I scowl at him, unimpressed. “This is an ambush, is what this is.”
“I don’t mind that, actually. Makes me sound like a badass, which I am, considering I knew exactly where you’ll be and on which device,” he says smugly. “You look like shit, by the way. No wonder you didn’t want to talk,” he continues with no input from me.
“Thanks,” I roll my eyes. All that does is make my headache worse.
“So, talk to me. How was the last assignment?”
I move my coffee cup to the corner and arrange my pens in a line. “It was great.”
“Mmm-hmm,” he says judgementally. “Elaborate on that, will you?”
I look up at the screen. “The murderer is dead. The task is done. That’s all that matters,” I say. I sound cagey even to my ears. There’s a reason I’ve been avoiding talking to Sam. The guy knows me too damn well. And he’s the only person capable of making me confront what I’ve been trying to avoid. The task didn’t go well. Not even close.
“Elliot,” he warns.
I sigh. “I went a bit off script,” I confess.
“How off script are we talking?”
“I snapped at him a tiny bit, and he freaked out.”
“Start from the beginning, man. I’m sure it wasn’t really your fault,” he assures.
So, I tell him everything. About how that stupid werewolf decided to park right in front of the store's camera. What kind of dealer was he? About how much convincing it took to get him to meet me at a different Wendy’s that didn’t have any cameras in the parking lot.
How it frayed the little patience I had left for him. Then he finally decided to suspect me and didn’t stop looking around long enough to finish his laced coffee, which I got from adifferentstore because I’m not an amateur.
And when he finished it, for the first time, the formulation decided not to work fast enough on him. Or it did, and I was too wound up. I was at my wits’ end with putting on an act for him, so I might have been acting shady.
I already knew the guy would not hesitate before killing me, but I was confident he wouldn’t do it without a concrete reason.Boy, I was wrong because his claws were out before we could even start the deal. I dodged it, but his car took the hit. So, when the drugs finally kicked in, and he calmed down enough for me to start the clean up, there was so much destruction.
I feel lighter as I form the words. I can finally admit I screwed up. No other way around it. I was careless, and my sleeping schedule, or the lack of it, is affecting my work. I just wish I knew what to do about it.
Sam says nothing for a long time, his eyes wide. “Okay, yeah, that was kind of your fault,” he says finally.
I sigh again. “Yes, it was, and I’ll analyze things so it’s not repeated,” I assure him.
“I’ve already analyzed it, actually. I’m the brains of the operation, remember?” He smirks, extending an olive branch.
I grasp it. “Clearly can’t be the face of it with that mug, so yeah.”
He laughs. “Why are you not at home right now?” The abrupt topic change confuses me.
“I had some pending work,” I lie.
Sam raises one eyebrow.
“Ugh, okay, I can’t sleep anyway, and the house feels weird,” I confess.
“Why can’t you sleep?” he asks.
I wish he would let this go, but Sam has never let anything go.Ever. Then again, that’s probably the only way to get anything out of me. Time to come clean. “The nightmares are back,” I mumble. I immediately regret saying it out loud. It makes me feel like a helpless kid.Tiny. Maybe he didn’t hear me?
“About Raymond?” Of course, he heard.
I nod.
He sighs. “When?”
