The poor driver sat in the back of the police car, in tears since he’d seen the ambulance crew transport Pete’s corpse to the back of their vehicle.
But the fact that they’d be on their way soon did not erase the fact that someone was still on the lookout for Clover.
Taking him on this job had been such a supremely bad idea.
On the other hand, at least they were no longer in the dark about the danger. They had a phone, a number, a code name. Who could be searching for their boy though if the crazy human zoo woman had been eliminated?
“Can we track down the phone number of this Darwin guy?” Clover asked, biting his nail. In the darkness, his pale face got a blue tint each time the emergency lights reached it, giving it an eerie glow.
Tank shut his eyes and counted to five. He wanted to shower Clover with I-told-you-sos, but the hunched shoulders made him squeeze the boy’s arm instead. “I’ll see what we can do once we’re back. But the picture’s already out. Whatever happens, you’re staying home from now on. We can’t have you walking around where anybody involved could spot you by chance and message this person!”
Clover’s face twisted into an ugly scowl, eyes getting glossy. “I’m not staying on my own in the woods. Anything could happen there. I’m sick of always being hunted for something that’s not my choice or fault.”
He was talking too loudly, and Drake, who stood closer to the policemen gestured for them to be quiet. At least he wasn’t here, defending Clover from being bullied into safety.
“But you are, and we’ve got to work with reality, not your expectations. I told you this was a bad idea, but you didn’t trust my judgment. And here we are,” Tank growled.
Clover clenched his fists, but at least he took a deep breath before speaking. Quietly this time. “Bad luck. This could have gone well if we were to work with anyone else.”
Tank’s teeth gritted until the pressure on his jaw became noticeable and he had to make himself open his mouth to relieve it. “You lost your cool. That’s the biggest issue here. You acted on impulse because he thought you were a girl? Boo-hoo. If I got a cent for every single time someone called me a fag, I’d have them piling up in the corner. We’re dealing with life and death situations in this line of work. People who carry guns and actually use them. This isn’t a spat in the school yard.”
Clover looked away. “Really? You wanna tell me you never punched someone because they were offensive to you?”
Tank’s head boiled. He was thirty-nine, and this boy demanded he explained himself. Ridiculous.
He squeezed Clover’s shoulder and led him behind the van, where the flashing lights wouldn’t be as much of a nuisance. “Of course I did. And you know what? Experience is what tells you when you should demand respect and when you ought to shut up! Right now, you’ve got the experience of a newborn kitten, so it’s a good policy to keep your thoughts to yourself around clients. If you’re really keen on revenge, bide your time until you know it is achievable.”
“Pyro lashed out too.”
Tank couldn’t believe the childish pout on Clover’s face. He’d overestimated the boy’s maturity. “After you provoked the guy.”
“If I hadn’t, we wouldn’t have known he sent my photo to someone.”
“If you weren’t here, he wouldn’t have sent it in the first place, because you wouldn’t have been here.”
Clover stepped back, his throat working as he studied Tank in silence. Of course he was upset. Like any kid who’d been told off for what they’ve done.
Tank took a deep breath, because there was no point in crying over spilt milk. He needed to look to the future first, and in this case, Clover’s attitude had to be addressed, and fast.
“Look, do you think I had it easy? I got where I am because I was smart with the limited resources I’ve had.”
Clover squinted at him. “You had family to fall back on.”
Tank shrugged. “My family was a constant source of problems. Many of them aren’t bad people, that’s true, but we were poor, and there was always too much moonshine in the house. What do you think other kids thought of me?”
Clover shrugged, refusing to meet Tank’s eyes. “That you’re the hot guy they wanna bang?”
Tank swallowed and rested both his hands on Clover’s shoulders. He didn’t often mention his humble beginnings, but Clover needed to understand where he was coming from.
“No. They thought I was trash. They called me Rag, because my clothes were often dirty, or had tears or patches. They would attack my family and constantly provoke me. And every single time I lashed out, it only convinced everyone I was on my way to juvie. My grandma always told me to ignore them, and back then I thought it was shitty advice. But after it got me in some real trouble, I went with it. And you know what? It actually worked. It’s no fun to call another kid names when he doesn’t react to it.”