Page 94 of Vengeful Rotten Casualties

Odd that he’s so focused on Dean and not on me—the one directly related to this incident. For a brief moment, I glance between the two of them.

“Yeah.” Dean pinches his unlit cigarette between his lips and then reaches into his pocket, withdrawing a lighter. He flicks it and for a split second, his face is illuminated by the flame, then it’s gone and he sucks in a breath as the end of his cig burns bright red.

“Lot of people seem to die around you and your friends, don’t they?” the stranger says.

Dean’s expression doesn’t change as he takes his cigarette out of his mouth and blows a long and steady stream of smoke into the man’s face. Once he’s done, he smirks. “Maybe you should ask yourself what kind of people they were, Detective Douche.”

The man waves his hand in front of his face and scowls. “It’s agent, Mr. Carter.”

“Is it?” Dean arches a brow. “For how much longer?”

The man scowls and then, finally, turns to me. “Mr. Kincaid, correct?”

“Yeah?”

“You were the deceased’s son, correct?” He doesn’t give me a chance to answer. “And that is…?” He nods down to Micki.

“None of your fucking business.”

The agent—or whoever the fuck this guy is—pulls out a small hand-sized notebook and a pen as his words drift off. “We’re going to need all of the names of everyone present when the deceased took his life.”

I open my mouth to tell him where he can shove his questions and demands, but before I can get a word out, Dean steps in front of me with a scowl. “Not the time,Agent,” he growls. “And also not your jurisdiction. Why don’t you run along now?”

Confusion and curiosity war within me.Who the fuck is this guy?

The agent arches a brow but doesn’t seem particularly put off by Dean’s threatening presence or tone. As if to prove that, he very carefully—and slowly—flips his notebook shut and stows it away as he rocks back on his heels.

“I’ll see you around, Mr. Carter,” he says. “Hopefully next time under more accommodating circumstances.”

“I wouldn’t hold your breath,” Dean shoots back. “You’d do better talking shit out with Marcus or heading back to Hazelwood.”

Hazelwood?

“Oh, not to worry,” the man replies as he tilts his head down as if in mock salute. “I do intend to see Marcus before I head back to California. Do give your father my regards.”

With that, the man turns and strides off, moving further away from the scene that the other officers are still going over rather than towards it.

“What the hell was that about?” I ask as Dean turns back to face me.

His face pinches into a tight expression and he shakes his head. “Marcus’ mother and sister have gotten themselves involved with some trouble,” he says. “We found out about it recently—the agent’s been … well, he’s not after you. Don’t worry.”

“Why the hell was he here tonight?”

Dean sighs and blows out another long stream of smoke as he sucks back the nicotine like a true junky. “He’s sniffing around. Got a chip on his shoulder, thinking every fucker with money is involved in something shady. It’s fucking complicated,” he snaps. “He’s why it took us so fucking long to realize you were missing earlier. He was hanging around, asking a lot of questions—we cleaned up that mess, too, by the way.” His tone softens and even turns somewhat respectful as his lips twist and turn at the corners and his brows raise. “Impressive. There were a lot of fucking bodies you left in that garage.”

I shrug, adjusting my hold once more. My arms are quickly growing numb, but I’m still not ready to let go. “They were in my way,” I reply. “Were there any survivors?”

He nods. “Yeah, we got ‘em up locked up. Figured you might want to use them as witnesses or something to defame your father once all the dust had settled.”

I chuckle. “Oh, don’t worry,” I say, staring past him as I see two men wheel a gurney with a cloth covering what looks like the lumpy form of a body towards an ambulance. “By tomorrow morning, the whole world will know the scum that was Thomas Kincaid.”

Dean’s eyes glow in the bright blue and red lights that throw shadows over the pavement and outer glass walls of the surrounding buildings. After a beat, he nods down to Micki.

“And the girl?” he asks. “Do you think you can add a kid into the mix right now with what’s going on between the two of you?”

It’s a fair question, but unfortunately not one I have a solid answer to. Not yet, anyway. “Where is she?”

“The kid?” Dean finishes his cig and then drops it to the ground, crushing it into the pavement with a twist of his foot before he sighs. “She’s back at the house, hanging out with Rylie. I’m thinking about having Abel and Ry move into their own place for a while. Ry says she doesn’t mind looking after her until you two figure shit out, but with Clover and Brax coming in and out at all hours and me and Ava…”

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