Last Straw

Hixon

“BLOOD’S CALLOWAY’S, NO surprise,” forensics’ John told Hix the next morning over the phone. “Fibers, carpet, already talked to Larry, says from what he’s seen of Faith Calloway’s home, they’re from there. Also says he’ll get samples just so we can check.”

“Right,” Hix muttered when John paused.

“Hairs,” John went on, “we got some that look like they’re probably Nat’s and seven long, light-brown ones we got off the driver’s and passenger’s sides that Larry says could be the wife’s, though he thinks she gets hers dyed and we know these aren’t, but we gotta run ’em. That last, Hix, think you know but sucks to remind you, it takes weeks to get DNA run, even on an active investigation. Sometimes months. Seein’ as this is so crucial to where you’re at in yours, I’ll try to see what pull I can get but everyone’s tests are crucial. So my suggestion is, see if you got county money in your budget to get private tests run. It’ll go a lot faster.”

“I’ll send a deputy up to get samples,” Hix replied. “It’ll be Bets. You met her. Elizabeth Rowe. She’ll be there sometime today.”

“Gotcha. Any luck with the convenience stores?” John asked.

“Maybe. Got a sketch artist going to Alliance today. I’ll be expediting that since the guy reports the man he saw was not only twitchy, he had long, light-brown hair.”

“Fuckin’ A, hope we nail this fucker,” John muttered.

“Yeah,” Hix replied. Something coming from the bullpen that set his eyes that way, and when he saw what it was, he set his jaw. “Gotta go. We’ll keep you informed.”

“Great, thanks, brother.”

They disconnected as Lou hit the door with Bets on her heels.

It was a busy day for a Saturday at McCook County Sheriff’s Department, and obviously not just because he and all his deputies were putting in overtime to catch a killer.

“Sorry, boss, I tried—” Bets started.

“It’s okay, Bets,” he said, eyes to Lou but he turned them to his deputy. “And since you’re here, need you to find time today to go up to Cherry and pick up some samples from forensics.”

“On my way to Alliance yesterday with Larry, I didn’t get a chance to deal with that other case and they didn’t come in,” she replied.

“Cherry first.”

She nodded, glanced at Lou and took off.

Hix didn’t even get up from his desk when he said to Lou. “This shit does not hit my office.”

“You’ll see,” she said quietly.

“Lou, seriously, I don’t think it’s lost on you—”

“You’ll see last night you made the biggest fuckin’ mistake in your goddamned life.”

Hix shut his mouth.

She turned to leave, and Hix started pulling in a big breath to alleviate his frustration but he stopped in the middle of it when she turned back.

He didn’t like the look on her face. It was worse than the pissed-off disappointment she’d been wearing before.

So he braced.

“Hear you’re lookin’ for a house,” she noted.

He didn’t respond.

“Probably gotta use that inheritance your uncle gave you.”

Hix grew alert.

That was the second time someone had mentioned that.

She shook her head then finally lost the control she’d been holding, if only by a thread.

“Poor, stupid, stupid Hope,” she spat.

And with that, she stormed out.

He didn’t watch her go.

He picked up his cell, went to Recent Calls, touched the name he needed and put the phone to his ear.

Greta’s answer was hesitant. “Hey.”

“Our shit is done. It doesn’t come to my office. It doesn’t exist in my life at all. Next person you run your mouth to, Greta, you let them know that.”

“Lou,” she muttered.

“Yeah,” he bit out.

“Listen, Hix, I didn’t know she was—”

“I said what I had to say.”

There was silence and then, “Yeah, you’re good at that.”

He shouldn’t ask. He didn’t even want to freaking know.

He still asked, “What’s that remark mean?”

“It means you’re good at talking and you’re not real good at listening. I’ve never been interrupted so much in my whole damned life. But it’s not even that. It’s just all about you. You think you escaped narrowly, I’m clueing into the fact that maybe the one who escaped was me.”

“Then we’re both good with where this is at,” he clipped.

“Yeah, we are. Goodbye, Sheriff.”

He was going to share his farewell but he had dead air.

Hix tossed his phone down, got up and walked out of his office, calling to Donna, who was, strangely, standing and talking to Hal like she didn’t hate his guts.

She turned her head his way. “Yeah, Hix.”

“You get a second, wanna see you in my office.”

She nodded. “Give me a minute.”

He jerked up his chin and walked back to his office.

