Our Finest Moment ✔️

9

COLTON

"How'd it go?" I ask as the door to the break-room opens up.

I'm seated at the table, and as much as I'd like to just go home and do something else, I haven't been able to leave the shop all day. Or night. I waited until I was sure Liana would still breathe this morning before I left her cell, feeling responsible for her foolishness, and only then did I go upstairs to the the couch inside the shop to get some sleep.

"Perfectly," Dorian says with a shit-eating grin as the empty paper bag lands on the table. "She didn't seem like she knew anyone with your first name," he continues, sitting down opposite me with a shrug, "and she's a musician. She plays the guitar, and had to sell hers to buy food."

"I hate her," I mumble, leaning forward to put my hands through my hair.

I hate her because she breaks up my routine, my plans and my ambitions. She waltzes in to ruin everything with her sappy backstory, just as everything else needs my attention.

"Little early for that, don't you think?" He chuckles.

"No," I protest. "She just happens to show up at a meeting right after we find out Kenneth is closing in again?"

"You can't exactly hate her if you want your plan to work, though," he tells me, and leans back with a smug look on his face. "That is, if she's innocent."

He's right, and I hate that too.

The fact that I was worried last night was also another thing to hate, and I'd rather spend energy doing that than worry. Besides, the cut wasn't even that deep. Callie said after we'd put Liana on her mattress that the cut itself wasn't dangerous, but her body was exhausted and malnourished—and that's why the girl fainted.

The stress from the bleeding caused her body to shut down, and I had to promise Callie I'd give the girl food. So I ordered Dorian to get on it.

"She ate, I assume?" I nod towards the crumpled up bag, and raise my brows at him.

"Yup," he replies, still grinning. "Just one burger, though. I had the other three. And I filled her empty soda bottle with water before I came in here."

"Good." I get up and pull my sleeves back up to my elbows as I start walking to the door. "Check in on her now and then. You're demoted to babysitter."

"Yes, sir," he says, saluting me. "I'm honored."

An eye roll later, I'm out the door and I hear his chuckle behind me as I cast a glance down the hallway, towards the cells. I wish I could just kill her and be done with it, but I have to know for sure she's not a part of some uprising gang in her father's name. And then, if she truly isn't, I'm going to use that—and her—for all it's worth.

My plan isn't set in stone yet, but I'm confident it'll bring some positive strength to my organization—which is very needed at the moment. With Sergeant Bell breathing down my neck, I have to do something to keep the whole ship from going down if I do.

And this plan seems as good as any.

•••

As soon as I get into a new shirt after my shower, the doorbell rings. I don't bother buttoning it all the way, but I tighten my belt and ruffle my hair as I move towards the front door.

Having no idea who it might be, I start to assume the worst; and, well, as soon as I open the door I'm glad I'm wired to do so. Because in front of me, is Sergeant Kenneth Bell. He doesn't have his uniform on, but the badge is secured to his hip, next to his gun, and I have the good sense to reach for the Glock on the table, just out of his sight.