“No, not yet. That is only supplied two days before the event it seems.”
“It could be anywhere in the world,” Emerie frowned.
I felt the shot of adrenaline pump through my system at the thought of finally catching the Apparitions, or the Collectors, or whoever the hell they were. “We’ll be ready.”
A few hours later, Owen, Liam and I, were parked on Owen’s couch, watching a movie that no one seemed to take in. Liam tried his best to stay awake while Owen and me were busy planning another takedown in our heads. We had a rule of not talking about work while at home, but that rule had come to bite us in the ass. Both of us were crawling out our skin, but neither was inclined to break our solemn rule. It’ll have to wait until tomorrow.
“I was beer pong champion in college,” Liam said with a yawn, watching the scene of a high school party gone wild.
“And I’m the beer pong champion of our division.” Owen grinned.
Liam sat up straight. “Wait. The FBI has beer pong tournaments? How did I not know that?”
“Just our division. Every five years. The last one was before you transferred here.”
“Well, when will I be able to take the title from you?” Liam grinned.
“Never. But the next tournament is next year.”
Liam glared at Owen. “Seems like someone needs to deflate that ego of yours. Teach you a lesson in humility.”
Owen laughed. “And who will that be? Can’t be you. You’ve never had the bite to back up that bark.”
Liam shifted in his seat, ready to tear into Owen, but I held my hands up between them. “Boys, boys, boys. There’s only one way to settle this.” I grinned broadly and jumped from the couch. I got all the mugs and glasses from Owen’s kitchen and placed them on the dining table behind the couch.
“Now you’re talking!” Liam laughed excitedly, jogging to Owen’s fridge to get the beer.
Owen sauntered over to the table, doing stretches like a seasoned athlete about to obliterate his opponent, while I arranged the cups and put on the music—starting with Eye of theTiger. It was all a little dramatic, but exactly what we needed to occupy our minds.
From the get-go, it was obvious that Owen and Liam were pretty evenly matched and rarely missed a shot. By the third game they both were pretty drunk and even roped me in to take some of the shots for them. We quickly ran out of beer, and I found a questionable bottle of vodka in the back of Owen’s food cupboard.
“Bingo!” I shouted and danced over to them. Liam joined me as the song changed to the macarena. It was hilarious watching him add his own little moves.
After a few more songs, I added the vodka to the cups. The rules of the game had changed. It was sudden death. The first one to miss a shot loses.
Liam was the first to take a shot, and Owen flinched as he downed the Vodka. “Jeez, that’s bad,” he coughed. “A bottle of that Beluga would have gone down better, right about now.” Owen winked at me and threw the ball without looking away from me, right into the cup.
Liam groaned as he sniffed the glass. “Volkov sure had better taste in liquor than you, my friend.” He downed the shot and made a wheezing sound. “This is going to kill us.”
I laughed, sniffing at the open bottle still in my hand and took a tentative swig. It sure did taste toxic. No way was I taking shots for them again.
“How did you know I was talking about Volkov’s vodka?” Owen had gone rigid as he stared at Liam.
Liam gave a laugh. “What do you mean?”
“How did you know I was talking about Volkov’s vodka?”
Liam pulled his face like Owen was being weird. “It was in the report.”
My stomach dropped to the floor, my grin sliding from my face. “No, it wasn’t,” I answered, barely audible over the stillblaring music. There wasn’t a mention of the brand of Vodka that had been shot right by my head. And he wasn’t on the scene that night. But how…
“You were there,” Owen said, just as the thought entered my own mind.
There was no other explanation for how he would have known the name of the vodka.
Liam’s mouth was open, as if he was trying to find an explanation, but all that came out was a nervous chuckle. His eyes darted between me and Owen. “You’re way too wasted. One of you told me.”
Owen’s eyes darted over to me, and I gave a subtle shake of my head. I hadn’t talked about that night with anyone except Doctor Aspen. Everyone else had read my report. And never had I ever mentioned the name of the vodka bottle.
