Captain Clark is sitting at his desk looking over some files and pictures with his best buddy, Detective Grimly, as I burst in.

"Knock, asshole," Clark snarls at me without looking up from the pictures.

Grimly shoots me a fatherly scowl over his shoulder. I back up two steps and knock on the inside of the door. "We got Vinny."

"Do you want a hug and kiss?" Clark mutters. Clark is a Santa sized dude who likes to chew toothpicks and does the comb-over thing. His face looks like a sack of potatoes and he has a personality to go along with the look, but Mrs. Clark, Glenda, to be exact, is a sweet smiling, flawless skinned brunette who bakes cookies for the station and has an infectious laugh. She's the kind of woman you want to find standing up at the chalkboard when you walk into your new classroom because you know it's going to be an awesome year. Numerous theories about how potato-faced Clark landed a beautiful charmer have been bandied about the station for years. Unless he has a secret trove of treasure, the only other plausible theory, and one that brings up a little barf in my throat when I think about it, is Ten's suggestion that the guy 'knows how to fuck like a rock star'.

Ten's profoundly off kilter footsteps sound behind me. "Did you tell him we have Vinny?"

I look over at her. "Yeah, he says he has a kiss for you."

"No, thanks. I've had my fun for the day." She's rolled up the leg of her jeans. The crash with the skateboard has morphed into a black and blue goose egg.

Clark peers up over the rim of his glasses. "Christ, Tennyson. Get some ice on that thing before it swells."

"I think that ship has left the barn." Ten winces as she leans over to touch it.

Grimly laughs arrogantly thinking he's caught her saying something stupid. "I think the saying is ship has sailed or the horse has left the barn."

Ten claps him on the shoulder. "Thanks for straightening that out for me, Grimly."

Rather than burning shoe leather chasing down criminals, Grimly spends most of his work day ass kissing the big ass sitting in the chair across from him. Which is just as well because no one wants to partner with the guy. He's a lousy shot and trigger happy to boot.

Ten pulls up a seat and rests the foot of the bruised leg on the armrest of Grimly's chair. His cheek gets all twitchy, and it's obvious he's irritated but Ten ignores the twitch. It's one of the million and a half things I love about her. She reaches across Clark's desk and spins one of the pictures around.

"Help yourself, Tennyson," Clark says wryly, but he knows Ten is one of his best detectives, so he leans back and lets her look at the picture. I stand over her shoulder.

A pasty faced man is curled in a fetal position in the middle of what looks like a posh bathroom, complete with marble floors and high gloss fixtures. The pool of blood beneath his head is a good indication that the guy is no longer enjoying his elegant lavatory.

"Is that a dead rat or a bad toupee?" I ask. Ten's shoulders shake in a laugh, but Clark is less amused.

"It's a toupee. Although I'm sure it wasn't a bad one when it was on his head. Howard Rainier is worth billions," Grimly says and sits back with a confident smile as if he is the only person on the planet with knowledge of the man's wealth. Grimly's nice blue sweater brushes against the dirt crusted sole of Ten's shoe. He makes a show of brushing off the dirt, his earlier confidence replaced by irritation. "Do you mind, Tennyson? This is a dry clean only sweater."

A laugh shoots from my mouth, and I make no attempt to stifle it.

Grimly shakes his head in disgust. "I'll go check out those names," Grimly says curtly before standing abruptly and walking out.

I look back as the door snaps shut. "Jeez, was it something we said?" I sit in the chair Grimly vacated, but I don't mind having Ten's shoe on the arm. One of those crazy ass images that you know shouldn't happen but your subconscious insists on laying on you passes through my mind, and for a brief second, Ten is sitting on my lap wearing nothing but a blue pair of panties.

It's not easy but I shake the image loose and sit forward. "So what about this Rainier guy? Why did somebody off him?"

Clark shifts his gaze from me to Ten and back again. "It's not something I'm broadcasting yet, but in the past two months, two billionaires have been killed. Same method. A blow to the head."

"So they're related." Ten pulls around the second stack of pictures.

"We don't have enough evidence yet," Clark says.

Tennyson hands me two of the pictures. They are two young girls who look like they've been living on the streets for a long time.

"What do these girls have to do with it?" I ask.

"Do you have to ask? Billionaires and their kinks." Ten pulls her foot down and winces as it hits the floor harder than she expects.

"I don't know if we can generalize about billionaires," Clark says.

"You're right," Ten agrees. "Old creepy men and their kinks. Better?"

Clark doesn't answer. Ten's sharp tongue has earned her plenty of marks on her record, but her fearlessness has earned her accolades too.

Clark tosses another picture in front of us. It's a slick looking guy with piercing blue eyes and a square jaw. Ten's gaze lingers just a second too long on the photo. I suddenly have the urge to punch the guy with the piercing blue eyes and square jaw.

Ten sits back and pushes the picture back to Clark. "Is he dead too?"

A dry laugh vibrates Clark's moustache. "That'd make life a whole lot easier. This is Kane Freestone, a very rich man but still alive and kicking. At least as far as we know. They call him the mad genius. He was a biochemist. Went to MIT and a couple other big name schools before getting scooped up by Mayer Pharmaceuticals. He left there about five years ago because they wouldn't give him funds to finish his research."

