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Flint curses as he climbs out and walks around the back to climb into the driver’s seat.
I settle into the seat, my hands clenched into fists. “This reeks of Bailey, and it won’t stop until we put an end to it.”
The officer watches as we pull back onto the road, and the anger grows. “If he can’t harass us into leaving, he’s determined to keep us prisoners inside the Yard.”
Flint wrings the steering wheel, but he remains quiet.
What could he say, anyway? There’s no changing things while Bailey’s in charge.
on my watch
- Pen -
The end of the day comes with a welcome relief from the brutal sun as we head into the Bone Guard headquarters. The instant shade and the low whir of the air conditioner cool the sweat on my neck.
A few people from the evening shift sit at their desks, but most are already out on the street.
When we step into the changing room, I discover we’re the last to clock out. Webb and I had the farthest sector to walk out to today, and my feet ache in my heavy boots.
Chatter fills the room as people swap out their uniforms for their regular clothes.
“About time you two showed up.” O’Hara smirks at us from his locker closest to the door. “We were starting to wonder if you fell for a trap door demon.”
“Yeah, yeah.” Webb presses her hands against the small of her back as she limps past. “Say that again after you get a shift in the Grave Yard.”
I follow behind her, my eyes straying to Sharpe’s lean figure, his torso bare. His muscles, more defined than a few weeks ago, ripple as he wipes himself down with a damp towel.
His eyes catch mine in the mirror attached to his metal door, and a knowing smile curves his lips.
“I’m just glad today is over.” Johannsson stows his gear at the end of the room. “That parade made everyone too excited. We spent all day putting out fires.”
“Sucks to be you.” O’Hara shrugs out of his vest. “Our streets were nice and quiet.”
“Aside from some littering, we didn’t have any problems.” Webb pats her stomach. “Plenty of bribes, though. The beings who run the vendor carts practically threw food into the street.”
“Careful, or you won’t fit into your uniform with all those bribes you accept,” Troy teases.
“Not with how hard Mayn and I go at it at the gym.” Webb turns toward the siren. “Right?”
Mayn dips her head, her sleek, black hair slithering around her shoulders. “You continue to be a challenging opponent.”
I stow my spare batons and peel off my vest, the weight of removing it leaving me lighter. Hanging it up, I unbutton my shirt, tossing the sweaty thing into the laundry basket at the end of the long bench in front of our lockers.
“I’ve been thinking of picking up the sword.” Troy stows his gun in the locker next to mine. “O’Hara gets all the fun with his toys, and I never see any action.”
O’Hara hangs his chained hook on the wall. “Can’t help it if I’m better at the takedown than you.”
Webb’s eyes brighten with excitement as she passes me a box of wet wipes. “You should join us tomorrow.”
Mayn gives Troy an assessing sweep of her eyes. “I suppose I could show you some moves so you do not cut off your own hand.”
“What time are you two meeting?” O’Hara shuts his locker. “I plan to get wasted at the celebration tonight, so I won’t be moving until noon, at the earliest.”
Troy groans. “I am not carrying you home again.”
“Just don’t start any fights.” Sharpe, now in a fitted black T-shirt, bends to switch out his heavy boots for a pair of sneakers. “Trent’s people got wind of the plan, so I expect them to crash the party.”
“Hey, if Savannah wants to throw down, I’m ready.” O’Hara flexes his biceps. “She’s not beating me at arm wrestling again.”
