Ripping Off the Mask

By Harper Jewel

Thirteen years after high schooler Cooper Brandt suffered a life-altering tragedy, Newark Police Sergeant Cooper Brandt suffers yet another earthshaking misfortune while on duty. As a result, he lets the mask he donned because of his first grief-filled setback slip. When overwhelming guilt consumes him for a second time, an unexpected, and oftentimes unwanted, helping hand tries to force him into making a choice: face his demons and rip the mask off, or continue living a lie while his facade stays put.
Upon his move to New Jersey, aqua therapist Dr. Westley James meets his toughest patient yet when a snarly police sergeant accuses him of duplicity at the start of their first session. When he discovers the reason for Cooper’s ornery attitude, an odd, empty feeling he’s lived with for as long as he can remember begins to fill in like missing pieces of a puzzle.
As a fragile relationship between Cooper and Westley grows, an unhinged sociopath threatens to ruin everything. Will fate force the emotionally bruised sergeant to fasten his mask on even more tightly or will the couple’s blooming love and partnership be strong enough to help Cooper rip his mask off for good?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Harper Jewel
• Release date: May 27, 2018
• ISBN: 9780463740958

Harper Jewel

Harper Jewel, a loyal LGBTQ+ ally and proud Mama Bear to her twenty-four-year-old daughter, lives in northeast New Jersey with her loving husband. She has four cats, enjoys writing, reading, playing time-management games on her tablet, and watching Hulu or Netflix.With her outgoing personality and vivid imagination, she can create believable and memorable plots and characters.Although she began writing male/female Romance/erotica, she has found her niche in Gay Romance. She enjoys every one of her male characters when they speak to her with loud voices while proving love is love. She is proud to have the honor of being the first M/M author accepted at the now-closed Lush Publishing.Visit www.harperjewel.com to find out more.

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To my friends, Steph & Gwen, as well as my hubby. Thank you for your continual encouragement. I love you!

Acknowledgments

RIPPING OFF THE MASK is my first full-length novel, and I was beyond thrilled to have it accepted by the now-closed Loose Id, LLC. My editor, S.N. Graves, and I worked diligently on this book, and the end result pleased me to no end. When Loose Id notified me that they would be closing, I cried for days and toyed with the idea of giving up writing altogether. If not for the supportive friends in my life who encouraged me not to stop, this self-published reprint would not exist. I also want to thank Nicholas Bella and Aimee Nicole Walker for graciously volunteering to pay for this new cover from Winterheart Designs – www.winterheart.com. Thank you from the bottom of my heart!

Trademark Acknowledgments

The following trademarked items appear in RIPPING OFF THE MASK. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of the following wordmarks mentioned in this work of fiction:

Alka-Seltzer—Bayer Schering Pharma AG, Germany.

American Airlines—American Airlines, Inc.

Bank of America—Bank of America Corporation

Chevy Malibu—Chevrolet

Diesel—OTB

Dunkin Donuts—Dunkin’ Brands Group, Inc.

Gucci—Kering Group

Holiday Inn—InterContinental Hotels Group PLC

Jell-O—Kraft Foods

Marriott—Marriott International, Inc.

Matchbox—Mattel, Inc.

McDonald’s—The McDonald’s Corporation

Mini Cooper—BMW AG

Mustang—Ford Motor Company

Pepto Bismol—Procter & Gamble

PNC Bank—PNC Financial Services Group, Inc.

Remington—Remington Arms Company, LLC

Santander Bank—Santander Group

SC Johnson—S. C. Johnson & Son

Silly String—Wham-O

Skype—Microsoft Corporation

Smith & Wesson—Smith & Wesson (S&W)

Speedo—Pentland Group

Speedy Gonzales—Warner Brothers

TD Bank—Toronto-Dominion Bank

The Twilight Zone—Rod Serling

Velcro—Velcro Companies

YMCA—Young Men’s Christian Association

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VIRGIN PREY

BURNING PREY

TRENT & TREY

HIS DREAM LOVER

Officer Silvio Leopold of the Newark Police Department wiped his brow and exhaled heavily as he and his partner, Sergeant Cooper Brandt, exited the third precinct’s doors. The July morning sun glared above them as the heat and stifling humidity began to rise. Christ! Was that the longest roll call ever, or was it my imagination? Talk about a snooze fest. The captain’s July Fourth spiel hasn’t changed one iota since I got here. Do you think he’s ever heard of ‘changing things up,’ Coop?

