Page 84 of Zeus

The burner phone in Zayne's pocket comes to mind, and I fight the urge to look at him and demand he call Cerberus to extract the poor girl already.

Bobby is leaning over a laptop when Zayne gives the doorframe a little knock to announce our arrival, despite knowing the man knew we were here the second the front gates opened for us. I have no doubt he was warned we were heading this way, and that's the only thing that diverted his attention from Regina.

He holds up one finger, head still angled down, as he uses one finger on each hand to type something into the old computer. He's frustratingly slow with the entire process.

I drop into a seat at the conference table, unwilling to stand there like a patient little soldier while he hunts and pecks at whatever the fuck he's working on.

He pauses when I grunt after getting off my feet, but then goes back to peck, peck, pecking the fucking keys. My first thought is that basic fucking typing is taught in school, but given what I know about a lot of these people, they didn't exactly get good grades. It's more likely the man quit before his freshman year anyway. Either because he just didn't want to be there, or his father, no doubt having the same mindset Bobby has now, thought it was a waste of time and didn't make him go. I'm sure there were many more important things to do, like bashing women, fighting for a liberty they contradict with every action, and hating people for no other reason than they don't look, think, and act exactly like them.

When the keyboard clacking stops, Bobby closes his laptop, his fingers on his left hand automatically pinching the bridge of his nose. I don't know the man well enough to gauge whether he's frustrated with us, whether we slipped up somehow, or whether the weight of leading this kind of group weighs on him. Honestly, I wish the man would get crushed under all of it, but spending a lifetime in jail might be the better option.

He's not the type of man who would change. Certain groups in prison would welcome this man with open arms, many of them raising him to power in the criminal justice system, just because he's brave enough to put his beliefs into action, something a lot of them are scared to do. It has nothing to do with those kinds of folks doubting that the way they feel and how they believe is wrong. It’s more because they're afraid of retaliation from the groups they despise. With a man like Bobby at the helm, they're braver, able to act the way they want, all with a false understanding that Bobby will have their backs. In all truthfulness, Bobby would probably sacrifice every single one of them to save his own ass, and that's a huge concern for us in our evaluation on how to play the final takedown of this group.

"I sure as fuck hope you have good news for me," the man says, pinching the bridge of his nose one final time before opening his eyes and looking up at us.

Zayne points to a chair, silently asking permission to have a seat, and I feel a little hint of satisfaction in the way he glances at me in annoyance but keeps his fucking mouth shut before nodding to my partner.

The man isn't as brave and aggressive in his demand for respect when he's alone, and that will work in our favor.

It also proves that he may be smarter than I've given him credit for.

Yeah, he could rip my ass for not asking, but on the off chance that I'll get up and return his frustration in a way that would cause him pain, it keeps his mouth shut. He knows the other men would retaliate for him, but he also knows it won't happen before he sheds blood.

Maybe that makes him a pussy, rather than intelligent.

Either way, it gives me back a little piece of myself that this fucking place has already chipped away.

"We found a place," Zayne says with a hint of doubt in his voice after he takes a seat.

"Yet, you don't sound like you think it's the best place," Bobby challenges.

Zayne pulls in a deep breath, letting his cheeks puff on the exhale before speaking again.

My partner holds his hands up at his ears as if surrendering and giving this man all the power.

"I'm afraid you may not like it."

"It doesn't have to have five-star accommodations," Bobby says.

"Well," Zayne begins.

"Can you just get on with it?" Bobby growls. "Fuck, why does everyone want to test my patience today?"

I lean forward in my chair, glaring at the man.

He doesn't cower this time, and knowing he has somehow found a little courage in the last few breaths makes me want to prove to him why he should always be afraid of me, but once again, that doesn't advance our mission.

"He doesn't want to upset you," I say, my voice low, a whisper of warning in it. "For some reason, my cousin wants to impress you."

Bobby looks from me back to Zayne before planting his eyes back on me.

"Go on," he urges with a small wave of his hand. "Impress me."

"We—" Zayne begins, but his mouth snaps closed when Bobby holds up his hand.

"I want to hear it from him," he demands.

I know I haven't impressed him in any way, but maybe making me explain what we found is his way of placing the blame on me, not on Zayne, who is meant to play the guy who kisses his ass and is willing to do all his bidding.