“Malia may need backup, but sending either Donovan or Breckin in is severely risky, as she said.”
“I do not need backup, and I’ve done more than enough missions in the past by my-fucking-self. What makes this different?”
It was the lack of confidence that fucked me off the most. They were treating a king cobra like a worm.
“Can someone fill me in on why I’m too risky?” Breckin looks at each of us. His eyes settle on my dad, assuming he’ll get answers from him.
“We’ll get to it,” Donovan snaps.
Not looking at Breckin, my dad quickly shifts the attention back to Hazel’s plan.
“Continue, Hazel.”
He knows how Breckin will react when he finds out I’m essentially being pimped out, and I know my dad isn’t ignorant to whatever fuckery goes on between Breckin and me.
“Donnie should stay close, but far enough away he’s not ID’d. Mal can hold her own. We’ve all seen it. She wouldn’t be considered for this mission if she couldn’t. As always, I’ll be the eye in the sky. Breckin can stay with me in the control room to watch her. He will be at enough distance that we don’t risk him interfering, but he’ll still be involved.”
“Simple enough,” Donovan responds.
“The extra eyes will be most important during the first meeting,” Daddy says. “Any interactions after can be dealt with accordingly. We don’t know what Brenner knows, and first contact will be essential. All eyes are on my daughter—I want to be sure he can’t ID her.”
He looks between Breckin and me, clearly assessing how this is about to go, then he drops the bomb.
“Malia, we want you to attempt a full relationship with your target.”
“Got it.”
“Excuse the shit out of me?” Breckin grinds out.
Donovan shuts down Breckin’s comment without so much as a glance.
“You’ll have to do anything and everything to sell this relationship. The faster, the better, but don’t rush it. We don’t know how long it’ll take to get all the information.”
“This is the bureau we are dealing with,” Daddy adds. “You’ll have to gain Collins’s trust, which could take time.”
“Are you saying she will have to fucking sleep with him?” Breckin’s voice booms through the room, cutting off my dad. He stands up, sending his chair flying back, whipping his gun out and aiming it at my father and brother.
Well, I can’t say I’m
surprised. Breck does love his drama.
“Don’t be stupid,
Breck,” Donovan sighs, staring down at his best friend.
I stifle a giggle at the scene in front of me. I should be a little more worried about how this will play out, less about Breckin’s well-being than the weight that’ll burden my dad’s shoulders as much as I’d enjoy watching this turn into a bloody, violent mess. I don’t want that for my dad. Breckin’s like a son to him, but if pushed, he’ll put him down like a rabid dog without hesitation.
Lost in my imagination on how this could get deliciously messy, I miss it when Donovan pulls his own weapon on Breckin. The men challenge each other, neither willing to drop his gun first.
“Breck, enough! Put your fucking gun away. Donovan, so help me, God.”
I see Breckin flinch at my words. My father’s body is rigid with rage, his nostrils flaring. Breckin and Donovan lower their weapons, ending the live event.
“Are you done, Reynolds? I won’t hesitate to put a bullet between your eyes, best friend or not,” my brother says. “Get yourself together.”
“Did you have something to say to me, Reynolds?”
The calm behind my dad’s words is laced with venom, though he’s not one to lose control. The shift between seething to collected in a single breath is unnerving.