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“Fine. Rehab’s helping her with the new arm. But I don’t want to talk about the past. Let’s talk about today.”
“No.”
“Try a different answer.”
“Fuck, no.”
“You were a suckass foot soldier.”
“I was never a foot soldier.”
“You take orders for shit.”
“I give orders, Paulson.”
“So now it’s Paulson? We’re off duty.”
“I’m never off duty.”
“And that’s why I’m here.” He plunks the six-pack down, takes one of mine, and opens it with his teeth. “Talk. You rolled a state representative today. I should be bailing you out of jail.”
“I know.”
“Dead zone in the video surveillance, huh?”
“Lindsay came up with the assailant story on her own. Even set it up by opening the loading dock door and making it look like the guy got away.”
“Jesus. She want a job at the CIA?”
“She could run the fucking agency.”
I laugh as he hands me another beer. Six is my limit.
Maybe seven tonight.
“I’m not even going to ask why you snapped. That’s obvious. But damn, Drew. That was one calculated snap.”
“Yep.”
“And you jeopardized your entire business for it.”
I say nothing.
“I understand the vendetta.”
“I don’t think you do.”
“Then help me understand.”
“Why?”
He gives me a look made of granite.
“You really have to ask that? I’m not answering with a list, Drew. I’m asking because watching you throw away everything you’ve built because you can’t keep your fists by your side in the face of an enemy isn’t you.”
Huh. Word got around fast. “Maybe you don’t know me as well as you think.”
“Now you sound like some eighteen-year-old recruit who doesn’t know the difference between his ass and a hole in the ground.”
