Roscoe followed his gaze and whined.
Wolfe rubbed the ache between his eyes, took a deep breath, and nodded. “I’ve got it, buddy. Just stay here and sober up.”
Roscoe set his face on his paws, sneezed again, and then shut his eyes. Snoring commenced almost immediately, interspersed with a whimper or two. Then the dog let out a stream of farts that punctured the silence with loud pops.
Wolfe stood to grab the lattes before striding around the pod of desks to the rear office. “Force?” He poked his head in to see Angus sprawled, face first, across a worn leather sofa against the wall, his arm hanging off near an empty bottle of Jack Daniels on the floor.
Wonderful. Wolfe set the lattes on the paper-strewn desk and grasped his boss by the shoulders, flipping him around to a sitting position. “Do you need to throw up?”
Force wobbled and then blinked, his eyes so bloodshot it hurt to look at them. “Wolfe. It’s Sunday,” he slurred. “What are you doing here?”
“Thought I’d wait here until my church services started,” Wolfe drawled, releasing his hold on Force’s shoulders once the man seemed semi-stable.
Force snorted and kicked out his legs. The bottle rolled across the floor to hit the desk. “Where’s Roscoe?”
“Sleeping it off out in the main room. You gave him booze?” Wolfe tried to keep from sounding judgmental but failed.
“No.” Force looked around, blinking. “I thought I’d finished this bottle, but maybe not.” He dropped his head into his hands, a massive man with guilt pouring from him. “Lassiter is out there. He’s killing and we’re not finding him, so he’s killing more. I just know it.” His voice was gritty, tortured.
“There’s no proof the guy is alive.” Wolfe reached for a latte and nudged it against Force’s hand.
“I know he is.” Force lifted his head and took the sugary drink, downing half of it in one gulp.
Wolfe nodded, working his way through his own whipped cream. The stuff didn’t taste nearly as good as it did on Dana’s skin. Damn it, he needed to focus. He trusted Force’s instincts almost as implicitly as he did his own. “If Brigid hasn’t found a line to Lassiter, there isn’t one. Is he really that good?”
“Yeah.” Force finished the drink and then winced. “He’s that good, and I’m not the man I was five years ago. Not even close.”
Wolfe could see that. “You have a good team this time, though. Together, we’ll find the guy.” If he was alive.
Force wiped a sprinkle off his bottom lip. “That’s a lot of sugar.”
“Only the best for you.” Wolfe drank his latte more slowly, feeling back in control, finally. “Have you, maybe, thought of talking to Nari about everything?” The shrink was smart and often helpful.
Force stiffened and sat up straighter. “No.”
Okay. Well, then. Wolfe had learned at an early age not to try to run through a brick wall, so enough of that. “This isn’t good, man. You have to stop with the Jack.” And the Johnny, Bud, and Jose.
Force nodded, looking green. “Yeah. Got it.”
Enough of the lecture. “Thanks for bringing Dana on board.” Was Force trying to matchmake?
Force nodded. “I figured you’d need her with Bridge and Raider gone, and frankly, she’s pretty darn good at research. Are you two fuckin’ or what?”
“Mind your own business,” Wolfe returned.
Force sighed. “What a disaster.”
Wasn’t that the damn truth?
* * *
Dana tugged her blouse into place, sitting in the passenger side of Wolfe’s truck on the way to work. He must’ve returned sometime during the night but had slept on the sofa. Nope. She wasn’t hurt by that at all. Ugh. “I can get my own ride to work, you know?” She eyed the way-too-sweet latte already waiting for her in his cupholder.
He banked left and drove around a hearse. “I know, but I figured you’d want support for your first Monday morning.”
There probably wouldn’t be a lot of Monday mornings, and she knew him better than that. “I appreciate your playing bodyguard, but if our friendship is temporary, then I shouldn’t start to count on that, right?” Yeah, she might be sounding a little snippy.
“Our friendship isn’t temporary, but our close proximity is, because it needs to be.” He sounded oh so reasonable and back in control this morning. He also looked fresh and ready to rumble in dark jeans and a light green T-shirt, but there was stubble along his hard jawline.
