was now being called the Gangster with a Heart. Great. What other details of the case were out there?

He shut his browser window, deciding he was better off not knowing. He was just going to sit, watch one of his favorite movies, and put the whole case out of his mind. Less than five minutes later, his phone rang. He glanced at it: Captain Russell. He couldn't ignore her.

"Sadler."

"You've seen the paper?"

No point in denying it. "Yes."

"We need some damage control before people start looking for the good in every criminal. We need to make sure it's clear who Andreas really was, both sides of him. I need you here ASAP for a press conference. Dress nicely."

So instead of hiding from the world, watching cars blow up and eating comfort food, he was wearing a jacket and tie, was likely to miss lunch, and was going to have to face a room of reporters.

Fuck.

Fortunately, he got through the questions with less pain than he expected. For once, the briefing from the PR liaison had been more useful than irritating. He was about to head for his car when Captain Russell stopped him.

"You need to be here at five tomorrow to prep for a live interview with WKLK."

Gray blinked. "I must have misunderstood you, ma'am."

"You're being interviewed."

"On live TV?"

"Yes."

She was holding something back, he could tell. There was something else and he was going to hate it. "This is for the local news?"

"Yes, for the human interest piece they always do at the end."

Yep. He hated it. "Human interest? With perky-as-fuck Mindy?"

"They've already reported every detail they can about the killings and you being taken hostage. They want the real you, the man behind the badge."

"No."

She raised a brow.

He took a deep breath. He didn't really want to get fired, did he? "I'm fine with talking about the job. I do not want to talk about my personal life."

"Then avoid her questions. You're great at that." She turned to walk away.

"Captain, I?—"

She looked exasperated when she turned to face him. "This comes from the chief. We need you to look good on there. We want you to be the hero, not Andreas, no matter what he did for a few girls."

Gray didn't want to be a hero. He wanted to do his job and be left alone. "I really don't have a choice here, do I?"

She shook her head. "Trust me, our PR people picked the best of the interview options."

He thought about how human-interest reporter Mindy Walker giggled through every segment on WKLK and shuddered. He'd hate to imagine what the much-worse options were. "Fine. I'll be there."

"Good, I look forward to seeing the piece."

He made a fist to keep from flipping her off.

He texted Mason and Jack to let them know about the hell he was being forced into.

Poor baby.Mason texted back.

Don't you dare show this at Nathan's.

LOL! Everyone will want to you see you all dressed up and heroic.

Gray growled. Is there a fuck-off emoji?

Later, after finally getting some quality time with the TV and a gallon of ice cream, Gray grabbed his coat to head to Toby's birthday party. He didn't want to go. He wanted to stay home and fuck Jack and Mason until he could forget about the interview coming up the next day, but he knew they were expecting him to show up.

The road in front of Bryce, Matt, and Toby's house was crowded with cars. So much for his hope that this would be a small party.

Mason was walking toward the house as Gray pulled into a spot on a side street. Gray waved him toward the car, and he slid into the passenger seat. "What would I have to promise you to lure you back home?"

"Jack already warned me you might try to get out of this."

Gray huffed. "How did he know?"

"You're all worked up about the interview, and when do you ever want to go to parties?"

"We could go home, and I could fulfill your very special request." Gray pitched his voice low and gravelly, the way he knew Mason liked it.

Mason looked away, as if having to work to resist him. "You're not fisting me tonight."

"Are you so sure?"

"We're saving it for our trip to the cabin, remember?"

That was a much better plan, but Gray was desperate. "I'm more than ready."

Mason glared at him. "It's Toby's birthday, and we're not going to miss it."

"I do not want to talk about Whittaker."

"Then don't."

Gray sighed. "I also don't want to spend the evening dodging questions. I'll have to do enough of that tomorrow."

"You might find the party more fun than you expect."

"It won't be more fun that being home where no one asks asinine questions, and I get to fuck you."

Mason grinned. "There'll be time for fucking later. We could even play interviewer and interviewee."

Gray glared at him, but he just laughed.

"Right now, though, we're going to get out of the car and go see Toby."

Music thumped through the house, though it wasn't as crowded as Gray had feared. Mason settled with Matt and Toby for what looked like some kind of Xbox tournament/drinking game. Gray wandered into the kitchen and found Bryce mixing cocktails.

"Toby looks like he's having fun."

"As long as he can hold the high score, he will be. Not that I think he will last long since he's probably had about four of these." Bryce indicated the margaritas he was making.

"I'm surprised he can keep up at all."

"It helps that the others are also drunk."

Gray peeked around the doorframe into the living room. "Looks like Mason has the controls now, and he's sober."

Bryce grinned. "Toby's in trouble, then. Mason's an expert even when he's drunk."

Gray nodded. Mason seemed to have superhuman abilities when it came to gaming.

"How are you?" Bryce asked.

Gray shrugged.

"That's about how I figured."

"I just want to put the whole thing with Whittaker behind me, but I had to do a press conference this afternoon, and now I'm going to be on the news tomorrow. As the fucking human interest piece."

Bryce grinned, not even trying to hide his amusement.

"It's humiliating and no telling what kind of personal questions Miss Perky is going to ask me."

"You've got a talent for answering without answering."

He rolled his eyes. "That's what Captain Russell said."

"I imagine Jack and Mason would agree too."

"Asshole."

Bryce handed him a drink. Whiskey on the rocks. At least the man knew what he liked.

"I suck at talking to people," Gray said after downing half the liquid in one go.

"You're not as bad at it as you think. Look what you did for Jenna."

Gray shook his head. "That's different."

"Is it? You talk to suspects and victims and you're damn good at it."

