Wrong Question, Right Answer (The Bourbon Street Boys #3) - Elle Casey Page 0,77
Even though Ozzie gave me a serious dressing-down today, I’m glad I won’t disappoint him with my report. We’re getting closer to shutting this whole thing down, and it was me who put it all together. I’m almost glad I didn’t go out with Thibault today.
As I’m signing off the computer, the telephone on the cubicle desk rings. I stare at it for a few seconds trying to figure out what’s going on. Nobody ever uses these phones.
I lean over and pick up the handset. “This is Toni.”
“Toni! Hey, it’s me!”
She doesn’t have to say anything else. I would recognize May’s enthusiasm anywhere.
“Are you done yet?”
“Just finishing up.” Is she checking up on me? Does she think that she’s Ozzie’s right-hand girl now, in charge of what I do?
“Okay, cool. When you’re done, could you come upstairs?”
I take a few seconds to calm myself down before answering. “Ozzie already told me I need to bring the report upstairs and put it on the table. I don’t need a reminder.”
“Uhhh . . . okay.” She sounds confused.
Now I feel bad. Maybe she wasn’t bossing me around. “I’ll be up in a few minutes. Just let me type the report up.”
“Okay. Bye.”
She’s hurt. Dammit. I sign back onto the computer. Truth is, I actually forgot that Ozzie wanted me to put the report up on the table. Usually he’s okay with me doing the work from home and emailing it, but I don’t want to push any more of his buttons tonight. I’m not sure if he knows that I took off after he told me to get to work, but if he did see me go, I don’t need to give him any more reason to be angry with me.
Using our standard template, I quickly type up the report, filling in the notes section with all of the timestamps that show significant activity. I share my thoughts on what I saw and then finish it off with a summary of the amount of time and the days that I reviewed.
“That should make him happy.” I sign off the computer for the second time today and stand. Stopping on my way out of the cubicle area, I grab a copy of my report off the printer. I only made one, but I’m sure that’ll be fine. If Ozzie wants someone else to see it, he’ll share it himself; there’s a copy of the file on the network accessible to anyone on the team.
As I’m walking past the workout area headed to the stairs, a voice comes out of the darkness to my left. “Hey, Toni! Think fast!”
I’ve heard those words shouted out in this warehouse a couple hundred times by now, so it doesn’t take me by surprise. I spin around with my hand up, getting into position just in time to catch a singlestick flying through the air at me. It smacks the palm of my hand and carries a sting. I drop my papers and shift the weapon to my other hand.
“Bring it on, punk,” I say, bending my knees and getting into fighting position.
Out of the shadows comes the giant Dev, and he’s carrying his own singlestick weapon.
He has no idea how ready I am for this. I’d been trying to come up with ways I could work off all this anxiety, and my opportunity has magically presented itself. Yeah, buddy. I swing my stick around awkwardly, acting like I’ve forgotten all my training. I’ve seen May bring Dev to his knees enough times to know his weak spot. Make him underestimate me. That is how I’ll win.
I barely register the sound that’s coming from behind me, I’m so intent on bringing Dev down, but after it repeats itself twice, the voice finally breaks through my kill-mode and stops our sparring before it even really begins.
“What do you think you’re doing?” Thibault demands.
Dev straightens and drops his arm down, his weapon hanging by his thigh. “What’s it look like we’re doing? We’re sparring.”
“Ozzie wants you upstairs. Pronto.”
Dev is too busy looking up at my brother to pay me any attention, so I take advantage of the situation. “Think fast!” I throw the singlestick at him.
Unfortunately, Dev isn’t nearly as quick on the draw when the stick is coming at him as he is when he’s sending it off. The heavy end catches him in the nads, and he immediately doubles over in pain.