His frustration levels had nearly reached maximum capacity. Of course, it didn't help that the maintenance crew was working on the air conditioning in his South Boston station, and the air in his office was currently as stifling as the dankest jungle on earth.

A drop of sweat trickled down his temple, and the cotton of his shirt stuck to his damp back in the July heat. A fresh cup of coffee sat on his desk. As much as he needed the caffeine after spending all last night on a stakeout, he couldn't stomach the idea of drinking something hot.

He scrolled his mouse up to the top of the report and re-read everything, making sure all the details were accurate. He heaved a frustrated sigh when he finished reading the suspect's confession.

It was entirely possible that criminals were getting dumber everyday, or maybe, with the state of the economy, more people were getting desperate enough to commit stupid crimes. Take for instance this last case. A twenty-two year old construction worker--who'd been out of work for three months--had shoplifted from a convenience store. What would have been a Class C misdemeanour had turned into a felony when the clerk had confronted the would-be thief with a gun he'd kept under the counter. As the two had struggled, the gun had gone off, killing the clerk. When Clay had brought the suspect in for questioning the man had broken down in tears, saying all he wanted were some diapers for his kid. Now one man was dead and another's life was forever changed. He hoped the D.A. wouldn't put the screws to the kid too badly. He had to pay for the crime, but Clay couldn't help but be sympathetic given the circumstances.

Clay clicked the file closed and sent it off to his captain. As he did, his eyes landed on the photo of Logan, his foster brother. In it, Logan was dressed in full BDUs and field gear. Behind him was a snow-capped mountain, and beneath his feet was the arid ground of Afghanistan. On his face was a smile Clay hadn't seen since their early college days together, before everything had changed. He touched the image in the metal frame, wishing he knew how to help Logan find that smile again.

The fact that he and Logan once again lived in the same city--not to mention the same apartment--was a miracle. When one of Logan's platoon buddies had called Clay, saying Logan had been given a medical discharge and needed a place to stay, Clay had asked where to pick Logan up before the man had finished speaking. At the time, it'd been almost nine years since he'd seen Logan; sixteen since his admission had caused a rift in their relationship and Logan had taken off without a word. Clay had regretted his actions every day since. His life since losing the man he considered his brother had been an empty shell. Now that he had Logan embedded in his home, Clay was determined to do whatever was within his power to not only help Logan heal from his injuries but to get them back to the closeness they'd shared since they both joined the Shelby's household at the age of thirteen.

Clayton and Logan, the deadly duo as Mrs. Shelby had once called them, had been inseparable throughout their teen years. When their individual worlds had exploded, the two teenagers had been thrown together by the system and forged a bond thicker than the blood of those relatives who'd abandoned them. Being foster brothers in a house filled with love but meagre means, it was second nature to share everything. When Clay had begun to suspect there was something different about him, it was the first time he'd kept a secret from Logan.