Walsh watches as another shot goes down. It burns and settles deep in the pit of my stomach. It only fuels the need to get to Marcus. To be the one to take him down.
“He shouldn’t have brought Laura into this,” I tell Jase, feeling the swell of anger rise to my shoulders.
“You know what they call serial killers like him?” Walsh asks and Anthony pushes another pair of shots in front of us. When I look at him, his gaze is fixated on the empty shot glass, turning it on the table.
I’ve had enough. Enough of everything. Jase is quick to throw his back, slamming the glass down just as Walsh answers his own question. “Angel of Death. They don’t stop. I may be your enemy, but he’s worse.”
Neither Jase or I respond. I watch silently as Walsh’s guard drops as his true intentions come closer to the surface.
“It’s only a matter of time before you do something he deems punishable by death.”
“Is that why you want him so bad? The serial killer who got away back when you were an agent?” I goad him, wondering if he’ll even mention Delilah.
Jase takes the last shot on the bar when I don’t touch it.
“No,” Walsh answers honestly, but he doesn’t give away any of the truth. The way his gaze seems to look through me, I think he already knows that I know. He’s connected the dots. Which means he knows that Laura knows too. He makes his final plea and says, “Help me. Give me information.”
The thoughts of Laura and Delilah remind me of the notebooks. We have them. We have the locations.
I don’t trust Walsh though. I don’t trust his ass and that realization brings me to the conclusion that maybe he killed them. Maybe he didn’t find them dead. But that can’t be. It doesn’t explain the notes.
My head spins and a low exhale of agitation leaves me.
“We’ll see what we can do,” Jase answers Walsh even though his eyes are on me. “Now get out of my bar.”
My gaze shifts between the back of Walsh’s loose shirt as he weaves through the crowd and Anthony, who’s standing with his hands clasped in front of him to my right. I know he can feel my eyes on him, but he doesn’t look. He doesn’t turn to watch. The kid doesn’t know what to do, so I ask him, “What do you think?”
He hesitates to answer and when he does, he clears his throat first before saying, “I think the note has to mean something, but he’s a fucking psychopath and I don’t understand.”
A large hand grasping my shoulder pulls my attention away from Anthony. Jase doesn’t ask, he commands, “Have another drink with me.”
“I have to go to Laura. She just got done with work.” Fuck, I need to tell her Walsh knows. There’s so much I need to tell her.
Jase walks around to the other side of the bar, pulling out stools for both of us. “It’s one forty. She’s already at your place by now.”
“He brought her into this. Marcus doesn’t play by any rules. He hits where it hurts.”
“We may be a step ahead of him though. Now that we know he’s watching Walsh’s computer.”
I nod in agreement, or at least my head does without my conscious consent. Marcus just graduated to the top of my hit list.
“Grab her a bottle of red wine like you said you would and have another drink before you lose your shit.”
It hits me that Jase is saying the same words to me that I’ve said to him a dozen times before.
“When did that happen?” I ask him with a smile, a sad and fucked up one, playing on my lips.
“What?” Jase asks me, not waiting on Anthony now that he’s busy with the patrons who have taken up the momentarily empty seats. He reaches around the other side, grabbing a half-empty bottle, choosing to stick to vodka, and two glasses.
“When did I become the angry one needing to be calmed down?” I joke with him.
“Ever since I’ve known you, you’ve been angry.” He places the shot down in front of me before adding, “You just didn’t show it.” His response is dead serious.
I pour the shot into my mouth, noting how he squeezes my shoulders and then swallow the chilled clear liquid, feeling the burn flow down my throat and then lower through my abdomen.
Jase takes his and then taps the glass on the bar, looking at the stool where Walsh was sitting. “Now you need to tell me…” he says and his tone changes. Not to one of a boss, but to one of a friend who’s desperate to help his buddy clean up his mess, “…everything about Fletcher and Laura’s father so we can figure out this fucking note.”