Stifling a laugh, I hold up a finger. “Question. We’ve already had this conversation. I’m in. It’s settled. Why do you think you know better than my therapist what I can handle?”
Erik thins his lips. “I live with you, and I go on these missions with you. I know you better than she does.”
“Alright, roomie. Lay it on me then. You’ve seen me in action. What am I doing so wrong that you’re still trying to keep me in bubble wrap?”
Charlie is the one to answer. “Nothing, Ant. You haven’t done anything wrong.” Erik goes to open his mouth, but Charlie silences him with a look. “Some habits are just harder to break than others, and we’re sorry we didn’t give you the trust you’ve earned. We can’t—and won’t—keep you on the sidelines anymore.”
“Bet that hurt for you to say.”
Charlie sighs, his eyes a little sad. “Erik’s not the only one having a hard time with this. But…Hedy’s threatened to recruit you for Wimberley proper if I don’t start using you.”
I appreciate Charlie’s honesty, but damn, I love my therapist. She also happens to be a profiler and the recruiter for…whatever it is they do down the road from us and has dropped some not-so-subtle hints that she’d have a position for me.
“When should I talk to Jason and Justin?” I ask, speaking of the brothers who own the Jennings’ Fencing Supply and who I consider to be my close friends.
Erik shifts uncomfortably. “Sooner rather than later,” he grumbles. “We’ve got a mission coming up pretty quickly and a few stacked up behind that one.”
His posture is an entire sonnet to disgruntled-tude.
“You obviously don’t agree with this,” I state, annoyed that he still won’t look me in the eye.
“I’veneveragreed with this, but I am being overridden.”
“Is that why you’re so mad at me right now?”
Finally, his eyes meet mine, and…damn. He’s one hard-to-read bastard, but he’s more than just angry. He’s upset.
“I’m not mad about your promotion within our organization, per se. I worry for your safety, but I’m told that’s not a good enough excuse to hold you back. I am trying to accept that.”
“Okay, but you are mad aboutsomething. Out with it.”
One of the things Nacho taught me is if you work closely with somebody, you gotta be honest. Nacho is sober, so honesty is important to him, as is communication. Which reminds me—shit. I’m not going to be working with him every day. My throat tightens at the thought.
Spending so many of my formative years in a trafficking situation means there are many developmental things I missed out on. Nacho’s silly antics and kind words as we make our daily trips around the Central Texas Hill Country have taught me more about being a human than anything else.
I blink back emotion and refocus on the agitated tree sitting on the other side of the coffee table.
“The list, Ant,”he spits out, ever efficient in his words. “I’m mad about the fucking list.”
Oops. I’d forgotten about that.
2
ERIK
Charlie furrows his brow. “What list are we talking about?”
“You know which list. The one with all of hisrapists,” I hiss, unable to keep the frustration out of my tone.
Charlie sends me a look, which I ignore.
“Stop calling them that,” Ant bites out.
Smokey headbutts me, something she does whenever I get angry or frustrated. Scratching behind her ears, I explain to Charlie, “I was looking up their information and needed help. I gave Anders the list—clearly a mistake—and after his team discovered all their data, he gave it back to Ant.”
Ant’s uncle, Javier, shifts in his seat. “Where is this list?”
I shake my head. “Oh no. You’re not getting anywhere near that list. We don’t need Chico and the Unhinged Uncle going after those people. You’re far too emotional for this.”
