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Guys in his line of duty already have enough to deal with. I don’t need him getting random stab wounds and concussions, too.
“Ugh. This is fucking stupid.”
“Bro, don’t talk about yourself like that. You’re, like, maybe just a li’l dumb. Not ‘fucking stupid.’”
Marcus peeks his head inside my room, followed by Dante right behind him. I roll my eyes, but I’m grateful that they’re here. I’m sure I look like a sorry sight, but if there was ever a pair of people I was cool with seeing me at my worst, it’s those two.
“Fuck off, man. It’s not nice to make fun of a guy with a concussion.”
“Dude, you live in a constant state of concussed.”
“Not that anyone can tell the difference,” adds Dante.
They come in, closing the door behind them. “Saw Mackie leave. Got any leads?”
“No need.” I shake my head. “I already know who’s behind the shit.”
Dante quirks a brow. “Do tell. We’re all ears.”
“You two know about Holly, right? Well…”
I spill all the beans. Everything from meeting Holly to not telling Olivia, to the tracker, the stalking, all of it. I tell them how I sent her and Violet away and how she’s pregnant with my baby. It all comes pouring out, a recap of the last month without pausing for breath. I don’t remember the last time I just served up a word salad of my life, but Dante and Marcus both have plates full now that I’ve come completely clean.
They look at each other, both try to work out which thing to latch to first. Then, at the exact same time, like the world’s dumbest version of Abbot & Costello:
“We’re gonna be uncles?!”
I snort. “I hate you both so much.”
“You’re a fuckin’ dick, Reese!” Dante punches me in the shoulder. “You should have told us about all this sooner! The hell is the point in being your friend if you’re gonna try and go at everything by your damn self?”
“I—”
“You figured that you didn’t want to bother us with the struggle or whatever, but instead of actually letting us have the choice to help you, you were like, ‘Huh, I’ll just caveman my way through this all on my own.’ Like a clown.” Marcus folds his arms. “Sound about right?”
“I got Elliot and his P.I. on the job,” I mumble sheepishly.
“Yeah, and in the meantime, you’re getting stabbed in parking lots and sending Olivia to the damn nunnery.”
“It’s a cabin outside of Waco. Don’t be dramatic.”
“Same shit.” Dante shakes his head. “I can’t believe you did that. Olivia’s gonna beat your ass, pregnant or not. Honestly, I think she should. That was a dick move.”
I can’t even argue with it. Dante’s not wrong.
“I know. But I needed her out of harm’s way.” Then I groan. “Fuck. I’d told the guys I hired I’d be heading that way hours ago. Where’s my phone?”
“Uh…” Dante searches through my things. “Here it is. Dead as fuck, though.”
“Shit. You guys got a charger on you?”
“Nah. I can cop a cheapie from the little hospital store, though.”
“Thanks, dude. I owe you one.”
“Oh, fuck off with your gratitude shit. I’m still contemplating kicking you in the nutsack for fun.”
Dante dips out to find a charger. Marcus leans against the wall, his arms folded over his chest. “You know, you’re a real piece of work, dude.”