I don’t think it ever occurred to him to ‘change things up,’ Sil. When he’s convinced he’s making a point and feels his message hits home, he sticks with it, I guess.

But every person in every precinct in the state damn well knows that fireworks are illegal in New Jersey and that New York, where they’re legal, is just a hop, skip, and a jump away. And they also know that alcohol will flow freely at the widespread parties.

Most likely.

I simply don’t get it.

Neither do I, and I don’t think we ever will. Lenz can be as redundant as he wants, but he’s the captain, so you and I should probably keep our thoughts to ourselves. Repetitiousness aside, he’s great at his job.

You’re right. He is excellent at his job. Silvio made a pretense of zipping his lips and then opened the passenger door of the squad car. Figures the damn car already feels like a furnace. Crank that AC, man, and open some windows.

Got it covered, partner. Cooper started the engine, opened the windows, and turned the AC to full blast.

As the cool air slowly replaced the oppressive heat, Silvio sighed. At least your little speech brought a bit of life to the monotony. A few of the others actually perked their heads up when you took over. That DUI slogan Ramos came up with is brilliant. I can see the blinking signs in my head: U DRINK, U DRIVE, U LOSE. Silvio couldn’t help but shoot his partner a quirky look before continuing. But you seriously burst my bubble with the ‘we’re not superheroes’ statement.

Cooper’s eyes widened. What? I unquestionably made sure everyone knows to stay calm, cool, and collected, especially in this damn heat wave. You know as well as I do that as the temps climb, so do tempers. Calling for backup when necessary isn’t a bad thing, you know. Besides, Speedy Gonzales really isn’t a superhero, Sil.

And I plainly heard another bubble pop. Silvio turned his lips down to a fake frown but couldn’t hold it for long.

Just for that, you’re buying the coffee this morning. Cooper closed the windows and drove out of the precinct lot.

Fine, but you owe me since I bought yesterday’s too.

Deal.

Silvio loved the easy camaraderie he and his partner had developed during the last four years of their alliance. He considered himself lucky as hell to have this man, an eight-year veteran, as his assigned partner. Coop had become the best friend he ever had. If Silvio’s parents had it their way, Cooper would become an honorary member of the family. Talk about creepy, though. Both his parents and his partner would freak if they knew the secret he kept from them.

They made their first stop at Dunkin’, and as promised, Silvio ran inside while Coop remained in the police vehicle. A few minutes later, with coffees in hand, he returned to the squad car and handed Cooper his iced coffee—black, no milk, no sugar.

Thanks, Sil. Did you get your regular?

Sure did. Why wouldn’t I?

Oh, I don’t know. Because you might surprise me and forgo the coffee-milk you favor and go with something different for a change.

Silvio stared blankly at his partner. Coffee-milk?

Come on, you can’t possibly call what you have in your hand coffee. You tell the baristas to give you a medium but put it in a large cup and then ask them to add at least a full cup of milk to it. Seriously, man, how hot can it be after that? And why would you want to drink something even remotely warm when it’s already close to eighty degrees outside?

I don’t like my coffee too hot, but I don’t like it iced either. Besides, haven’t you heard that milk does a body good? Silvio shrugged and gave his partner a smug, tooth-baring grin.

Coop burst into laughter. You’re such a dork.

At the risk of sounding too dorky, suck it up, buttercup. You’re stuck with me. So you keep your end of the bargain and drive since I did the buying.

Ha, ha, ha! Sounds good, your dorkness. Continuing to chuckle, Cooper pulled out into downtown Newark traffic. For several minutes, they drove in companionable silence, sipping their coffee.

Let’s head over to Br—

Brill Street. My thoughts exactly, Sil.

