Page 54 of Newton

"He's in the den. Can I get you anything to drink?"

"No thank you," I tell her, walking toward the den.

I've only been in this house a handful of times in the last year. Most all interactions with Kincaid and Emmalyn happen at the clubhouse. This is their private sanctuary, and as valued as I feel as a member of Cerberus, I'm still an employee of the business, and I completely understand the need to keep some level of separation between their personal and business lives.

Kincaid is exactly where Em said he was going to be, and, honestly, I find it a little strange to see him in a recliner with reading glasses on and a newspaper in his hands. Does anyone actually read the physical paper any longer when every article ever written can be found online?

"Sir," I say when I enter, although I know he knew the second I stepped on his front porch.

"Beck," he says, folding the paper and setting it on the side table before pulling the glasses from his face and placing them on top of it. "How are you?"

I fucking hate small talk. I hate it even more when it's used as an opener for something more serious. Why do people not want to get right to the point? Wasting time can be dangerous.

I can't say any of these things to him. I'd never disrespect the man that way.

"I'm good, sir."

"Please," he says waving his hand toward the sofa to his right. "Have a seat."

I eye the spot he indicates longer than probably necessary before doing as he asks.

He chuckles, having noticed my hesitation.

"You're not in trouble, and I'm not a principal, Beck."

"Can I assume that you're also not my boss in this moment, considering you're using my first name?"

I want to pull the words back the second they leave my mouth.

Kincaid's smile doesn't falter.

"I asked something of you as a Cerberus member several weeks ago, but I get the feeling things have changed. If they haven't, please let me know and we can make this about business."

The way he watches me makes me believe all the things everyone has always said about him are true.

The man has a keen sense of people. It's like he can sense their emotions, and it's almost as if he can read minds on occasion. He reads bodies and mannerisms so easily it's almost as if he knows what someone is going to do before they make that decision for themselves. It has made him a very skilled Marine and has carried over into the creation of Cerberus. I'm only one of many men and women who wish we had even half of his skill set.

"Things are much more personal," I confess, holding my head high in case he wants to speak to me about his disappointment.

He takes a minute to just watch me, and, as it always has, the scrutiny makes my skin crawl. When someone just stares at me, I feel as if I'm being weighed and measured, and I fucking hate it.

I hate that he has the ability to make me doubt my actions.

I hate that I'm expected to be the man who protects Brielle and the one who's supposed to interrogate her or at minimum coerce her into telling me things that can be used against her stepfather in a court case.

I don't want to be both men and, given the choice, I think I knew the night I promised Kincaid I'd try to find things out about her which man I honestly wanted to be.

She did something to me the second I escorted her out of that house with her stepbrother's blood smeared on her face while Beth was screaming for someone to get Brielle away from her.

"I don't want to spy on her," I say before editing my words. "I won't spy on her."

Kincaid nods as if he knew my position on the subject all along.

"Ohio needs to know if she's going to testify."

"We haven't discussed the case against her stepfather," I answer honestly.

If I had my way about it all, the man would crumple to the ground riddled with bullets the second officers tried to transport him back to answer for his crimes in Ohio. I honestly think I'd happily go to jail to exorcise that demon from Brielle's life.

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