“At least offer to call with a pretend emergency so I can leave early,” I whine.
“Ey, ey, Captain.”
“You only say that on a ship!” I yell after her.
I’m doomed.
CHAPTER
SEVEN
Haze
I pause for a few moments after Cameron’s revelation. “What kind of trouble?”
“Trouble that leaves me no other choice but to call you.”
I rub a hand over my scruff. “I’m listenin’.”
“I prefer to do this in person.”
“That’s not really necessary.”
“You work in the security business,” he says. “That’s all I’m saying until I’m certain the line is safe. I’ll be there in half an hour. Don’t tell Willow about this and make sure you’re still there.” He hangs up the phone.
I hold the receiver out, staring at it for a few seconds before dropping it back onto the receiver.
Son of a bitch.
Until he’s certain the line is safe?What in the actual fuck?
Since when is Willow not safe? I know she’s been involved in some heavy police shit lately, but no more than normal. I’d like to think she’d tell me if things were that bad, but who fucking knows anymore. Willow and I haven’t exactly seen eye to eye on a lot of things. While I’m glad about her promotion, it alsoputs her in the firing line because now she’s captain. Willow has always been accountable. She was the best detective on the NOLA force, but with responsibility comes more risk.
I shift in my chair, trying to fathom what to do. Cameron will be here soon, and I’ve got to fucking deal with him.
It’s worrying that a man like Cameron Sinclair would contact me, of all people, because I’m by far the last person on his Christmas card list, let alone a sit down about his daughter. I stand, pacing. I’m not scared of the man, in fact, on more than one occasion I’ve wanted to punch him in the face for how he’s treated his daughter, but I’ve held my tongue. Of course, that all went out the window when we broke up. He really let me know what he thought of me then.
I press the intercom, and Nova picks up. “Yo, cuz.”
I clear my throat. “Cameron Sinclair is headed over here in about ten minutes,” I say. “Let him through to my office.”
“Got it.”
“Oh, and Nova, I could do with a drink.”
“Sure, I’ll get you a coff?—”
“Arealdrink.” I usually have a stash in here, but I’m all out. I wouldn’t say I’m a heavy drinker, but I think an impromptu meeting with Willow’s dad calls for it.
“Uh, oh, is everything okay? Wait, Sinclair, isn’t that Willow’s?—”
“Just get the bourbon,” I say, cutting her off. I run both hands through my hair when I hear:
“Bro? You okay?” Brew is frowning at me from the doorway.
“Fuck off.”
“What did Sinclair want?”