He went to his phone, snatched it up and called Larry.

“Yo, boss,” Larry answered.

“You on your way to pick up the artist?” Hix asked.

“Yup.”

“Use lights. John called. They found long, light-brown hairs that haven’t been chemically treated. Bets is goin’ up to Cherry to get samples. We’re carvin’ money outta the budget to run private DNA tests. I want that sketch and I want it soon. You with me?”

“Hell yeah. Lights on, Hix.”

He was in the middle of what he had to say to Larry when Donna walked in and he ended the call quickly after Larry affirmed he’d got him.

“Close the door, would you?” he said to Donna.

She closed it, turned to him and said, “I can’t read your face.”

“This is personal. Not business,” he announced.

“Uh-oh,” she mumbled.

They had shit to do so he wasn’t going to waste any more on this than he had to.

“Two times, people have mentioned my uncle’s inheritance to me . . .” he trailed off, seeing her go wired before she blanked it. “Tell me,” he bit out.

“Hixon, I’m thinkin’ maybe we should do this over beers.”

“You said you all kept your mouths shut, all that went down with Hope and me,” he reminded her. “Something else you didn’t share?”

“Hix, seriously, beers,” she replied.

He stood at the front of his desk and stared into her eyes.

She blew out a breath, walked to him, put a hand on the back of one of the chairs in front of the desk and said quietly, “Think you’ll get, when I tell you, why we thought this all would blow over.”

“Tell me,” he repeated.

“It was about the ring.”

Hix closed his eyes and shook his head.

He opened them and demanded, “Say again?”

“The twentieth anniversary ring.”

Hix felt his body turn to stone.

“She thought you’d . . . I think she thought you would . . .”

“Cave,” he whispered.

He saw it then, Hope staring at him the way she did over that damned table, the papers on it, their lawyers present.

He knew it then, how she’d seemed almost paralyzed in shock after he’d lifted his head once he’d signed his name.

Now he knew it, how she’d started calling an hour after they left that table, begging him to talk.

You know, Hixon, you know.

After he got that inheritance, she’d asked him to buy her that ring on their twentieth anniversary, smiling, excited, showing him the photo of it in a catalog.

All he’d seen was the price, and he had to admit he didn’t hold back his laughter that she’d even suggest he get her something that pricy when they were on the verge of putting kids through college.

He’d also admit that maybe that was not the right reaction to have.

That said, she’d given him a tremulous grin once he was done laughing so he thought she’d gotten where he was at, where he thought they both should be at.

And saw the light.

Obviously, she hadn’t.

But he never in his life would think she’d wage war over a ring. A war that would destroy their marriage.

And he never in the life he’d led with her thought she was a woman who’d do such a despicably selfish thing.

“Hixon, if I thought for a second she’d actually go through with it, I would have said something,” Donna assured him quickly. “And then when she did, I thought . . . I know it wasn’t my place, but I thought you were better off without her.”

“It wasn’t your place.”

He watched her watching him carefully.

“It wasn’t your place to be in the position to tell me,” he explained. “It was hers.”

“I saw Lou was in here, was it her that said something?” she asked, beginning to look ticked.

He shook his head. “This dies right now.”

Her eyes grew sharp. “Know you’re seein’ Greta, that going okay?”

“It’s over.”

She swung back a bit and murmured, “Right.”

“This dies here, Donna. Lou coming in here. What happened with Greta. Hope’s bullshit. It’s just done. Life is now just what it was before, except now I know well and truly I’m good bein’ shot of Hope. Greta’s the Greta you know. Lou is just a good friend and she’ll calm down. We put who killed Nat Calloway behind bars, it’ll all just go back to normal.”

“Okay, Hix,” she agreed dubiously.

“I’m not pissed you told me,” he assured her. “I’m not pissed you kept it from me. I’m not anything but maybe a little troubled how easy it is to get over the woman I spent nearly half my life with.”

“Yeah,” she said quietly.

“That’s it.”

“Okay, Hixon.”

“Beers would not be unwelcome tonight, though, you can get away from the ball and chain.”

She gave him a smile.

“I’ll call Herb and ask Larry to take call. Then I’ll call Toast and Tommy and one of us will pick you up so you can get slaughtered.”

That wasn’t going to happen.

But he’d be glad to have as much as he wanted and not have to worry about taking call or driving.

“Thanks, Donna.”

Her eyes got sympathetic. “I’m sorry, Hix.”

