“Because they’re all tight-ass bastards who have no idea what the real world is like.”

Lex had originally recruited her into Special Operations right out of the police academy for reasons she didn’t fully understand; she’d been working undercover on and off—mostly on—for nearly twelve years. He only forced her to take a vacation now because she’d lost her informant, and, yeah, it had gotten to her. Finding Sunny’s body? Knowing she’d been tortured and murdered? Yeah, it had fucked with her head. She’d roughed up a suspect and killed another—justified—it was the cost of doing business catching scumbags no other cop could touch.

She didn’t need a break. She needed to get even. And Lex took that from her.

“You know I have your back, Kara. Just tread carefully.”

“It wouldn’t be an issue if you’d just let me come back.”

“I can’t. Not until the fifteenth.”

“You mean you won’t.”

He sighed. “You’re impossible.”

“Do you have a case for me? I can start research. Come up with a background, a cover. Give me something to do while I’m twiddling my thumbs up here.”

“Kara—when you return you’re going into the pool.”

“Hell, no.”

“It’s not my call. It comes from on high.”

“That’s fucked.”

“It won’t be forever.”

“How long? Weeks? Months?”

“I don’t know.”

“Goodbye.” She ended the call before she really did something that would get her in trouble, and resisted the urge to throw her phone across the room.

She was the best undercover detective they had, but they were putting her in the detective pool because why? She was effective? No. Because of goddamn office politics.

She walked downstairs and found her grandmother Em in the kitchen making soup.

Emily Dorsey had a greenhouse out back where she grew her own herbs and vegetables along with marijuana. Em was an old hippie, and Kara loved her for it—even if she was a bit vacuous and Kara had to turn her back on her seventy-year-old grandmother’s pot smoking. Legal or not, Kara didn’t approve. Fortunately, Em understood that Kara was a cop and at least tried to hide her habit when Kara visited.

Em’s long, mostly gray-blond hair was braided down her back and her bright blue eyes smiled when she saw Kara.

“Chicken noodle soup,” she said.

“I’m not sick.”

“It’s not just for illnesses anymore. You’ve been antsy since you arrived.”

“I told you, mandatory vacation. Though the plus is that I get to see you. You feeling okay? Maybe you shouldn’t be cooking.”

“I’ve told you a hundred times, Kara, I’m fine. The doctor changed my prescription and I’m feeling a million times better.”

Em didn’t like taking prescription drugs, but her vertigo had gotten worse with age. Kara was all for eating healthy and natural remedies if they worked, but sometimes, modern medicine was the only answer to what ailed you.

“I have an errand—do you need anything in Spokane?”

“No, honey, I’m fine. Go—the soup will be on the stove when you return.”