Page 9 of Oath
“Have you three made long-term plans that I’m unaware of?” The steely focus in his eyes put me on the spot. When I didn’tanswer, he nodded. “I didn’t think you had. Planning ahead is necessary, but her future is not where her focus is.”
No. It was on her sister. Or had been before this came up with Doc. “One good way to make sure we keep ourselves in the loop is to bring her in on part of this.”
“You don’t want her here anymore than I do.”
“Then we talk to her about the whys. Instead of just making the arbitrary decision.” Otherwise known as orders. We were used to it, she was still on the fence. Who the fuck was I kidding? She didn’t like orders at all.
“She hasn’t thrown anything today.” The hint of humor in the faint curve to his mouth made me grin.
“Don’t take this the wrong way, Cap,” I said before bumping him on the shoulder. “But you just might need a better love language.”
I headed for the doors, almost certain he wouldn’t respond. He didn’t until I was at them.
“She doesn’t seem to mind it.” The quiet words held an odd kind ofhopeto them that made me bite back my immediate response ofyet.
We could blast that bridge when we got to it. With my firecracker? I was pretty damn sure that would be sooner rather than later.
Chapter
Three
ALPHABET
Leaning back in the seat with my head resting against my interlocked fingers as I stared at the data scrolling over the screen. I’d released a few different search bots to collect data on Mark Sinclair, the head of Amorette Black’s law firm along with, Bradley Sharpe, the sleazy uncle of Doc’s girl, as well as her adoptive father—I’d already located the last.
Hunting this way was absolutely tedious, but ultimately satisfying. Once lined up, we could knock them all down. In addition to Sinclair, I’d gone ahead and added every other lawyer at the firm from the partners to the associates to the legal assistants. Couldn’t hurt to turn over every single rock to see what slithered out.
The roll of the information was almost hypnotic. A soft snore from Goblin burst the meditative silence just in time for the front door to open and let Bones and Voodoo in. After cutting a glance at my watch, I scrubbed a hand over my face. The night had flown by. Fuck.
Pushing back from the desk, I unfolded myself and stretched. I could practically hear the creak in my joints like they’d gotten stiff from how long I’d been in the same position. Rolling my head from side to side, I appreciated the crack and the release.
Goblin sat up, one ear up and the other down. It was like having doggy bedhead. He blinked at me, then at the other two then yawned before he turned in a circle and collapsed back to sleep.
God, I felt that.
“You guys are back early,” I said, barely suppressing my own half-yawn—thank you Goblin—as I picked up my coffee mug. One swallow and I grimaced, it was cold.
“Any updates?” Bones asked as he diverted into the kitchen with Voodoo and I followed them.
“Some,” I admitted, smothering another yawn as Voodoo eyed the prepared breakfast plates that Lunchbox had made before he left to relieve them. “I have a lot of data coming in. Still sorting it. I’ve tracked Reginald Sharpe down to Vegas. He’s rotating between three different casinos, playing his role as a whale and dropping a small fucking fortune.”
“Losing more than he’s winning?” Voodoo popped one of the thermal lids off and grunted at the waffles and bacon that were waiting. They were still hot. Lunchbox had left less than an hour ago.
“Pretty much. He’s got steady funding paying off his debts. Doesn’t seem to have noticed anything about his daughter or his wife from what I can see.” I waited for Bones to get his own plate before I headed to the coffeemaker. “Frankly, he’s a piece of shit. Drinking and gambling his way into oblivion.”
“Not the first guy to bury his trauma in vice.” Nothing in Bones’ tone conveyed sympathy. The apartment wasn’t huge, so both men stayed in the kitchen to eat while I made coffee.
“Not the first to piss away the lives of the people around him in pursuit of his addictions either.” Voodoo’s candor held a hell of a lot more anger. “How long has he been there?”
“Three days,” I said, waiting a beat while I ground coffee to fill the portafilter. My blood would probably register more coffeebeans than white blood cells at this point. “From researching previous binges. He’s going to be there a while unless his brother cuts him off.”
Which didn’t seem likely. Bradley Sharpe might hold control of all the finances, but he paid a hefty sum to keep his brother out of the way. The pathetic coward let his piece of shit sibling pay him off, selling out his wife and child.
Disgust was far too mild a word for what I felt. There were assholes in every walk of life. But this guy was a special kind of shithead.
“Tag him and keep him under surveillance. I’ll update Doc.” Bones dug into his food, eating through it steadily like a man on a mission. Probably a good thing that Lunchboxwasn’there for that, though to be fair, he was never that fussy about whether we paid culinary homage to him.
A faint snort escaped me as I got the milk steaming. “What’s the plan for today?”
