Total pages in book: 53
Estimated words: 50820 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 254(@200wpm)___ 203(@250wpm)___ 169(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 50820 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 254(@200wpm)___ 203(@250wpm)___ 169(@300wpm)
I slosh my way across the carpet, where I talk with the team, shed my gear and meet Jack on the other side. “I have to leave,” I inform him. “You want a chance to work for me, don’t let anything get fucked up, hidden, lost, or otherwise screwed. Understand?”
“Yes.” His eyes are headlights, he’s so bright eyed. “Yes. You won’t regret this. You will not—”
“I better not, Jack. I have thoughts on what happened I don’t have time to share. Text me notes when the team finishes.”
“Will I get the FBI’s final reports?”
“We’ll see.” I step around him and Pocher is just inside the archway, which pisses me off. What the fuck is happening that he could even get to me? Me and Leonard are about to throwdown. “Go back upstairs,” I order. “I’ll handle my father and the governor.”
“They’re going to get into a pissing match about what goes public,” he says, as if that’s not a given. They were always going to do it, if I let them. I was never going to let them. I’m still not going to let them, because Kane is never going to let the governor leave until I get there.
I’ve never known Enrique to be irrational, but the why of his decision to go to Pocher over every other member of our team is a mystery he probably does not want me to solve. “Make my day,” I say to Pocher yet again “and keep standing here. Truly, I have been begging you to give me an excuse to hurt you or jail you, and coward that you are, you tuck tail and run.”
He starts to open his mouth. I hold up a hand. “One more word, and I will place you under arrest which would be highly anticlimactic for me considering I’ve fantasized how our final showdown will play out.”
He draws in a breath and the look in his eyes is the devil incarnate, and I know why. Here, in the center of a law enforcement operation, is not the place to confront me, threaten me, or try to manipulate an outcome. He walks away. I follow in his wake and watch him climb the expansive stairwell, and I keep him in my sights until he’s out of my view. Only then do I turn and hurry outside.
I find Adams halfway down the stairs, in deep conversation with Leonard, who’s probably bitching about how much he doesn’t approve of a life in general where Kane and I breathe instead of doing his job. I march toward them, and when I halt in front of them, it’s Leonard I’m focused on. “Just humor me, all high and mighty, perfect FBI agent, that you’d like us to believe you to be.” I don’t give him time to answer as I add, “Do we agree that it would be logical that one of the people on lockdown could be the actual killer? They would have been inside the house, therefore they had access. They would have had knowledge outsiders would not. They would have had opportunity.”
“Of course,” he says. “Which is why I was about to go and start interviews.”
“Because I put you in charge of securing those people and doing the interviews. Correct?”
He starts to pale, as if he’s realizing something happened while he left them without boundaries. “Yes. Correct.”
“Did you do anything to assure the upstairs was locked down? Don’t even bother to answer that question. The more important one is why the fuck did Pocher, who is one of those people, just show up to bring me a message, while I inspected the body? Do you need candy or donuts as incentives to do your job? Do you need written instructions? Do you need—”
“Go do your job, Special Agent Leonard,” Adams snaps. “Now.”
Leonard is already racing toward the house, but me and Adams are in a stare-off. He’s dirty is the thought that comes to my mind. He’s everything and more that Ellis believes him to be, and I know in that moment, I’m going to help take him down. “I’d question the games you’re playing, Director Adams,” I say, my voice the same blade I may someday use on him, “but I don’t have time. At present Kane is mediating since the governor showed up at my father’s house.”
“I don’t play games, Special Agent Love.”
He hasn’t even commented on the governor or my father, his focus on himself, and what I know about him. “The day I believe that,” I say, “is the day, I’m too dead to claw myself out of a grave, Director. And I’m a whole lot better at ending people than I am dying. Be careful who you play those games with and for what side. You’re not good at it. You’re not even the second to last bad at it. We can discuss the details of which I’ve likely already figured out.”