He scowled, not appreciating the way they tried to coddle him. Did they seriously think alcohol and bikini-clad women would make him forget the hell Harley and Alice had been through? A hell he should have prevented?
“It was more than a job,” he told Hunter and Gray.
Hunter took a step back, looking slightly alarmed. He usually left the human management stuff to Gray. It was a good thing, too, because he sucked at it.
“Maybe you should talk to someone,” Gray suggested. “A counsellor?”
Tiny looked over at him incredulously. Talk to a stranger?
“Tiny? Talk to a counsellor?” Hunter asked. “He barely talks to us.”
Gray glared at Hunter. “This would be a professional. We really should have one on staff.”
“I’m not having a fucking shrink try to get inside my head,” Hunter grumbled.
Gray rolled his eyes. “We’d have to give them hazard pay. There are times when talking to a professional can help. If we found the right person, they might be able to help with profiling.”
“Don’t believe in that froufrou shit,” Hunter grumbled, placing his hand on his hips. “Next you’ll try to tell me we need a damn psychic.”
“Wasn’t Cady seeing a counsellor?” Gray asked.
“That’s different. She’s a woman.”
Tiny shook his head as Gray groaned. “How you ever found a woman to love you, I’ll never know. You can’t say that sort of shit.”
Even Tiny knew that. But then he was more enlightened than Hunter.
“What?” Hunter actually looked bewildered.
“It’s sexist,” Tiny pointed out.
Gray rubbed his hand over his face. “Thank God Cady is the only woman working here. At least she won’t sue us.”
“Come on, everyone knows women need to talk shit out,” Hunter said. “Men do things differently. We smash shit up. Get drunk. Go to the shooting range.”
“And this is why women are the smarter sex,” Gray pointed out.
“No shit. I’ve always known that.” Hunter rolled his eyes. “Come on, Tiny. We’ll head to the shooting range.” Hunter smacked his hand against Tiny’s back. Might not be the healthiest way to deal with their shit, but Tiny was in total agreement with Hunter.
Talking wasn’t going to help. It never did.
***
“So someone snuck in here without damaging the lock or setting off the alarm, and just moved shit around?” Tara paced back and forth across the living room floor as Reagan checked the alarm. She’d reset it as soon as Alex had finished cleaning up the vase.
Alex leaned against the wall, his arms crossed over his chest, a frown lining his forehead. She couldn’t tell what he was thinking. Did he believe her? Did he think she was lying?
“Yes.”
“Did you call the police?” Alex asked.
She nodded.
“Good.” Tara looked relieved. “They can sort this out. How long until they get here?”
She shook her head. “Oh, they’re not coming.”
Tara stilled. “What? Why not?”