His jaw twitches. So does mine, because I have no idea how to refer to him now and it’s pissing me off. Carter? Luke? Dead?
Yes. I’ll refer to him as dead.
“I mean really fucking stupid,” I say, laughing. “Why would you be so quick to reveal yourself? I’m no cop, but I’d assume breaking cover is not something you people take lightly.”
I pace the room several times, trying to work it over in my own mind. Why anyone would be in such a hurry to get out of a situation. It’s like it was life or death for him. If he didn’t hurry up and get to someone, it’d be too late.
I slowly sit back down on the bed. “Unless…” I glance over at him. “Unless you broke cover because you’re the kind of guy who lets your emotions rule your actions. What do they call those kinds of guys? I’m pretty sure you and I had a conversation about this over lunch recently.” I glance up at the ceiling in mock-thought. “Oh yeah,” I say. “Pussies.”
He doesn’t laugh at my joke.
That’s probably good, because it might have pissed me off had he laughed.
I glance over at the door and can’t remember if I locked it or not. I stand up and go check it, then turn around and face Luke again. “But the real question is, why would you be so emotional at a time like that? When you should be at the top of your undercover game? What could have been at the forefront of your mind when training and common sense should have won out?”
I take five steps toward him, until there aren’t anymore steps to take. He maintains eye contact the entire time, lifting his chin to hold his stare. “Oh. That’s right. You were too worried about my fucking fiancé to do your goddamn job right!” I slam my gun against the side of his face. His head swings to the side. I’m pretty sure that blow was hard enough to knock a tooth or two loose, but he acts like it doesn’t faze him. He makes eye contact with me again, looking a little calmer than before I even hit him.
Motherfucker.
I hate that I still like this side of him. The quiet, introspective side of him that doesn’t crack from fear. It’s impressive.
Too bad the only thing that makes him crack under pressure is Sloan.
I wonder how long he’s been brainwashing her? Using her for his investigation? He’s probably been slowly turning her against me since the day they met.
I thought yesterday was bad. I thought unleashing on my father was the angriest I’ve ever been. But I was wrong. Boy, was I wrong.
Seeing Sloan look at him for instruction earlier was by far the angriest I have ever been. Ever. I’ve never wanted to kill someone like I wanted to kill Carter in that moment. But that would have ruined my surprise, so I had to remain patient.
I slowly lift my gun and point it against the side of his head and imagine what it’ll be like when I finally pull the trigger. To watch his fucking brains splatter all over the floor. I wonder how much damage it will do to his head? Will he still be recognizable? When I pull Sloan in here to get one last look at him, will she be able to tell it’s even him? Or would his whole head explode?
I force myself to pull the gun away from his head because as curious as I am to see what it’s going to be like when I kill him, there are a few questions I need answers to before that happens.
I squat down in front of him and rest my arms on my thighs. “Did you fuck her?”
I know in this case, it’s a rhetorical question, because he’d be stupid to answer it. But he hasn’t proven to be the brightest crayon in the box today. “Where were you when you fucked her the first time? In my house? In my bed? Did she come?”
He folds his lips together, moistening them. But he still doesn’t respond. His silence is really starting to get annoying. I stand and walk to the door, double-checking that it’s locked. I’m not even sure why I want it locked, the guys have the house under control. One of them was ordered to go straight upstairs and watch Sloan. Four of them are split up between Jon and Kevin, although I’m not worried about either of them. They’re too fucking stupid to be cops, but I like the idea of letting them shit their pants for another ten minutes or so.
I’m still not sure about Dalton. But he’s in the living room with two guns to his head, so I guess I’ll worry about him after I’m finished with Carter.
“You want to know what it was like the first time I fucked her?” I ask.
Since the second I walked in here, he finally responds to one of my questions. He barely shakes his head back and forth, twice. It’s so unnoticeable; I don’t think he even realizes he did it. He must really not want to know what it was like the first time I fucked her.
Yes. I’ll refer to him as dead.
“I mean really fucking stupid,” I say, laughing. “Why would you be so quick to reveal yourself? I’m no cop, but I’d assume breaking cover is not something you people take lightly.”
I pace the room several times, trying to work it over in my own mind. Why anyone would be in such a hurry to get out of a situation. It’s like it was life or death for him. If he didn’t hurry up and get to someone, it’d be too late.
I slowly sit back down on the bed. “Unless…” I glance over at him. “Unless you broke cover because you’re the kind of guy who lets your emotions rule your actions. What do they call those kinds of guys? I’m pretty sure you and I had a conversation about this over lunch recently.” I glance up at the ceiling in mock-thought. “Oh yeah,” I say. “Pussies.”
He doesn’t laugh at my joke.
That’s probably good, because it might have pissed me off had he laughed.
I glance over at the door and can’t remember if I locked it or not. I stand up and go check it, then turn around and face Luke again. “But the real question is, why would you be so emotional at a time like that? When you should be at the top of your undercover game? What could have been at the forefront of your mind when training and common sense should have won out?”
I take five steps toward him, until there aren’t anymore steps to take. He maintains eye contact the entire time, lifting his chin to hold his stare. “Oh. That’s right. You were too worried about my fucking fiancé to do your goddamn job right!” I slam my gun against the side of his face. His head swings to the side. I’m pretty sure that blow was hard enough to knock a tooth or two loose, but he acts like it doesn’t faze him. He makes eye contact with me again, looking a little calmer than before I even hit him.
Motherfucker.
I hate that I still like this side of him. The quiet, introspective side of him that doesn’t crack from fear. It’s impressive.
Too bad the only thing that makes him crack under pressure is Sloan.
I wonder how long he’s been brainwashing her? Using her for his investigation? He’s probably been slowly turning her against me since the day they met.
I thought yesterday was bad. I thought unleashing on my father was the angriest I’ve ever been. But I was wrong. Boy, was I wrong.
Seeing Sloan look at him for instruction earlier was by far the angriest I have ever been. Ever. I’ve never wanted to kill someone like I wanted to kill Carter in that moment. But that would have ruined my surprise, so I had to remain patient.
I slowly lift my gun and point it against the side of his head and imagine what it’ll be like when I finally pull the trigger. To watch his fucking brains splatter all over the floor. I wonder how much damage it will do to his head? Will he still be recognizable? When I pull Sloan in here to get one last look at him, will she be able to tell it’s even him? Or would his whole head explode?
I force myself to pull the gun away from his head because as curious as I am to see what it’s going to be like when I kill him, there are a few questions I need answers to before that happens.
I squat down in front of him and rest my arms on my thighs. “Did you fuck her?”
I know in this case, it’s a rhetorical question, because he’d be stupid to answer it. But he hasn’t proven to be the brightest crayon in the box today. “Where were you when you fucked her the first time? In my house? In my bed? Did she come?”
He folds his lips together, moistening them. But he still doesn’t respond. His silence is really starting to get annoying. I stand and walk to the door, double-checking that it’s locked. I’m not even sure why I want it locked, the guys have the house under control. One of them was ordered to go straight upstairs and watch Sloan. Four of them are split up between Jon and Kevin, although I’m not worried about either of them. They’re too fucking stupid to be cops, but I like the idea of letting them shit their pants for another ten minutes or so.
I’m still not sure about Dalton. But he’s in the living room with two guns to his head, so I guess I’ll worry about him after I’m finished with Carter.
“You want to know what it was like the first time I fucked her?” I ask.
Since the second I walked in here, he finally responds to one of my questions. He barely shakes his head back and forth, twice. It’s so unnoticeable; I don’t think he even realizes he did it. He must really not want to know what it was like the first time I fucked her.
