Alan lingered, holding back his laughter. “You’re right, Ken. I apologize.”
“I’m sorry, too,” Jade added.
“See? We’re both sorry.”
“That’s better,” Ken said. “And the two of you are sorry. I expect better from you both.”
“We didn’t mean to fail your expectations,” said Alan. “We almost lost you, and we’re lucky we didn’t.”
Ken’s look grew sincere. “Well, thank you, Alan. That means a lot.”
“And it wouldn’t be right of us to make you the…butt of our jokes.”
“The…butt of our jokes,” Ken repeated. “You know, for a second, I almost believed you were capable of being heartfelt. I should’ve known better.”
Alan patted Ken on the shoulder. “Probably. We should get going. Lots to do today to get you settled in.” He held out a hand, gesturing to the Marauder. “After you, tripod.”
“Tripod?”
“Hey, Jade, do you remember seeing any scrap lumber lying around the property?” Alan asked.
“There’s some, I think,” she replied in a giggle, “but not nearly enough to build a handicap ramp.”
“Okay, that’s enough, dammit!” Ken griped. “I’m a death-dealing devil dog with feelings, and you both are jumping up and down on my last nerve! Alan, look. I seem to remember times when Walt and I would poke fun at you and call you names. Looking back at those actions now, in retrospect, I can see that was wrong of us—but two wrongs don’t make a right. As it stands, you’re one of my favorite people, and I’d prefer you remain that way.”
“Why, thank you, Ken. Me too. And you happen to be my favorite jarhead.”
“That’s good. Because this jarhead can kick your ass from here to Honolulu, even on crutches. Don’t forget that.”
Chapter 10
DHS Shenandoah Outpost
Monday, January 10th
Seth Bates nearly jumped out of his boots upon entering the office. The invitation had more than surprised him but not nearly so much as seeing someone seated at Bronson’s desk who wasn’t Bronson. A hand to his chest testing his heart rate, he said, “Jesus Christ! You scared the shit out of me.”
Beatrice reclined fully in the regional commander’s chair. One by one, she propped her well-developed stems onto the desktop, her hands falling into her lap, her fingers interlacing. “Gracious me! What on earth has gotten into you, Seth? Surprised to see me?”
Bates’s eyes widened. “Yeah, a little, I wasn’t expecting you. What are you doing here, anyway? Where’s Mr. Bronson?”
“He’s not in,” Beatrice replied, glancing around the room.
“Well, where is he?”
“My best guess? At home, hungover or passed out drunk on his couch or on the living room floor. Or worse…”
Seth advanced a few short steps. “What have you done to him?”
“Really, Seth? So accusatory!” Beatrice shifted sideways, puffing out her chest. “I was just jokin’ with you. I’d never harm a hair on Douglas’s head. He’s already challenged sufficiently in that regard.”
Seth sent a stare around the room, as if looking for his old boss between crevices. “Right. Well, I was set to meet him here, but I assume you knew and had something to do with that not happening. So what’s this about?”
“Oh, not much. Nothing, really. I’ve just begun a process…of tying up a few loose ends. I figured what better place to start than with you, the person with whom our fearless leader used to spend so much of his time, sharin’ ideas and whatnot.” Beatrice let her legs slide to the floor. She squared off with the desk and leaned over it tauntingly. “How has your new…position been treating you?”
Seth frowned. “I didn’t come here to be humiliated,” he said, “and had I known you would be here, I wouldn’t have bothered coming. I don’t appreciate this.”
Beatrice faked astonishment. It converted into a smirk seconds after. “I’ve never known you to be this abrasive, Seth.”
“The reason for that is because you don’t know me. You’ve never known me. You don’t know me from Adam.”
“Fair enough, whoever this Adam fella is.”
“Since summoning me here appears to have been a joke, I’ll just be leaving.”
“Nonsense,” Beatrice spouted. “Don’t go away mad. Stay a while, Seth. Take a load off. In fact, let’s you and me have a drink.”
Seth reached for the door handle but froze, hearing now the clicks of Beatrice’s heels nearing him. “I know you don’t like me, you never have, so you can stop pretending. What do you want?”
“Like I said, nothing much. Just some simple answers to a few simple questions.”
“Well, go on and ask me what you want to ask so I can get back to doing what I was doing.”
“Turn and face me first, Seth. I don’t fancy talking to your backside.”
“Fine.” He pivoted and faced her, his eyes wandering.
The look on her face growing more mischievous by the second, Beatrice slithered into his personal space. “That’s better. Now, do you have any notion as to why our leader would request your presence?”
“I haven’t the faintest idea,” Seth said. “When I saw you, I assumed it was a setup, nothing more.”
“And before that?”
“I don’t know. I was torn.” Seth sighed. “Part of me was hoping for the off chance that it might’ve been regarding good news, but that presumption lacked realism. He was probably just drunk off his ass and wanted me around to disparage to make him feel better about being the coldhearted bastard that he is, like he used to.” A pause. “But he has you for that now, doesn’t he?”
Beatrice glowered, and one of her eyebrows shot up. “Is that supposed to be funny?”
“No, it’s supposed to be accurate.”
“Seth, accuracy can be measured in more ways than one,” she droned, “such as a 9mm hollow-point bullet launched from my sidearm’s muzzle, accurately lodged in your medulla oblongata.”
Bates gulped. “That was