It suddenly struck Silvio that quite often he and Coop had the tendency to finish each other’s thoughts. You know, some people might say we’re beginning to sound like an old married couple. Have you noticed we have an uncanny ability to know what the other is thinking and seem to finish each other’s sentences more often than not?

Let them. I don’t give a fuck. We make a great team.

Silvio offered Cooper a knuckle bump and did his best to ignore the zing that sped up his arm and went straight down to his groin. Glad you feel that way, partner. In my book, it’s a win-win situation for both of us. The sergeant gave no indication he’d noticed anything unusual when their fists met. Great! Mr. Oblivious strikes again.

Damn right, Bro. Now let’s get our asses in gear. We should make sure the DPW doesn’t need us to handle traffic duty around the sewer upgrade. With Coop behind the wheel, the squad car made its way through Newark’s morning rush hour. If I recall, they should be finishing up here today before they move over to Triton.

I’ll never fully understand why the DPW chooses the hottest months of the year to do work like this. I get that they can’t do it during the winter. But, hello! What about the fall and spring?

Good question. One I’m sure we’ll never get a straight answer on. Cooper grinned.

Suddenly, the police radio came to life.

"Two-five, 911 received an emergency call from the McDonald’s on Market."

Silvio grabbed the mic. Ten-four, dispatch. Two-five en route.

Coop shook his head. And the day begins. With heavy morning traffic in front of them, he flipped the switch to turn on the overhead lights, and Sil flicked the siren’s switch. Because of the congestion, it took them almost ten minutes to arrive.

A crowd had gathered just inside the entrance of the fast-food restaurant.

It didn’t take long to identify the 911 caller. A disgruntled, elderly man made the call when his grandson Joey, who looked like a preschooler, received soda instead of orange juice with his breakfast meal.

Speechless, Silvio stood as still as a statue with Coop standing equally quiet beside him.

In the middle of his grandpa’s tirade, the small boy gasped loudly and yanked on the man’s pant leg. Grampa Pete, you used a bad word! Mommy’s gonna wash your mouth out with soap. She did it to me once when I called Timmy a poopy head.

Within seconds, the tense atmosphere deflated, and all those present burst into laughter.

Once the crowd dispersed, Cooper gave Mr. Abitante a stern warning about the improper use of 911, and the man promptly offered his apologies to them both as well as the manager and her employee.

Silvio barely made it back to the squad car before he lost his composure. That was fucking priceless! His amusement filled the vehicle. Anyone ever call you a ‘poopy head’ when you were a kid?

Cooper shook his head. Nah, my size most likely scared the shit out of most of the kids in the neighborhood. You?

I never got called a ‘poopy head.’ But ‘big meanie’ got tossed at me a few times.

Out of the mouths of babes… Coop snorted. You ever think about having kids, Sil?

He cocked his head. Maybe. I need to find the right partner first. Silvio immediately realized that Cooper hadn’t picked up on his word choice. And Mr. Oblivious has reentered the room once more.

The perfect opportunity to tell the sergeant exactly how he felt about finding the right partner jumped up and down, arms waving wildly in his face. But inevitably, like every other time in the past four years this chance appeared, Sil ignored the signal and told himself there’d be another, more perfect time to open his heart.

I have no doubt you’d make an excellent parent, though, Coop. After all, you raised your sister after your parents’ accident, and Lizzie’s a capable, confident woman today.

Regret that he’d kept his mouth shut kicked him hard. What the hell are you waiting for? What he considered logical thinking answered the question fired at him. If he opened that door, what would he do if Cooper slammed it shut and nailed it closed? Next time, I swear I’ll say something. Consequences be damned.

Thanks, man. I appreciate the vote of confidence, but kids aren’t on my agenda. Now let’s hope we’re done with the nonemergency 911s for at least a month.

Amen to that, Bro. Amen.

Cooper put the squad car in gear and steered it back onto the streets of Newark.

Neither man had time to finish their coffees when another call came from dispatch. "Attention all available units. 911 received multiple calls reporting several injuries involving fireworks on Van Buren. Fire and emergency personnel are on their way."

