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Mitch yanks his hand from mine, exhaling heavily and tugging at the collar of his shirt. “Fuck,” he snaps. “I want to strangle him until he admits the truth!”
“We’ll get him, Mitch. Make no mistake.” My skin chills at Sasha’s promise, goose bumps forming on my arms. “Let’s go. We have a lot to do.” She pivots on her heels, leaving us to follow.
“I’m kind of afraid of her, Utah,” I mutter as Mitch and I trail Sasha to the car.
“You should be,” he agrees.
Note to self—never piss off Sasha Knight.
* * *
“What the fuck is he doing here?”
Agent Halifax’s angry snarl echoes throughout the open floor plan, sounding more whiney than threatening as he glowers at Mitch.
Before Sasha can explain, I interrupt. “Because it’s my fucking house and I want him here.” I shoot the Agent a withering glare.
“What the fuck ever,” he mutters.
Agent Van Zandt rolls his eyes and I have to hold in a cackle. Mitch said he remembers Alex Van Zandt from the bureau, but never worked with the man closely enough to know much about him. That eye roll says volumes. It means he agrees with us that his partner is a complete fucktard.
We all take seats at the kitchen table, except for Mitch, who leans against the sink, his arms crossed over his chest as he shoots daggers at his ex-partner.
“You said you have information?” Van Zandt asks.
At least someone here is interested in catching this bastard.
“We do, Lex,” Sasha replies. She explains my father’s history and his bizarre behavior both this afternoon and at my house a few days ago.
“That’s not enough to go on,” Halifax sneers.
“Fuck you, Grant. It’s more than you’ve had on other cases and you went in,” Mitch snaps.
“Don’t fucking tell me how to do my job, Hale. You fucking quit because you couldn’t hack it!” My spine tingles at Halifax’s verbal slap at Mitch, anger seeping into every inch of my body.
“I quit because you’re a crazy fucker, Halifax! You’re a sick bastard who’s not fit to catch psychos when you can’t see what’s in the mirror every morning!” Mitch shouts.
Halifax shoves his chair back and it clatters on the tiles. Before Van Zandt or I can react, he’s across the kitchen, ready to pounce on Mitch.
In one lightning fast motion, Mitch pulls his fist back and lands a haymaker on Halifax’s jaw, sending the agent crashing to the floor.
“You’re done, asshole,” Halifax groans. “I’ll have you arrested for that.” He staggers to his feet, using the handle on the cabinet to pull himself up. Halifax wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, smearing a trail of blood across his cheek.
“You will not,” Van Zandt threatens from his seat at the table, his usually docile brown eyes hardened.
“What?” Halifax gapes in shock. “You’re defending him? He hit me!”
Van Zandt stands and steps forward until he’s toe-to-toe with his partner. “I’ve seen how you are, Grant. I’m not a moron. I know what you’ve been doing with Walker here, standing too close, saying fucked up shit. It’s not the first time, either. You’re a twisted bastard.”
“But—”
“I’ve never said anything to IA because I didn’t have witnesses to back me up. I can’t go up against a seasoned agent unless I want my own badge stripped. Now…” He sweeps a hand across the room. “I have witnesses. So shut the fuck up and sit down or I’m calling Mercier right now to have your ass pulled from the case. I’m watching you, asshole. Either this shit stops or you’ll be riding a desk.”
My eyes bulge at Van Zandt’s tirade. I’ve left my seat to stand next to Mitch, resting a hand at the small of his back. He catches my eye and grins. It seems both of us were caught off guard by Van Zandt’s outburst.
Halifax looks freaked out, but grudgingly rights his chair and slides into it, not saying a word. I turn to the freezer and pull out an icepack, tossing it onto the table in front of him.
“Thanks,” he mumbles, pressing the ice to his already bruised jaw.
