Predictably, though, I was right about therunning his mouthpart.
“Eh, doesn’t look so bad,” he’s saying with a chuckle as I gently close the door behind me. “Just another scar for the collection, eh, Big D? It’ll match your face. Hey, you love being literal—you ever hear that phrasebutt-ugly?”
I snort. “He’s only saying that because he’s out of your arm’s reach.”
“You bet your ass, I am.”
Dimitri sighs instead of rising to the bait, an excellent display of restraint. But he’s clearly uncomfortable with more than just the puns, and he shifts on thepillow, trying to roll up to see me better, but wincing and falling back into place. “This is so undignified,” he huffs.
I move around the bed so Dimitri doesn’t have to strain to see me. “Whatisthe recovery time for bruised pride?” I ask, getting in a subtler jab of my own.
Dimitri’s jaw clenches, but he speaks with a softness he reserves for the mention of his personal nurse. “She will not let me rise except to take a piss for another several days, and then I will be using those to move around until the threat of tearing and infection is past.” He gestures to a pair of crutches leaning against the far wall.
I gape. “Where the hell did those come from? They look about six inches too short for you.”
He waves his hand dismissively. Yeah, I’ll be rush-ordering something better after a bit of research—one of those knee scooters ought to help his mobility.
“Enough of this. Did he talk?”
Knowing the question is directed at him, Mac’s smile dissolves into a grim expression and he nods. “He admitted to killing Alfano, but that’s about all I got. I may have hit him a bit too hard,” he admits with a chagrined wince. “A couple hours in, he passed out and I couldn’t wake him back up, so I made the call.”
“Brain hemorrhage,” Dimitri assumes with a grave, but clinical air.
“Probably,” Mac agrees.
“A simple mistake for someone unaccustomed to the work. I should have been there,” Dimitri grumbles.
“Yeah, I wish you had been,” Mac shoots back, though it’s not defensive. He rubs the back of his neck as he shakes his head. “I don’t have the stomach for that shit.”
There’s a reason he shoots to kill from 500 yards, just as there’s a reason I primarily support from behind my screens. It’s not easy to look someone in the eye as you take their life. I don’t know how Dimitri does it, and I can’t say I particularly care to.
Dimitri catches Mac’s haunted expression and his brows snap down even lower, deepening the crease of the scar through his face. “As in anything, practice is the only way to improve—but this is my role on our team; it should not have fallen to you. Do not beat yourself off.”
Mac snorts. “Beat myselfup?”
“That is what I said.”
Mac and I exchange grins—mine, pure amusement and his, tinged with relief. I know from personal experience how it feels to be absolved of blame by Dimitri’s gruff practicality. I cross my arms, tapping at my bicep with a thumb. “I’ll get to work on an ID, then. It would be good to know who he was working for.”
“That is unnecessary. I found him.”
“What? How?” Mac gapes.
Dimitri taps a tablet next to him, briefly waking the screen. “Wesley sent me the footage. I shot at the screen as he ran from the house and cross-referenced his photo using Wesley’s files.” There’s a beat of silence, and my jaw falls slack. Dimitri stares back at me,eyes narrowing. “What?”
“I… didn’t know you knew how to use the shared drive,” I say, unable to keep the surprise from my voice.
He lifts a brow, unimpressed. “You gave me a password and showed me how.”
“I did,” I agree, feeling my head bob. “But that was ages ago, and this is the first time you’ve used it.”
“Important information should not be treated thoughtlessly,” he scoffs dismissively. “I do not like them, but I am notallergicto computers.”
“Was that ajoke? Did Nicole give him morphine?” Mac interjects.
“Of course she did; I was shot,” Dimitri says, anger lacing his tone. “Can we get back to the job? I am trying to tell you that I found his mugshot in the Volkevich files.”
That sobers us up right quick.