“That’s the troubling thing,” he returned. “I no longer am.”

“Healthy,” she murmured. “Healing.”

“Yeah.”

“Good.”

He nodded.

She shot him an uncertain grin, gave him a long lookover.

Then she walked out.

He watched her go and wondered if, through salon gossip, Greta knew about the ring.

After that, he wondered why that would be the first thing he wondered.

You’ll see last night you made the biggest fuckin’ mistake in your goddamned life.

He forced his mind to Tawnee Dare and he wanted to doubt the truth of Lou’s words.

But, damn it, since he threw back the first half of his beer after he got back to his apartment, that being after laying into Greta, he’d felt that doubt start nagging.

It didn’t matter.

He had a killer to find and the woman he’d been seeing had direct ties to the only known criminal in the county.

So yeah.

It didn’t matter.

The hell of it was he could tell himself that.

But that drag in his gut wouldn’t stop nagging.

“Boss.”

Hix looked up from his computer with the picture of the sketch the artist had drawn of a man who looked like a lot of men but with a goodly number of lines on his face and long hair.

It wasn’t much. Then again a convenience store clerk in a large-ish town saw his fair share of people, so it was better than nothing.

Which meant it was something.

And now Hal was at his door.

“Yeah?”

“Gemini Jones here to see you.”

Goddamn it.

Greta.

“He says he might have something on the Calloway case,” Hal continued.

Surprised, Hix looked to the windows, saw Jones standing by Hal’s desk, then he looked back to Hal.

“Would you bring him back?”

“Sure thing,” Hal said, disappeared from his door and Hix closed the email on his computer, minimized everything he had opened, got up and had just flipped the whiteboard when Hal brought Gemini in.

“Thanks, Hal,” he said and went to Gemini, hand out. “Gemini.”

“Hix, or do I call you Sheriff now?” he asked on an upturn of his lips and a firm shake of Hix’s hand.

“Hix is good.”

The man was in trousers and a dress shirt, no tie, but looking dapper, which was his way even out of the Dew Drop and in rural Nebraska.

They let go but Hix kept his hand up and motioned to the chairs. “Have a seat.”

Gemini moved to a chair. Hix moved behind his desk.

He sat, Gemini was already folded in.

“You want some coffee?” Hix offered. “Or you wanna just share why you’re here?”

“I know we’re both busy so let’s just get to it, yes?”

Hix nodded.

Gemini got to it.

“I know a young woman who had cause to drive through Grant County Monday evening on the way to see her momma in McCook.”

Hix felt his neck grow tight.

Gemini kept talking.

“Now, you see, her momma read the Guide’s website when word started getting out and mentioned what she read around her daughter. Her daughter then mentioned something to her momma. And they immediately realized their moral dilemma.”

“Gemini, please just give it to me straight,” Hix requested, speaking evenly and trying to hold on to his patience.

“All right, Hix, you see, the dilemma is, this girl, she’s out on parole and that parole is contingent on a variety of things, including her not leaving her local area, which happens to be in Kansas. So if she comes forward sharing what she saw, she might do damage to all that good behavior she showed. And since she’s trying to find her way to a righteous path that would be a shame.”

“If she witnessed Nathan Calloway having his life ended in a violent way and she’s sitting on that—” Hix started.

Gemini shook his head. “No. But she did see a man in a white truck pull over for a man who was walking along 56. She says that man didn’t look all that good, drifter, vagabond. She’d had that truck trailing her for several miles after it had pulled out from a ranch behind her. The man on the road saw the oncoming cars, lifted his arm to flag them down, she drove by. She saw in her rearview the truck slowed and stopped.”

Christ.

They had a witness.

“She needs to make a statement and she needs to look at a sketch.”

“Hix—”

“I’ll personally talk to her parole officer if you can assure me she’s here only to see her mother.”

“Her momma’s got diabetes, had a spell. She’s okay now but it’s been a while since they’ve seen each other and she felt it worth the risk to make a visit. So yes, Hix, I can assure you she’s here to see her mother.” He lifted both hands and dropped them. “She’s a good kid. She makes stupid decisions and spends time with people who aren’t worthy of it. But she’s trying to get smart about that and she’s had a helluva lesson to teach her that’s the way to go. She does right, comes forward, it bites her in the ass, this could be a catalyst for very bad things.”

