Page 86 of One

“Rami, Rague, and Uri were covering me.” He’s trying to placate me, but that just reminds me I have a bone to pick with them.

I answer with a grunt.

“Here.” Uri walks into the room, rifle on his shoulder, and tosses me an earpiece.

I put it on before saying, “Who’s idea was it to send Michael in here alone?”

“He threatened to cut my balls in my sleep, Raph,” Rami whines.

“Like he’d do that,” I counter angrily.

“Try me,” Michael huffs, making my dick twitch.

“Relax. Old Betsy was ready to take Polsner out.” Uri pats his rifle. He’s the fucking shit with it. Can hit a two-thousand-yard target with a headwind.

“Why didn’t you do it then?” Michael complains.

“And take the fun out of Raph’s hands? I want to continue with living my life, Mike.” Uri snorts.

“What the fuck does that even mean?” Michael waves the hand holding the gun, and suddenly a shot booms inside the room.

“Shit!” Uri curses.

“Ahhhh!” Polsner screams. A red spot starts forming on his thigh.

“What happened?” I hear Meg’s worried voice in my ear. Is she here? She’s rarely part of our side business, unless we need a mental evaluation of a donor.

“Michael shot the fucker in the leg,” Rague replies.

Rami enters the room panting. “Nice one,” he breathes out, handing a small case containing a syringe to Rague. He’s going to drug Polsner to make sure he’ll stay knocked out on the way to the base.

“It was an accident. Fuck!” Michael drops the pistol—which thankfully doesn’t go off again—and presses his lips together. A half-sob slips from between them. “Why am I always this fucking emotional! Damn it,” he swears, shaking his hands. He looks agitated, on the verge of… crying.

“What do you need, babe? Tell me.” I’ll give him whatever he asks for. I just want him to calm down.

“Hug me, you asshole!” he yells at me.

I hear a snort from behind me, and I make a promise to myself to punch Rami in the face as soon as I can.

I pull Michael in, and while I still have no idea how to comfort him, the idea of being the only one he wants it from gives me a sense of purpose.

He nuzzles his face into my t-shirt and wraps his arms around my waist so tightly I feel pain piercing my side. I flinch, but I don’t care. Whatever he needs, I’m here to give it to him.

“What is it?” he asks me. Instead of answering I kiss his head.

“Who’s the dead guy on the floor?” Uri asks.

“Detective Diaz,” I say.

“That complicates things,” Uri adds.

“And to think, we almost thoughthewas the Rope Killer.” Rami shakes his head.

“Why?” I look at him.

“Serena found a link between him and the last victim, the therapist. Diaz had gone to see him several times.”

Uri checks his phone, probably texting Sari. “Was he a patient?”