Chapter 1

“Nick, Dr. Carmichael wants to speak with you.”

Internal Affairs Detective Nick Sorenson grimaced and took a sip of his strong coffee. He had a raging bitch of a headache and the last thing he wanted to do was talk to a pain in the ass like Carmichael. He turned away from the report he’d been inputting on his desktop computer to face Jessica Lewis, the perky blonde who’d stopped by to deliver the news.

“Tell him I’ll call him back.”

Jessica grinned. “Sorry, but he’s not on the phone this time. Says he’s tired of you avoiding him. He’s waiting in conference room one.”

“Fuck.” He ran his fingers through his hair. “What about Kent? Can’t he talk to him?”

“Maybe, but he insists on talking only to you.”

Nick eyed her. “You’re enjoying this far too much.”

“Better you than me.” She placed a mug of coffee on his desk. “Bring him this. Coffee with cream and sugar. Just like he demanded…er…asked.”

“How long has he been waiting?”

“Only a few minutes.”

Nick was tempted to make him wait some more. Just to be an ass. Carmichael would deserve it. Too bad it would make him just as bad as the man. He pushed away from his desk and stood.

He grabbed both mugs of coffee and headed down the hallway toward the conference room. Ray Carmichael had been calling all week to talk about what he called the “Axis of Evil” in the “corrupt” Los Angeles Police Department. Nick had been happily ignoring the outspoken doctor.

With his hands full, Nick kicked the closed door.

“Come in,” a voice said from within.

Gritting his teeth, Nick called through the door, “I have my hands full, could you open the damn door?”

After a few seconds, the door opened. Dr. Ray Carmichael stood just inside the room.

Nick instantly recognized the good-looking African American man from the television interviews he’d done. He would guess Dr. Carmichael was probably in his mid-thirties. He had closed-cropped black hair and thin wire-framed glasses. About six-foot-three. Rather than being particularly muscular, he appeared trim and fit. The picture of health. Like a doctor, Nick supposed. A wealthy one if the tailored navy suit he wore was any indication.

“Here.” Nick thrust the mug of coffee into the man’s hand.

“Detective Sorenson I presume?”

Nick sighed and set his own cup down on the table. “Yeah.”

“At last.” Carmichael nodded.

“Have a seat.” Nick indicated the seat the man had obviously occupied before he’d opened the door. An open laptop computer had been placed on the table. “Look, there was no reason to come into the station.”

Dr. Carmichael sat down and gave Nick a superior smile. “On the contrary, detective. I found myself tired of your avoidance tactics.”

Nick cleared his throat and took the seat across from him. “I wasn’t avoiding you. I’m a busy man.”

“So am I, detective. I know when I’m being purposely ignored.” His eyebrows rose behind the glasses. “I shouldn’t expect anything different from the LAPD.”

Nick rubbed his temples. He held onto his patience by a thread. The man might be hot and gay, at least according to the interviews Nick had seen and read, but the bastard was running for political office claiming he would clean up the police department. Nick didn’t think the department had that many problems anymore. The way Dr. Carmichael spoke of the police, every single officer was on the take, racist, or an animal. Maybe all three. Tell thatto his stupid cock. It was half hard.

For God’s sake, the good doc might be gay, but so what? Nick didn’t have to be attracted to every gay man out there. Geez.

“If you prefer to speak to my captain, Dr. Carmichael, I’m sure I can find out his schedule and—”

“I don’t need to speak to your captain. You’re the detective in charge of my brother’s case, aren’t you?” Carmichael reached for the laptop and pressed a button. “I intend to make notes.”

“I really cannot discuss the investigation with you, Dr. Carmichael.” Nick understood the urge to take care of a younger brother. He’d do anything for his little brother, Caleb.

“Ray.”

Nick blinked and stared at Carmichael who wasn’t currently looking at him. He seemed engrossed in the computer screen. As though he hadn’t dropped his voice to a low and seductive timbre. Okay, he must be imagining that.

He shifted in his chair and was tempted to pour his coffee in his own lap. Burn the arousal right off.

“Okay, Ray. The investigation into the alleged beating of your brother is ongoing and—”

“There was no allegedbeating.” Carmichael had now turned his dark gaze away from the computer and it was now focused fully on Nick. Sparks of anger practically shot from those chocolate eyes. “My brother was beaten, detective.”

“Nick,” he heard himself say. Hated himself for it, too.