"Are you working on a psychology degree?"

Bryce rolled his eyes. "Hardly, but I get why the department wants to focus on you instead of Andreas."

"Am I really the one to do that?"

"Would Captain Russell put you out there if you weren't?"

"I guess not." They had their differences, but she was a good leader.

"Then quit whining. Ignore the questions you don't want to answer and make the department proud."

Gray raised his brows. "You sound like you're auditioning for a cop drama."

Bryce shook his head. "On a TV show, they'd never send the gruff bear for the interview. They'd send someone like?—"

"Jack." They both said his name at the same time, then clinked glasses.

"You'll also be doing something good for all the gay cops out there," Bryce said, serious tone returning.

Gray sighed. "I need another drink."

Bryce obliged him, filling his glass.

Gray had wanted to be out, to be able to be himself. Now he was going to get a chance to do it on TV.

"I still hate the idea of being the ‘face of the department'."

Bryce nodded. "I get that, but you're good at it. You manage to come across as honest and trustworthy. You're the protector everyone wants on their side."

"But I just want to solve my cases. I don't want to be some media star."

"All I wanted to do was fight fires. Keep people safe. Rescue people who needed someone to save them. Then I realized I was good at investigating, at solving the puzzle of how a fire started, and guessing at the pieces that weren't obvious at first. I resisted that. I told myself I wasn't a cop."

"You're damn good at what you do," Gray insisted.

"Yeah, I am. Sometimes our gifts aren't what we expect or what think we want."

Gray polished off his second drink. "I might have to hate you now."

Bryce smiled. "Go right ahead."

At five the next day, instead of being home nagging Jack to work faster as he made his famous lasagna, Gray was in an interrogation room, wearing a suit that itched and shoes that pinched the fuck out of his feet. As if that weren't enough to piss him off, a woman who looked like she hadn't eaten so much as a bite of lasagna—or much of anything else—in her whole life was putting makeup on him. It was all he could do not to growl at her. But at least he hadn't had to film the segment at the TV station. Here in his element, he'd handle it better.

Finally, after what felt like hours, she deemed him presentable, and he was escorted to his own fucking desk where a bossy ginger told him how to position himself and where to look once the cameras—which seemed to be everywhere—rolled.

After another long wait, the vivacious, giggly Mindy entered. Dear God, she was even more cheerful in person than she was on the air.

Several people fussed over her for a few minutes and then, thank God, they were ready to begin.

The cameraman held up his fingers. "Three. Two. One. And we're on the air."

Mindy patted her hair and flipped it away from her face. "Hello everyone. I'm at Precinct Seven of the Durham Police Department to talk to local hero Detective Gray Sadler." Giggle. Giggle.

Gray took a deep breath. He could do this. The segment only lasted a few minutes.

"Detective Sadler, you look so strong and brave in all the clips I've seen from the day you were taken hostage. And I must say you look quite good in person as well." Was she really going to flirt with him during the interview? "Were you scared at all that day?" Giggle giggle.

More laughter? Hostage situations were apparently quite humorous. "Of course I was scared. Anyone in their right mind would be, but I wanted to stay alive and so did the young woman Whittaker held." They had not yet released any details about Jenna's identity.

Tee-hee. "What were you thinking as you rushed in to save the hostage?"

Did she seriously laugh at everything? "I thought, as I do anytime I'm in the field, that it was my job to get her out alive and keep the situation from escalating."

"Were you aware then that she was actually being protected by Mr. Andreas?"

He avoided the direct question. "While Mr. Andreas provided a home for these young women, and they were not engaged in any acts of prostitution. They did assist him with other tasks that furthered his drug deals and illegal weapons sales. The man wasn't a saint by any means."

"So you wouldn't say he was a hero?"

At least she'd stopped the incessant giggling now. "I'd say he was a man who made a choice to help someone he could've hurt."

"Would you consider yourself a hero?"

Gray dodged that too. "I'm a cop who takes his job seriously."

"And what does doing your job mean to you?"

"To protect the people of this city and to bring those who break the law to justice."

"One final question. What is it like to be out as a gay man while serving on the police force?" Giggle.

Obviously that deserved some laughter. "I suspect it's much like it is to be a straight cop since we do the same job in the same way."

"Surely you've faced prejudice, though. How have you dealt with it?"

"By doing my job and showing everyone that my personal life doesn't affect my ability to uphold the law in any way."

"Speaking of your personal life…"

Gray could see the sparkle in her eyes. This wasn't going to be a question he'd like.

"I'm here to talk about my police work. Like I've said, my personal life isn't something I bring with me to the job." He made sure his tone indicated he wouldn't bend.

She didn't push, thank God; maybe she didn't want an on-air argument during a feel-good piece. "Then maybe tell our viewers whether you feel a personal interest in helping victims?"

That he could handle. "I have an interest in helping anyone whose life or well-being is threatened. It doesn't matter whether they are a prostitute or an accountant or a factory worker. Everyone deserves to live their lives without fear inspired by men like Whittaker."

The producer signaled that they had to end things.

"Thank you for your time, Detective Sadler."

"You're welcome." He supposed he should thank her, but he was trying to stay sincere.

The cameraman signaled that they were off the air.

Mindy giggled again. "Off the record. Do you really have two boyfriends?"

"Off the record, I still don't answer personal questions."

She grinned. "I'll take that as a yes."

"You can take it however you want." He really wanted to get out of there.

The producer saved him. "Mindy, we need to get back to the studio."

She looked annoyed but followed him toward the door.

Gray found a bathroom and washed the makeup off his face. He looked a bit red and scrubbed, but he felt much better. And now he was free.