Excerpt: "Back off, Vecchio," Kowalski's face was so close Ray could feel his warm breath brush against his face. He could smell the sweetness of the spice — what had Fraser called it? turmeric — lingering on Kowalski’s skin. Kowalski’s fingers dug in painfully, giving a sharp emphasis to his hissed words.

For a split second Ray could see his fist connecting against flesh, could feel the satisfying crunch of bone. He struggled against the rush of adrenaline that even the thought of smashing Kowalski could bring. Fraser stood silently, his face still curiously blank. There was a pool of stillness lapping around them and Vecchio realized that the warehouse had grown quiet. 

His voice still echoed in the air and for the first time Ray felt acutely aware of just how many TV news generators hummed outside. Ray looked away and saw Robertson staring. They were all staring like he was some first class idiot. Like he had just crashed a first grader’s birthday party waving a gun. Or like he was an experienced detective who was acting unprofessionally at a crime scene. Ray could feel his lips curling into a defensive smile. He wanted to shut his eyes, but he couldn’t. Not with everyone watching.

Room Service by Muriel Perun.  Vecchio and Fraser accept an undercover assignment in a crimelord’s house. Vecchio, reluctant at first, finds himself adapting far more quickly to this type of work than he ever expected.  Fraser, his confidence shattered, finds himself needing Ray in ways he could never have expected.

Excerpt:  Fraser was stunned at what he had just witnessed. Ray had taunted a man into attacking him so he would lose his job and Ray could take over. He supposed it did put Ray in a better position to learn the household’s secrets, but it was so completely unethical, so cruel— Ray walked past him, holding a plastic bag of ice to his jaw. 

"Hey, Benny, how the hell are you?" he said in passing. And he walked on by as if they’d hardly even met. Astonished, Fraser watched him go. 

Clothes Make the Man by Morgan Dawn and Muriel Perun. Fine Italian leather shoes. Lanyards. Silk ties. Red serge. A story about dressing… and undressing…

Excerpt:  "Forget the shirt, Fraser. I have dozens like that at home. Besides, it was too big for me anyway." He stood back and eyed his partner thoughtfully. 

"I know what’d cheer you up. Let’s get a few outfits for you. Ones that won’t make you look so—baggy and bright. There’s a men’s shop I go to that might have something that’d suit you."

"That’s not necessary, Ray, really. You don’t have to do this."

"Oh, come on, Fraser. We’re friends, aren’t we?" Fraser nodded hesitantly. "And friends help each other. Tell each other truths, the kind of truths other people won’t tell you. And I am telling you, as my partner, you gotta do something about the clothes."