Page 67 of Barrett

“Your boss doesn’t like him.”

“My boss doesn’t like anyone.”

I parked the SUV and jumped out before anything else was said. The more we talked, the more I wanted to turn around and be with Barrett. He was capable, but I was more so. He trained to be a cop. I trained to hunt and kill. Trying to take Marshall was the wrong fucking move, yet I was stuck. I had to follow Jordan’s lead and his orders. I couldn’t go off and do this on my own. Time and again I’d seen how that turned out for people. I wasn’t about to become a statistic, no matter how skilled I was.

Grabbing Marshall’s belongings from the back, we walked to the elevator where Jordan and Raiden waited for us. Sheldon leaned against the wall, watching every step we took.

“You’re new,” he said when he saw Marshall.

“Hi, I’m Marshall North.” He extended his hand.

“Well, well, the detective has a sibling.” He took Marshall’s hand and shook it. “I’m Sheldon Copeland.” The elevator arrived, but Sheldon didn’t move.

“Get in it or get the fuck out of my way, Sheldon,” Jordan warned.

Sheldon slid to the side and whispered to me, “You need to tell me what happened.”

“No, he doesn’t,” Jordan barked. “Get the fuck in here, Reghan.”

I motioned for Marshall to go first. He tucked himself into the back corner on the opposite side of Jordan. I stood beside him, hoping he felt a little comfort in that. Jordan was more bark than bite where Marshall was concerned. The rest of us waited for the bite when we did something Jordan didn’t like.

The ride up was quiet, except for Sheldon tapping his finger on the wall. I thought Jordan was going to break it, but Sheldon stopped with one look from our boss.

We rode to Jordan’s home where he and Raiden exited.

“Twenty minutes, then I expect you up here, Reghan.”

“Yes, sir.”

He glared at Sheldon as the doors closed.

“I’m sure he wanted me to stay up there,” Sheldon observed. “Being in here is more fun.”

“You’re not going through my door,” I told him.

“Why?”

“You don’t live there.”

“But you’re letting the younger North in.”

“I have a name,” Marshall cut in.

Sheldon rubbed his chin as the doors opened on my floor. We all stepped out. “You do, but you need a nickname.”

“My brother calls me Mars.”

Sheldon’s fingers snapped. “That’s brilliant. I’ll use that too, if it’s okay with you.”

“Of course. I like my nickname. It helps that my parents never used it and tainted it.”

“Parent drama. I know that all too well.”

Jesus, I needed to get Marshall inside and leave Sheldon in the hallway before they started comparing childhood traumas.

“It was nice to meet you,” Marshall said as I unlocked and opened the door.

“You too, but I’ll be out here when you’re done.”

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