Page 30 of Wicked Devotion
He takes my hand in his and pulls me past the no longer grinning giant whose name seems to be Samuel.
The elevator ride down to the first floor is uncomfortablyquiet. Logan doesn’t spare me a glance, and whatever the outcome of this meeting may be, I don’t think I should count on him. While Max’s intentions are still a mystery to me, I do have a feeling my safety is important to him. Logan, on the other hand, would probably throw a party if I left his life as quickly as I had entered it.
When we reach their captain’s office, he’s already sitting behind his desk, a cigarette clamped between his lips, ash falling down on the floor while he’s busy pouring himself a glass of whiskey.
The vein on his neck stopped throbbing, but the ‘I want to rip someone’s head off’ look didn’t disappear from his face.
“Sit,” he snarls as we walk through the door.
A young-looking guy sits on the leather couch at the back of the dimly lit office, and just when I want to join him in an attempt to take me out of the confrontation, Max pulls out a chair for me.
Captain Arthur Rockwell, I learn from the nameplate sitting in between mountains of documents, takes another deep drag from his cigarette before he puts it out with force and leans back in his office chair.
Closing his eyes, he blows smoke out of his nose, looking more like a very disappointed dad than a fuming boss.
“I had hoped there was no need to repeat this conversation after the incident with Sam and Ruby at the shooting range,” he says with a sigh, and Sam glares at him. “But it seems like you guys are too dense, so I am going to say it again. Real slow because I want it to stick in your pea-sized brains this time: This is an army base, for fuck’s sake, not a hotel. And especially not a love hotel.”
He gulps down half his glass of whiskey before he continues.
“We have more freedom than other units, yes. What this doesn’t mean is that you idiots can do whatever you want. Youcan’t just go around disobeying my orders or hide fucking civilians in storage rooms,” Rockwell adds, looking at Max with narrowed eyes.
“It was too dangerous to let her go,” Max says, squeezing my hand.
“Don’t you think it would have been a good idea to talk to me in that case, Sergeant? No, the clever choice was to ignore my direct order and get all of us in hell’s kitchen, as if shit isn’t already hitting the fan with Sanders.”
Captain Rockwell picks his glass back up, mumbling something to himself before he downs the rest of his whiskey. He clears his throat, and then his gaze is on me.
My fingers itch with the need to fidget, a bad habit I carry with me since my childhood. Over the years, I managed to transition from picking at my skin to playing around with hair ties or my wedding band. The wedding band that’s now gone, I realize once I touch my ring finger.
“Mrs. Holton, I am deeply sorry about—all of this, but you can’t stay here, and I don’t think I need to explain why. We, no,I,will find a safe place for you to stay—“ A ringing phone interrupts him, and the quiet man on the couch gets up and leaves the room with a whispered apology.
“It’s more than understandable that you're afraid to go back to your house. There are other options.”
I swallow thickly, and Rockwell shakes his head, lips pressed into a thin line and eyes filled with compassion.
Logan shifts in his chair, a groan following his movements.
“She stays.”
“That’s not your decision to make,” Rockwell says, the compassion now replaced by anger as he slams his glass down on the table.
He and Logan stare each other down, the alreadyuncomfortable tension in the room becoming so thick it could be cut with a knife.
Logan looks at me before he sits up straight and crosses his arms in front of his chest. “If she has to leave, I’ll go with her. And you can bet your ass that Sergeant Vaughn leaves with us. End of discussion,” Logan says, getting up.
Max tugs on my hand, urging me to leave the room with them, but something tells me this discussion is far from over. The office door opens, and the expression on Rockwell’s face darkens.
“What is it, Charlie?”
“Sheriff Adkins just talked to two of his deputies patrolling the area surrounding the Holton house. The front door was open, and there’s, uhm—“ Charlie walks around the table to show his captain something on his phone.
Rockwell runs his fingers over his beard, and Max leans forward to see what’s going on, but it’s Logan who holds me back when I want to do the same.
“See, I was right. It’s not safe for her,” Max says, a little too loud and agitated.
“You’re going to be the cause of my burnout one day. All of you.” Rockwell groans, shaking his head. “Fine, fine. She can stay. For now, andonlyuntil we defuse the situation. Not a goddamn day longer. Her belongings need to be removed from the storage room immediately. If anyone ever finds out we had a civilian in there—“
He pinches the bridge of his nose, and I am too scared to ask about his plans for me or about any kind of timeframe.