“I’ll print out the sketch we have. Give it to you. If it looks like who she saw flagged Calloway down, please just confirm that to me. But if she’s willing to come in and make a statement, I’ll do everything in my power to see she doesn’t get hooked back into the system. I’ll even drive down there and talk to her parole officer myself. And if she can improve on this sketch, I’ll buy her mother flowers.”

Gemini smiled. “I’ll take the sketch.”

Hix turned to his computer and set it to printing.

As it did that, he looked back to Gemini. “She said Calloway pulled over, was it, in her estimation, a Good Samaritan-type of thing?”

Gemini nodded.

“This man on the road, was he alone?” Hix pressed.

Gemini nodded again. “Alone. Tall. Brawny. Dirty clothes. Haggard. Sunburned. Leathery. Carrying a canvas duffle on his back. She says she wouldn’t have pulled over, but she also says, at the time she passed them, she thought God was good, making men like the man in that truck who had the kindness to do it.”

At his words, Hix couldn’t stop himself from lifting his arms, putting his elbows to the edge of his desk, linking his fingers and resting his forehead to them, such was the weight of that statement not coming true.

“I know,” Gemini said quietly. “Tests your faith, shit like this. Putting that young man there. Putting my girl in a bad position. How an act of kindness that leads to an act of what might be desperation or even insanity could tear like a tidal wave through so many lives.”

Hix lifted his forehead, put his chin to his hands and gave him an understatement.

“Yeah.” He sat back and rested his arms to the arms of his chair. “She give you more?”

Gemini shook his head but said, “Just what he was wearing. Jeans, beat-up canvas jacket, even though it was hot outside, long, brown hair.”

And they had their suspect.

They just had to find the fucker.

He turned to the printer on the credenza behind him, nabbed the sketch and got up, walking it around the desk to where Gemini had also left his seat and was standing.

He handed him the sketch. “I hope she does the right thing and I’ll again give you my promise I’ll do right by her if she does.”

“Charity’s a good kid, she’ll do right,” Gemini replied, dropping a name and doing it on purpose.

She’d be coming in.

Hix wanted to howl with relief.

“If she doesn’t,” Gemini kept on, “she’ll have to break more laws getting away from her momma who’ll tan her ass.”

And that was the rest.

Her mother had already solved this dilemma. Charity had always been coming in. Gemini had just showed first to broker the deal to make it safe for her to do it.

Hix gave him a small grin, this time, the way Gemini did it and why, not bothered in the slightest he’d been played.

Gemini lifted the sketch. “I’ll be in touch.”

Hix tagged a card from the holder on the outer edge of his desk and gave it to Gemini. “My card. Call direct.”

Gemini lifted the card too, smiled and walked out.

He’d barely touched the front door to push outside before Hal and Donna were in his office.

“What was that?” Donna asked.

“Possible eye witness who saw Calloway pull over for a drifter with long, brown hair.”

“Fuck yes,” Hal hissed enthusiastically.

“The sketch sucks, but the minute Larry comes back with it and scans it so we got a decent copy of it, I want it out on the wire. We might be able to sharpen up some of the rough edges soon, this witness comes forward. Pray for that,” Hix told them.

“We’ll be all over that,” Donna returned.

“Need you two on the line with homeless shelters in Omaha, Lincoln, bigger cities. I’ll email the description. We have hair, face, now clothes. And he was carrying a big duffle. Convenience store guy said our guy could be anywhere between forty and sixty. I get now why he gave that range, seein’ as Gemini’s witness says he was leathery, haggard. Wanna know if any shelters have any regulars who went walkabout and haven’t been seen in a while.”

“All over that too,” Hal stated and walked out.

“We gonna get him?” Donna asked.

“He’s had days to get away and the wheels to do it and only got a couple hundred miles. Convenience clerk says he’s twitchy. Witness says he was a man she wouldn’t stop for, but at the time she saw Calloway do it, she was glad God made a man who would. Even so, somehow the man had a gun and the cognizance to wipe down that truck. Regardless, I figure we got someone who’s not firing on all cylinders in a way it’s more than he’d put two bullets in a man. That could work in our favor. That could screw us totally.”

She nodded. “I’ll get on those shelters.”

Hix nodded back, rounded his desk and got instantly pissed.

And he did that because his first thought was that they were closing in on him, so Hix was in a much better place than he was yesterday or the day before and definitely the day before that.

And he couldn’t share it with Greta.