The all-too-familiar scene of bloodied or missing fingers as well as the gruesome sight of a teenager’s gaping eye socket took much of their time that awful day almost two weeks ago. Both Coop and Sil had agreed the gory sight would unfortunately remain with them for quite a while.

As the weathermen forecasted, the temps climbed steadily each day since then, and Cooper’s prediction couldn’t have been more accurate. Tempers definitely flared as a result. Fights, both verbal and physical, became a daily occurrence, and he and Silvio wrote a record number of traffic tickets. This particular Sunday, the second after the holiday, actually started out much calmer than expected, but shortly before noon, hell unleashed total pandemonium.

This is two-five. We have a visual on two of the bank perps. They’re on foot, heading east toward the alley behind Westervelt. Leopold’s in pursuit. Brandt to follow.

"This is two-six heading south on Washburn after the third perp."

The dispatcher’s voice squawked over the walkie. "Ten-four, two-five and two-six. All units maintain further communication on nine."

Ten-four. Two-five moving to nine.

"Ten-four. Two-six moving to nine. Several more units in the area responded with a Ten-four, moving to nine."

Switching his shoulder walkie to channel nine, Cooper pumped his legs into motion, shot past the locked police cruiser, and began to chase after his partner and two of the three perps who’d brazenly robbed the local TD Bank. The sight of one of the armored cars’ security detail lying on the ground as blood seeped from his leg wound left a stain on his mind. Hopefully, the EMTs would get there quickly.

"This is two-six. We lost sight of the perp in the hoodie around Grant and Washburn. Repeat: two-six lost sight of hooded perp around Grant and Washburn."

How could Cole and Scanlon lose the fucking perp?

As luck would have it, this end of Newark didn’t cater to Sunday crowds, and the record-breaking heat seemed to be keeping people indoors with the air-conditioning. Or maybe they were away, enjoying a nice vacation. The hot, midafternoon temp caused sweat to drip down the sides of Cooper’s face and into his eyes, making them sting, while his lungs felt as if they might seize. But he couldn’t stop. These shitheads weren’t going to escape.

Silvio ran farther ahead of him as the suspects left the alley and turned right onto Triton. Obviously, the thugs hadn’t done their homework. These assholes clearly weren’t aware that the street they’d turned onto had been closed off at the Grant intersection due to the sewer upgrade. We’ve got them now, Sil!

Too much perspiration blurred his vision as he approached the corner. He had no choice, so he quickly swiped his eyes with his forearm, then held his weapon up in front of him. The loud report of two gunshots echoed through the afternoon air. Once more, he reached for the walkie on his left shoulder. Shots fired! Repeat: shots fired on Triton! How close is backup?

"Two-seven on the way. Need to take the long route as Berkley’s closed due to a water-main break."

"Two-six heading your way from Grant and Washburn. Still keeping a lookout for the hooded perp. We’ll come up on the other side of the roadblock, Coop."

"Two-eight taking care of a fender bender on Carter. Almost done."

Cooper had to strain to hear the replies over the hammering of his heart.

That’s just fucking great!

Rounding the corner, he came to an abrupt halt when Silvio rolled to his stomach and groaned. One of the suspects they’d been chasing sat breathing heavily while rocking back and forth against the three-foot roadblock. The scrawny perp clutched his left calf, which appeared to have taken a bullet. The bald perp was nowhere in sight. If he had to guess, he figured the guy jumped the roadblock and planned to leave his coconspirator behind. Clearly, Silvio got the wind knocked out of him when the bullet fired at him hit his vest. Cooper knew firsthand the kind of wallop that would pack.

Shake it off, Sil! Come on!

With his weapon raised, Cooper stepped farther down the newly dead-ended street and kept his gaze on the suspect as he drew closer to his partner. Only steps from Silvio, a man jumped from behind one of the construction vehicles on the other side of the road’s barricade. Apparently, the bald, heavily tattooed perp hadn’t left his partner in crime. The guy stood with a cocky grin on his face as he pointed his gun directly at Cooper.

