“No. Not no. Hell no.”
“You walked out on me. It wasn’t the other way around.”
“Before that happened, you gave me an impossible choice, proving you weren’t into it with me, but into it with the woman you wanted to force me to be, and you gave me about five minutes to decide, even if there was only one choice I could make. That choice was continue, as ever, to be me.”
“You did not go into that house, Luna. You didn’t see what we saw. You didn’t have to do what we did. You and your women just led us there, and we had to clean that shit up. It was our asses on the line. Same as what happened with those women you found.”
He was talking about the cleanup of our first two major missions, both of which the NI&S guys did, indeed, do.
“If that’s a problem for you, don’t do it.”
“It’s not a problem for me. I know what I can do, and I know my team is tight. What will be a problem is if the Angels get messed up in that kind of endgame, and you don’t even remotely have your shit tight.”
“That isn’t our gig, and you know it,” I clipped.
And it wasn’t our gig.
We weren’t amateur commandos.
We were amateur investigators, who, I did not remind him because he knew all too well, cracked several cases the cops did not, and a couple more the cops knew nothing about.
“You can’t predict how things are gonna go down when you’re dealing with these kinds of people,” Knox told me something I knew, thus why the Angels weren’t commandos.
I didn’t get into that either.
I made another point.
“Like you couldn’t predict your sister and her boyfriend drilling two holes in you?”
His face got hard. “You walked out my door, and when you did, that no longer became your business.”
Even if it was true, that stung like a bitch.
Which was probably why I let loose my next.
“And I walked out your door, so who I fuck isn’t your business.”
“So you’re fucking Brady? A co-worker of mine. A friend of mine,” he bit out.
“Do I have to repeat about what’s your business?”
He threw his one good arm wide and shouted, “What the fuck is happening here?”
“Right at this instant, a friend fighting with a friend about ancient history. Generally, it’s a friend looking after a friend. But if you’re specifically asking about what tonight was supposed to be, what should be happening is that friend coming over and bringing dinner so we can get our historical shit in order and be actual friends.”
“Bullshit.”
“Say again?”
“I’ve had visitors, babe, but none as dedicated as you.”
“Well, I know what your dick tastes like, so maybe I’m a little closer to it than Harlow and Javi might be,” I shot back.
“Precisely.”
“Make sense, Knox,” I snapped.
“Tell me if you know what Brady’s dick tastes like, Luna.”
