Dinner had ended in laughter and cheers. Most of the LAPD Intel squad was either singing, drunk, or both. A few had taken to dancing in the center of the restaurant.
Ryan Li sipped his drink quietly.
Crowds weren't his thing—not unless they were enemies.
Captain Erin had already dragged someone to the karaoke machine. Grace, the division's cold-as-ice vice-captain, was surprisingly still by his side. When Erin waved goodbye and left with her partner, Grace stood and said:
"Come with me."
Ryan raised a brow.
"Somewhere quiet," she clarified. "And… I don't feel well."
—
They arrived at her place. A clean apartment. Sparse, minimal, clinical—just like her.
She disappeared into the bathroom without saying a word. Ryan took a seat on her couch, letting his head tilt back.
He had drunk a little more than usual tonight.
Soon, Grace emerged, her face slightly flushed.
"You alright?" Ryan asked.
"Stomach," she muttered. "Appendix probably."
He nodded. "Want me to take you to the hospital?"
"No. I can't afford it."
Ryan raised an eyebrow. She wasn't joking.
In a country where a hospital visit could cost ten grand, even a vice-captain's salary didn't stretch far.
He stood up.
"Alright, I'll handle it."
Grace blinked. "You're not a doctor."
"I'm Ryan Li," he said simply. "Now stand up."
She did, albeit with hesitation. He stepped behind her, folding her arms and pressing his knee lightly into her lower back.
POP.
A soft yelp escaped her lips.
"There," he said. "Now lie down. Time for the real fix."
—
Twenty minutes later, Grace was flat on her back on a yoga mat, dressed in form-fitting workout clothes. Ryan's hands worked her lower abdomen with practiced pressure. Muscle release. Nerve balance.
She stared up at the ceiling, wide-eyed.
Why does this feel so… good?
Why is his scent making me… calm?
And then she realized—she didn't want it to stop.
What neither of them noticed was that someone had seen them through the open window.
Across the street, two jealous nurses—neighbors—glared up from the sidewalk.
"Is that… Grace? With him?"
"Oh, hell no."
They picked up their phones.
By morning, everyone in the precinct would be buzzing with the news.
At 5:00 a.m., Beth Clark—Grace's best friend and the ER anesthesiologist at Cedars Sinai—burst into her apartment.
She opened the door, marched into the living room, and saw it:
Grace, asleep on Ryan's chest.
Ryan, half-awake, calmly sipping water.
Beth's jaw dropped.
"You?!"
Ryan looked up. "Hi."
"You're Ryan Li. The guy who made Japan kneel."
"Yeah."
Beth threw her hands in the air.
"Are you trying to ruin every woman's standards forever?!"
Later, when Grace woke up and heard what had happened, she didn't argue.
She just pulled the blanket up over her face… and whispered:
"I hate you."
Ryan grinned.
"No, you don't."