Page 29 of Wicked Games We Play

Wes chucked deeply and pushed a piece of his salt and pepper hair off his forehead. “The good news is, they hired you at the metal plant as a manufacturing technician. Not quite low man on the totem pole but not high enough to raise any red flags.”

“That’s the good news?” I grunted. That sounded fucking awful. If that was the good news, what the fuck was the bad?

“Yep,” he said bluntly, with a nod of his head. “We’ll need you to shave the beard. That way, you look slightly different in case anyone were to recognize you, although highly unlikely. Oh, and your new name is Joseph Kent. You can decide what to shorten it to. Joe? Joey? Jo-Jo.” Wes waggled his eyebrows at the mention of Jo-Jo, as if that were the best nickname in the world.

“Get to the bad news, Wes.”

He sighed. “The bad news, kid, is that there is absolutely no timeline for this detail. I know you had asked about that, but it’s just not an answer I can provide. Knowing you, I’d say you’ll be home within a few months, but ultimately, that’ll depend on your level of commitment to this case. If you aren’t giving it your all, you’ll be—”

“When the fuck have I ever given you less than my all, Chief? I’ve done nothing half-assed, ever.” My temper was rising. Was he seriously telling me to give it my all? I’d been practically married to this department for the last ten years of service, and he had the balls to tell me to give it my all? I slammed my fist down on the table before rising to stand. The chair I had been sitting in toppled over behind me, but I didn’t give a fuck. “Are you questioning my work ethic, Wes?” My fists clenched and unclenched at my sides.

The air grew thick with tension as the two of us stared each other down. I could feel eyes on us. The station was suddenly so quiet you could hear a pin drop. Everyone anxiously waited for our next moves, and I knew I was treading on thin ice. Wes may have been my friend, but he was still my superior. I knew I had crossed a line, yet I couldn’t bring myself to give a shit.

“My office. Now,” he whisper-shouted between his gritted teeth.

Not bothering to pick up the chair, I stepped over it and followed Wes to his office. He stopped just outside of it, watching as I passed through and took a seat before finally following me in. The door slammed behind him while he stomped toward his desk.

“What the fuck was that, Whitlock? How dare you disrespect me in front of the entire station? Have you lost your goddamn mind?”

I bit down on my tongue, still trying to cool my temper before speaking—I couldn’t trust myself to speak freely at this point. Our stare off continued and, while the fire in Chief’s eyes intensified with every passing second, mine started to die down.

“Well?” he questioned, shifting his stance. He unfolded his arms and placed his palms flat on the desk in front of him, leaning over and watching me closely.

My eyes settled on the leather chair behind his desk, knowing if I made eye contact with him, I'd snap.

“You’ve known me for a decade,” I growled through gritted teeth. “Where do you get off telling me the length of this assignment will all depend on my commitment to it? When have I ever not fully committed to a project or a case?”

“I simply meant that you’ve been distracted lately.”

“And you haven’t?” I smirked at him and glanced at his cell phone before looking back at him. His phone sat on his desk, the screen brightly lit from an incoming message.

Wes had proven over the years to have a bit of a commitment phobia. He blamed it on the nature of the job, never wanting to settle down in fear that it would take him young and leave behind a family, a notion that had been weighing heavily on my mind lately as well.

But recently, Wes was as distracted as I was.

“What I do in my own time is no concern of yours, Noah,” he hissed.

“No? I thought we were friends, Wes,” I questioned mockingly, before sharpening my tone. “If I have no right to bring up your distractions, you have no right to bring up mine. Neither affect our job.”

“Ah, but that’s where you’re wrong, my friend. You’ve been slipping. Your distractions have crossed over into your job—you no longer leave them at home. When you get distracted at work, it becomes my problem. Need I remind you, I always handle my problems? So figure this shit out with your girl and check it at the door. You’re getting sloppy, and I need you sharp for this case.”

The amount of air I exhaled through my nose could have rivaled the biggest of bulls.Done. I was fucking done with this conversation, this office, and being at work. Standing to leave, I clenched my jaw while doing my best to not pick up the chair and throw it across the room.

“And Noah,” Wes commanded, stopping me in my tracks.

Keeping my back to him, I stared a hole in the door and silently dared him to provoke me more. I no longer had any fucks to give. As soon as I got back to my desk, I was grabbing my shit and leaving for the day.

“Don’t ever fucking disrespect me like that again. I may be your friend, but I’m your boss and you will treat me as such while we’re within these four walls. Shut the door on your way out.”

* * *

The week movedby at the pace of a turtle, but Ifinallyhad a night off. After my argument with Wes, we had steered clear of each other for the rest of the week, only conversing when necessary.

I hadn’t heard from Lily once.

There was no reason I hadn’t reached out to her other than I wanted her to come to me, and considering she hadn’t taken the bait, I couldn’t help but feel defeated.

The feeling fucking sucked.

---