Lucid.
He shakes his head, but obeys, muttering profanities under his breath. I step closer to Cade then. “This isn’t the Marines, and you’re not fucking deployed. We don’t get to leave a kill zone looking like Fallujah, got it?”
Cade’s smirk grows. “Whatever you say,Doc.”
And that’s the final straw.
I grab Cade by the collar and slam him back against the wall, hard enough to rattle a framed picture off its nail. “If you ever pull this shit again,” I hiss, “I’ll plant you right here next to them and send a photo to NCIS myself.”
Cade laughs, short and sharp. “You’re not the first to threaten me, old man.”
I dig my thumb into the nerve bundle just above his clavicle, and he gasps, the smile breaking into a snarl. “No,” I threaten, my face inches from his, “but I’ll be the last. You’re sloppy. You’re too fucking loud. You get off on the mess, and that’s how the fuck you got here in the first place.”
Cade’s eyes roll back in his head, as I tighten my grip, and I let him go cold for a few seconds, enough to give me the satisfaction of watching him slide to the floor unconscious. Iwipe someone’s blood off my hand onto my jeans and turn to Turner. “Bag the bodies, bleach the surfaces, clear the cameras. Get moving.”
Turner nods and gets started. Meanwhile, Cade flexes his neck and rolls his shoulders, as he comes back to.
“You,” I kick his boot, “You better clean this up with the efficiency I know you’re capable of.”
“Whatever you say, Doc,” Cade peers up at me, voice singsong. “Good thing I like my pay in fun, not numbers.”
“Noted,” I deadpan. “I’ll count you as paid then.”
The men get moving, and I stand there, trying to process what the fuck I keep being handed. Turner is a handful. Cade feels like a goddamn landmine.
But it’s just a botched job. And I’ll be in trouble. But it’s fine.
I remove my cowboy hat and rake my fingers through my hair, reminding myself that I can handle this kind of shit. It’s my job. I’m good at my job.
However, as I move to help with the cleanup, my phone vibrates. I pause, digging it out and taking a look at the notification.
Molly: I blew a tire. HELP ME. It’s cold.
“You have to be fucking kidding me,” I groan, dropping the phone to my side.
“What’s that?” Turner looks up from where he’s standing over man’s body. “You good, boss?”
“Fatherly duties are calling,” I grimace, once again taking in the scene around me. “My daughter has a flat.”
“Go help her,” Cade speaks up, suddenly empathetic. “It’s too late for a lady to be out on the road.”
I purse my lips, hating the idea of abandoning this scene. “You two better not fuck this up.”
“We won’t,” Cade gives me a smile that has my stomach churning.
But also… My kid doesn’t need to be out this late alone.
Fuck.I let out a sigh. “Be efficient.”
“Got it, Doc,” Cade gives me a thumbs up. “I’m good at cleanup, remember?”
I give them both a weary look, and then give in. “Report back to me when you finish.” With that, I slip out of the house, leaving them there.
I mean, they can’t fuck it up any worse than they already have.
I compartmentalize it, as I climb into my truck, and then shift to dad mode. Except, it doesn’t come that easy this time. I feel my mental capacity waning.
And as I drive, I wonder if my daughter would even recognize me in a moment like this. Maybe I could convince her I get to be the one who keeps the monsters from wrecking the world. But fuck, playing with monsters is exhausting.
