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Are you kidding me with this shit?!
An annoyed eye roll is given at an old psych eval of approval given to one of the operatives who is no longer employed through us by one of the therapists who isn’t either.
There’s no way this guy should’ve been cleared for another assignment so quickly. All it takes is one long look at his handwriting to tell the amount of duress he was still dealing with. And then if you look deeper at his answers, it’s filled to the fucking brim with trigger words that indicate the same damn thing.
Why did this doctor sign off knowing this?
Did he miss these things?
Did he not know to look for them?
Oh shit!
Ishethe poacher?
Is he the inside man we should be looking for?!
Quickly switching from my desktop to my laptop, I key in the name to search.
Unfortunately, the results don’t match the timeframe. His start date isafterthe first few poaches had begun and ends before several more occur meaning he can’t be the poacher.
And he can’t be the inside man because he doesn’t work here anymore.
However, he’s still bad at his job.
Good Charlotte continues to pump through my speakers inspiring me to grab my light up green froggy pen Slater got me from one of his first rescues in Georgia and use it like a microphone to add my own bright pink shades to the swirling mix spinning around the room.
God, I’ve missed this.
I mean as much as I love working from home – with my cowboyliterallyat arm’s length – I’m glad to have space again.
Something familiar as well asactuallymine.
And the fact that I can listen to Dashboard Confessional or Story of The Year without being mocked or pleaded to put in headphones for a little while is nice too.
I love rocking to music this loudandlively.
Neither are the easiest or most courteous things to do when you’re living in a penthouse apartment.
All of sudden, my office door flies open causing the pen to leap from my clutches and damn near land directly at the feet of the person who gave it to me. “Oh, thank fuck, you’re alright.”
Confusion crinkles my forehead yet before I can say anything, Slater’s entire body begins seizing in place. Momentarily paralyzed by the sight of his limbs spasming and eyes twitching from the electrocution being shot through him, I simply tremble in my seat.
Gasp.
Gawk.
It isn’t until his large frame hits the floor that something in my mind triggers me to move.
Do whatever is necessary to not become the stranger’s next victim as well as get my best friend some help.
I spring to my feet and snatch up my pair of scissors silently hating it’s the best weapon I’ve got.
Pre-this whole poacher situation, it never occurred to me someone might actually try to kill me!
Equipping this office with something more dangerous than what I’m holding is going to the top of the must list.
After getting Slater conscious and to the hospital, of course.
“Hello, Songbird,” the black-haired male greets, dark red lettering dripping during its decent to the floor. I’m not given an opportunity to move so much as another muscle before he’s pointing his handgun in my direction. “Let’s take a little ride…”
***
