Pressing my lips together, I look down at my feet. I don’t know how the hell I’m going to make this better. I feel bad. Beyond bad. I should have just stayed away. Sinking my teeth into my bottom lip, I lift my gaze to meet his, but then something causes my spine to straighten.
“What do you mean, mob boss?” I ask.
Viking’s eyes widen. “You didn’t know?” he asks. “What the fuck did you think he was?”
I don’t know what he was. How could I have known? But then again, how could I have not known? I was living in denial, and it’s come to bite me in the ass.
“He was flashy. I just figured he was a guy who lived the Vegas lifestyle.”
Viking snorts. “Yeah, like a mobster, babe.”
“Shit,” I hiss. “I didn’t even think about it. I mean, it makes sense after I saw everything he did, but I guess I didn’t let it register.”
“And now he’s here, somewhere.”
Yes, indeed. Now he’s here… somewhere. Looking for me. Looking to kill me. I’ve seen too much, and I can’t take that back. Dante will never stop looking for me. He will never stop trying to find me.
I’ve wounded his pride by running.
“He’ll start a war over this,” I whisper.
There is a long moment of silence. I start to say something, but I have nothing to say. Sliding my gaze down to my feet, I stare at them and wait for Viking to say something else. Thankfully, he puts me out of my misery.
“No, he won’t, babe,” he says. “We won’t let him.”
And that is that.
They won’t let him.
I wish I could believe it all, that they could protect me from anything and everything coming my way. I mean, that’s why I came here, after all. But I’m not sure any longer. Having someone watching me, protecting me twenty-four seven… The guilt begins to consume me instantly. I should have dealt with all of this myself.
I shouldn’t have come here.
I shouldn’t have put this on the Reapers or on Axton. I should have done it myself, always myself. Because at the end of the day, I’m the only person who should be helping myself. I should not be relying on other people.
PIGGY
After sending Bullet the text with my schedule, I turn from the whiteboard and come face-to-face with one of the other officers. I know his name, but I don’t work with him often. We tend to be on opposite shifts—him choosing daylight and me preferring the late nights.
“Sorry about that. Didn’t know you were there,” I mutter.
He doesn’t move out of the way, though. He stays with his feet planted, standing directly in front of me as if to keep me from walking out of the room. I don’t know him well enough to have any kind of beef with him, so I’m confused as fuck as to why he’s blocking my path out of the precinct's mail room.
“Garcia?” I ask. “Help you?”
He crosses his arms over his chest, tipping his chin down slightly as he looks down his nose at me. I arch a brow, curious as to why the fuck he’s behaving this way and toward me. I can’t even remember ever having a conversation with him in my fucking life.
“Yeah,” he grinds out. “You want to tell me why the fuck you’re hanging around with the Vicious Reapers?”
My eyes widen, and I almost laugh. Almost. Everyone knows I’m a Reaper, including the chief. I have a good gig here. I don’t mix Reapers business with law enforcement. I might look the other way, but so do a hundred other departments.
“You serious with me right now?” I ask.
He jerks his chin. “I’m dead fucking serious, Colter.”
“It’s above your pay grade,” I simply announce as I begin to move past him.
He doesn’t allow me. When he blocks me again, I can feel the irritation building inside me. I’m no longer curious or findthis comical at all whatsoever. In fact, I am beginning to wonder what the fuck his problem is.
