I told myself years ago that no woman would get past my guard. Phoebe is a colleague, and she guards herself as carefully as I do. But she goes still when I give an order, and the wariness turns into something hotter. We work the case files alone in the evidence locker at night. I stopped pretending that is an accident.

One command and she lets me secure her hands with the department restraints. Every night in that locker ends with me drawing the milk from her while she yields. She wants what I have no right to take, and she asks for it anyway. The rival needs one sign of what we do here. I give the next order regardless.