Riley was a dick. 

There was no getting around it. He was actually one of the best and nicest detectives in New York, but as far as personality went, he had an edge to him that was evident to anyone who met the guy. He was sarcastic as all hell, direct as they came, rough at times, and treated authority figures the way he treated perps, as a nuisance he could barely tolerate. At his core he was one of the good guys, a hero in more ways than could be counted, and he was as solid of a cop as had ever walked the streets of New York.

He was different than the other guys, all of whom had become like brothers to him. Calem was as close to a real life superhero as any of them got. Jesse was a great cop with a bad temper. Quinn was the solid tactical guy, and Noah was the analytical one of the group. Riley was, in many ways, an amalgamation of all those qualities. He had the edge of Jesse, the calmness of Quinn, the heroism of Calem, and the technical eye and analytical style of Noah. But Riley was his own man, and he respectfully declined, choosing instead to keep his job with the force.

He’d been indirectly involved with the other guys since he’d found Jen Daniels’ missing sister, and he’d been deeply involved in Noah’s case to dismantle the organization responsible for her disappearance, but that whole thing had been months ago, and he was on to cases of his own. His good friend Noah had asked him to join in the private investigation business, but Riley didn’t want to be part of a team formally. He’d gotten a thrill out of helping Noah and Quinn try to hunt down The Network, but ultimately he wanted to get back to more traditional police work, and there was never a shortage of cases to be solved in the city that never sleeps

Unlike a lot of the other guys who’d been involved in cases related to The Network, Riley had walked away unscathed—emotionally, mentally, and physically. In fact, he felt downright great when the whole ordeal was over. Today, on one of his rare days off, he found himself in Manhattan walking around Central Park. Manhattan was easily his favorite of the five boroughs of New York, not only because it was one of the greatest cities in the world, but also because Riley was a native New Yorker. He worked mostly in the Bronx, but he’d been raised in Queens and lived in the city when he went to the John Jay College of Criminal Justice. While he was still a criminal justice student he’d fallen in love with the city that had become his home for four years—the city he vowed to protect once he’d graduated.

As far as scenery went, Manhattan couldn’t be beat. It had it all: idyllic outdoor locations, historical buildings, activities, and a never-ending movement of human beings from all walks of life. It was the greatest city on Earth to Riley, and he never missed an opportunity to visit. He’d lived in the Bronx for the last ten years, but that was mostly because he couldn’t afford to live in any part of Manhattan that he’d want to live in. The property values in the city lived up to their reputation; unless you were the CEO of a Fortune 500 company, you most likely would be paying every dollar of your salary just to live in a room that closely resembled a closet. He felt the vibration of his phone. It was Noah calling.

“How much do I have to pay you to come join up with Quinn and I?”

“Again?” he asked. “We’re doing this again? It’s not about that, man, and you know it. I love you guys. But you also know that I love my job. You guys keep doing great things over there, but I’ve gotta get back to the grind.”

“Suit yourself, but you know the door is always open.”

“I appreciate that so much, you know that. And never say never, right?”

“Exactly. And I know you still love it. How’s homicide?”

“Dead people. Lots of them. Lots of killers roaming around unpunished. You know that shit keeps me up at night. Just like the kiddie rapists and traffickers keep you up.”

“I know. That’s what makes you a great detective.” Noah answered.

“Yeah, I guess,” Riley said. “It’s also what makes me obsessive and keeps me from ever feeling rested, but I guess it’s for a good reason.”

“The only reason. It’s why we do this job that no one else wants. But enough about work for a second. Did you download it?”

The ‘it’ Noah was referring to was an app called NY Singles, and the answer to his question was, “Yeah, I downloaded the app. Even set up a profile and paid for a month of premium membership.”

“And. . .”

“And, nothing. That’s it. Haven’t actually searched anyone out yet.”

“You don’t need to search, grandpa. They match you up based on the information you fill out in your profile, and whatever you’re looking for. It’s the lazy-man’s special.”

“Oh, I didn’t even realize that. So what do I do?”

“Go to your profile and hit the ‘Match Me’ button right under your profile pic. Their algorithm kicks in and, before you know it, you’ll have a bunch of profiles to choose from.”

“This sounds like a lot.”

“It’s the opposite,” Noah said. “You literally have to push a button. But be honest about what you’re looking for.”

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

“I don’t know, some people think they can’t choose certain qualities and characteristics because it’d be rude. Like height, weight, race, income level. Pick what you really like, otherwise you’re gonna get some weird matches. Trust me, I know all about that.”

“Wait,” Riley said. “This isn’t the same app you used when you were seeing all of those crazy girls a while back, is it?”

“Oh, hell no,” Noah said. “You think I’d do that to you? That shit was horrific. No way am I gonna get you signed up for a cult.”

“Well that’s nice of you,” Riley joked. “But I think that maybe it’s not the app, but the people on the app that are the problem. How do I know this one won’t match me with a bunch of crazies?”

“I’m not going to lie to you, you don’t know that. They’ll match you on paper, but then you have to sort it all out to see if any of them are really what you’re looking for. There are no guarantees.”

“I know,” Riley said, a little deflated. “I’m just hoping that if there are crazies out there, they don’t try to steal my identity or go full Single White Female on me.”

“You’d be lucky for a good identity theft. I met much worse.”

“Great,” Riley said. “As soon as we get off the phone I’m hitting the ‘Match Me’ button.”

“Go for it. Hit me up later and tell me about all of the hot women they’re pairing you with.”

“You got it.”

Riley got off the phone and stopped walking for a second. He took a big, deep breath, the kind you take when you want every smell around you to fill your lungs, which is exactly what he wanted out of the crisp Manhattan air. It was fall, his favorite time of year, and while some people found the smells of Manhattan off-putting, Riley loved nothing more than the strange combination of greenery, hot dogs, coffee, and who-knew-what-else. After he exhaled, he did what he told Noah he was going to do, opening his phone and clicking the button to be matched. Within a few seconds he had results all over his screen. Fifty matches! If real estate price were awful in the city, dating was even more a predicament. Finding normal, sane, and available people who wanted the same thing as you was like finding 100 dollars on the street—possible, but rare. And, even if you checked off all of those boxes, finding a woman who could live with a cop’s hours and dedication to his job was a whole new level. As he looked down at his phone, Riley had only one thought.

Looks like I’ve got some sorting to do.