and staggered into the washroom like a drunken toddler.
God, he felt like shit. With a single glance in the sink mirror, he saw plenty of evidence that he also looked like shit. There was no way to fix his appearance without a shower and a change of clothes, so he made the best of it with copious amounts of smelly hand soap from a pump and lots of water. When he’d done all he could, his shirt was soaked, and at first glance, a wet spot on his pants made it look as though he’d pissed himself.
Sure, why not?
His head was not any clearer but waiting for the alcohol to wear off seemed impractical. Stepping around the pile of clothes on the bathroom floor—his suit jacket and a tie splattered with vomit—he waddled unsteadily into his office and walked in on what looked and sounded like a war room.
Jon was standing by the window, speaking into a phone. His body language was tense but businesslike.
His dad and King huddled over something on the desk while Dottie and Stan scrolled on their phones.
“Milo got an address in record time. My son is locating her. He’s a licensed realtor in California,” Dottie announced to whoever was listening.
“Stan,” Arnie’s father called out. “Think you can pull this off?”
“With the right props and equipment, I can execute a totally believable house renovation. Might be fun, too.”
“Good practice,” Dottie added.
Watching his brother and substitute maternal figure pound fists made Arnie feel like an outsider with his nose pressed against a window.
With no idea what they were planning, and his grumpy inner baby feeling left out, he muttered, “What’s going on?”
King grinned—only when the tattooed badass smiled, the result was sometimes menacing and slightly scary.
“We’re saving your stupid ass.” The dark eyes studying him twinkled with amusement and a hint of aggravation. “And I’m going on record with a lecture about how this didn’t need to get so bad. Thinking you were all that and then some also hasn’t helped. Dude, you have no stakeout skills whatsoever, and after talking to your dad and brother, I think it’s safe to say that this bullshit of thinking you could figure this out on your own just shows what a daft moron you can be.”
Grumbling like a baby, “I told you, man. It was personal,” was all Arnie could think to say.
“Yeah?” King scowled and shook his head. He tsk’d. The sound made Arnie feel as dumb as rocks. “When my wife was in jeopardy and ended up kidnapped, did I stomp my feet and whine that it was personal?”
Arnie shook his head and stared at his feet.
“That’s right, you big, dumb, shit. No. I called on my team for backup.”
“Squad goals. Remember?” Dottie interjected in a scolding hiss.
Though his reasoning seemed solid at the time, now that he was amid a dangerous shitstorm, Arnie regretted going it alone.
It was the loving tone and reasonable voice of his father that helped him climb down off an emotional ledge. “Easy does it, okay? He feels like shit enough as it is.”
Arnie winced. “No, Dad. It’s okay. They’re right. I fucked up.” He scraped a hand through his hair and sighed. “Picked the wrong time to fly solo. I just figured if NIGHTWIND got involved, I’d be stepping over a line.”
Jon ended his call and joined them. “Milo did his thing. You’re all set. You’ll need cover, but I’ll leave that up to your discretion.” His face transformed into a dark scowl. “I want a chat with this feckless lawyer. What’s his name?”
“Bruce Wells. He’s on my payroll as of two hours ago,” his father announced. “It doesn’t hurt to have a guy in your pocket who can walk a legal razor’s edge.”
Dottie let out a snort and made a face. “You know what you’re doing, Ned. As long as he doesn’t dip his toes in the swamp, I suppose he’d be an asset.”
King growled, and the whole room paid attention. “I don’t fucking care how edgy some law school putz is or isn’t. Just get him here as quickly as you can. The guy doesn’t know what he doesn’t know.” Cracking his knuckles, he curled his lip in a sneer. “His brain will gleam like a nun’s bathroom after I pick him clean.”
“It’s all in the details, isn’t it?” Stan asked.
King nodded. Arnie could feel his boss looking at Stan with newfound respect. He murmured, “The details can keep a man from getting killed.”