I always refused to go to church; religion never interested me. Besides, it’s hard to believe in an almighty being who takes parents from their young children. Despite my Nonna’s pleas, it was one thing I couldn’t do for her. She wanted me to pray for healing and my parents. Why? It’s not like it would bring them back to me.
Bastian bursts into laughter while I remain annoyed and stiff. He might have gotten a kick out of sending that psycho to me, but it was taking everything in me not to punch his smug face.
“What’s the matter?” Bastian barks with a laugh. “Having a problem with cockroaches, buddy?”
I roll my eyes and stalk past him to my office, shutting the door behind me. My office is on the larger side, and not a thing is out of place. I like order, with everything where I can find it when I need it. The quiet of my space calms me as I slump into my oversized chair. Bastian’s close behind, shutting us in the room, most likely to joke about how clever he thinks he is.
He’s my best friend, but truth be told, we are complete opposites. Our friendship was built around my trying to appease Nonna’s wishes, and it’s one of the few I’ve put effort into.
“How’d you send her off this time?” Bastian asked.
“It was a toss-up between telling her to fuck off or hitting her with the punching bag and making a run for it. I chose the former, and unfortunately for me, I doubt it will deter her.”
“Was she fuming?”
I snort in response. Mona can be mad all she wants, but she never stops. She likes to be treated like shit and talked down to, or I have a holy dick that makes my toxicity towards her worth it.
“Don’t give a fuck,” I declare. “Anyway, what are you doing tonight?”
Bastian groans, knowing exactly why I’m asking.
“I’m just extending an invitation,” I say. “I couldn’t care less if you take it or not. I have no problem going by myself, but, for all you know, you might get a piece yourself.”
Bastian signals his agreement to join me by rolling his eyes in his typical dramatic fashion and adding another groan of distaste. I watch as he stalks out of my office and close the door before I settle my eyes on the stack of papers on my desk. I know I should be doing actual bureau work, but I open the drawer that holds my secret documents and slam them on my desk. My parents’ death is so raw in my mind. This is where I need to focus my attention.
I spend the rest of my day sifting through the evidence I believe ties The Omen to the deaths. Petty criminals, low-level gangs, and any connections or statements I could get by sniffing around. But Nathaniel Olin isn’t stupid, and he wouldn’t be where he is now if he was.
I run my hands over my face, feeling my tousled hair fall on my forehead as my office door opens. The fact that he didn’t bother to knock tells me it’s Bass.
“What?” I prompt, my face still behind my hands.
“It’s quittin' time. Where are we going?” Bastian’s voice shows he’s more excited about our adventure than he was a few hours ago.
I watch Bastian lean against the doorjamb, waiting for me to pick a place. Drumming my fingers along my cheek, I look down at my confidential files. With The Omen’s picture staring back at me, it clicks.
“The Emerald.” I can feel Bastian’s heavy gaze on me as I stand up and shove my private papers back into their hiding spot. He may know about my intentions here at the bureau, but we don’t talk about it. I’ve been working rogue on it for years, and I plan to keep it that way.
A one-person mission.
My mission.
My vengeance.
“We’ve never gone there before. Looking for a change?”
“Not my first time, but I guess you could say that,” I say as I gather the last of the items I need before we head out.
I lock my office door behind me, turning the handle for good measure. I really should just take those fucking documents home.
When I’m satisfied with my end-of-shift routine, I lead Bastian out of the building. He huffs behind me, my strides longer than his, so he has to quicken his steps to keep up. We start to separate when Bastian stops me.
“We’re parked next to each other. Where are you going?”
“Need to go to the locker room. I’ll meet you there.”
He mumbles under his breath all the way to his car. I may have invited Bass to go, but I’m not going to get a piece of ass in work clothes. I probably could, but I wouldn’t feel
good doing it. I always keep some spare clothes in my locker for just such occasions. With Bass dressed like a seventy-year-old man ready for bingo night, I need to up my chances.