“You know how they’re gonna play this, Bryce.”

It was late afternoon and he had Bryce McCall and his two parents in his office, Bryce in one chair, his mother in the other, his dad standing behind his son’s chair.

They’d brought him in.

“It was stupid, I know,” the fourteen-year-old mumbled. “Mom and Dad already laid into me.”

“I’m sure they did,” Hix said. “And most folk would listen to reason. The Mortimers won’t.”

Bryce ducked his head, scooted a foot on the floor and muttered under his breath, “She shot my dog.”

“She did.”

Bryce lifted his gaze to Hix’s.

Hix held it and carried on.

“So, in light of the fact that I think this town has been reminded in an ugly way about what’s important, if you write a letter apologizing to them, I’ll take it out to them and then share I won’t be taking this further. If you apologize, I’m satisfied you saw the error of your ways and feel remorse. This is not to say I condone what you did or vandalism in any form, Bryce,” he warned, waited for the kid’s nod then kept going. “However, considering the extremity of the extenuating circumstances, although your response was not right or even justified, it was understandable.”

“Yeah,” the kid whispered. “And I’m, like, totally grounded so I’m already kinda in jail.”

Hix bit back a smile and continued, “They can, of course, push it. That’s their prerogative. But they’ll have to do it in civil court. I won’t be pushing anything. If they have an issue with that, they can vote for my opponent in the next election.”

Bryce grinned. “Too bad I won’t be old enough to vote then.”

“Yeah, kid. Too bad,” Hix murmured.

The door opened and Larry swung his upper body in, hand on the handle.

“Sorry, Sheriff . . . folks, wouldn’t interrupt but gotta say,” his gaze leveled on Hix, “Kavanagh Becker is here to see you.”

Hix turned his head to look out the window and he saw Becker and one of his goons studying the mural of the sheriff shield painted over a depiction of Nebraska pastureland at the side of reception.

Hix felt his lips thin and he lifted his chin to Larry. “Thanks, Larry.”

“Not a problem.” Larry’s gaze went through the room, he murmured, “Again, sorry,” and backed out of the door, closing it behind him.

“I think we’re done anyway,” Hix said, rising and moving around his desk.

He shook Bryce’s hand. He had to hold firm and lock arms to share he couldn’t accept the hug his beaming mother seemed intent on giving him when he shook hers. And he felt his shoulder nearly get dislocated when Bryce’s father pumped his arm then knew he’d have a bruise after the man clapped him on the back.

He walked them to the door then he looked through the windows and gave Larry the high sign.

He was only five feet in and facing the door, arms crossed on his chest, when Becker came through.

“You don’t have to close the door, Larry, he’s not staying long,” he said to his deputy.

“Right, boss,” Larry replied and disappeared.

“You have one minute,” Hix told Becker, who’d stopped only a few steps in because that was as far as he could get or was welcome.

“It would seem, perhaps, things didn’t go as I’d intended during your visit yesterday.”

When he stopped talking, Hix prompted, “You have fifty seconds.”

“Drake,” Becker bit off.

“Forty-five seconds.”

“It was just a joke,” Becker shared. “Tawnee and her daughter play it that way. Getting one up on each other. She wasn’t actually threatening you. But she does worry about her daughter. Apparently Greta’s last man ended things with her in a way Tawnee didn’t like. It might not be the usual way a mother would deal with her daughter finding another man and sharing her concerns with that new man that she was keeping her eye on shit, but Tawnee’s not your usual woman.”

Hix felt something unpleasant slither through his gut at learning Greta’s last man ended things in a way a woman like Tawnee Dare wouldn’t like, but he wasn’t going to discuss that with Kavanagh Becker.

“Greta and her mother close?” Hix asked.

“They’re mother and daughter.”

“That’s not really an answer,” Hix pointed out. “You met Greta?”

Becker stared him in the eyes. “No. Seen her. Got the best of her momma. You probably get me, if she gave more talent than just looks to her girl. Learned a long time ago, you can tag the pretty, young ones, but you also gotta expend the effort to train ’em, seein’ as they got no earthly clue how to use their mouths.”

Hix’s stomach turned.

“Okay, we’re done,” Hix declared, moving toward him to show him out.

“Drake, you don’t want this deal we got to fall apart,” Becker warned.

And there was the reason for the visit.

Hix stopped and asked, “I don’t?”

“Don’t be stupid,” Becker snapped.

