Page 10 of Newly Tied

“I expect you to be able to say no when you’re certain you’re in the right.”

“Yes, sir,” Lang confirmed.

“Yessir,” I parroted.

They left then, thankfully, but not before Becker informed us that Lang and I, along with Pazzi and Yamane, were to meet in his office in ten minutes. I would have preferred to go on Lang’s double date as a chaperone or have a cavity filled, but from the look on Becker’s face, we weren’t getting out of that.

I wanted to go talk to Callahan because for whatever reason, he did not care for Pazzi yet kept it under control, and I never saw him throw a stapler at him like I’d seen Kohn do once. I mean, what kind of an asshole did you have to be to piss off Eli Kohn, perhaps the most unflappable guy I’d ever met. He handled the tough questions blasted at him nonstop by relentless reporters, and somehow keeping a smile on his face the whole time. Pazzi, however, nearly got brained by one of those fancy staplers that could punch through twenty pages at once despite not being big and heavy-duty. It was magic.

But Callahan was stuck interviewing Vargas with Redeker, and that would take time. Lang and I went to our desks, and I started looking for my mouse—apparently, whoever sat in the middle of the floor, things on their desk got taken by everyone—and Lang began looking at the messages that had been placed under the stapler on his. Lots of pink while-you-were-out notes that someone had got stuck taking.

“What does this say?” Lang called over to Dorsey, who, I was guessing, had been the one in the office all day.

“It says Malik,” Dorsey grumbled. “And what kind of crappy friend are you, Ross, that he has to make sure you’re showing up for your double date?”

“Why a double date?” Sharpe wanted to know. “Those are the worst. No matter what, your buddy always looks better.”

“That’s true,” White, Sharpe’s partner, asserted.

“Plus, Malik’s a lawyer,” I threw out.

“Oh, you’re fucked,” Doyle added with a cackle from where he was leaning over Ryan’s desk, talking to him about something.

Fucking Doyle, always with the snarky comment adding insult to injury.

Lang threw up his hands and shot me a look.

“We’re all only teasin’. It’ll be fine. You’re gonna have a great time.”

Redeker leaned out of the interrogation room then. “Did you guys promise you were gonna feed this guy?”

“No,” I told him. “But now I’m hungry too.”

“So am I!” Vargas yelled out from behind him.

Redeker squinted at me. “You like to run, so go get us all food and take your partner with you.”

“I do not, in fact, like to run,” I advised him, “and that was just plain mean.”

His rakish grin told me he didn’t give a crap.

“We can’t go anywhere,” Lang chimed in. “We have to be in Becker’s office in”—he checked his watch—“five minutes.”

“Cho,” Redeker barked at her. “You and Lopez get it done. Baylor and Richards can go with you. They’re in the parking lot.”

She flipped me off.

“How is this my fault? You can go talk to Becker instead.”

“Nope,” Lopez said quickly, glancing at her partner. “We don’t want any part of Pazzi.”

“Absolutely not,” Cho quipped. “Food run it is. You all better text me or you won’t be eating. I am not screwing around.”

“What’re you gettin’?” I called out.

“Sandwiches,” she answered before she and Lopez stepped into the elevator.

I knew the deli she liked, so I was fast with our order, mine and Lang’s, and put in a pastrami on rye for Vargas because he didn’t strike me as a vegan.