Prologue
Reznor
“It wasn’t your fault, Rez.”
“Easy for you to say.” I look over to my supervisor, Harry, and take in the pained look on his face, but I don’t really care. “I made the call to breach. Their blood is on my hands.”
“That’s bullshit, and you know it.” Laughter in the bullpen outside his office filters in, so he walks the few steps and shuts the door hard enough for the cheap metal mini blinds to make a noise as they bounce back against its glass. “It was the fucker who did this’s fault.”
“Mm-hmm.” I keep my eyes on my hands, but with her scream so loud in my head it could be blood on my cuticles and not the grease from working on my motorcycle earlier that I stare at. “I need some time off. A month or two. I don’t know.”
His chuckle is dismissive. “Guys like you don’t take time off, Reznor. You’re a throwback. You’ve been doing this, what? Twelve years?”
“Fifteen.”
“Fifteen. How many times in my tenure here have I heard you say you want time off only to come back the next day?”
“It doesn’t matter. What matters is I’m asking now.” I roll my shoulders because I was right. He was going to fight me on this.
“You’re the team leader. You just can’t—”
“Paul will do just fine stepping into my shoes for a bit.”
“He’s not you though. In case you haven’t noticed, it seems like we’re in a wave of serious shit right now. One fucking thing after another. The calls aren’t stopping…Christ.” He puts his hands on his hips and stares at the guys in the pen. They’re ribbing each other and laughing when fuck if I know how long it’s been since I’ve gotten a solid night’s sleep. “They depend on you.”
I nod, the guilt already eating at me that I’m going to let my men down. “I know.”
His sigh is heavy and weighs down the room. “I can’t do it right now. I can’t let you step away so you keep reliving everything that went down. You’re going to get in your own head over it, and that’s gonna fuck you up further. You’ll walk away.”
“I won’t walk away.” The thought has crossed my mind more times than not these past few sleepless weeks.
“We have shrinks here you can talk to. Department ones who know the stress you’re going through.”
“I’ve been there, done that.”
“Not with this case you haven’t. C’mon. I’ll make you an appointment.” He moves to the phone and picks it up as if he’s calling.
“Shrinks who will take everything I say and use it against me to put me in some desk in the gun locker or file archives.”
“I wouldn’t allow that.”
“Doesn’t mean it wouldn’t happen.”
“Rez—”
“If you don’t give me time off, then I quit.”
The speed at which his head whips up tells me he heard me loud and clear this time. “What do you mean, you quit? That’s fucking hilarious.”
I shove up from my seat, and that sudden wave of panic, which feels like a constant part of me these days, rises up and threatens to take over. His smile fades and his eyebrows narrow when he sees I’m dead serious.
“Rez, what’s going on?”
I shove a hand through my hair and shake my head. “I don’t know.”
But I do know. It’s the constant doubt that I messed up and my fuck-up took someone else’s life.
Children’s lives. Innocent kids who had a lifetime of possibilities stretched before them.
“I’ve never seen you step away. You’re always taking extra shifts. You’re always here even when you’re off training the newbies. This is your place.”
“That’s the saddest statement I’ve ever heard.” I chuckle, but it just sounds desperate…when I’m not a desperate man. “Mayb
e I do need to quit, so I can get some kind of life other than wanting to hang out with this bunch of assholes.” I look out the window at my crew. I know them better than some of their wives do. I trust my life with them and to them.