Chapter 12

He stoodin front of the boss's desk, aware of the late hour and knowing he was being kept waiting on purpose because it gave the man the upper hand.

Him and his mind games.

Malone was proving to be a major thorn in his side. He certainly hadn't anticipated the situation dragging on for so long.

The boss must think he's surrounded by incompetent amateurs. The fact that he was about to deliver more bad news did not improve matters—or his chances of walking out of that office unscathed.

He gave a polite cough, to remind the man of his presence. Finally, he got a reaction. The boss sat back in his wide chair, hands laced over his stomach.

"Report."

Another cough. "We weren't able to get any new information."

The stony silence that followed sent his heart plummeting and his stomach roiling. Then the boss locked gazes with him, and fuck, those eyes were glacial.

"Seriously? All Marsh needed to do was find out if they discovered anything while they were out there. Why else am I paying him?" He scowled. "As for you…. Leaving the body was sloppy. I expected better."

"I'm sorry, sir." Especially if it was going to cost him his assignment.

"And you should have torched the place. Now we don't know what—if anything—they discovered, and that idiot let the feds take him." He shook his head. "I should just have you all scrubbed, and find myself someone else to tackle this matter." Another steely glare. "Someone who can get the job done."

For one fleeting moment, he found himself wishing for exactly that outcome.

"And as for Marsh…. He had the perfect opportunity to remove Malone from the board and didn't take it."

For all his power and wealth, sometimes the boss appeared to have a slim grasp on reality.

"Sir, he was in the police station. Marsh couldn't just shoot him."

"Then he should have blown him the fuck up," he barked. "It wouldn't have mattered how he did it, but he should have gotten it done." He pushed out a deep sigh. "Cut him loose."

He can't mean….

"Sir, killing a cop isn't…."

He pinned him with a cold, sharp, venomous gaze. "What did I say? I'm not in the habit of repeating myself."

"Of course, sir. I'll see to it. Detective Marsh will be gone before the weekend." How, he had no idea, but he knew he'd have to do a good job.

"Does he have a family?"

He swallowed back the bile rising in his throat. "Yes, sir. A wife and their one-year-old daughter."

The boss drummed his fingers on the desk for a second or two. "Okay, let him have the weekend to be with them. Then make him history." He pointed toward the door. "You know the way out."

Dismissed.

At least I'm still alive.

His prospects were far better than Detective Marsh's.