As it did Kasey.
With her badge as a part of her core makeup, she steps outside the moment, saving her meltdown for later, and if I have my way, in my arms, when we’re alone. Unless I kill Kurt. Then I don’t know what happens, but ultimately it can’t matter. I can’t let it change what happens next because bottom line, I won’t allow her to be put in a position to kill Kurt. If he has to die, it has to be me who pulls the trigger, not her.
And I know Kurt.
At any moment, he could make a move that forces her hand.
For that reason, I move toward Ana, intending to place myself in between him and her, when the front door opens. Before I can even turn, I hear Savage murmur, “Mother of God.” I bring him and Adam into view as they both pull their weapons. “Who the hell do I need to kill?” Savage asks. “I’ll ask why later.”
“I think Ana has that under control,” Adam replies. “The man she’s presently holding a gun on is Kurt, her stepfather, whose funeral I believe she went to, roughly three years ago.”
Information me and a bottle of tequila gave him about a year ago somewhere in Iraq.
“Someone please come tie him up before I shoot him and make him dead for real, possibly enjoying it way too much for me to wear my badge. And I like my badge.”
Adam casts me a lazy, cool-as-a-cucumber look because he is cool as a cucumber and asks, “Any idea where I can find rope?” No wonder I like him. He’s a fucking badass.
“Garage,” Ana supplies. “Far left wall, in the storage bin.” Her eyes remain fixated on Kurt, a blistering anger in their depths. “You claim you came here to tell us everything. Try opening your mouth and speaking words.”
“Everything I did was to protect you, Ana.”
Ana gives a choked laugh that still manages to remind me of a princess at a ball, elated as a new song begins to play and inviting everyone to join in a playful dance number. Her delicate delivery of even the worst subject matter is part of what makes her a deadly package. The enemy never sees her coming, even when she’s standing in front of them.
“There’s that word again,” she says. “Everything. And if I believed that, I’d buy the swampland I’m sure you’d been selling while you were away. I’d also be a fool, which I am not, but I’ll humor you. What exactly was ‘everything’ in your book?”
Kurt scowls, a rare outward sign of his waning patience with the woman he once called daughter. “Put the gun down and let’s sit down and talk.”
“I’m not ready to put the gun down,” she replies. “I’m not sure I’ll put it down until you’re dead.”
If he knows her, if he’s paid her one ounce of attention all her life, he understands that the coldness in her, tells a story. She’s not one to blow smoke. Ana shot me, but she never wanted me dead, but then Ana never saw me as the enemy. She does him.