Page 107 of Knotted Laces

We have the great pleasure of witnessing the arrest of one Peter Auclair…after, of course, Jean-Michel fires him for gambling on Eagles games.

The league’s commissioner already knows what’s going down and is prepared to issue a lifetime ban.

Fucking brilliant.

The only downside is that I have to watch it go down from my chair in the corner of the Peter’s office.

Four weeks of rest.

Jesus Christ.

I know I only have myself to blame, same as I know that I’m lucky to still have my job—and to have only received a written warning—for my shenanigans at the warehouse.

I still say it’s worth it.

Especially, when Connie told me that the girls have been reunited with their families, families she personally vetted and ensured were safe.

Maybe they’re not perfect, and I’m definitely going to be keeping an eye on them.

Going to make sure they’re safe.

When I can get out of bed, that is.

In…three more weeks.

“Tommy would have loved this,” Lex murmurs from where he’s propping up the wall next to me. Sandra issued him the professional courtesy because—in her words—“he saved your dumb ass by calling an ambulance.”

Not serious.

It was a verynotseriousbullet wound.

Why do I have to keep reminding everyone of that fact?

But even as I think that, I’m smothering my smile. I know it’s bullshit, know I got lucky, know that…I was wrong before. There’s another downside of today.

Yes, we’ve nailed Peter Auclair, and so his toxic presence won’t be dragging down the Eagles organization any longer, but he wasn’t the one who pulled the trigger.

He wasn’t the one who killed Tommy last year.

That’s still an open case I’m determined to solve. No, not justdetermined.

I’mgoingto solve it.

I exhale, feel my stitches protest, but it’s getting better. A couple more days and they’ll be out, and then I’ll spend a few more weeks on desk duty.

Now if I can just find a way to have sex with Cam andnotbreak the rest edict, my life will be pretty fucking perfect.

Because I have the feeling we’re going to want to celebrate tonight.

I watch via the camera feed we set up as Peter whistles his way inside, jauntily swiping his badge and meandering down the hall, likely looking for someone to bully?—

For Cam.

Who’s waiting just outside his office door.

We follow the feed, switching cameras until Peter spots Cam and picks up his pace, a shark in the water who’s smelled blood.

I narrow my eyes, know that Cam’s got this.

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