“Not me who hauled the sheriff’s ass all the way out to his place just to play a joke. I’m investigating a murder, Kavanagh, but even if I wasn’t, I would hope you’d treat my time as more valuable than that.”

Becker tried a winning smile. “You know how it is, first blush of finding a woman who gives a really great blowjob.”

Now he was going to vomit.

“Now we’re done,” he stated and moved to stand by his door and hold his arm out of it.

Becker moved to stand in front of him. “It would be a shame, somethin’ like this messed with a good thing.”

“Far’s I can see, the only one who’s got it good is you,” Hix remarked, dropping his arm.

“Now, I obviously wouldn’t know anything about it but I do live in this county and I’m very aware of the incredible job you do keeping illegal substances at a minimum. Probably wouldn’t buy you good returns in the next election, such things flooded our towns.”

“Nope. Probably wouldn’t. Then again, I sent people who pushed them to the Nebraska State Penitentiary, that might make me real popular.”

They had a preposterous staring contest that Becker lost, stating, “It appears we’re at a stalemate.”

“Nope again, ’cause if you don’t get your ass out of my station, it’ll be in a cell. Told you twice we’re done. Now I’ll make it clear. We’re done. You remain, you’re trespassing. And, well, not sure how much of a crime that is, might have to look a few up more to see how long I can detain you, but I wouldn’t mind havin’ you as a guest if I get to see you in our accommodation.”

“Don’t be a fool,” Becker hissed.

“Not me standin’ there when the sheriff asked me to get the fuck out.”

Becker glared at him then moved only to be yet another person to stop in his door and have something else to say.

“One last thing, you should talk to Greta. Tawnee’s beside herself. Appears Greta didn’t think the joke was funny either and cut her momma out. She was a might hysterical when she was relating things to me but it would seem she’s made some other bad choices in regards to her daughter in the past and this was the last straw for Greta. Tawnee doesn’t have much family. She needs her girl.” He assumed an expression of contrition. “She can be a wild one and she got a wild hair. It wasn’t the right thing to do, Hixon, and she sees that now. If she didn’t think it’d make things worse between her and Greta, she’d be here herself. But askin’ you, man of a Dare woman to man of a Dare woman, Greta’s the only kid Tawnee’s got, and Tawnee’s Greta’s only momma. We fucked up. Don’t let Greta take that too far, and just sayin’, Hixon, don’t let Greta take that too far. For her and her momma and shakin’ up the way other things should be.”

Hixon had no reply and Becker didn’t wait for one.

He took off.

Appears Greta didn’t think the joke was funny either and cut her momma out.

She’s made some other bad choices in regards to her daughter . . . this was the last straw for Greta.

He’d experienced just that the day before with Hope.

Right before he lost his shit on Greta.

What were the straws that came before?

He had no idea.

He hadn’t asked.

He hadn’t even known she had a mother in town.

Because he hadn’t asked.

Hell, he didn’t even know until yesterday morning what her surname was.

Because he hadn’t freaking asked.

It could be they had a screwed-up relationship that was a vicious cycle of this kind of shit that he’d just get caught up in.

It could be, Greta and everything about her being the exact opposite of the nominal he’d experienced with her mother (but it was more than enough), this was a long time coming.

Again, he had no idea.

He hadn’t asked.

He’d just laid her out and walked out.

Walked out on her.

Again.

But this time, he’d done it ugly.

“Fuck,” he whispered.

You think you escaped narrowly, I’m clueing into the fact that maybe the one who escaped was me.

He stared at his opened door in front of him and repeated a whispered, “Fuck.”

He lifted his hands, rubbed them over his face, and since he couldn’t do dick about that now—he needed to catch a killer, deal with his daughter, try to decide if it was right or would cause World War III if he backed his son’s play to live with him exclusively, come to terms with the fact his wife had divorced him over not buying her a goddamned ring, and he needed to let Greta have some time—he’d sort it out later.

However that needed to be.

You know how it needs to be, asshole, he thought. And this time, you’re fucked.

These thoughts occurred to him when he made it to the front of his desk, so he leaned into his hands on it and dropped his head.

That all sounds really complicated, Hix.

No, sweetheart, all that is really fuckin’ simple.

It was simple.

It was.

And he’d complicated it again being a dick.

“Fuck,” he whispered.

It was good it was beers with Donna, Tommy and Toast that night.

He was going to need them.