Not so fast, cop! Drop your weapon, or I shoot you both.

What are you doin’, Cue Ball? We ain’t no cop killers. Bull’s got the dough. Let’s split. We need to head to the meet spot. You know that.

Shut it, Rat. You think this cop’s calmly gonna let us waltz outta here?

That’s it, fuckwads. Keep arguing.

Cooper began grinding his teeth and praying he’d see Cole and Scanlon creeping up behind Baldy any second now as the two perps bickered back and forth. Silvio, on his hands and knees now, attempted to stand. Just as Coop extended his left hand toward his kneeling partner, a voice from behind startled him.

"You useless wastes can’t follow a goddamn plan, can ya? Told ya not to use Triton."

When Cooper swiveled around, agonizing pain hit his right shoulder, and nanoseconds later, Silvio groaned for a second time as two more gunshots reverberated through the quiet street. Falling to his knees on the hard, unforgiving asphalt, he landed next to his partner. Coop’s weapon slipped from his hand and clattered to the concrete.

Now he dropped his fuckin’ gun. Cue Ball, grab Rat and let’s split. The dough’s taken care of. From the corner of his eye, Cooper caught sight of the bald guy jump the roadblock and help up the scrawny perp Silvio had fired at.

Ouch! I’m fuckin’ hurt.

Too damn bad, ya whiner. How the hell you get shot, anyway, Rat? Obviously, this was the hooded perp Cole and Scanlon had lost.

After I hit the cop, he returned fire when I tried to jump the barrier, Bull.

Fuckin’ douchebag. I should shoot you in the other leg, just for fun. Now let’s move it!

As Cue Ball and Rat sidled past him and Silvio, Cue Ball spat at them both.

Later, pricks.

Fighting the searing pain shooting through his shoulder, Cooper reached out to Silvio. Blood seeped through his partner’s shirt right above his waist on his right side. Sil’s eyes remained opened but unfocused.

Fucker hit us both, partner.

Coop?

Yeah, Sil. Hold on, man. Cooper reached for his walkie with a trembling left hand. Officers down. Leopold…and Brandt…down on Triton. Three perps loose…headed for Westervelt… Blood seeped slowly down his upper right arm toward his elbow.

"EMTs en route, two-five."

"Two-six is on the way. Hold on, Coop!"

"Two-eight heading for Westervelt."

Coop?

Cooper shoved away the pain coursing through his body, and pushed closer to Silvio’s face. I’m here, Sil. Help’s on the way. A quick glance at his partner’s right side made him cringe. The bright-red blotch grew slowly, spreading across the material covering it. The second bullet had hit flesh. He knew his partner, like him, only wore the front half of his soft bulletproof vest. The full-body armor was much too heavy, especially in this heat. The perp knew where to aim to do damage.

Need…to ask you…something.

I’m listening, Bro. Cooper let the tip of his nose touch Sil’s cheek so he could hear his partner better.

Kiss me, Coop. Please.

Huh? Kiss you? Why would I do that, Sil?

Need to know.

Know what, man?

Please…

Don’t do it, Brandt! You closed that door years ago. Remember what happened the last time!

Confused as shit and in pain, Cooper couldn’t think straight. All kinds of warning bells blared in his head. He’d sworn to the heavens he wouldn’t go there again after what happened at the end of high school. Why the hell would Silvio ask him for a kiss, anyway? On the other hand, how could he deny his partner or the fleeting spark that went through him at the request? His partner’s dark hair glistened with sweat, and his hazel eyes momentarily flashed with lucidity before they glazed over once more. If help didn’t arrive soon, Coop was afraid Sil might not make it. The throbbing ache in his shoulder had begun to win the battle over his mind as well, and he knew he’d lose consciousness soon.

Unease filled him as something in his head kept screaming, Don’t do it! He ignored it and brushed his lips against Silvio’s anyway. A jolt of electricity shot through him when his injured partner’s tongue snaked its way past his lips. As if possessed, Coop suddenly accepted the intrusion and pushed his tongue into Sil’s open mouth at the same time. Sharing a soul-stealing French kiss, they engaged in a blistering tongue tango that felt minutes long but, in reality, probably lasted no more than thirty seconds. Silvio moaned, and Cooper couldn’t tell whether it was from pain or desire, but it sent a humming sensation straight through him.

