Somehow, Patrick hadn’t been blamed by the public for that mess.
Patrick ran his tongue over the back of his teeth. He wanted to get the taste of morning breath and toxic guilt out of his mouth. Whiskey would help.
“I’ll get your coffee started,” Jono said, as if he were reading Patrick’s mind.
Patrick grunted and rolled out of bed. He needed to shower off the nightmare and make himself mostly presentable for the joint task force meeting ahead. Since it had been agreed by multiple agencies that Patrick was a designated target of Ethan Greene and the Dominion Sect, he wasn’t obligated to wear a suit. He wasn’t going to do a media walk in front of cameras when he got there, and suits weren’t the best kind of clothing to fight in. The one he’d worn to the Library of Congress had gone into the trash.
Patrick hauled himself under the spray of hot water in the shower and scrubbed himself clean. He didn’t take long because he wasn’t looking forward to waiting on standby with a teenage dragon if they missed the flight out. Airport food was usually disgusting, always expensive, and Patrick only had so much money in his bank account right now to keep Wade Espinoza fed. At least they had pack tithes coming in every month now to help with that.
After he finished washing up, Patrick quickly got dressed in dark jeans and a black T-shirt that wasn’t too wrinkled. He strapped his gods-given dagger to his right thigh before holstering his semiautomatic HK USP 9mm tactical pistol, shoving his badge into his back pocket.
The weight of the handgun wasn’t something he thought he’d get back. The handgun and his SOA badge had been taken from him when he’d been accused of Youssef Khan’s murder. The return of his job still felt temporary, and Patrick was bracing for the day he’d be relieved of his duty. He didn’t know what he’d do when that happened.
Maybe finally take that vacation that was owed to him if he survived.
Once he had his combat boots laced up, Patrick headed for the kitchen, where Jono was pouring just a little cream into a mug for him. Jono had his own mug, that of strong black tea, but he passed over Patrick’s coffee with a smile.
“Feel better?” Jono asked.
Patrick didn’t have his shields up, so he couldn’t lie, but he honestly didn’t want to. “Getting there.”
Some days, going through the motions was all he could do. Unfortunately, he couldn’t be anything but sharp once he got to DC.
Jono tugged him closer, wrapping an arm around his waist. They stood in the kitchen for a few minutes, leaning against each other and sipping their respective drinks. Their quiet moment together was interrupted by the sound of keys jangling in the lock to their apartment’s front door. The only people who had access to the brownstone in Chelsea was their pack, so Patrick didn’t immediately move.
“Do I smell coffee?” Wade asked as he came inside. “I want some.”
“I thought we were picking you up?” Patrick asked as he and Jono disentangled from each other and left the kitchen.
“I was playing video games all night, and then I got bored, so I decided to come over. I texted the group chat.”
Patrick groaned. “You’re not talking to anyone when we get to DC.”
Wade shrugged as he hurried to the kitchen to get some coffee. “Like I want to talk to any of the people there.”
Patrick couldn’t blame him.
“When is the meeting?” Jono asked as he sat on the couch.
“The afternoon,” Patrick said.
“Theafternoon?” Wade exclaimed. “I could’ve been sleeping right now!”
“Sleep on the plane.”
“That’s barely a nap.”
“Then maybe next time you’ll know not to play video games so late before I need to make face time with the government.”
Wade walked out of the kitchen, slurping at his coffee. “Why are we getting there so early if the meeting isn’t until the afternoon?”
“I need to look over some files at the SOA headquarters first, and then I need to stop by Arlington.”
Jono eyed him. “Arlington?”
Patrick smiled wanly. “I have respects that need to be paid. I’m overdue.”
“Steer clear of the bars, yeah?” Jono asked gently.
