Page 61 of Constantly Cotton
“Not great,” Trina chimed in. “Let’s say she had several unflattering things to voice about her surroundings. Collie, do you remember her exact quote?”
Trina had left her secure cell phone open to Collie Goldfarb, who had the cabin under surveillance.
“She said that until he got them the guns, they were stuck knocking over shitty stores in the ass-end of nowhere,” Collie supplied, his light tenor crackling over the line. “And according to Owens and Medina, she said it withoutthe German accent. In fact, Medina swore she went full Brooklyn.”
Jason grunted his appreciation. Was it true? Possibly not. Was it amusing? Yes, very.
“Did you run the local po-po intel to see if you could spot a trail?”
Collie grunted. “Sir, not to be a killjoy? But spotting their trail is like smelling death with your head up a corpse’s ass. Six days ago, you had a couple of possibly unrelated crimes to go on, am I right?”
“A drug ring takeover and a stop and rob,” Jason confirmed. “What do we have now?”
“Right now we’ve got a series of drug overdoses in a casino on South Shore, Lake Tahoe, and a couple of convenience store robberies with casualties in each one. The police are trying not to panic people, but you can tell they’re flying blind. It’s one of the biggest crime sprees in the area in years.”
Jason sucked in a breath. “Dammit,” he muttered. “I hadn’t realized they’d passed us up.”
“Frankly, sir,” Goldfarb said, “You weren’t fit enough to get out of our way if we’d gone after these guys. You and Mr. Harris are our biggest concerns.”
Jason blinked. “Mr. Harris?” he said, because of all the names that had been thrown at him, that one was the most unfamiliar.
“Your nurse?” Collie said. “Mr. Carson Harris, aged twenty-two, resident of—”
“Stop,” Jason said, watching as Cotton curled in on himself. Jason reached under the table to take his hand and found it was clammy and cold. “Cotton?”
“It’s my real name,” Cotton whispered, not meeting his eyes. “I… I haven’t used it in years. John had my ID made out to Cotton Carey. I told you that.”
Jason nodded and squeezed his hand. “I forgot.” He grimaced. “And I’d not counted on my team’s thoroughness.” He said out loud, “Cotton Carey, and if we could make sureallhis IDs are made out to that name, he’d be much obliged.”
“Oh,” Collie said through the phone, sounding temporarily off-balance. “Yeah. Sure. Sorry, Cotton.”
“You’re keeping Jason safe,” Cotton mumbled. “It’s all good.”
“So,” Collie went on, obviously trying to find his stride again. “We needed you to be in decent condition, because if you weren’t, and they went after you, we’d be spending all our firepower defending you and none of it taking Karina and Dietrich out. They have a couple of goons with them. We’ve caught at least three different guys on camera doing the jobs like ripping off the liquor stores or selling the drugs. If the criminal behavior wasn’t organized like it is, we’d assume they were having a very busy day, but we ran them through some facial recognition, and they’re known associates of Dima Siderov, which means the Schroeders got them by default. In fact, they’re some of the few surviving members of the Siderov gang after the goings-on a month ago, the ones who laid you up and put you in hiding.”
“Has it only been a month?” Jason muttered. “I could swear it’s been at least a year.”
“Well, I understand a good vacation is like that, sir,” Goldfarb said, tongue firmly planted in cheek.
“Is he always like this?” Cotton asked. “Because I see why he’s the one giving out information from across the lake.”
“I am, in fact, a goddamned delight,” Collie said, and coming from the stout, prematurely balding man who had deadpanned his way through six days of meetings with Jason and Cotton—not to mention his prior three years in Jason’s unit—there was a good reason everyone around the table let out a chorus of “Oh my God!” and “Dear Jesus, why?”
“Notwithstanding,” Jason returned dryly, “we need to know where they are and if they’ve made us yet. Because if they haven’t made us or are about to come crashing into our little wilderness with a bunch of semiautos, we need to go hunt them.”
“Weneed to go hunt them, sir,” Trina said, voice flinty. “We were waiting until you’re mobile, which you are. But you’re at roughly eighty percent. You wouldn’t let one of us out like that, and we’re not letting you go hunting like that.”
Jason opened his mouth to protest, but Greta laughed. “Oh, watch him, his ears are turning red. It’s adorable. Colonel,” she said, eyes big and guileless, “we get that you want to stop the bad guys from hurting innocent civilians. It’s what you do. But you need to stay in the tower for this op and guard your own civilian.”
Jason took a determined breath to explain to them—civilly, and not like a roaring bear, which he’d been told he could be—about how this was his unit and his mess, and he wasn’t going to sit there and let bad things happen to his people when—
“And one of us is staying with you,” Collie said, with more authority in his voice over the phone than he’d ever had in his entire life. “Burton’s got reinforcements coming up early tomorrow morning, and we’ll run a five-man unit. We figure covert, and by the day after tomorrow, the Tahoe area wakes up safer with a few extra dead people in it. ‘Does that sound like a plan, Collie? Yes, Collie, you’re brilliant, we shouldalwaysrun with your plans.’”
Goldfarb’s basic “ness” derailed what Jason was going to say next, and he breathed out some of his frustration. “We can’t do that,” he said, his voice gritty. “If we want the military to clear me so I can come back, we have to keep at least two living scumbags to confront Deavers with. Otherwise we just went off the rails and took out random criminals with our superpowers.”
“Ugh!” Goldfarb groaned. “And this is why you get the hot red convertible, chief. Because you think about things like how not to go to Leavenworth.”
“It’s a good thing he does,” Trina said pertly, “or I’d be so on that car.”