When slippery fingers brushed against his cheek, Cooper pulled back. Over the pounding of his heart, he struggled to hear Silvio’s murmur. Thank you. I…I knew it…it would be like…like that. I want you, Coop. Al-always have.

Cooper’s world spun wildly on its axis, and everything began to go black. Not quite before darkness descended, he heard the pounding of feet, a few shouts, and the sound of a nearby siren.

Sergeant Brandt, can you hear me? The female voice drifted into his mind that felt stuffed with cobwebs. Cooper floated through the sticky trap toward the sound while a number of fleeting images raced across his inner vision.

Holy shit! Had Silvio really asked him for a kiss? Did he really break his promise? I gave in, goddammit! Maybe it was merely a dream. What the hell really happened?

He forced his eyes to open, and the blurry vision of a brunette in green scrubs surrounded by a halo of bright fluorescent lighting above her slowly came into focus.

There you are. Welcome back, Sergeant. You’ve been in the recovery room here at Beth Israel Hospital for the last thirty minutes. I’ll finish checking your vitals and then alert the doctors and your superiors that you’re awake. I’m Linda, by the way.

Who the hell abandoned him in the Sahara without water and then let that damn rattler keep biting him? Had the same person smothered his shoulder in a furnace-like blanket as well? He gathered what little saliva he could. My partner…

The nurse pushed a button on the monitor at his bedside, and the blood pressure cuff around his left arm began to inflate while numbers flashed on the display. Officer Leopold’s getting the best care possible, don’t you worry.

How bad…

Undoubtedly, the doctor will fill you in. Your vitals are strong. If your shoulder hurts too much, I’ll give you something for it. Just ask. Your arm’s immobilized for the time being to allow for healing, so you’ll not be able to move it. Can’t have you undo anything the surgeon did. I’ll be right back with some water and the orthopedist. There are also at least half a dozen policemen in the waiting area. Your fellow officers are waiting for word about you.

More questions swamped Cooper’s mind. He wanted to know if they’d apprehended the asshole who shot him, and what the hell Sil meant with the I want you and always have lines, but he knew the nurse wouldn’t have those answers. The longer he kept his eyes open, the more his shoulder pain increased. He hated the idea of pain meds. They would knock him for a loop, and too many things that needed answers plagued his mind.

He turned his head as he heard the door on his left open. Linda, followed by a blond man wearing scrubs, walked into the room.

I’ve brought you some water, Sergeant Brandt. You’ll need to sip it slowly, though. She approached his bedside, lowered a straw stuck in a cup to his lips, and allowed him to take a few careful swallows.

The man he guessed to be in his early fifties took the digital pad from the end of his bed and appeared to be scanning it carefully. Good to see you’re awake, Sergeant Brandt. I’m Dr. Bolson, your attending orthopedist. I’m sure you have many questions, but let me start by telling you that you’re going to be fine.

Coop interrupted him. My shoulder? How bad is it?

To put it succinctly, the bullet did some damage. Nothing that couldn’t be fixed, however. You were hit in a rather precarious spot between your humeral head and your glenoid fossa. In layman’s terms: where the ball of your shoulder and shoulder blade meet. We had to replace your shoulder and clean up a few bone fragments, but the bullet went clean through. With physical therapy, you should be reasonably comfortable and have approximately one half of your mobility back within three months, but it will still feel a bit weak. Within six months, you should have two-thirds of your range of motion and strength back.

"Should have and six months? Jesus, Doc! I need this arm! It’s my gun arm. I will accomplish all that in four to five months tops. You can bank on it." Cooper took a few more draws on the straw Linda still held to his lips.

"Yes, well, you look like a very determined person, and I’m sure you’ll work hard to get back your full strength. Dr. James, a leading aquatic therapist, recently joined the staff at Kessler Rehabilitation, and I’ve