"Research on what?" I push the other pictures back to him.

"Not quite sure but his coworkers thought it was something dangerous enough to rat him out. He went underground, started some secret society called Lace Underground."

"So . . . they are hiding out making petticoats?" Ten quips. Her nose scrunches up. Her leg is bothering her, and she gets grumpy when she's hurt.

I tap her arm. "Go put some ice on that. It'll numb the pain."

She nods but doesn't get up. "If this is a secret society, how come you know about it and what does it have to do with the odd collection of pictures on your desk?" I can see the flecks of gold in Ten's brown eyes sparkle with interest. She loves things that are twisted and secret and hard to untangle. And from the baffled look on Clark's lumpy face, this seems to be one of those cases.

"Unfortunately, about all we know is the name. Like I said, Freestone is a genius. He keeps things pretty well sealed up. These girls are just a few of a dozen or so who have disappeared in the last two years. They're street kids, drug addicts, low level thieves and prostitutes. We think the two murder victims might have had something on Freestone, maybe two club members gone rogue."

Ten sits up in her chair, and I know exactly what she's going to say. Sometimes I think I know her better than she knows herself.

"So street kids go missing and it's whatever." She shrugs for a visual. "But two old cranky, fake hair wearing men turn up dead and it's bring out the torches and pitchforks?"

"Did I say that Tennyson?" Clark looks at me for back up but doesn't get it. "We've been looking for the girls." He smacks his hand down on a folder on his desk. "I've got a whole fucking file of missing girl cases. We're working out the details for an undercover sting right now, and it doesn't include you two clowns." He sits back hard and his chair rolls a few inches back. "Go put some ice on that leg." Clark lifts his chin my direction. "You too."

"What the fuck did I do?"

"You started this by walking in here without knocking, and the copper-haired menace goes wherever you go."

Ten sits forward. "You should send me."

"Yeah, I'd like to send you somewhere, that's for damn sure." Clark pulls a toothpick out of the glass bowl on his desk and starts chewing on it like a cow on grass. He's pissed but Ten ignores the red complexion and flared nostrils.

"You need a woman to go undercover, right? A street kid?"

"No," I say abruptly without thinking. There's more to my protest, like no fucking way am I letting you do something so dangerous, but I keep that part tucked inside.

Ten looks hurt. "Thanks a lot, partner." She stands up and bites her lip as she puts all her weight on the leg.

Clark talks around the toothpick. "No need to give it another thought, Tennyson. Not happening." He waves his hand to shoo us out.

Ten limps out, and I follow close at her heels, trying to come up with a good reason for blurting no. Nothing comes to mind except the truth. She hobbles into the lunch room.

I scoot past her. "I'll get you the ice pack from the freezer."

She's quiet and I don't think it's the pain. I pull the ice pack out of the fridge. As I turn around, she's tying her long copper hair up in a ponytail. The arm movement lifts her t-shirt up high enough to expose the golden skin on her flat stomach. I take a deep breath and hold it until the shirt slips back into place.

I walk over and hand her the ice pack. She doesn't lift her brown gaze to me as she grabs the ice pack. We walk out to the common area where those of us, who are not important enough for offices, sit.

I race over and grab her chair and roll it over to my desk. "I've got to go interrogate Vinny." I wave to my chair. "Sit here so you can put your leg up on your chair."

Her tiny freckle covered nose wiggles side to side in consideration.

"I'm sorry, Ten," I finally say. "I know you could handle it. It's just, I need you working the streets with me." My excuse sounds lame, but she nods and reluctantly sits at my desk, propping her foot up on the chair. She holds her breath as she places the ice over the lump on her shin.

"Maddox," Clark calls from his office. "Get in here. I've got some information for you before you sit down with Vinny."

I walk back to his office. He's still sitting behind his desk and chewing the toothpick. He hands me a slip of paper with some names. "These are some contact names. I need you to see what he knows about the people on that list."

I glance at it. "Right." I stand in his office and stare out at Ten. She's drumming her fingers on my pile of paperwork. I turn back to Clark.

"Hey, Cap'n, remember what I asked you about a few days ago?"

"Yeah, I remember. Like the note says, I don't have anyone else who needs a partner right now." Clark pulls the toothpick out and tosses it in the trash. "Still don't know why you want a change. You two are a great team."

"Yeah." I start to leave but spin back. "Wait. What note?"

"The one I left right on top of the paperwork on your desk."

A cold invisible fist plows into my stomach as I turn back toward the center office. Ten is holding a paper in her hand. I freeze to the spot, not knowing how to move forward.

Ten grabs the ice pack off her leg. My chair shoots back as she stands.

"Let me explain, Ten," I say, sounding like a desperate sap. I search for a good reason, anything but the truth. She is still limping but like always, she's remarkably fast as she races out of the room.

I stop and look at the note she dropped back onto the desk. "Can't get you a new partner, Maddox. You'll have to stick it out with Tennyson, Clark."

"Fuck, fuck, fuck."