Death Takes a Holiday Read Free Page A

pocket. I look up at him. “Do you agree?”
    Will squares his shoulders. “The only issue I have with you is your reckless disregard for orders. I’m the tactical team leader for a reason, and though you may disagree with my strategy, you must trust I know what I’m doing.”
    Ugh. I knew it. This is going to be like pulling blood from a stone. Pointless. “Fine.” I set the cue down on the table. “I don’t want to play this game with you, Will.”
    “What do you mean?”
    “I mean I’m done playing games. We’ve been doing it for months, and I’m sick of it. Sick of the snide comments, the dirty looks, the complete discount for anything I have to say. I’m tired of you punishing me.”
    “I’m punishing you?” he scoffs.
    “Yes! And we need to talk about it!”
    He tosses the cue on the table, sending the balls clattering all over. “ I am not punishing you .”
    “Okay, good,” I say. “Get it out. So tell me, why do you think I’m punishing you?”
    “You know.”
    “Dallas?”
    “Of course Dallas!”
    “Fine. Then let’s talk about Dallas. Are you still mad I didn’t tell you I was going? Because we’ve been over that. It’s my job. I did my job.”
    “You lied to me.”
    “Because you were having a fun vacation! I didn’t want you to worry about me. And you know that.”
    “It was reckless,” he says.
    “That’s part of the job description, remember?” I sigh and rub my temples as they throb. “You need to dial back the anger, okay? It’s giving me a headache, and I just got over the last one. Take deep breaths or something.”
    Surprisingly, he does. He stands perfectly still and takes deep breaths. The pain ebbs to something more bearable within a few seconds. “Thank you,” I say.
    “Maybe we shouldn’t do this.”
    “No. We have to.” I stop rubbing. “We have to get this all out no matter what. Meteor, Godzilla attack, we’re not leaving. Okay?”
    With reluctance, he nods.
    This is going to take awhile. I grab the nearest chair, lowering my tired body into it. That mile run has caught up to me. He follows suit, sitting across the pool table so all I can see are his shoulders and head.
    “Dallas was messed up from the start,” I say. “Everything could have been handled differently. There’s enough blame to go around.”
    “Then why do I get the impression that everyone, especially you, blames me for it?”
    “We don’t,” I say. “Will, nobody blames you for Irie.”
    “I thought we were being honest,” he says.
    “I am. She was killed by a vampire, not you.”
    “Wolfe—”
    “Wolfe is grieving,” I cut in. “He’s just trying to act tough. Men deal with anger better than sadness, and being angry at you is just how it’s manifesting. Grief is abstract; you’re concrete.”
    Will peers across the table at me, mouth set straight as this sinks in. After a second he looks down at the floor. “She was my responsibility, and I failed her. I couldn’t save her.”
    He looks up, but this time I look down. “But you saved me. Twice.”
    “I thought you’d forgotten that,” he says with a half-hearted scoff.
    “Of course not.”
    “Then why … ” He trails off and sighs.
    “Why what? Say it.”
    He folds his arms across his chest. “Then why the hell were you avoiding me? Why were you so cold to me?”
    “Honestly? Because no matter how grateful I was for what you did to me, I couldn’t get over how you acted toward him .” There. The elephant in the room is no longer ignored. Let the fireworks begin.
    “What are you talking about?”
    Honesty. Total honesty. I can do this. “You and I, before Dallas, we were really close, right?” He doesn’t answer. “Well, from our …
dealings I’d formed, um,” okay, partial honesty maybe, “a high regard for you.” His breathing slows and his whole body becomes rigid. “I thought you were brave, and just, and … well, I thought you were one of those people whose moral compass always