Introduction

The decision to move shop had not come easily, had not come voluntarily, truth be told. Juliet O’Hara had upset the applecart, stumbling across the wrong palms being greased, palms with far more money and influence than a young officer steadily working her way up the ranks. And before she could say apple dumpling, she’d found herself quickly and quietly shuffled across the country to another orchard.

Okay, so she’d done nothing wrong, had done nothing more than out a few bad apples. But the looks her coworkers skewered her with, the quiet shushed whispers as she strolled throughout the station, she’d outted the wrong men in the old boys network and now the clubhouse had posted a no girls allowed sign and pushed her from the treehouse. Her makeshift parachute had landed her here, standing outside the Santa Barbara Police Department, meager collection of mementos in hand, heart in throat, stomach steadily pushing its contents toward a speedy and disgusting exit. Juliet might not’ve come off as the stubborn pig-headed type, actually most people assumed her a meter maid when she told them of her profession, but nothing and no one was going to get in the way of her dreams of working as a detective.

Which included her own fears of rejection and being subjected to lip service as a detective while in reality acting as nothing more than a record’s clerk. She had no doubts her former superiors had put in a word for her here; which was exactly why she expected to be relegated to the level of support personnel. Squaring shoulders, steeling nerves, Juliet set heels clicking steadily up the steps, flashing a quick smile at the uniform who held the door for her. So her reputation had yet to be verbally eviscerated to the men in blues, or else, he was simply a little too slow on the uptake to recognize fresh meat and catch the wafting scent of blood in the water.

“McNabb!” Flinching like that could only mean he was the poor sap being bellowed for by the bear of a guy eating up floor at a rapid clip. “Where’s the copy of that report I asked for an hour ago?”

“Uh, Detective Lassiter, sir, the Chief snagged it from me.”

“Copiers, Officer, perhaps you‘ve heard rumors of these strange and remarkable devices? Go back to records and get me another. Now!”

“Right away, sir.” Scurrying, the one and only friendly face within line of sight vanished before she even had a chance to offer proper thanks and request directions.

Det McCranky seemed to take note of her standing there then, no doubt taking an affront to her polluting his station entryway. “Can I help you?”

Tone wasn’t really helpful she noted, more along the lines of tired and rather put out to have to stoop so low as to provide assistance. How anyone could work with this man, she’d never know. “Uh, I’m supposed to start today. Juliet ----”

“O’Hara, yeah, I was briefed.” Quick glance at the contents of the box in her arms, the only items salvaged from the flames of her last dismal assignment, and he muttered, “Stow your crap over there, that’s your desk. Then check in with the Chief. She’ll give you the standard, rah-rah-go pep talk chatter. See you in twenty, Detective.” And with that dismissal he pivoted and started moving back toward the coffee maker in the corner.

“Uh, excuse me, sir?”

A sigh, though she couldn‘t positively discern if it were in reference to her question or the fact that said machine yielded no caffeinated beverage. “I’m Detective Lassiter, your new partner. Welcome to the SBPD, Detective.”

Not the welcome she’d been expecting, in spite of the guy’s complete lack of cheer and goodwill, she found her face stretching, manic grin firmly stuck on her features. So they’d apparently saddled her with the department hardass. Truth be told, that was the best news and introduction Juliet O’Hara had ever experienced. Det McCranky had just better watch out; she’d get deep down in that psyche and burrow out the reasons why he had to act the insufferable ass. If she had to endure that down right caustic personality, least she could do was get a couple of jollies picking it apart. Few months at her side, Det. Lassiter wouldn’t know what hit him.

“Sure thing, partner.” The responding groan to her cheerful reply ratcheted that manic smirk to near mythic proportions. Maybe this new assignment wouldn’t be so horrid after all….